Your start grabbing Krak AT grenades from your webbing. “Get the kraks out, we are collapsing the ceiling to trap the swarm on the bridge.”
Losis kneels down, still covering the corner, and starts setting his Krak grenades on the ground. “Makes sense to me. No reason to risk injury when we know the synapse beasts controlling the swarm can be trapped and left to die.”
Goirlin snarls over the vox, “rrgh. We do not know that all of the synapse beasts will be trapped and killed. Moreover we can not confirm the kills without ever seeing them in the first place!”
Hagrdict already has his grenades unslung and slides them across to land at your feet. “We have at most nine and a half minutes to set these and get at least two kilometers from this ship. As much as I would prefer to meet the foe blade-to-claw, all of our geneseed, the essence of what we are and that which ensure the future of our Chapters, would be destroyed at best or tainted at worst if we stayed. We Black Templars are a fleet-based chapter, so I know of what I speak when I say that there will be next to nothing left of this ship and all still aboard her when the self-immolation protocol activates.”
You pick a likely looking support strut and activate the magnetic clamps on your first Krak grenade. “We don’t have time to kill a carnifex, whatever synapse beast is leading the swarm, its dozens of minions, the orks, and get away. We would have to stay on the bridge and hope that we could disarm the self-immolation protocol in time. And even if we did disarm it, I can think of no better way to demolish this entire ship, and the tyranid digestion pool, then reactivating and triggering it ourselves. So if it is active now, I see no reason to risk disarming it.”
Gorlin grunts and shudders, fighting the desire to launch himself around the corner and take the fight to the foe. After nearly fifteen seconds he slams a gauntleted fist into the wall hard enough to dent it, “rheh-heh-heh. Knew there was a reason Watch Command tapped you to lead this kill team. Which way we running to clear the blast?”
“ ‘North’ to the Repugnant, then ‘west’ to the Kahsmin. I for one would like to cleanse the ichor and tracking-peremones from my armor before heading back to the void-hab. Wrecked or not, there should be some sort of facilities aboard a nova-class frigate that should suit our needs and scale.”
Hagrdict cocks his head, still keeping his bolter trained on the corner, “nine minutes on the clock. You said the Khamsin?”
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“Yes, why?” You finish setting your three krak grenades and scoop up Hagrdict’s, working as you talk.
“A fragment of lore I came across that may be the same ship. Do you know which chapter she came from?”
“Not a clue. What does it matter?” You double back to scoop up Losis’ and Gorlin’s grenades.
“A passing thought, no more. The nova-class of ships is not old enough to match the scrap of lore that I came across.”
You set the last of the grenades and start its timer “Ten seconds until these blow. Time to be somewhere else!”
The Krak AT grenades detonate, bringing the passageway down in the thunder of imploding charges and exploding conduits. Your team is long gone, hauling ass as fast at the passageways will take you.
The shipwreck to the immediate north of the Rok Breka’s forward section proves to be some sort of imperial cargo hauler or transport, which is fortunate indeed for it means that you make excelet time traversing it. You manage to stay on the same cargo deck, running as fast as you can across the empty hold, counting down the time to the beat of your pounding feet.
Not twenty seconds after you enter the wreck of the Repugnant you feel a pulse of heat and the rattle of metal on metal. Moments later there is an unholy keening as warp energies rend and tear at reality. When the deck stops shaking and your ears stop ringing, you look back from whence you came and find yourself looking into a great gaping chasm.
Craning your neck and pushing your autosenses to the limits, you estimate that the detonation of the Rok Breaka’s Warp Core consigned the ship and everything inside a kilometer of it to oblivion: there is just a gaping hole where the shipwreck used to be. Secondary detonations from the surrounding ships have both ripped the void larger and sent hazardous debris and shrapnel floating into that space, making it suicidally dangerous to traverse.
You slap your hand against the bulkhead, and then have Gorlin lead off ‘north-west’ to the Khamsin and a well deserved shower.
The Capitalis Congestus is now 19% destroyed.
An hour later in the communal showers aboard the Khamsin, you are slightly surprised when Hagrdict sticks his head into your shower stall.
“Marcellus, the Khamsin did not start out as a nova-class frigate. She’s been rebuilt at least once, from what I can tell.”