On the tactical hologram, the eerie pattern formed by five hundred thousand psykers burned itself into the depths of Alvin's eyes.
The curves tracking their vital signs rose and fell in perfect sync. Every fluctuation struck the nerves of everyone on the bridge like a hammer blow. A sharp blade forged by Mar-Vell rested against all humanity's throat!
Cold. Suffocating.
"My lord, the Holy Flame Arbiter has completed loading and is ready to answer a request for an orbital strike at any time."
The Imperial Navy commander's steady voice came over the communications channel.
But the Imperial Navy, which they had relied on so often before, seemed powerless in the face of five hundred thousand psykers.
Should he give the order?
One orbital strike. That was all it would take to end that damned Daemon!
But then five hundred thousand psykers would die at once, releasing enough Psychic Power to create a second Curse Scar!
No one wanted to see a second Curse Scar born!
Mar-Vell's move had struck Alvin where it hurt most.
He could accept the sacrifice of millions, even tens of millions of lives, but... he could never allow a second Curse Scar!
That was the brilliance of Mar-Vell's plan.
With five hundred thousand psykers, he had neutralized Alvin's greatest weapon: the Mars-class Battleship Holy Flame Arbiter, stationed in low Earth orbit!
Without the Holy Flame Arbiter's firepower hanging over him, the two sides were back at the same table.
Neither could overturn it.
Alvin fell silent and gave the Imperial Navy commander no answer.
His fingertips tapped lightly against the edge of the console, slow and measured, yet carrying an authority no one would dare question.
The bridge was terrifyingly quiet. Only the low hum of the energy circulation system and the faint glow of the