In the Mid-hive command center, the metal floor reflected the ghostly green chill of the tactical screens. Robert silently listened to Moth's report over the communicator, his brow furrowing tighter and tighter.
"Slaaneshi enemies..." He pondered for a moment, his voice especially grave in the solemn command center. "Whether they're daemons or Space Marines, neither will be easy to deal with."
Yet they could not simply leave them alone. Chaos corruption was like the most malignant tumor: once discovered, it had to be excised. If those people obsessed with extreme pleasure and pain were allowed to remain in the Upper Nest, who knew when they might pull some Warp stunt, tear open the veil of reality, and summon a Greater Daemon or two. By then, Pedetia would be completely finished.
"Stay where you are for now. Don't act rashly," Robert ordered after a moment's hesitation. "Since the bar is temporarily safe, establish an observation post there and wait for the heavy weapons units to reach the Upper Nest."
"Understood." Moth's voice came through clearly.
After ending the call, Robert looked up, his gaze sweeping across the Company Commanders and Tech-Priest Redito standing before him. The news had made the atmosphere in the command center oppressive.
"What do you think?" he asked. "Is the proposal to directly collapse the Governor's Mansion with heavy firepower feasible?"
"Forgive my bluntness, Commander, but almost certainly not." Redito was the first to shake his metal head, analytical light flickering in his mechanical eyes. "The higher one's status, the less willing one is to risk one's life, and the more one values it above all else... Ah, I am not insinuating anything about certain important figures. This is merely a conclusion drawn from sociological statistics. Upper Nest Nobles tend to possess an extreme fear of death,