Farestein’s voice rang out as his Cadians scrambled to organize. "Leave unnecessary equipment! Take only essentials! The battle-capable get the remaining ammunition. Everyone else, assist the injured! We march in five!"
Amid the chaos, Medic Alis approached Farestein with a concerned expression. “Sir, a question about the critically injured.”
“And what is it?” Farestein asked, glancing toward the makeshift medical area.
“Why do those who are critical... glow blue?” she asked, pointing to the two soldiers lying motionless but shimmering faintly.
Farestein froze at her words and turned to look for himself. Indeed, the injured soldiers radiated a faint, ethereal blue light. His stomach twisted with unease. “I… don’t know,” he admitted, before adding, “I’ll consult the Astartes.”
He strode toward the towering figures of the Space Marines. The sight of them gathered around Ulfvar’s broken form, his injuries severe yet eerily similar in their blue shimmer, stopped him short.
"My lords," Farestein began hesitantly, bowing his head. "My medic has a question—"
Velkar looked up, his green eyes sharp beneath his helmet. “I suspect I already know what it is.”
Farestein nodded. “The glow…”
Velkar’s brow furrowed before he turned to Callex and Ambrosius. “This isn’t standard.”
Callex toggled his vox-link. “Ratchet, come in. We’ve got a situation.”
“What kind of situation?” Ratchet’s voice crackled back, puzzled but alert.
Callex’s tone hardened. “Why do some patients with an AutoDoc shimmer blue?”
The response came quickly. “The AutoDoc has entered stasis mode to preserve life until more advanced treatment is possible. It’s a safety feature to prevent critical systems from shutting down entirely.”
“Stasis?” Callex’s voice rose slightly, the tension obvious.
A brief silence hung over the group before Aedric stepped forward. “How long will it last?”
Ratchet answered calmly. “Press and hold the cross on the AutoDoc until the light turns blue. A display will provide details, including a timer.”
Aedric does as Callex directs, holding down the cross on the device attached to Ulfvar. A soft chime accompanied a holographic projection that sprang to life, detailing Ulfvar’s injuries and displaying a countdown timer: 45 minutes.
“Forty-five minutes,” Callex repeated grimly. “Not much time.”
“Unfortunately, The AutoDoc does not have a strong power source, this is the best you can get out of it other than making it bigger and more unwieldy.” Ratchet explained somberly.
“Understood,” Callex said. “We’ll make it count, Callex out.”
Callex updates the others about the situation.
"So we're in a race against time now, too." Ambrosius says, crossing his arms.
"So let's not waste it then" says Velkar and turns to Farestein "You and your men have 1 minute to get ready."
“Yes, my lord.” Farestein snapped into action, barking orders. “You heard the Astartes! One minute! Move like you’ve got a hive fleet on your heels!”
The group set off with urgency, their boots pounding against the ancient metal floor in a rhythm that mirrored their rising tension. Arsenal’s projected map flickered ahead, showing the landing zone less than three kilometers away—close enough to taste yet still a lifetime in a Space Hulk where every shadow threatened death. The dim, flickering lights overhead cast long, distorted shapes, and the air reeked of decay and machine oil. The oppressive silence was broken only by the steady hum of power armor and the hiss of leaking pipes.
They hadn’t gone far when the first ambush came. A piercing screech tore through the corridor, and the walls erupted with a living tide of Hormagaunts. Razor-sharp talons glinted in the low light as the xenos poured forward, their frenzied movement a horrifying blur.
“Contact! Rear and flanks!” Callex barked, firing as he moved. Controlled bursts from his bolter tore into the swarm, the explosive rounds dismembering the lead Tyranids. “Keep moving—don’t stop!”
Bjornir surged to the forefront, his massive frame shielding the group. His lightning claws flashed like blinding arcs of death, cleaving through chitin and bone with savage precision. He roared a war cry that echoed through the corridor. “Xenos! I’ll carve a path for you to the void!”
Aedric moved with the Cadians, his bolter adding to their withering fire as the team formed a tight, mobile line. Lasguns lit the corridor with rapid volleys of crimson bolts, cutting down Tyranids with grim efficiency. One leapt toward them, talons flashing. Farestein sidestepped and drove his bayonet deep into the creature’s throat, wrenching it free with a grunt. “Keep moving! Don’t let them pin us down!” Aedric’s gaze flicked toward Ulfvar’s stasis timer, which ticked down with relentless finality.
Further back, Velkar and Ambrosius anchored the rear, their combined precision keeping the swarm at bay. Ambrosius fired methodical bursts, each round a kill shot. Beside him, Velkar strode with measured confidence, his force staff glowing with psychic energy. “Left flank!” Ambrosius called out, his bolter cutting down a leaping gaunt. Velkar responded with a bellow, driving his staff into the deck. A wave of azure flames surged outward, consuming the xenos in their path.
“They press harder,” Velkar muttered, his psychic aura flickering as he rallied his strength.
“We press harder still,” Ambrosius replied coldly, already sighting his next target.
Ahead, Bjornir's claws ripped through a Tyranid Warrior, splitting it in two before he hurled the corpse into the swarm. “We’re thinning them! Don’t falter!” he shouted, his voice carrying over the chaos.
The group surged forward, but the swarm came again, this time from multiple directions. Tyranids poured in from maintenance shafts above and shadowed alcoves on either side, forcing the team to fight on all fronts.
“Roof breach!” Callex snapped, swinging his bolter upward. His rounds tore into the gaunts clambering down the walls, their bodies crumpling as ichor sprayed in wide arcs. A clawed limb lashed out, narrowly missing his shoulder as he ducked and fired another burst.
Velkar raised his staff, and a shimmering psychic shield flared to life overhead, deflecting the descending swarm. The creatures screeched in fury as they rebounded, only for Ambrosius to pick them off one by one with precise shots. “Hold that focus, Velkar!” he said tersely, reloading in one fluid motion.
Bjornir charged into a fresh cluster of Tyranids that had erupted from the floor ahead. He struck low, scything through multiple gaunts with a single sweep before pivoting to block a Warrior’s talons with his armored forearm. Sparks flew as he forced the creature back, then finished it with a brutal cross-slash.
To the side, the Cadians struggled against a surge from a collapsed corridor. Aedric stood at the center of their line, his bolter roaring as he cut down leaping gaunts mid-air. Farestein barked orders, rallying his troops. “Don’t break! Steady and fire!” he shouted, punctuating his words by blasting a gaunt through the skull with his sidearm. Another xeno lunged at him, only for Aedric to step in, smashing the creature to the ground with the butt of his bolter before firing into its head.
“Flank’s folding!” one of the Cadians called out as two soldiers went down under a fresh wave of claws and teeth. Aedric pivoted, firing into the fray as Farestein and another trooper dragged the injured back.
“Keep formation!” Aedric growled, firing in short, brutal bursts. His bolter overheated, and he swiftly transitioned to a combat knife, cutting through a gaunt that lunged too close. The xenos blood splattered his visor, but he didn’t stop, planting a boot on its corpse and wrenching free his blade.
Another shockwave from Velkar’s staff rippled through the corridor, sending a dozen Tyranids flying into walls, their bodies crumpling like paper. “That’s all I can manage for now,” Velkar said through gritted teeth, sweat beading on his brow.
“You’ve done enough brother,” Ambrosius replied, stepping in front of him and firing at a charging Warrior. The explosive bolt took the creature in the chest, blowing it apart mid-stride. “Stick close.”
Further ahead, Bjornir slammed another Warrior against the bulkhead, crushing its carapace with sheer force before cleaving it in two. The swarm thinned but continued to press.
The battle stretched on like a fever dream, time losing meaning amidst the chaos. For what felt like hours, they waged a brutal war of attrition, every kill only momentarily staving off the swarm's unrelenting tide. Bjornir's armor was smeared with ichor, the once-pristine ceramite dulled by countless strikes. His breathing was heavy, even through the enhanced systems of his armor, each swing of his lightning claws more laborious than the last.
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Aedric’s arms ached from the recoil of his bolter, the weapon running dangerously hot despite his practiced fire discipline. He could barely feel his fingers anymore, the constant vibrations numbing them. Around him, the Cadians moved with grim efficiency, their faces pale with exhaustion but set in hard lines of determination. They had ceased to speak, conserving breath for movement and aim, their once-snappy responses reduced to nods and gestures.
Velkar’s psychic hood sparked intermittently, its field of energy fraying under the strain of repeated usage. His staff felt like an anchor, each swing an act of will as his reserves dwindled. Beside him, Ambrosius remained steadfast, his bolter’s steady rhythm a metronome against the Xenos. Yet even his movements betrayed weariness, each action a fraction slower than before.
The corridor was a testament to their endurance, the walls streaked with black ichor and the corpses of dozens upon dozens of xenos. Yet still, the swarm pressed, the intervals between waves shortening, giving them less and less time to recover.
Bjornir stood over the shattered remains of a Warrior, his claws dripping with gore. He glanced over his shoulder at the group, their formation still holding but fraying at the edges. "We can't keep this up," he growled, voice tight with strain. "The void awaits us, or it takes us. Either way, we finish this."
“Distance?” Aedric called, his bolter never pausing as he shifted to cover the team’s left flank.
“One click!” Callex replied, glancing at the map. His tone held grim determination, but there was no mistaking the urgency.
“And the timer?” Bjornir snarled, decapitating a gaunt mid-stride before sprinting ahead to secure the next junction.
“Fifteen minutes,” Aedric responded tightly, his voice tinged with fatigue.
Ambrosius spat a curse but didn’t slow. “it almost feels as if deliberately trying to drag out the time.”
The swarm diminished but didn’t relent, their alien screeches weaving a symphony of terror as the survivors carved through them with desperate resolve. Every movement was a gamble, every step a race against time. Yet still, they pressed on, exhaustion clinging to them like a second skin.
The silence that followed was worse than the chaos, thick and oppressive. Every step now felt like treading on a minefield, every shadow a harbinger of doom. The walls seemed to breathe, shifting unnaturally as if the ship itself conspired against them. The faintest skitter of claws tightened fingers on triggers.
The attack came without warning. Chitinous claws burst through the walls, and the corridor exploded with Genestealers. They swarmed in a blur of muscle and fang, their screeches a deafening cacophony.
The rear guard had no chance. Flak armor shredded like parchment as the creatures tore into the Cadians with savage efficiency. Cries of pain and panic filled the air, mixing with the wet, visceral sound of flesh rending under alien claws. Blood sprayed in arcs across the corridor as bodies crumpled.
Ambrosius spun, his power sword igniting with a searing flash. The blade cleaved through the first Genestealer to lunge at him, splitting its torso in half with a sizzle of burned flesh. He turned just in time to duck another, his upward swing severing its head cleanly. "Hold the line!" he bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Don’t let them split us!"
Aedric planted his feet, his bolter roaring as explosive rounds tore through xenos flesh. A Genestealer pounced at him, but he twisted aside, firing point-blank into its skull. The creature's head detonated, spraying ichor across his armor. “They’re flanking us!” he shouted, backing up to avoid the claws of another.
Velkar turned, the air around him crackling with psychic energy. His eyes blazed with cold fury as he unleashed a wave of warp fire. The flames washed over the creatures, their screeches rising to a crescendo as their bodies charred and collapsed into smoldering heaps.
But the victory came at a cost. Five Cadians lay lifeless on the ground, their blood pooling in thick rivulets. The remaining soldiers staggered, bleeding and battered, their faces pale with shock. Even the Astartes bore marks of the fight—deep gashes across Ambrosius’s pauldrons and a dent in Aedric’s chestplate, ichor dripping from the cracked ceramite.
Velkar’s lip curled in frustration as his psychic hood flickered. “We have to move,” he said, his voice tight. “They’re coming.”
The faint, rhythmic clicking of claws on the distant walls confirmed his words. The swarm was relentless, and the sound was growing louder.
Ambrosius took a step forward, forcing himself upright despite the stinging pain in his side. "Gather your weapons. Leave the dead—we don't have time for rites."
One of the surviving Cadians, blood smeared across her cheek, hesitated, glancing back at her fallen comrades. Ambrosius grabbed her by the shoulder, his voice sharp. "We mourn them by surviving. Move!"
The group pushed forward, their pace quickening despite their wounds. The walls seemed to narrow around them, every twitch of movement in the periphery sending shivers down their spines. Behind them, the sound of the Tyranids grew closer—a relentless drumbeat of death closing in.
There was no time to think, no time to grieve. Only the ticking clock.
The group continued their desperate push through the suffocating corridors, the ever-present sound of Tyranids clawing at the walls and floors heightening their tension. Bjornir led the way, his claws carving through any stragglers foolish enough to challenge him. Behind him, the Cadians moved with grim efficiency, their wounds forgotten in the rush to survive. The Astartes took up key positions, each one a bulwark against the swarm.
The corridor opened into a wider chamber, a jagged rent in the walls revealing an access shaft. The swarm burst forth in a horrific wave, led by a Tyranid Warrior that roared its challenge. Smaller gaunts swarmed alongside it, their collective screeches deafening.
“Hold the line here!” Callex shouted, his bolter already blazing. “We need to cut through them and move!”
Bjornir charged forward, his claws alight with energy as they cleaved through the first wave of gaunts. The Warrior lunged at him, talons flashing, but he met its strike with a brutal uppercut that shattered its claw and sent it reeling. “Keep moving! I’ll deal with this one!” he roared, plunging his claws into the beast's chest and tearing it apart.
Behind him, Ambrosius and Velkar anchored the left flank. Velkar’s psychic energy surged, a wave of force slamming into the charging gaunts and scattering them like leaves in a storm. Ambrosius picked off the survivors with precision, his bolter firing in short, deadly bursts. “We don’t have time for this!” he growled, his voice carrying over the chaos.
Farestein and his Cadians held the right, their lasguns cutting down the swarm with disciplined fire. Aedric fought among them, his bolter roaring as he covered the rear. A Genestealer lunged at Farestein, but Aedric intercepted it with a brutal strike, his knife driving deep into the creature’s throat. “Keep moving! We’re almost through!” he barked, wrenching his weapon free.
The last of the swarm fell, leaving only silence and the oppressive weight of the hulk’s atmosphere. The group didn’t pause to celebrate; they surged forward into the next corridor, their exhaustion eclipsed by desperation. Ahead, the gate loomed, its massive bulk marked with the sigil of the Imperium.
Ambrosius stopped short, his eyes narrowing. “That’s… an entrance to an Emperor-class Battleship’s command center,” he muttered, awe creeping into his voice. “How did this get here?”
“Questions later,” Callex snapped, his bolter scanning the shadows. “Get us inside.”
Velkar moved to the control panel, his armored fingers dancing over the ancient interface. Sparks flared, and the gate groaned before slowly sliding open, revealing the battle center beyond. A holographic table dominated the center of the room, its ancient projectors flickering to life as if welcoming them. The observation window behind offered a view of the void—broken only by the eerie silhouette of the hulk’s twisted structures.
“Move!” Callex ordered. The group rushed through, dragging the wounded to one side of the room. The gate closed behind them with a resounding clang, sealing them in.
“Where’s the rescue ship?” Aedric growled, his frustration palpable.
Callex toggled his vox, his voice tight. “Arsenal, Ratchet, come in. We’re at the designated extraction point.” Static answered him, the interference thick and unyielding. "The interferences are back," Callex said grimly, turning off his vox.
“Our new ally doesn’t seem particularly reliable,” Aedric grumbled.
Ambrosius cut in sharply. “interferences must have delayed them. We’ll hold.”
A deafening crash shook the gate, the bulkhead buckling inward but holding. The unmistakable roar of a Carnifex echoed through the chamber. “They won’t stop until they’re inside,” Velkar said, his voice low.
“Then we stop them here,” Callex replied, his tone hard. “Set up barriers. Fight like we’ve already won.”
The group moved with purpose, assembling makeshift defenses and positioning themselves around the room. The gate groaned again, an opening appearing large enough for smaller Tyranids to pour through. Lasfire and bolter rounds filled the air, cutting down the first wave, but the Carnifex loomed beyond, its immense bulk crashing against the gate with increasing ferocity.
“Two minutes!” Aedric shouted, glancing at the timer.
The situation grew dire as the swarm pressed harder. The Astartes offered their prayers to the Emperor, their weapons blazing as they held the line. Velkar’s psychic energy wavered, flickering as he strained against the tide. The Cadians fought with grim determination, their numbers only a fraction of what they once were.
Suddenly, a deafening roar filled the room, and the observation window behind them shattered. A sleek, angular ship crashed into the chamber, The angular front, shielded by thick armored plating, jutted into the room like the head of a charging beast. Beneath it, the faint outline of a concealed boarding ramp became visible, its heavy hinges straining against the chaos. Cannons on the side of the cockpit flared, tearing through the Tyranids with precise, devastating plasma.
The boarding ramp was extended, revealing Arsenal's spherical body floating in the opening. "Come on!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the din. "We don't have much time!"
Callex's voice boomed over the chaos. "Everyone, to the ship.. NOW!"
The group sprinted up the ship's ramp, the dull thud of boots on metal mingling with the roar of distant battle. The Astartes fired disciplined bursts, their bolters roaring defiance against the encroaching swarm. Aedric, muscles straining, carried Ulfvar's limp form in his arms, his expression grim beneath his helmet. Behind him, the Cadians followed in tight formation, some dragging wounded comrades, others limping but determined.
Inside, the ship's interior was bathed in soft, sterile light. A sleek machine awaited them, its pink optic glowing with an almost organic light, contrasting its otherwise mechanical form. Its voice, calm yet commanding, cut through the chaos.
"Place those in stasis on the beds to the left," it instructed, gesturing with a precise mechanical limb. "Badly injured but conscious? Use the white chairs."
Without hesitation, Aedric strode to a bed and gently lowered Ulfvar onto its smooth surface. As soon as he did, four curved, metallic bows slid seamlessly from beneath the bed, locking into place over the patient. A faint hum filled the air, and the bed's surface glowed a vivid blue, pulsating with energy. Ulfvar’s face relaxed as the machine’s advanced technology worked to stabilize him.
"The patient is in full stasis," the pink-eyed machine reported, its tone warm and inviting and strangely soothing. Without pausing, it moved with mechanical precision, scanning and tending to the other wounded.
Aedric glanced over his shoulder as the ground shook violently, the unmistakable roar of the Carnifex echoing through the ship’s hull. The beast slammed through the shattered gate, its eyes blazing with fury. Its talons scraped against the metal as it lunged forward.
"Move! Get aboard now!" Callex voice thundered, their bolters roaring as they poured a final salvo into the advancing creature. The Carnifex reeled, ichor spraying from fresh wounds, but it didn’t falter.
The last of the group stumbled onto the ramp as it began to rise. The Carnifex charged, but the ship’s cannons thundered, a deafening barrage slamming into the monster, driving it back. The ramp sealed shut with a heavy clang, cutting off the sound of the beast’s enraged roars.
The ship's engines roared to life, vibrations rattling the walls as it surged backward. Through a viewport screen, the group saw the Carnifex fall behind, its form shrinking amidst the writhing mass of the swarm below. Relief flooded the room as the craft ascended, leaving the hulk and its horrors behind.