"Beacon 09 — Fire in the Pit"
Hive Quintus — Level 312, "The Skin Markets"
The stench was indescribable — a mixture of rotting flesh, machine oil, and warp-taint. Walls of rusted iron closed in around Brother-Sergeant Makor, his armor cracked and caked in filth. His combat knife was the only weapon he had left. The heavy bolter he'd carried had run dry three hours ago.
With him were five PDF soldiers — broken men, half-deaf, ash-covered, staring at the flickering lumen-strips above.
> "Sergeant..." whispered one of them. "No extraction signal yet..."
> "Hold your tongues," Makor growled. "We hold this position until ordered otherwise."
A sudden rumble echoed through the shaft — distant, but drawing closer.
Not tanks.
Not mutants.
Warp-beasts.
Unstable creatures of flesh and shadow, slipping between cracks in reality. Summoned. Twisted.
One of the PDF screamed, dropping his rifle. Another started weeping.
Makor grabbed the screaming man by the throat and slammed him against the wall.
> "We are the line," he hissed. "You die standing. Or you die screaming. But you will die fighting."
The walls pulsed with unholy light.
Then the first beast broke through — a horned, eyeless thing that melted the floor with each step. Behind it came more — dozens, then hundreds, flowing like liquid nightmares.
Makor activated his vox.
> "Beacon Nine. Last transmission. Warp entities breaching position. No escape. Detonating reactor coolant tanks to collapse shaft. For the Emperor."
The PDF stared at him in horror.
> "Run," Makor said.
None of them did.
Not one.
He drew his knife, stood atop a broken crate, and charged straight into the horde — roaring like a beast himself.
> "FOR DORN!"
The explosion that followed tore through six levels of the underhive, collapsing tunnels for kilometers and cutting off an entire arm of the enemy advance.
---
*Aboard the Unyielding Resolve
> > "Beacon Nine… extinguished."
Captain Noxa Xinoxis turned from the display, lips tight.
> "Mark Sergeant Makor. Denied corruption. Sacrificed all. One of Dorn's sons."
The Librarian simply nodded.
"Beacon 16 — Fire and Wings"
Hive Sextus – District: Ironclad Manufactorum – Level 72
A wall of autocannon fire raked the sky. The traitors had turned the Manufactorum's upper structure into a fortress — half heretics, half corrupted machines. A Vox-scrambler prevented teleportation or long-range extraction.
Inside, Squad Tyberos, seven brothers of the Iron Wrath 3rd Company, held position behind fallen conveyors and vats of molten slag, surrounded by corpses.
> "No signal getting out," barked Brother-Regent Albrek, vox panel fused to his arm. "We hold. If extraction comes, it will come through blood."
Suddenly, the sky outside shook.
From the clouds above, two wings of Marauder Bombers descended — low, fast, and angry.
> "Bomber Wing Malleus and Hammerstrike inbound," crackled the fleet vox. "Primary target: Vox-jammer nest and flak towers."
Onboard Bomber 4-12, Captain Velkar watched the targeting cogitator flicker green.
> "Target acquired. Releasing payload in ten..."
Tracer fire lanced up from the hive's bastion-towers, ripping into Bomber 4-09. The machine exploded in mid-air, spiraling into the Manufactorum's upper dome.
> "They're targeting our approach!" Velkar barked. "Squad two — drop your payload manually. Crash if you must. The Iron Wrath need that roof open."
Two bombers broke formation, diving nose-first. Their hulls tore through fire and flak. One exploded mid-drop, but the second slammed into the bastion — plasma charges primed, crew onboard yelling war hymns till the last second.
A flash of white.
Then red.
The Manufactorum's ceiling vanished in a thunderous fireball. Smoke billowed as beams crashed and traitors screamed.
---
Inside the Manufactorum
Albrek looked up, his visor clouded with soot and ash.
> "Bless the souls of the brave..."
Through the opening above, a Thunderhawk Gunship descended, its twin-linked bolters blazing.
> "Extraction incoming," came the pilot's vox. "Beacon 16 confirmed. Touching down in ten seconds. MOVE!"
The surviving Iron Wrath sprinted through the ruins, dragging two wounded brothers. Lasfire from scattered traitors pinged off the Thunderhawk's hull. The pilot swung the craft to cover the retreat, chewing through cultists with the side cannons.
One brother took a shot to the back — Brother Kaen. He dropped, unmoving.
Albrek turned back — but he knew.
> "He gave us our exit. GO!"
The Thunderhawk lifted. The hatch closed.
Beacon 16 — secured.
---
*Aboard the Unyielding Resolve
"Beacon 16 extraction confirmed," said a bridge officer. "Five Astartes retrieved. Four PDF. One MIA — presumed KIA."
Captain Noxa Xinoxis narrowed her eyes.
> "And the bombers?"
> "Only three returned, ma'am."
> "Mark them. Heroes. Dead in service of angels."