The Deathwatch was also a military force made up of Astartes.
But it differed from other Chapters in a crucial way.
It was a Chapter organization founded by the Inquisition and the Astartes to resist and eradicate any xenos that threatened mankind. Because of that, its Astartes were drawn from many different Chapters under many different primarch lineages.
And its membership wasn't permanent.
It didn't recruit lifelong brothers the way other Chapters did. Instead, other Chapters seconded their own warriors—more like a tour of duty, or a form of trial and refinement—creating what looked like a "temporary" Chapter assembled for specific wars.
So the Salamanders detachment's original mission was, by all logic, already complete. Now they could attach themselves to the Deathwatch on a provisional basis and become part of this force.
At that moment, the Deathwatch tactical element assigned to this system—this planet—was flying down from their warship: three Thunderhawk gunships and two Thunderhawk transporters, driving hard toward a world that had already suffered half an Exterminatus.
They had planned to fire a second special cyclonic torpedo.
But with the Salamanders offering "special support," it might not be necessary to complete Exterminatus in full.
That "special support" clearly referred to whatever method had erased the hive.
So the commander of this Deathwatch force stared again at the hololithic projection cast by a servo-skull.
It showed the Tyranid hive's previous surface position. Where a grotesque structure—like a bizarre flower that had stabbed up through the crust and bloomed—had once existed, there was now nothing.
Some unknown force had excavated the area into a smooth, bowl-shaped crater, as if someone had scooped out wet cement with a hemispherical spoon.
With a gesture toward the hololith, the commander magnified the image further.
He could see the hive pouring fire upward, frantically concentrating on something in the air.
It made no sense. The feed showed nothing—no aircraft, no distortion, no silhouette in the sky. The Tyranids' shots didn't look like they were striking anything at all.
Yet they kept focusing on that low patch of empty air.
Then, without warning, a strange ripple spread—like ripples on calm water after something disturbed the surface.
Except these ripples were in space itself, expanding in all directions at frightening speed. The air that was "touched" didn't look different, but the ground—
The thick, rampant fungal mats on the surface began to… fade, as if forgetting their own existence.
In the blink of an eye, the hive was gone.
What weapon could do that?
How could the Salamanders have access to something like this?
No—this wasn't the Salamanders' weapon.
If it were, they would have used it long ago. They would have informed the Deathwatch.
"Xenos power?"
A cold voice spoke from the side—the Ordo Xenos Inquisitor.
This Inquisitor had opposed the Salamanders' involvement from the start. Since they refused to fully explain themselves, the Inquisitor suspected collusion with aliens.
The Inquisitor's stance was simple: drop the second cyclonic torpedo and carry Exterminatus to completion.
That suggestion was immediately rejected—and actively blocked—by the commander.
It was straightforward.
He trusted the Salamanders captain.
And he knew the man personally—because once, that captain had served in his own unit.
Later, after he joined the Deathwatch, he'd handed command of the unit over to Ayret.
As for "cooperating with xenos," the Imperium was divided. One faction argued that limited, controlled cooperation could be tolerated in exceptional circumstances.
The other insisted that any and all xenos must be exterminated.
The Inquisitor beside him belonged to the latter—zero tolerance, no exceptions.
The commander could already imagine what kind of report this bastard would file to the Inquisition later. What kind of accusation he'd lodge. What kind of witch-hunt he'd start.
So Ayret had better deliver—bring help that truly made it unnecessary for this planet to suffer a full Exterminatus.
If that happened, the commander would have an angle to "relocate" this Inquisitor and get someone else assigned.
If possible…
He wanted the Inquisitor dead.
That worthless piece of trash had made a mistake during an intel investigation last time—nearly getting him and the entire unit wiped out. The commander had been furious enough to put a bolt round through the Inquisitor's skull.
And it was this same fanatic's "no xenos, ever" behavior that had nearly caused an allied alien force—barely cooperating against the greenskins—to open fire on them.
So if this parasite could be removed, maybe the next Inquisitor would at least be competent.
…Huh?
Sensing something, the commander made a quick flicking motion through empty air, like swatting a fly. The hololith vanished, and the servo-skull drifted aside.
He turned his attention to the Thunderhawk transporter's display.
Daemons were already incoming—ugly bat wings spread wide as they rose straight toward them.
And beyond the daemons wearing flesh, there were also shapes emerging directly from the warp rift—daemons flying out to infest them.
Apparently, the warp energy leaking into this region was becoming dense enough that they couldn't be bothered hunting for corpses as vessels.
They were impatient.
They wanted to "play" with the Astartes now.
"Psykers," the commander ordered, "prepare to engage."
But at that moment—
Ripples appeared in the void ahead of the five Thunderhawks, like scattered droplets disturbing an invisible surface.
Then a Thunderhawk gunship lurched backward out of something unseen, tumbling as if it had been spit out by the empty air itself.
…
"Commander," Ayret's voice crackled over the vox. "Have the psykers ready. They're about to take a hit from an Untouchable shock."
"We're ready," the commander snapped back. "Do it. Whatever it is—use it now!"
Almost immediately, a wave of wrongness rolled over them.
Everyone felt it.
The strongest psyker in the unit reacted the hardest—staggering, face tightening, like his soul itself was being yanked and scraped raw.
When he forced himself back into focus, he saw what was happening.
A Thunderhawk gunship out front was clearing a path for the Deathwatch.
Chaos filth surged toward them—
And the daemons with physical bodies suddenly collapsed mid-flight, like their wings had been torn off. They dropped in a messy rain.
As for the half-real daemons formed from warp leakage, they screamed—and then popped out of existence, like flash-burned ash scattered on the wind.
Or it looked like some incomprehensible force had swept across them, and in an instant they were vaporized, broken down, dispersing like fog.
So this was the "support" Ayret meant?
Had they developed some special weapon based on Untouchables?
Was this a new piece of kit the Archmagos had prepared for them?
There were rumors this kill-team was frequently tasked by the Archmagos—delivering experimental weapons to the battlefield for live testing.
This time, whatever they'd brought wasn't small.
And it certainly wasn't meant to "spare" anyone.
But with that power carving open a route, punching into the heart of the zone no longer looked impossible.
They would cut down every last Imperial traitor inside.
(End of Chapter)
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