Location: Battle Barge Unyielding Resolve – High Orbit over Ishvan II
The void above Ishvan II was lit with holy fire.
Bright lances of light — torpedoes, orbital cannons, plasma bursts — streaked from a dozen Imperial vessels. The black of space burned red and gold as cruisers deployed their wings of bombers and Thunderhawks, diving into the atmosphere to retrieve what few loyalists remained.
Captain Noxa Xinoxis stood on the command deck, haloed by warning sigils and tactical hololiths.
> "Captain," the vox-officer called, "we are in position. One minute, thirty seconds until proton cannon recharge."
> "Report on shielding?"
> "Minimal damage. Dedalus, local defense escort, intercepted the last shot. Shields holding at 35%. Target cannon exposed and vulnerable."
Librarian Alexander stepped beside her, his voice cold with resolve.
> "Fire. All batteries. Obliterate it."
Xinoxis gave the order with no hesitation.
> "All broadside batteries: concentrated fire. Target: proton cannon. Prepare for recoil. Brace."
A heartbeat passed.
Then BOOM.
The ten-kilometer-long warship unleashed its wrath, turning the skies above Ishvan II into a second sun. The entire vessel rocked from the recoil. Windows dimmed. Void-shields crackled. The heavens screamed.
On the planet's surface, entire sectors of Hive Primaris vanished in light.
Where once stood the cursed proton cannon and its fortress complex, now there was only glass and molten stone — a new crater etched into the surface of a damned world.
Alexander narrowed his eyes at the expanding firestorm below.
> "Good riddance."
The bridge went quiet, save for the ticking of systems rerouting power and the muffled reports of atmospheric disturbances.
> "Deploy bombers," Xinoxis said calmly. "Target landing zones. Clear them for Thunderhawk recovery teams."
> "Sir…" said a vox-serf. "Of our brothers, only 28 beacons remain active. Loyalist PDF survivors count less than two companies. Most are either dead... or compromised."
Alexander was silent for a moment.
Then he spoke, voice low and hard.
> "The displacement caused by our bombardment was imperfect. It always is. May their souls walk with the Emperor."
Xinoxis nodded, her face grim.
> "Begin recovery ops. As soon as every brother and soldier is aboard... we leave."
> "And the planet?" a junior officer asked.
Alexander's eyes burned with the fury of a hundred years of war.
> "We leave nothing behind. No scrap metal. No flesh. No ruin."
> "Scour it. Burn it. Exterminatus is denied — but total orbital sterilization is not."
> "This world dies. Today."
Planet Ishvan II — Multiple Hive Zones
VOX-CRACKLE—
> > "All loyal forces... transmit your coordinates. Bunker down. Extraction inbound. Hold the line. For the Emperor."
---
🟥 Beacon 17 — Hive Secundus, Hab-Delta
Brother Sabathiel, kneeling in a crater, his armor scorched black, used the last charge in his plasma repeater to vaporize a corrupted Ogryn.
He looked up, faceplate shattered.
His squad was gone. All seven. Dead around him. He dragged two of their gene-seed canisters behind him, chained to his belt.
> "Beacon 17... still alive. Coordinates sent. Holding at Extraction Point Delta-Two."
Above him, anti-air shells burst in the sky like black roses.
---
🟨 Beacon 05 — Hive Quartus, Manufactorum Ruins
Brothers Korven and Elyas, the last two from their squad, held inside a half-collapsed cathedral.
Lasfire pinged off columns. Mutant hordes tried climbing the rubble to get to them. Elyas had taken a wound to the leg — bone shattered. Korven stood over him, chainsword humming, spraying fire with a heavy bolter.
> "Hold still, brother. Thunderhawk is inbound."
> "If they don't get here soon..."
> "Then we die as we lived — upright and unbroken."
---
🟩 Beacon 01 — Upper Spires, Hive Primaris
Sister-Sergeant Olyssa, one of the PDF remnants, stood with a lone Astartes — Brother Lysael of the 4th squad — at a rooftop Vox-relay.
He was without a helmet, half his face burned from warpfire, but his voice was calm as a glacier.
> "Thunderhawk ETA?"
> "Four minutes. Maybe five."
> "Then I will give you six."
He stepped to the edge and jumped, landing like a meteor into the swarm below, his chainfist roaring, buying time.
Olyssa turned back to the beacon.
> "Beacon One — transmitting. One Astartes in melee. One PDF team holding. Coordinates locked."
---
🟦 Beacon 12 — Subterranean Tunnels, Hive Tertius
Brother-Calix, blinded by warp exposure, leaned against the wall.
He could no longer see, but his enhanced hearing told him everything. He recited the Catechisms of Endurance as a cultist patrol passed by — then activated his beacon.
> "Beacon Twelve. No movement. In cover. Gene-seed secured. Holding until extraction."
His hand rested on the grip of a meltabomb.
If the Thunderhawk didn't come, he would not be taken alive.
---
🟪 Beacon 26 — Hive Delta, Furnace Complex 19
Brothers Enoch, Tarsen, and Joriel, barely breathing, had held a choke point for three days. Piles of mutant corpses blocked the furnace access shafts.
Enoch spoke through vox-grit, coughing blood.
> "This is Beacon Twenty-Six. Three remaining. Defensible position. Zero ammunition. Engaging with melee only. Situation... critical."
The three formed a tight line.
Chainswords ignited.
The cultists surged again.
> "For Dorn. For the Emperor."
---
🟥 Aboard the Unyielding Resolve*
Librarian Alexander stood over the holographic display of the planet, watching 28 golden beacons flicker across its surface. Some were dimming. Others moved. A few had gone out already.
> "Get to them," he ordered the helm.
> "We will not leave them behind."
Thunderhawks launched, wings slicing the ash-choked sky.
Beacon 12 – Hive Tertius, Subterranean Level 97
The tunnels were slick with mutant blood and the stink of burned oil and rot.
Brother-Calix knelt beneath a collapsed support beam, his left arm limp, shattered at the elbow. His helmet visor flickered, one eye-lens shattered. Still, he held fast — both to his beacon transmitter and the meltabomb in his lap.
He had not moved in nine hours. The cultists had passed him twice. He could smell them — hear them whispering to each other in their foul tongues.
He whispered a prayer from the Litanies of Endurance under his breath.
> "Pain is the wine of the righteous. Fear is the lie of the weak. I am a blade in the dark. I endure. I endure..."
Then — movement.
Footsteps. Scraping. Laughter.
They found him.
A hulking brute in warp-scarred armor stepped into view — the leader. Dozens followed. Eyes glowed in the dark.
Calix did not scream.
Did not panic.
Did not call for aid.
Instead, he voxed one final message.
> "Beacon Twelve. No chance of extraction. Gene-seed secured. Heretics inbound. Ave Imperator."
He reached down.
Gripped the detonator.
And pressed.
---
*Aboard the Unyielding Resolve
The hololith flared. A tech-priest spoke flatly.
> "Beacon Twelve... extinguished."
Librarian Alexander bowed his head slightly.
> "Mark him for remembrance. Brother-Calix. Died in service. Unbroken."
No one on the bridge spoke.
---
Hive Tertius, Surface Level
From the Thunderhawk high above, a blossom of fire bloomed from a vent shaft. The tunnel network below rippled — and collapsed.
> "Pilot," came the vox, "re-route. Beacon Twelve is gone. Proceed to next extraction point."
The Thunderhawk turned.