The data stream cut off abruptly.
Osiris slowly opened his eyes, his fingertips tapping unconsciously against the control console. His true self's decision-making was as decisive and resource-efficient as ever. Two Knights plus twelve pre-adapted and meticulously armed Astartes formed a contingent more than capable of whipping up a tempest across the surface of Pandora.
He did not immediately broadcast the intelligence regarding the arrival of the Predator mothership. Panic was an inefficient, uncontrollable emotion. He required the RDA to absorb a share of the focus at the vanguard, and he similarly needed those hunters cloaked deep within the jungle to step forward and expose their operational paradigms and vulnerabilities first.
Leaving the laboratory, he located Maine, who was busy inspecting a Sentinel mech.
"Maine, pass the word down: in twelve hours, we will have 'guests' arriving." Osiris's tone was placid, yet Maine could easily detect the sheer weight behind it.
Maine set aside his tools: "Reinforcements?"
"Yes," Osiris nodded. "A substantial detachment, heavy armor included. We need Valley Three to the southeast cleared out as a drop zone, with enhanced concealment measures deployed across the perimeter."
Maine refrained from pressing for granular details, merely nodding with practiced stability: "Understood. I'll see to it immediately." He was well aware that for Osiris to treat the matter with such gravity, whoever was arriving was far more than a routine support detail.
Osiris gazed out the viewport at Pandora's brilliant, hazardous night sky. The Predators' Vengeance Hunt had commenced, and his own vanguard was on the vector. This undercurrent swirling around planet Pandora was about to grow far more tempestuous with the intervention of these newly introduced forces.
Twelve hours elapsed amidst tense preparations. Valley Three, situated southeast of the Pioneer, had been thoroughly cleared. Maine's squad, alongside a complement of servitors, had established rudimentary guidance beacons and camo-netting. Osiris and Maine waited on-site in person.
The air within the valley suddenly turned oppressive, the local space emitting a low, vibrating hum that sounded like tearing fabric. A pinpoint of eerie blue light manifested out of thin air before expanding rapidly, forming a stably rotating energy vortex exceeding thirty meters in diameter. The intense spatial displacement caused the loose gravel on the valley floor to quiver.
The first to stride out from the vortex was Margaret Nearl, piloting her Lancer-pattern Ceratopsian Knight. The near twelve-meter-tall iron titan emerged bathed in the eerie blue luminescence. Its sleek, predatory contours, the faintly glowing plasma shield generators arrayed across its shoulders, and the impact lance held horizontally across its grasp all radiated a heart-stopping majesty.
Immediately following, Maria Nearl's Chastiser-pattern Ceratopsian Knight stepped through the teleportation gate, its heavy bolt-cannon and storm combat blade underscoring its designation as heavy fire-support.
The two Knight chassis stood in the valley like guardian deities stepped straight from myth, their massive scale and lethal presence instantly altering the atmospheric dynamic of the perimeter. Trailing them were four Retainer-class mechs and select core personnel from the sacred relic maintenance team.
The cockpits of the Knight chassis cycled open, and Margaret and Maria descended along the access ladders. They had changed into relatively light operational fatigues but maintained the distinct, ramrod-straight bearing of Knights.
"My Lord," Margaret executed a Mechanicus-style salute toward Osiris, her voice projecting through her helmet vocalizer, steady and powerful. "The Nearl Family Knight Squad reports as ordered."
"My thanks for your timely deployment, Lady Margaret, Lady Maria," Osiris responded with a nod. "Maine will brief you on the operational matrix shortly."
Right then, the energy vortex rippled once more. Striding out this time were twelve hulking, heavily armed Astartes Battle-Brothers. The power armor they donned manifested a dull, dark grey-blue tint, diverging noticeably from the Imperium's standard Mark-series armor patterns; the lines were sleeker, the articulation points featured more flexible protection, and the overall composition exuded the precision and raw lethality typical of newly forged technology.
At the absolute vanguard of the formation were three light-armored Reconnaissance specialists:
The first had a backpack extended into a complex multi-functional sensor array and long-range comms antenna (Comms variant).
The second's power pack was outfitted with a high-precision scanner and environmental analysis probe (Scout variant).
The third's pack flickered with a faint jamming pulse, an evident electronic warfare module (Disruption variant).
Closely following were four General Combat specialists:
One wielded a standard boltgun, a bolt pistol secured at his hip, and a power combat blade slotted into his leg holster.
The second held a boarding shield in one hand and gripped a compact bolt carbine in the other.
The third gripped a heavy boltgun with both hands, manifesting an overwhelming profile of fire support.
The fourth featured a relatively balanced kit, pairing a boltgun with a power weapon.
Behind them marched three exceptionally hulking, towering Heavy-Armored specialists. Their power armor was reinforced with external enhanced exoskeletons, rendering their physical frames even more massive. A thick boarding shield was connected to their left shoulder via a mechanical arm, while their right shoulder bore a micro-missile launcher pod (for two of them) or a short-barrel plasma bombardment cannon (for the third). Gripped in their gauntlets were long-shafted power halberds or power greatswords; merely standing there, they exuded the crushing pressure of a steel rampart.
Bringing up the rear of the formation were two Specialized assets:
The Tech-Marine's left arm integrated a variety of tools, his right arm featured a switchable servo-arm, and his back was laden with maintenance packs and spare parts.
The Apothecary donned specialized power armor emblazoned with red cross insignia, carrying a massive medical kit and standard Apothecary tools.
This squad was silent and highly efficient. The moment they stepped into the clearing, they automatically fanned out into a security perimeter, their movements fluidly synchronized, displaying a supreme standard of drill.
The Tech-Marine leading the detail stepped forward, executing the Aquila salute toward Osiris: "Reporting to the Commander. Astartes Tactical Squad 'Grey Blade,' all twelve personnel accounted for and in position, awaiting directives!" His voice, processed through his helmet's vocal filter, was low and laden with raw power.
Osiris could perceive the surging vitality within them and the formidable strength anchored within their post-transhuman physiology. These twelve men were the initial successful fruits of the optimized gene-seed initiative. Their arrival undeniably augmented the tactical flexibility at his disposal.
Finally, Elendire's silhouette glided elegantly from the rapidly dissipating portal like a phantom. Still clad in her lightweight wraithbone armor, her gaze swept across the assembled Knight chassis and Astartes warriors, a trace of a contemplative expression gracing her features.
"It appears your valuation of this 'hunt' vastly eclipses my previous estimations, Lord Osiris," Elendire's psychic transmission echoed directly within Osiris's mind. For an Aeldari, discerning the variance between Osiris's avatar and his true self was by no means difficult; she was hardly blind enough to fail to recognize that the Astartes framework before her was an extension of Osiris himself.
"To be prepared is to be without peril, Lady Elendire," Osiris replied through a matching psychic current. "Welcome to Pandora."
The Tech-Marine signaled two of the General Combat Astartes to carry a sealed metallic crate before Osiris. "Commander, this is the wargear the Magus Prime commanded us to deliver to you—the Enhanced Exoskeleton System."
Osiris opened the crate, revealing a complex exoskeleton framework gleaming with a dark metallic luster and threaded with intricate energy circuits. The design clearly synthesized features of Tartaros-pattern Terminator armor, appearing exceptionally rugged and lethal.
However, after a brief glance, he closed the crate. "Keep it in your custody for the time being," he told the Tech-Marine. "I have no requirement for it yet." Maintaining his current disguised identity remained far more convenient for maneuvering under certain conditions.
The arrival of these reinforcement elements had thoroughly rewritten the hand Osiris held. Two Knights, twelve Astartes clad in a new pattern of power armor, supplemented by Maine's squad, two Sentinels, and Elendire—this combined detachment possessed more than enough leverage to stir up a tempest on Pandora.
Now, all that remained was to wait for the Predators, or any other undisciplined adversary, to blindly collide with them.