Chapter Master Thorcyra of the Scythes of the Emperor fell into a deep silence after hearing Alexei's plan. After a long pause, he finally nodded. "Very well. I will have them go to your positions to be equipped with the power armor."
Once the communication cut out, Alexei immediately summoned Kaidel, whispered a few instructions into his ear, and sent him on his way.
Alexei stared quietly at the darkened electronic screen, his mind racing. Testing the CMC armor on these unarmored neophytes was only one reason for this move; there was another, far more critical reason...
In his memory, one of the primary reasons the Scythes of the Emperor could not hold Sotha was the presence of Genestealer cultists among their mortal auxiliaries. These rebels initiated an uprising at the most critical moment, leading to the eventual fall of the Fortress-Monastery.
Furthermore, these cultists had contaminated every single gene-seed stored in the Chapter's gene-seed vault without the Chapter's knowledge.
Currently, thanks to his timely reinforcements, much of the pressure on the Scythes of the Emperor had been diverted, leaving the cultists with no immediate window to launch an uprising. However, the gene-seed vault remained a massive vulnerability. Alexei intended to use this movement of personnel to draw the snakes out of their holes.
The gene-seed vault was typically built in the deepest reaches of the Fortress-Monastery, guarded by the Chapter's Apothecaries. But given the severe manpower shortage, even the Apothecaries were now on the front lines.
Alexei guessed that the vault was currently guarded by those light-armored neophytes who were only one surgery away from being able to wear Astartes power armor. In the original timeline, this lack of heavy security allowed the Genestealers to infiltrate and poison the Chapter's future.
Now that he was having these neophytes leave to equip the CMC armor, the movement of Astartes personnel would surely catch the attention of the cultists. Although he didn't know exactly how they planned to enter the vault, Alexei sent Kaidel and a squad of Ghosts just in case.
If they did encounter an infiltration, Kaidel and his team were more than capable of handling it. They only needed to hold out until the Space Marines could rotate back for defense. This would also force the Space Marines to take the threat of a mortal auxiliary rebellion seriously; after all, without proof, the Astartes would not easily believe such a claim.
Inside the great hall of the Fortress-Monastery, the fires of the nearby battlefield were still burning, though the intensity had diminished significantly. The swarm had begun its advance once more.
The anti-air batteries outside the monastery fired continuously. Thorcyra stood in the hall, looking at the "aspiring failures" before him. Most of them were candidates who had failed the final two surgeries due to organ rejection.
But those standing here were lucky; their bodies had not sustained irreparable damage, allowing them to still fight as soldiers. The unlucky ones were either paralyzed, turned into Chapter serfs, or had died on the operating table.
Now, they had the chance to wear power armor. Although Thorcyra wasn't sure what pattern these "Terrans" used, in the current emergency, it was a godsend.
"Byron." Thorcyra looked at the Techmarine. "Take them to Governor Alexei's positions. Ensure their safety."
"Understood."
Without further words, the warriors donned their light armor, took up their weapons, and followed the Techmarine out the back of the monastery, heading down the Pharos mountains toward Alexei's line.
At that moment, several mortal auxiliaries on duty inside the monastery watched the departing warriors, their eyes flickering with a strange intensity.
"What is it, William?" a sergeant in the squad asked his teammate.
"Nothing."
The sergeant shrugged. This pale-skinned fellow, William, had always been a man of few words, but people were happy to have him as a teammate because his luck was legendary. Since the Tyranid invasion began, no matter what danger they encountered, they survived as long as they were near him. People called him "Lucky William."
"If only I could have become an Angel of the Emperor, I could have avenged my family," the sergeant mused, his mood suddenly dipping.
Just then, the combat alarms blared again. Large numbers of resting auxiliaries and Space Marines rushed to the front lines at maximum speed.
The sergeant's current task was to ensure the security of the rear, so he didn't have to head to the front just yet. He gripped his lasgun, feeling an inexplicable sense of unease.
Suddenly, he noticed William staring fixedly at a corner. "What's wrong? Spot something unusual?"
He received no answer. In that instant, a teammate behind him clamped a hand over his mouth with a strength that caught him completely off guard.
As he began to struggle and let out muffled groans, "Lucky William" turned around. He drew a tactical knife from his belt and plunged it savagely into the sergeant's carotid artery.
As blood surged out, the sergeant looked at his comrades powerlessly. He felt a bone-deep chill—perhaps from the blood draining from his body, or perhaps from the cold, emotionless, inhuman eyes staring back at him.
As the sergeant's struggles ceased, the cultists behind him let go. After scanning the area and confirming no one had seen them, they quickly cleaned up the body and the blood.
They exchanged a look and hurried toward the deepest part of the Fortress-Monastery.
On the way, they encountered a few other mortal auxiliaries rushing to the front. The other soldiers only asked a few brief questions; upon hearing they were responsible for rear security, they nodded and moved on.
As for the Astartes, they had already rushed to intercept the swarm, leaving the halls devoid of their presence.
As the cultists drew closer to their goal, the sounds of movement in the shadows behind them also drew closer, yet they sensed nothing.
"Who goes there!" With a sharp roar, their presence was discovered by the guards of the gene-seed vault. To the cultists' surprise, two Astartes in yellow-and-black power armor stood there.
Seeing a group of mortal auxiliaries who shouldn't be there, combined with their pale, soulless eyes and the scent of fresh blood, the Astartes made a correct judgment in less than a second.
In the dim underground corridor, a bolt pistol round instantly shattered the body of the lead intruder. Just as the two Astartes were about to finish the last traitor, a massive screech erupted from the shadows behind the mortal auxiliaries.
"Dammit!" One Astartes barely dodged a slashing claw; a second later, the attacker vanished back into the shadows.
As the two Marines went back-to-back, a faint whistle of air came from above. This time, even the superhuman reflexes of an Astartes were too slow.
With the sound of tearing ceramite, the right arm of one Astartes was severed.
The other Marine prepared to strike back, but once again, the target vanished.
As they stood on high alert, a lethal strike lunged from the shadows directly toward the Marine's head. At this critical moment, several gunshots suddenly rang out from the darkness.