As time dragged on, the confined space of the Thunderhawk filled with a tense silence. The two Space Marines had set up shifts to monitor for any signs of rescue, while the civilians spoke in hushed tones, glancing nervously at the two giants among them.
Ambrosius, attempting to bring some comfort, lit a small heating rod, its warmth spreading through the cabin. “This flame is like our faith—small, yet constant. No matter the darkness of the void, it will endure.”
One of the civilians, a woman holding her child, nodded gratefully. “Thank you, my lord… Are you… afraid?”
Ambrosius gave a low, rumbling laugh. “Afraid? No. Fear is the privilege of the weak. Our lives are the Emperor’s to command, and if this is where he deems we are needed, so be it.”
Callex, however, stood silent, lost in thought. To him, every second was a calculation. The ticking clock of their power supply weighed on him, and he knew Ambrosius felt the same. Finally, Callex turned to his brother.
“Ambrosius,” he murmured, leaning closer, “The Pilot just told me we are losing life support faster than he thought at this rate we have days or maybe hours left. We need to consider every option… even if it requires that we—”
Ambrosius raised a hand. “Our lives mean nothing compared to theirs. They are civilians, and our sworn duty is to protect them.”
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“Agreed,” Callex replied, nodding. “Then we shall endure as long as we must, for them.”
As hours turned into days, hope began to dwindle. The civilians huddled together, conserving warmth and taking sparse sips of their remaining water. The Space Marines kept their distance, knowing their looming presence was both a comfort and a stark reminder of the dangers outside. The Thunderhawk’s occasional distress signals had gone unanswered.
Ambrosius sat near a young boy, who looked up at the Salamander with wide, fearful eyes. Sensing the child’s fear, Ambrosius removed his gauntlet, revealing his scarred, ebony hand.
“See this?” he said, showing the burn marks. “It is a mark of the flame—a bond between me and my brothers of Nocturne. We bear these scars as proof of our loyalty to one another and to the Emperor. You, too, carry a bond, young one, even if you don’t see it. You are strong. You will survive this.”
The boy seemed to calm, nodding as he looked at the scarred hand with awe.
Meanwhile, Callex stood by the viewport, staring into the endless darkness of space. He had sent his fair share of prayers, but even he felt the weight of uncertainty.
Ambrosius joined him, the two standing in silence before Callex finally spoke. “You believe in miracles, Brother?”
“I believe in duty. I believe in loyalty. And I believe in the Emperor’s protection. If we survive, it is His will. If not, then we served.” Ambrosius answered.
Callex nodded solemnly. “Aye, then we wait.”
As their life support dwindled, the faint pulse of their damaged distress signal persisted, carrying the two Space Marines’ hopes and the prayers of a dozen souls into the void. And as they waited, the Thunderhawk drifted silently across the void.