Chapter 179: Titus |
Ultramarines Strike Cruiser, Wrath of Thalassar
On the bridge, the strike cruiser's captain stared nervously at the augur arrays, closely monitoring the overwhelming numbers of the Tyranid Hive Fleet. His deeply furrowed brow looked especially solemn in the green glow of the tactical holographic projection.
He was carefully maintaining the distance between the strike fleet and the Tyranid Hive Fleet.
This vessel was a precious asset of the Ultramarines, and the captain needed to carefully protect the Angels' property from harm while reasonably utilizing her at the critical moment.
The Hive Fleet's numbers were so massive that the scanner's cursors trembled amidst the overlapping biological signals, completely unable to lock onto individual targets. Beneath that suffocating tide of flesh and blood, a pitch-black rift—like a sneering mouth—tore through the planet's atmosphere.
It was a blasphemous mark of Chaos, greedily devouring the world's flesh and blood.
And squeezed within this suffocating gap, the signals belonging to the Lamenters were agonizingly small.
Like a flickering candle in the wind, yet they still burned with stubborn defiance.
They were still bitterly holding on.
The captain reported the current situation to the Ultramarines sergeant standing beside the command throne. His voice was low, and his gaze briefly swept past the viewport.
Above the planet, clouds of Tyranid spores were slowly blanketing the orbit like a rotting veil.
He continued, "The Lamenters Chapter has already suffered immense casualties, yet the civilian evacuation rate remains abysmally low. They need to retreat."
The captain's Adam's apple bobbed. He did not look at Titus immediately; instead, he stared at the flashing evacuation signals on the holographic projection, each one representing the struggling lives of mortals.
"The Daughter of the Storm is requesting our support, asking if we have any spare transport ships."
His voice carried a hint of reluctance. From a strategic standpoint, wasting precious transport capacity on a hopeless rescue mission was a severely unbalanced equation.
Furthermore, the Lamenters had delayed their departure from this planet for far too long.
The captain's gaze slowly shifted down, landing on the atmospheric incinerator torpedoes displayed on the edge of the tactical console, already primed and fully calibrated.
The "Strategic Guide to Anti-Swarm Warfare" explicitly emphasized the Hive Fleet's terrifying adaptability to virus bombs.
The Tyranid Swarm demonstrated a horrifying resilience to viral weaponry. These Xenos monsters could not only resist the most lethal viral corrosion but even reabsorb the infected and corrupted biomass, repurposing it for their own use.
This drastically reduced the efficiency of an Exterminatus meant to preserve a planet's resources, sometimes even turning the payload into sheer nourishment for the Swarm.
Therefore, when choosing the means of Exterminatus, Calgar considered cyclonic torpedoes and atmospheric incinerator torpedoes as the primary options.
They had come here bearing a sacred mission.
A total of five atmospheric incinerator torpedoes were loaded within the strike cruiser. The Thalassar Squad possessed the authority to independently assess the planet's status and deploy Exterminatus.
If this planet was ultimately destined to fall into the hands of Xenos and could no longer belong to the Master of Mankind, then no other entity would have her either.
"Send them all. Tell the Lamenters that we can wait for another thirteen hours. By then, they must complete their evacuation."
Titus silently observed the holographic images relayed by the augur arrays. His gaze remained firmly locked on the projection, his pupils shrinking slightly at the sight of those twisted traces of Chaos.
Even though a burning desire to rush to the battlefield and slaughter the heretics with his own hands surged in his heart, his mountain-like physique remained absolutely motionless.
He had a pretty good idea why the Mortifactors were in such a hurry to leave.
The reinforcement of Asteria was originally supposed to be a joint effort between the Mortifactors Chapter and the Lamenters.
But after both Chapters landed and conducted a rapid rescue of the planet's surface facilities and population, the Mortifactors—acting as the main force—promptly took their portion of the transport fleet and left for the next planet in need of rescue.
They completely ignored the Lamenters' requests to stay. Loading up their fully packed transport ships, they returned to Calth to prepare for the next planetary deployment, informing the Thalassar Squad of the surface conditions and recommending an immediate Exterminatus.
As for the reason...
Titus leaned his arms against the edge of the tactical display.
On the holographic projection, the suffocating scale data of the Hive Fleet constantly refreshed. Even more disturbing were the intertwined Chaos energy readings on the planet's surface; the corruption of Slaanesh was spreading across Asteria like a virulent plague.
The planetary nobles who resided there, unable to evacuate in time, had somehow torn open massive rifts on the surface. Countless Daemons of the Warp had poured out, engaging in a chaotic melee with the Tyranids.
Uncharacteristically abandoning their predatory warfare tactics, the Tyranid Organisms engaged in a near-suicidal war of attrition against the creations of Slaanesh.
It made no sense. According to the strategic guide, regions traversed by the Swarm would leave a heavy Shadow in the Warp, exponentially increasing the difficulty for Chaos to exert its influence.
Moreover, upon encountering fierce resistance and heavy casualties, the Swarm would typically choose to retreat, not double down like this.
The strategic guide had long proven its authority battle after battle, which meant this conflict involved other, unknown variables.
Titus somewhat understood why the Mortifactors had been avoiding joint operations with the Lamenters.
Due to their unique funerary culture and the superstitious practice of collective meditation led by their Chapter Chaplain to seek omens, the Mortifactors were often viewed with suspicion by the Inquisition, their brother Chapters, and the high echelons of the Imperium.
Yet their loyalty to the Imperium was unquestionable. They always respected the warriors who served the Emperor, holding special reverence for the martyrs who died for Imperial ideals and the fallen heroes.
This devotion greatly neutralized the suspicion drawn by their culture, which clashed so sharply with mainstream Imperial doctrine.
However, their attitude completely changed when it came to the Lamenters.
In all fairness, Titus had a rather good impression of the Mortifactors.
At the very least, they were not like some stubborn Codex Compliant Chapters who blindly followed Lord Guilliman's writings as inflexible dogma.
The Mortifactors had found a new path under the guidance of their Chapter Chaplain. They believed that, as sons of Guilliman, they still respected their Genetic Father just as much as the Ultramarines did.
But being shackled to a Codex written ten millennia ago would likely render them incapable of adapting to ever-changing environments. Every great work had its historical limitations, even those penned by someone as divine as their Genetic Father.
Therefore, they had always merely used the Codex as a reference, preferring to engage the enemy flexibly based on their own experiences and current conditions. Aside from their penchant for collecting skulls for funerary rites, the Mortifactors actually maintained a fairly decent reputation outside their ranks.
But even such a pragmatic Chapter kept the Lamenters at a respectful distance.
Perhaps it was a clash of operational styles, or perhaps the omens gleaned from their collective meditations under the Chaplain's guidance had truly revealed something to them.
"Lord Titus?"
The captain's voice pulled Titus back from his deep thoughts. The sergeant jerked his head up, his eyes reflecting the captain's tense expression.
Meeting his gaze, the captain spoke rapidly.
"An Imperial fleet has entered the system and sent us a communications request."
A faint intake of breath sounded from beneath Titus's faceplate. He instinctively clenched his Power Fist, the surging battle-lust fueled by his thoughts receding like the tide. He immediately responded in a deep voice.
"Put them through."
"This is the Dawnlight of the Wings of Dawn. I am Captain Aurora von Kallox. Angels of Death, I request that you share the battlefield intelligence currently in your possession, as well as the nature of your operations."
"Wings of Dawn?"
Titus and the captain exchanged a glance, surprise evident in their eyes.
Due to the mercurial nature of Warp communications and the disruptive Shadow in the Warp cast by the Tyranids, the sector's Mobile Fleet—including the Mortifactors—had yet to receive any notice of reinforcements.
The Wings of Dawn, the core organization of the Expeditionary Fleet, led by four esteemed lords.
Their formidable reputation preceded them.
"May I ask if Lord Romulus is present?"
Titus's voice unconsciously rose a notch. The servo-motors of his power armor hummed softly as he leaned forward.
A brief silence hung over the comms channel.
"..."
On the other end, aboard the Dawnlight, Aurora looked at Romulus. Her eyes held an inquiring look, tinged with a degree of helplessness.
Ever since the four lords had joined the fleet, negotiations with various factions had relied entirely on their sheer prestige and face value. Her diplomatic etiquette, inherited from Knight Nobles, was completely useless.
"Don't look at me. It's an Ultramarine. You handle this yourself,"
Karna replied, currently undergoing pre-battle preparations. He had already gathered the Flesh Tearers and the Sororitas Squad inside the Stormbird, ready to breach the planet's surface at a moment's notice.
There was a time to relax, and a time to tense up and fight.
"Greetings, Titus."
Romulus shook his head, a gentle smile lifting the corners of his mouth as he stepped forward.
The holographic projection beamed his figure clearly onto the bridge of the Wrath of Thalassar.
"I am the leader of the Dawn fleet, Romulus Quirinus."
"If you cannot inform me of your operational details, I kindly ask that you share the current state of the battlefield and tell me who is in charge here."
His voice was like a tranquil lake, yet it harbored a strength that could not be ignored.
Behind him, intelligence officers were rapidly compiling data.
Titus unconsciously straightened his back even further, the joints of his power armor emitting a faint hydraulic hiss.
"Of course, my lord."
His voice carried genuine, heartfelt respect.
"I will share everything I know with you."