5 Minues earlier inside the room Behind the gate

--Apthecary Aedric Valthion's Perspective.--

Aedric’s hands worked tirelessly, administering what medical aid he could spare to the wounded. His white-and-blue armor bore the scars of countless battles, streaked with ichor and scorched from acidic blood. He cast a quick glance around their grim sanctuary.

The Terminator Bjornir Frostclaw stood at the forefront, his twin lightning claws carving through waves of chittering Hormagaunts. The Space Wolf fought like a primal force, unrelenting even as his foes attempted to overwhelm him. His brother, Ulfvar Ironmane, lay behind the bastion—barely clinging to life. Ulfvar wearing only his undersuit. The Terminator armor he once wore had been torn to pieces in an earlier conflict, a testament to the ferocity of the Lictors that had nearly claimed him. Aedric had done all he could, but Ulfvar’s wounds were severe.

Nearby, Velkar Drakthar sat on a pile of boxes, his emerald-green Salamander Librarian armor glowing faintly with psychic energy. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady as he focused his mind. Even the Vulkan-forged resilience of a Salamander had limits, and Velkar had pushed past them. The warp energy he wielded to smite their foes exacted a toll that not even his indomitable will could ignore.

Finally, Aedric turned his gaze to the remaining Cadians—just forty or so, of the original platoon. First Lieutenant Farestein moved among his men, barking commands and offering reassurances, but even he could not mask the desperation in his voice. They were running out of ammunition, and the medics had no supplies left to treat the injured.

“How much longer do you think we can hold out?” Aedric asked, his tone even but grave.

Velkar opened his eyes, the faint glow of psychic energy flickering in his pupils. “As long as we must.”

“My lords,” Farestein approached, his face lined with exhaustion but still determined. “We’re down to our last magazines. Our medic has nothing left to treat the wounded.”

Aedric’s eyes traveled over the injured soldiers lying in makeshift shelters. The sight stirred a pang of frustration—these mortals had fought valiantly, but their chances were dwindling. “Have your scouts returned?” he asked.

Farestein shook his head. “We lost contact with them half an hour ago. No word since.”

Velkar’s voice was a low growl. “We’re running out of options. If we stay, this place will become our tomb.”

Farestein hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Then what do we do with—”

A sharp sizzling sound interrupted him. All eyes turned toward a side door, its edges glowing as a melta charge hissed and burned through the reinforced metal.

“What in Vulkan’s name?” Velkar snarled, rising to his feet.

The door exploded inward, smoke and debris billowing into the room. Two more astartes stormed through the breach, their weapons blazing

--Perspective of Callex and Ambrosius--

Callex led the charge, his bolter roaring as he cut down a pack of Hormagaunts that turned to meet the new threat. Ambrosius was close behind, his power sword flashing as it cleaved through carapace and bone with ruthless efficiency. The sudden arrival of reinforcements sent a wave of hope through the beleaguered defenders.

“For the Emperor!” Bjornir’s voice boomed, his claws slashing through a Tyranid Warrior. The beast crumbled, its severed limbs twitching as it hit the ground. Inspired by the reinforcements, the defenders rallied. The Cadians, though bloodied and battered, found new strength, their lasguns adding to the cacophony of war.

“Push them back! Do not falter!” Callex’s commanding voice cut through the din, rallying the defenders to hold their ground.

Amidst the chaos, Ambrosius fought his way to Velkar at the center of the bastion. His glowing emerald armor, streaked with ichor, shone like a beacon. As he reached Velkar, the two locked arms briefly, a gesture of solidarity forged through countless battles.

“Brother,” Ambrosius greeted, his deep voice steady despite the bedlam. “What’s the plan?”

Velkar pointed, his psychic energies already beginning to flare. “We need to seal that breach before more of them pour through,” he said, his tone grim but resolute.

“Understood.” Ambrosius inclined his head. “I’ll aid oure brothers at the breach.” Without hesitation, he turned, his power sword lighting the path back to the front lines.

Velkar turned sharply to First Lieutenant Farestein, who stood nearby, rallying his men. “Farestein!” he called, his voice carrying authority that cut through the noise. “Take your men and reinforce the front! oure brothers will hold the line, but they need support.”

Farestein saluted sharply, his expression resolute. “As you command, Lord Velkar. Men, with me!” His Cadian soldiers surged forward, their lasguns blazing as they joined the fray.

Ambrosius rejoined Callex and Bjornir at the forefront, their combined might stemming the tide of xenos filth pouring toward them. His voice carried across the line, issuing calm, calculated commands to synchronize their defense. “Callex, shift left! brother wolf, hold the center! We’ll force them into the channel Velkar’s creating!”

Velkar, meanwhile, raised a gauntleted hand and unleashed a wave of molten energy. The psychic assault carved deep trenches into the ground, funneling the Tyranids into narrow choke points. Callex and Bjornir capitalized on the advantage, their relentless assault driving the swarm back inch by inch.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of blood and fury, the last of the Tyranids retreated into the smoking tunnel. Velkar, with a final surge of his power, collapsed part of the ceiling above the breach, sealing it with molten slag.

Silence descended, broken only by the ragged breathing of the survivors. The room reeked of sweat, blood, and ozone. Callex removed his helm, revealing a grim face lined with experience. His piercing gaze swept over the survivors.

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“Status report,” Velkar demanded, his emerald eyes narrowing as he turned to First Lieutenant Farestein.

Farestein stepped forward, his armor streaked with gore and his face pale. “Ten more men down. Thirty-five remain, but most are injured. We're out of ammunition.” His voice trembled, but his posture stayed firm. “Another assault will break us.”

Ambrosius joined Velkar, his gaze scanning the battered room. His eyes lingered on the wounded Cadians, softening as he spoke. “Then we must ensure there isn’t another.”

Velkar exhaled sharply, leaning heavily against the wall. “The Tyranids won’t wait. The next wave will be worse.”

“The elevator shaft back to the landing site is out,” Callex said grimly, arms crossed, his expression carved from stone. “With this many wounded, the climb is impossible.”

Farestein nodded, his tone measured but tinged with frustration. “Before I lost my scouts, their reports gave us precious few options. Sending more out now would only add to the dead. My Lords…” His voice wavered, though his resolve did not. “I cannot make that call.”

Across the room, Bjornir knelt beside his brother, Ulfvar, whose breath came shallow and ragged. The Space Wolf’s claws pressed into the ground as his head bowed. “If there’s another way, we must find it. My brother will not last much longer.”

Aedric knelt opposite Bjornir, his hands deftly checking vitals. He said nothing but exchanged a grim glance with the others.

Ambrosius stepped forward, and looked down at Ulfvar and weighed his options but his Salamander heritage only led him to one answer. From his forearm-mounted compartment, he produced a sleek, palm-sized device. “We do have one option.” He held it up for all to see. “This is an AutoDoc. It stabilizes critically injured individuals. It may be our best chance to save them.”

Aedric frowned, suspicion creeping into his voice. “An AutoDoc? What is that? Something new from the Adeptus Mechanicus?”

Ambrosius met the Apothecary’s gaze, steady and unyielding. “No. It is not their invention. It comes from... our new ally.”

Aedric’s face darkened, his glare sharp enough to cut. “Xenos technology?” he spat. “You’d defile these men with heretical devices?”

Before Ambrosius could respond, Callex spoke, his voice calm but firm. “It’s already been used once, brother.”

Aedric turned on him, eyes blazing. “What do you mean?”

Callex stepped forward, unflinching. “A Lictor nearly ended me. I had no choice but to use one of these devices.” He gestured at the damage to his armor. “I survived. Without it, I wouldn’t be standing here.”

“And you would ignore the Codex to justify it?” Aedric’s voice rose, his fists clenching.

“The Codex teaches caution and adaptability,” Callex countered, his tone sharp. “These devices saved me. If they can save others, I’ll not apologize for it.”

Velkar cut through the tension, his voice low but commanding. “If the alternative is doing nothing, then I side with Brother Callex. These men deserve every chance we can give them.”

Bjornir stood abruptly, his towering presence imposing. “If it can help my brother, I will use it. No technology is worse than watching him die.”

A heavy silence followed, the weight of the decision palpable.

Aedric finally sighed, the anger draining from his posture. His hands tightened around his medicae tools as he muttered, “Very well. But I will oversee their use.”

Ambrosius nodded, stepping toward Ulfvar. He placed the AutoDoc on the Space Wolf’s chest. “Press the cross to activate it. It will do the rest.”

Aedric complied, his touch precise despite his unease. The device hummed to life, projecting a holographic display over Ulfvar’s body. Scanning beams swept across him, mapping injuries with eerie precision. Swarms of nanobots surged into action, repairing tissue and sealing wounds.

“This…” Aedric’s voice softened, awe creeping in. “This is remarkable.”

Ambrosius handed the other devices to Farestein. “Use this on your most critical wounded. It won’t save everyone, but it’ll give them a chance.”

Farestein hesitated only a moment before taking it. “Thank you, my lord.”

As the AutoDocs worked, Callex turned to the group. “We’ve bought ourselves time. Now, we need a plan. Staying here is suicide.”

Velkar nodded, the faint glow of his emerald eyes getting sharper. “There’s an auxiliary maintenance tunnel parallel to the elevator shaft. It could lead us out.”

"If it's intact, my lord," Farestein muttered, returning after giving the devices to his medic. “With our luck, it’s already swarming with Tyranids.”

Ambrosius unsheathed his power sword, its edge gleaming. “Then we clear it. These men will see another dawn.”

Bjornir cracked his neck, his growl reverberating through the chamber. “The Wolves of Fenris do not abandon their pack.”

Callex’s voice rang with conviction. “Then it’s decided. Farestein, keep your wounded in the center with Aedric. Ambrosius, Velkar, hold the rear. Bjornir and I will lead the charge.”

Bjornir grinned savagely, his claws flexing. “It will be my honor. My fangs ache for battle.”

"Good, we have..." Callex began to say as the whole room began to shake like an earthquake had just struck.

The rumble started with a low, menacing groan, quickly escalating to a violent quake. The entire room pitched and buckled as though the ship itself was trying to tear apart. Crates and containers slid across the floor, smashing into walls. Loose equipment tumbled, scattering with sharp clatters, and bodies hit the ground with grunts of pain. It was chaos incarnate, a maelstrom that lasted only seconds but felt like an eternity.

When it stopped, the silence that followed was deafening.

"By the Emperor, what in the warp was that?" Farestein spat, hauling himself off the floor, his hand gripping a steel pipe for balance.

Aedric wasted no time, brushing debris off his shoulders as he rushed to pull a piece of shattered plating off Ulfvar. "Was that the Tyranids? Some new hellspawned trick of theirs?"

"Doesn't feel like their style," Callex muttered, his voice tense. He steadied himself against a console, eyes scanning the disarray. "It felt more like..."

A sharp hiss of static interrupted him, the vox sputtering to life. A voice crackled through, distorted but familiar. "Callex... Ambrosius... do you copy? Can you hear me?"

"Arsenal," Callex snapped, flipping the switch on his vox. "We hear you. What's the status?"

More static buzzed before Arsenal's voice cleared, calm but edged with urgency. "Good, we’ve reestablished contact..... A.R.K picked up something unusual on his scanners right before we lost you. It’s as we suspected—something on this ship is emitting massive interference. At the same time, we detected a surge of activity in a specific area."

"And the quake?" Callex pressed, already piecing the puzzle together.

"One of A.R.K.’s main cannons," Arsenal answered bluntly. "He pinpointed the largest concentration of activity and fired, whatever it was, the interference has decreased."

The room exchanged wary glances, the weight of Arsenal’s words sinking in.

"That would explain the mess," Aedric muttered, brushing dust from his chest with a grimace.

Callex raised a hand, refocusing. "Arsenal, we’ve got too many injured to retrace our original route. We're planning to take the auxiliary maintenance tunnels that run parallel to the elevator shaft—"

"Don’t," Arsenal cut in sharply. "That sector’s crawling with hostiles. They’re blocking you in as we speak."

Ambrosius cutin in to the conversation, his tone measured. "Then what’s the alternative?"

"Searching," Arsenal replied. A few tense seconds passed before a holographic map projected from Callex’s forearm-mounted device. Red lines traced across the screen, flickering as the ship’s systems calculated, until a solid route lit up.

"There," Arsenal said. "This path leads to a secondary landing site. Rachet and I will rendezvous with you there."

Callex studied the map, nodding as the route solidified in his mind. "Understood. We’re on our way. Callex out." He deactivated the vox and turned to face the others.

The group’s collective exhaustion was obvious, but Velkar’s eyes burned with suspicion as he stepped forward, fixing both Callex and Ambrosius with a glare. "You two have a lot of explaining to do."

Ambrosius, ever composed, spread his hands. "We will. But not here, and not now. This isn’t the place for questions."

Velkar’s gaze lingered, searching for cracks, but finally, he gave a curt nod. "Fine. But once we’re clear of this mess, I want answers."

"Understood," Callex replied, his voice steady, though he and Ambrosius exchanged a quick glance, unspoken tension passing between them.

Velkar turned sharply, rallying the others. "Move out! We don’t have time to waste."

As the group began organizing their supplies and preparing to leave, Callex and Ambrosius stood side by side, their thoughts heavy.

"This is going to be a nightmare to explain," Callex murmured under his breath.

Ambrosius sighed. "Focus on surviving first. Explanations can wait."

"Let's hope they still want to hear them," Callex muttered grimly, hand tightening around his weapon as they moved after the others.