You Go First
Frontier Star Territory, Selax System.
The southernmost point of Imperium, the skirt of Milky Way.
There is no prosperity of Terra, no glory of Macragge, and no steel roar of Mars.
There are only windy sand, desert, and a group of people forgotten by Imperium.
Planetary Governor Valko has been guarding this desolate land for thirty years.
He is sixty years old this year, with gray hair. There is a scar on the left side of his face from his eyebrow bone to his chin, which is a souvenir from his fight with Orks when he was young.
His waist was still straight, and his gray-blue eyes were still sharp, but at this moment, what was reflected in those eyes was not a beautiful picture.
In the endless void, dark green insect nests cover the sky and the sun.
Not a dark cloud, not a fleet, but a living, slowly creeping curtain of terror composed of countless Tyranids creatures.
That curtain spreads from the edge of the galaxy, swallowing everything along the way - the light of stars becomes dim in front of it, the atmosphere of the planet is stripped off in front of it, and the traces of life are completely erased in front of it.
Hive Ship was more than a hundred times the size of the largest battleship he had ever seen. Those bloated, heart-like creatures were pulsating in the void, and with every beat, a shock wave visible to the naked eye spread outward.
Valko's fists were clenched.
His nails dug into his palms, and blood seeped out from between his fingers.
Not because of fear, but because of anger.
Imperium is having a revival.
Primarch are coming back.
The glory of Emperor is shining again on Milky Way.
He waited for thirty years, for Guilliman to wake up, for Sanguinius to return, and for those legendary blue angels to soar in the starry sky.
He thought he could finally witness the return of humanity's Golden Age, thought he could finally see the flag of Imperium planted in every corner of Milky Way, thought he could finally return to Terra after retirement, kowtow under Golden Throne, and say "Emperor, your warriors have gone home."
But now, the swarms are coming.
Astropaths has sent a distress signal.
The Psionic Energy signal traveled through Warp and was transmitted to the heart of Imperium at a speed exceeding the speed of light.
But a signal is a signal, and reinforcements are reinforcements.
From Terra to Serax, even the fastest warship will take several weeks.
The swarm only takes a few days.
In a few days, Selax System will become a dead zone.
Billions of humans, billions of Emperor's people, will be turned into biomass under the claws of Tyranids.
Valko's lips are trembling.
Not fear, but anger.
A kind of anger that had been suppressed for thirty years and finally found an outlet, but could not vent it.
"So many Primarch are back.
So many Emperor angels have arrived.
The glory of Imperium finally shines on Milky Way again.
But I cannot protect his people.
I have sinned and deserved death."
He turned around, his gray-blue eyes scanning the faces of every officer in the command hall.
Some of those faces are young, some are old, some are scared, and some are calm.
But everyone's eyes were the same - they were not afraid.
Not because they are brave, but because they have accepted the outcome.
"Next, we are destined to die."
His voice was not loud, but every word was like carving on steel, "Before death comes, let us be loyal to Emperor."
The adjutant stood behind him.
It was a man twenty years younger than him. There were no scars on his face, but his eyes had the same determination that had been polished by time as Valko.
He stepped forward and took off his helmet, revealing a thin, dusty face.
"Governor."
His voice was a little hoarse, "Then can I call you brother now?"
Valko was stunned for a moment.
Then, he laughed.
There was no bitterness in that smile, just a sense of relief that "you finally asked."
"You could have called me that a long time ago."
The adjutant also laughed.
His eyes swept over Valko from top to bottom, and over Power Armour, which was as thick as a coffin board.
His brows furrowed.
"Governor, your armor is so annoying."
Valko looked down at his armor.
It was a relic he inherited from the previous governor when he first took office thirty years ago.
Mark III Power Armor, Iron Pattern, The thick armor is enough to withstand the bombardment, but it is also so heavy that it makes people breathless.
He never wore it on the battlefield because it was too bulky.
But on formal occasions, he always wore this armor because it was his only link to his former governor.
He reached out and unlocked the first lock of the armor.
There was a harsh sound of metal friction, and the lock was stuck. He used his other hand to push hard, and with a "click", the lock popped open.
The second way, the third way, the fourth way.
The thick breastplate slipped from his body and hit the ground with a loud, dull sound.
The shoulder armor, arm armor, leg armor, and greaves all fell off one by one, like a snake shedding its skin.
He stood in the center of the command hall, wearing only a gray, sweat-soaked military uniform.
Without the armor, he looked ten years older, his shoulders were no longer broad, and his waist was no longer so straight.
But his eyes were brighter than before.
The adjutant stepped forward, stretched out his hand, and slapped Valko hard on the back.
The power was not great, but the sound was loud and echoed in the command hall.
"You go first."
The adjutant's voice was calm, "I'll be there soon."
Valko was slapped by him and staggered forward. After standing firm, he turned around, his gray-blue eyes full of smiles.
"Then you have to run faster. Because there are no obstacles on my path of loyalty."
He bent down and picked up the Power Sword from the ground.
It is Imperium's most advanced forging process. The blade is made of Adamantium, and the hilt is inlaid with a tiny Psionic Energy crystal.
The blade of the sword glowed with a cold luster under the light. It was handed to him by the former governor when he took office thirty years ago.
He kept it hanging on the wall in his office and never used it.
Because he felt that he was not worthy of using such a good weapon.
Today, he is worthy.
He pulled out the Bolter from his waist.
The barrel is silver-white, the handle is black, and the magazine is filled with special armor-piercing explosives.
He bought it from the black market at a huge price last year, and originally planned to keep it for collection after retirement.
Today, he doesn't collect anymore.
He picked up his sword, held his gun, and strode out of the command hall.
The steps were steady and powerful, and each step was solid. Each step seemed to say - "Emperor, I'm here."
Valko stood on the bridge of the battleship, looking at the dark green insect swarm outside the porthole window.
Behind him is the only remaining fleet of Selax System.
Thirty destroyers, twelve cruisers, and one old battleship.
The gun muzzles of those warships have been warmed up, the ammunition has been loaded, and the soldiers are already in place.
Everyone's eyes were fixed on him, waiting for his order.
His eyes passed through the dark green curtain and landed on Hive Ship deep in the insect swarm.