Up until this point I've allowed the somewhat phlegmatic approach the commissar has taken to the overall tactical situation to stand, however, in this section of the story it's important to understand the overall situation on the ship.
Commissar Luther Covetain’s battle in the depths of the ship was distracting large numbers of the worshippers to attempt to hunt down and kill him, his slaughtering of the favoured child of Asmon was likely to be the saving grace of the whole situation. For this part, I have had to use one of the few After Action Reports from one of the few surviving officers who was attached to the Promethean 221st
Thus far, the cultists' infiltration of the ship had been executed with chilling precision. The initial boarding party descended upon the 20th floor, and yet, our response was swift and decisive. We managed to dispatch enough troops to contain and eliminate the intruders. However, the cost had been steep. Within a mere hour of their arrival, many of our vital ship defences, including torpedoes and fighter defence systems, were systematically neutralized.
We detected life-bearing vessels launching from the considerably larger traitor ship, and despite our best efforts to recalibrate the remaining auto-turrets to counter this threat, our endeavours proved futile. The vessel's manoeuvres did lead to some of the enemy landing pods overshooting our ship and drifting into the unforgiving void of space.
Contact with a Guard unit stationed on the 23rd floor was abruptly severed following reports of a fierce firefight with a sizable horde of cultists. Our last communication came from the Commissar attached to that unit, who grimly relayed the situation:
"We've encountered at least 40 of these cursed worshippers, and though we fight valiantly, we're on the brink of being overrun! Another wave like this, and we're done for. We've sustained severe casualties, and our grip is slipping. We can't hold on much longer." - End of transmission
With the situation escalating rapidly, discussions about consolidating our forces into a more defensible position arose. We had just 20 full squads at our disposal to secure the remaining sections of the ship. A distress signal had been dispatched, and our hopes hinged on the timely arrival of the Pinion of Terra, our promised rendezvous.
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As the battle in the ship's depths neared its conclusion, we reluctantly decided to fall back to a more secure location, the bridge of the vessel. On the 13th deck, A company found themselves locked in a brutal engagement with a substantial force of cultists. While their aim left much to be desired, their sheer volume of bolter rounds and explosives wreaked havoc among our ranks. This compelled us to withdraw them to the ship's upper levels.
Our command squad hastily constructed defences using whatever makeshift barricades we could find, including tables and debris. After evacuating decks 15 through 20, we strategically positioned our forces at key chokepoints, intending to funnel the cultists into kill zones. By 0900 hours, we had repelled most of the invaders on the 16th floor, though not without significant casualties. Our lack of heavy weaponry and the inaccessible armoury on the 18th floor added to our woes.
At 1300 hours, sporadic contact reports gave way to silence, particularly from 4th squad defending the southern 16th floor. Despite dispatching the 5th squad to investigate, we received no response for a disconcerting half-hour. Then, a voice broke through the radio waves, belonging to a trooper from the Sixth squad. His words were frantic, describing a malevolent entity with six arms that was systematically consuming the remains of his squad. At first, we dismissed this as madness borne of the chaos yet contact was cut abruptly by a sharp scream of terror and pain.
Soon after, our beacon of hope, the Pinion of Terra, established contact, promising swift assistance. They set a course for us, but the agonizing wait stretched to approximately 12 hours before their reinforcement could begin in earnest.
As the infernal battle raged on below decks, it was at roughly 1630 hours that contact with the cultists abruptly ceased. They, who had made significant inroads in several areas, retreated without warning, devoid of any semblance of order. In their hasty withdrawal, our valiant troops mowed them down, delivering fiery retribution and hosing down scores of them in every sector. Yet, the mysteries of their sudden disarray hung heavy, as we braced ourselves for the next unpredictable twist in this nightmarish ordeal within the dark, besieged bowels of our ship.”
This brings us up to roughly where the story is now, whilst the commissar is unable to provide timings or even any vague semblance of it. I made use of the main points of his memoirs to attempt to piece each part together. The following chapter seemed to fit with the sudden retreat of the worshippers from the frontlines and the sudden appearance of large roaming bands of them further below deck, whom the Commissar and his beleaguered companions made sure to attempt to avoid.