The Breacher roared through the void, streaking toward the monstrous Space Hulk. From a distance, it was a terrifying amalgam of derelict ships, asteroids, and wreckage fused together by time and chaos. Organic Tyranid structures clung to its surface, sickly tendrils of biomass stretching like a parasite feasting on its dying host.

Inside the Breacher, Callex studied the live feed on a display mounted to his chair. The image zoomed in on a cluster of ships embedded deep within the hulk’s twisted mass.

“Look there,” he said, angling the screen toward Ambrosius. “Those wrecks—they look like remnants of Cadian vessels. That might be where the signal originated. If there are survivors, they’ll be there.”

“How far is that from our landing zone?” Ambrosius asked, leaning closer.

Arsenal glanced at the map and began to respond when he and Ratchet suddenly froze mid-motion. Their optics dimmed, flickering sporadically before rebooting. Both machines straightened, their voices overlapping as they spoke in unison.

“Oh… Oh,” Ratchet said finally, his tone unusually grim. “That’s not good.”

Ambrosius’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. “What happened?”

“We’ve lost contact with A.R.K.” Arsenal replied, his glowing eyes narrowing as he turned toward the Space Marines.

Callex stiffened. “What do you mean, ‘lost contact’?” His gaze darted back to the display. He adjusted the camera feed, trying to locate the silhouette of the ship. Far in the distance, a faint glimmer was barely visible, like a star on the verge of winking out.

“There’s interference,” Ratchet said, his voice steady but edged with tension. “Localized, perhaps. We’ve switched to backup systems for now, but the connection is completely severed.”

Ambrosius’s frown deepened as he studied the faint signal traces on the map. “What could be causing this?”

Callex glanced at him, his expression grim. “Natural phenomena, maybe? Void storms?”

"I highly doubt it, as A.R.K would have discovered it on his scanner if it were so." answer Arsenal

“Or…” Ambrosius hesitated, his mind spinning through possibilities. “It could be something aboard the hulk itself. A new hazard we didn’t account for.”

Ratchet’s voice was even but heavy with implication. “It wasn’t there when we arrived. This interference is deliberate—or it’s following some kind of pattern we don’t yet understand.”

The room fell silent for a moment as the weight of uncertainty settled over them.

"Whatever it is, we can't let it blind oss of the new danger that lurks on that cursed ship." Callex said finally, his tone firm. “We need to proceed cautiously until we know more.”

Ambrosius nodded. “Agreed, we cannot make any assumptions on the information we have at hand, we need to stay sharp.”

Though unspoken, the same thought lingered in in their mind: What could sever their connection to A.R.K so suddenly—and why now?

When the Breacher touched down on the hulk’s surface, the groaning metal beneath them echoed ominously. Arsenal and Ratchet followed the Space Marines toward the ramp but stopped just short.

“We cannot leave the Breacher,” Arsenal said, his voice apologetic. “If the interference worsens, we risk complete shutdowns. We will remain here in direct contact with the ship’s systems.”

Callex nodded, understanding the logic. “Hold position, then. and be ready to take off from this cursed ship."

As the ramp began to lower, Ratchet gestured toward a crate secured near the exit. “Before you go, there is one last piece of equipment I insist you take.”

Ambrosius opened it, revealing two forearm-mounted devices and a curved plate meant to fit the leg with dual slots. “What is this?” Ambrosius asked, lifting one of the items.

Ratchet’s voice held a touch of pride. “Experimental equipment—dispensers utilizing Hammer-space technology. They store 20 magazines, 30 grenades, and 5 AutoDocs each. Efficient, portable, they are still undergoing field trials. But I assure you, they should work without issue.”

Callex looked over Ambrosius's shoulder at the device, a grim expression on his face. "We must not forget the lessons of the Codex. Tools untested or unblessed may bring ruin. Their place in our doctrine must be earned." he says, pointing to the device.

"And yet, Brother, we are warriors of the present, not only the past. These devices offer hope in the crucible of war. Let us test them, but let us not fear them." Ambrosius answered as he turned the device around in his hand.

"Hope without vigilance is folly. I trust you will heed the Codex’s wisdom as we proceed." Callex says, crossing his arms as he glares down at Ambrosius.

"Always. Yet wisdom also teaches us to wield the tools at hand for the greater good." Ambrosius retorts, then equips himself with the device under Ratchet's direction. he then holds out the other to Callex, who reluctantly equips it.

“Let’s hope you’re right,” Callex muttered, as the two Astartes turned and descended the ramp.

The stench hit them first—a suffocating mix of decay and pheromones, carried on stagnant air. The hulking corridors before them were a maddening blend of twisted metal and Tyranid biomass, pulsing faintly as if alive. Dim lights flickered overhead, casting unsettling shadows.

“Stay alert,” Callex said, his voice low.

The Space Marines moved cautiously through the labyrinthine corridors. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the faint squelch of boots on the organic material underfoot.

Their first ambush came swiftly and without warning. From the shadows, a cluster of Hormagaunts lunged forward, their claws gleaming in the dim light.

“Contact!” Ambrosius roared, raising his bolter.

Callex’s shots rang out first, precise and devastating. Bolter rounds tore through the creatures, splattering ichor against the walls. Ambrosius moved like a whirlwind, his power sword slicing cleanly through carapaces and limbs. The Hormagaunts fell in pieces, their blood sizzling as it touched the metallic floor.

“They’re testing us,” Ambrosius muttered, scanning the shadows for movement. “This is only the beginning.”

"Whatever they send we will purge it in the name of the Emperor." Callex answered his voice harsh but firm.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

They pressed onward, the corridors tightening around them like a maw. Every corner held the threat of ambush, every shadow a potential enemy. Callex’s bolter roared again and again, each shot a measured strike. Ambrosius fought with brutal efficiency, his sword carving a path through the Tyranid hordes.

The narrow corridor's widened abruptly into a cavernous chamber. Shadows clung to the walls like predators, the air thick with an acrid tang that stung their lungs. Without warning, a ripple passed through the far wall, as if reality itself twisted. A Lictor stepped forth, its carapace shifting colors to match the jagged stone. Its blade-like talons gleamed in the dim light, dripping viscous ichor.

The creature lunged, faster than the human eye could track. Callex barely had time to raise his bolter before the Lictor’s talons scythed into his armor, gouging deep furrows into ceramite and flesh. Sparks and blood sprayed in equal measure as he staggered backward, his muffled grunt of pain swallowed by the Lictor’s guttural snarl.

"Callex!" Ambrosius roared, vaulting forward with unnatural speed.

But the Lictor pressed its advantage, pinning Callex against the wall. One of its claws pierced through his shoulder, nailing him like an insect to stone. The beast’s second talon slashed downward, aiming for his exposed neck. Callex managed to wedge his bolter between them, gritting his teeth as he jammed the trigger.

A thunderous burst of bolter fire erupted, the explosive rounds shredding through the Lictor’s undercarriage. Gore and fragments of chitin sprayed across the chamber, painting the walls in alien viscera. The creature shrieked, a sound like metal screaming against metal, but it refused to relent.

Ambrosius struck then, his power sword a blur of lethal energy. The blade cleaved into the Lictor’s abdomen, slicing through layers of armored carapace and alien flesh. A fountain of black ichor erupted from the wound, drenching Ambrosius in steaming, acrid blood that hissed where it met his armor. The Lictor spasmed violently, its claws flailing as it tried to disembowel its attackers even in death.

With a savage twist of his blade, Ambrosius wrenched the sword free, ripping through bone and sinew. The Lictor let out one final, ear-splitting screech before collapsing in a twitching heap. Its talons scraped feebly at the stone floor, leaving smears of its own blood as the light in its alien eyes dimmed and went dark.

Callex slid to the ground, his armor cracked and leaking blood from a dozen wounds. Ambrosius stepped over the dying xenos, plunging his sword into its head with a wet crunch to ensure it would never rise again. The chamber fell silent save for the ragged breathing of Callex and the faint sizzle of acidic blood eating away at the stone.

"By the Emperor," Callex muttered, his voice weak but defiant. "It’ll take more than that to kill me."

Ambrosius crouched at the side of Callex "It nearly did," he growled, sparing the Lictor’s remains a contemptuous glance.

Ambrosius used the forearm-mounted devices to bring out an Autodoc, "let's see if these work as well as Ratchet promised." he held it up to Callex.

"The Codex teaches caution and this... this device… it reeks of heresy. Are you certain it can be trusted?" Callex replied, looking between Ambrosius and The AutoDoc.

"The Codex serves as a guide, not a shackle. If it keeps you breathing, brother, then it has served its purpose." Ambrosius answered and pressed the AutoDoc against Callex's chest.

its sleek metallic surface glinting faintly in the dim light. The device adhered with a faint *click*, and the red cross on its back lit up, pulsing softly. A low hum filled the chamber as the AutoDoc powered up, scanning Callex's battered body.

The machine whirred, and a soft, bioluminescent light spread from its edges, forming a web-like projection over Callex's injuries. Nanobots deployed from tiny ports, swarming into the cracks of his armor and disappearing into the wounds beneath.

Callex gritted his teeth as a surge of warmth spread through his body. "Feels like it's burning," he muttered, but his voice carried less strain.

"That probably means it works." Ambrosius said gruffly, keeping watch on the surrounding shadows. "You can complain when you’re not bleeding out."

The glow from the AutoDoc intensified for a moment before receding, leaving a faint sheen over Callex’s injuries. Where moments ago there had been jagged rents in his flesh, now there were fresh, scarred-over patches of skin. The deeper wounds remained partially sealed, but the bleeding had stopped entirely.

The AutoDoc released itself with a *hiss*, retracting its nanobot tendrils and chirping once in confirmation.

Callex flexed his arms experimentally, his movements still sluggish but far more controlled.

"I hate to admit it, but Ratchet might be onto something," he said with a faint smirk.

Ambrosius looked at the Autodoc on the ground, which has begun to disintegrate on its own, and offered Callex a hand. "Save the gratitude for when we’re out of here."

Callex gripped his arm and hauled himself up, steadying his stance and glanced at the last bits they saw of the Aoutdoc before it was gone. "Right. Let’s make sure I don’t need another one of those."

The two strode forward, leaving the smoldering remains of the Lictor behind, the faint scent of acid still lingering in the air.

According to the map Arsenal provided, the signal was emanating from two floors below their current position. However, when they reached the elevator, they found it long destroyed, the shaft yawning before them like a black abyss.

“Down we go,” Ambrosius said, clipping his grapple to the edge.

The descent was tense. Callex kept his bolter trained downward, scanning for threats as they rappelled into the darkness. The walls of the shaft were riddled with Tyranid biomass, pulsating faintly in the dim light of their helmet lamps.

As they reached the bottom, a wave of spores erupted from the walls. A cluster of Rippers emerged, their snapping jaws scuttling toward the Marines. Callex fired in short, controlled bursts, the rounds shredding the tiny creatures. Ambrosius finished the rest with his blade, their remains squelching underfoot as they resumed their advance.

The corridor led to a sealed chamber, its entrance coated in Tyranid resin. Callex and Ambrosius forced the door open, stepping into a room dominated by a massive, jury-rigged transmitter. Around the device, Tyranid bioforms buzzed like insects around a hive.

“Purge them,” Callex ordered, raising his bolter.

The ensuing battle was chaotic. Tyranid Warriors emerged from the shadows, their scything talons clashing against Ambrosius’s sword. Callex held the line, his bolter hammering into the larger creatures while using grenades to clear the smaller swarms.

When the last of the Tyranids fell, the room was silent save for the hum of the transmitter. Callex approached it cautiously, studying the alien device that emitted the signal.

“It’s a lure,” Ambrosius said, kicking aside a pile of ichor-covered corpses. “Designed to draw in more victims.”

Callex nodded grimly. “These foul Xenos, setting up a trap and ambushing those who come to help, it stinks of cowardice.”

Callex looked around the room from where he stood, "But where are all the victims?" he says in a low tone

He moved to the far end of the room, where something glinted in the faint light. A shattered suit of Space Wolf Terminator armor lay crumpled on the floor, its insignias barely recognizable through the damage.

“No body,” Callex muttered, kneeling to examine the remains. “But whoever this was, they fought hard.”

Ambrosius’s voice drew his attention. “Tracks—leading further into the hulk." Ambrosius bent down and picks something up from the floor. "And bolter casings. Someone’s alive out there.”

The tracks led them through narrow passages choked with writhing Tyranid growths, pulsating with an unnatural vitality. The stench of alien biomass filled the air, clinging to their ceramite armor. Callex and Ambrosius moved cautiously, bolters raised, eyes scanning every shadow. The distant clash of battle reverberated through the tunnels—a relentless cacophony of bolter fire, Lasgun crack's, alien screeches, and the grinding of steel against carapace.

At last, they came upon a towering gate, sealed tight and scarred with claw marks. Beyond it, the noise was a maelstrom of chaos, the unmistakable sounds of a desperate struggle.

“This is it,” Callex declared, his voice crisp and authoritative. He stepped forward, running his gauntleted hand over the gate’s surface. The control panel to its side was smashed beyond recognition, wires sparking weakly.

“There’s no way to open this manually,” Ambrosius rumbled, his deep voice bears displeasure at this discovery. “We could try cutting through, but it would take precious time.” His eyes searching the area for a solution.

Callex turned, his gaze sharp. “Cutting isn’t an option. We need a faster solution.”

Ambrosius gestured to a nearby crate, its surface bearing the sigil of the Adeptus Mechanicus. “That might hold the answer.”

Callex knelt by the crate, his combat knife flashing as he pried it open. The lid gave way with a hiss, revealing a trove of Mechanicus ordinance. Callex’s expression shifted into a grim smile as he drew out a pair of melta bombs.

“These will do nicely,” he said, handing one to Ambrosius for inspection.

Ambrosius hefted the explosive in his massive hand, nodding approvingly. “A fine choice. But we’ll need to be precise. Too much force, and we could bring the entire tunnel down on our heads—or worse, draw more of the swarm.”

Callex’s jaw tightened. “Understood. We’ll focus the charges on the gate’s structural weak points. Ambrosius, mark them.”

Ambrosius stepped forward, his multi-spectral auspex humming as he scanned the gate’s frame. “Here, and here,” he said, pointing to two heavily reinforced hinges. “These points will collapse the barrier without destabilizing the tunnel.”

“Good,” Callex replied, setting to work. He placed the first bomb against one hinge, securing it with magnetic clamps. Ambrosius joined him, doing the same on the opposite side.

“We’ll detonate in sequence,” Callex said, stepping back to inspect their work. “First blast weakens the structure, second clears the way. Standard dispersal formation once we breach.”

Ambrosius nodded. “A sound plan, Callex. May Vulkan’s wisdom guide our blades.”

“And Guilliman’s will steady our aim,” Callex returned, his voice firm. “Prepare yourselves.”

They withdrewto a safe distance, weapons raised. Callex keyed the detonator. “Fire in the hole,” he intoned, pressing the trigger.

The first melta bomb ignited with a blinding burst, a shrill hiss filling the air as the gate’s metal began to bubble and melt. Moments later, the second charge detonated, a deafening roar tearing through the passage. The gate dissolved into a molten cascade, revealing the chaos beyond.

Through the breach, the battle raged. Tyranids swarmed in a frenzied tide, their chitinous forms silhouetted against the muzzle flashes of bolter fire. A beleaguered force of Imperial Guardsmen fought desperately, holding the line against the xenos onslaught.

“Move!” Callex bellowed, raising his bolter. Callex and Ambrosius surged forward, their war cries echoing through the passage.

The storm of battle embraced them, and the Emperor’s wrath followed in their wake.