"We are on a Deathwatch strike cruiser. The hull looks like this because the Deathwatch were chasing Drukhari pirates at the Mandeville Point when Chaos Astartes pulled a fast one on them. Right after that a greenskin Kroozer that had just translated in smashed into us."
"As for the inside, a Chaos cult among the crew killed the Navigator and fired up the warp engines. They started a cult ritual on board. Worse, they are unaligned cultists, so now the ship is a rainbow of corruption, and it even stirred up the lurking sneaks from the Four."
In front of a sealed iron door, Romulus calmly laid out the ship's situation.
Arthur only shrugged as if he had expected it, but inside he felt like he had eaten something foul.
The vibe was painfully on brand. A true gathering of the galaxy's greatest freaks.
"What do we do next"
Too lazy to wait for whatever cogitator was lagging behind the scenes, Arthur cut the blocking door down with a stroke.
"Head to the central lifts and link up with Cadian 43rd. Then push for the Gellar field generators. Chaos Astartes are boarding that sector. We support the Deathwatch kill team holding there and purge the enemy. After that we check the Navigator's sanctum and see if we can jump out of the warp."
Romulus tossed a melta charge behind them to seal the corridor. The molten plasteel blocked the cultists and penned them in with the howling greenskins.
"There is a Cadian Blitz regiment here, the 43rd. There are Sisters of Battle too. The situation is still under control. Also, spend a few points to copy High and Low Gothic from me so you do not get stuck on comms later."
"How do I do the swap"
Arthur looked lost.
"You really got a plug in and did not study it at all. All those years of webnovels wasted on you."
Romulus paused mid motion and could not resist another jab.
He shook his head and explained.
"Just will it. Spend points to redeem the two languages. The interface is whatever you want it to be. Strictly speaking it is not a system. It adapts to a format we can accept. We do not have much time for you to tinker."
"Oh. Right."
With his brother's prompt, Arthur pulled up a panel in his mind and saw language modules ready to load.
There were plenty of other entries he knew and did not know. If he wanted to use it on the move, he would need time to study it.
Arthur scanned the clutter of data, watched as items began to sort themselves under his intent, then hesitated and decided not to redeem anything for now.
"Who else made it here besides us"
They moved along the corridor, Arthur watching each shadow that could hide an ambush.
Enemy density was lower here. Along the way lay many corpses with bolter hits, each shot placed with precision. That all but confirmed an Astartes had cleared this path.
"Two more."
The question made Romulus think of a certain headache of a friend.
"Let me guess."
Arthur drew a flamer from the small of his back and began roasting a big Nob like a veteran cook.
"Karna and Rameses"
The four of them were old lunar rats. Anyone could tell from the handles that they were all named after heroes of history. They had played every title together. If Romulus was here, the other two were an easy call.
"Yeah."
Romulus did not deny it.
"Great. A draft with joint liability."
Arthur pulled a face, though he was in a better mood than when he had first arrived.
He was already neck deep in the cesspit, but three good brothers were here too. That beat struggling alone.
"Maybe our IDs at least looked human. Should have used your idea and gone with something like The Emperor's Left Boot. I dare to use the Emperor. The Emperor does not dare to take me."
Romulus sighed again, though he was not all that upset. Better four doomed fools together than one doomed fool alone.
Suffering alone is misery. Suffering together with people you know is strangely bearable.
"Where are they now"
Arthur asked, curious.
"One is covering shifts at the Navigator's sanctum. The other"
Romulus checked the time.
"Should be chopping his way here about now."
"Huh"
A mass of greenskins surged ahead. Arthur was about to dive in for a heroic sweep when a hand pulled him back.
Romulus watched the timer and counted.
"Three."
"Two."
"One."
"Horus"
A crimson figure flashed by. Arthur barely saw it. Only a savage shout rolled through the decks below.
A rending shriek followed.
The scarlet warrior hit the ground, the power spear blazing with blue disintegration fields. Boosters roared and plowed a bloody furrow straight through the melee.
Another piercing crack split the air.
Sweeps of the spear scythed back and forth until everything ahead was reduced to offal. The Blood Angel below glanced up at the two of them on the catwalk, then over to the Astra Militarum firing from the opposite high ground to cover him. He bellowed once and his jump pack burned promethium as he rammed through another bulkhead.
Only that terrible roar lingered in their ears.
"Horus"
"You are actually better than him."
"Agreed."
————————
With the help of a certain Blood Angel whose entire vocabulary seemed to consist of shouting Horus and biting cultist skulls, Arthur's group reached the central lift section quickly.
They were Astartes, superhuman with two hearts and three lungs. Even while they traded a lot of intel along the way, to mortal cultists they were nothing but a black blur and a blue blur that flickered past in the corridor. Then heads started leaving bodies.
It was hard to imagine how something so massive could move that fast.
The doors did not finish opening. Arthur cut the panels cleanly, and before the enemy could react he washed their faces with the flamer. In an instant the targets that were bad matchups in close quarters were gone. He raised his shield and caught a descending chain axe.
"WAAAGH"
Before Arthur could counter, the gun lines behind the ork converged on him in a heartbeat.
Lances of hot lasfire punched through thick hide. The beams tore the xenos apart and, to Arthur's surprise, passed through the meat and neatly avoided him while he grappled the alien.
He had been about to raise his arm and take the ork's head, but he slid the sword back instead and looked toward the shooters. Red carapace armor over dark camouflage fatigues, moving like they had done this a thousand times.
At the front of the position, a smaller number of shield troops in heavy armor held key chokepoints with boarding shields. The corpses of traitors and xenos were ripped apart by all manner of munitions. Blood and pulp mixed into a sticky carpet under their boots.
In the center, fire teams laid precise suppressive fire across the corridors. A Genestealer that peeled back a ceiling panel was melted to half a torso the instant it showed itself.
On the flank, when a heavy bolter fell silent for a breath, someone hauled a half missing body off the firing slot and another gun began to thud. That reassuring sound rolled across the line again.
At the rear, wave after wave of porters ran crates of ammunition and power cells between the firing points. Guns did not go quiet. The flow never stopped.
Everyone had a job. Countless bodies of flesh and blood, relying on iron discipline and skill, forged a line that held firm even before the monsters of the galaxy.
"This is the Cadian Blitz."
Romulus spoke as if this level of performance was expected. He swept his field of fire and stepped into the position first.
True, in many Warhammer tales the Astra Militarum are grinding stones for every nightmare in the setting. In the real galaxy they are selected from the best a world can offer.
And these red coated soldiers were from Cadia, a world where six year olds could handle a lasgun with accuracy. Among the already elite ranks of the Guard, Cadians are the best of the best. This level of discipline was no surprise.
Since the Codex Astartes, the Astartes have been limited by numbers and pushed toward special operations. The vast weight of Imperial warfare now rests on mortal soldiers like these when it comes to fighting heretics and xenos.
Arthur scanned the line and logged details. He listened to the chatter between squads, then moved up with Romulus.
They were at the ship's transport lifts held by Cadian 43rd. As they entered, another wave of orks crashed in. After the filters of daemons, cultists, and Genestealers, these greenskins did not have much shock power left. The precise and dense fire net left them only one outcome.
The Guard had organized a tight front. Aside from those still clearing xenos, some troopers even had the presence of mind to raise the Aquila to the Emperor's Angels.
In the growing clamor of bolters, lasguns, grenades, and promethium, Arthur dipped his head in return.
"For the Emperor"
Low Gothic felt like a blend of many symbolic tongues. It still had a lot in common with languages Arthur knew. With a superhuman brain, he picked it up quickly when he focused, just like he had done when cutting down monsters earlier.
"For the Emperor, my lord"
The Guardsmen were thrilled, shouted the oath, and turned back to their posts.
Arthur could see it. The exhausted soldiers stood a little taller. Their spirits had risen.
__________________________________________________________
To read more advanced chapters and support me, go to:
patreon.com/ArchSovereign