Star Chart, Meditation, Longing

With faint irritation, Sicarius stared in silence at the star map, at the whole swath of systems filled with green and gray.

"Emperor above."

He heard Angard, standing beside him, mutter to himself, "So many loathsome xenos."

"They are indeed numerous, but we are not without a chance, brother." Sicarius looked at the star map as he spoke. "I am certain we can still find some way to deal with them."

"I am not as optimistic as you, Captain Sicarius. I am merely flesh and blood. I have neither your intellect nor even a shred of the wisdom a veteran ought to possess."

Angard gloomily stroked his sword. The Emperor's Champion's face looked like a stone wrapped in ice at the bottom of an abyss, hard beyond measure. "All I know is how to swing a blade and cut off the heads of these abominations for the Emperor—so if you have any plan, please tell me now."

A plan?

Sicarius shook his head. He was an outstanding field commander, but if asked to make this sort of overarching plan, the Second Captain could probably only give a helpless, wry smile.

"I have no plan, but neither do they, Brother Angard."

Sicarius braced both hands on the cold metal table. The creation of the Glyph Array ran steadily; not even an armored Astartes leaning his weight on it could stop it from continuing its work. It was utterly loyal to its duty, just like every Astartes on this ship.

They would never retreat.

"What do you mean?"

"Yes, exactly what you think, Brother Angard. The Ork beasts and the Tyranids are fighting each other. Under these circumstances, they cannot possibly have any measures prepared for our arrival."

Sicarius raised a hand, pointed to the outermost point on the star map, and