(Thanks to the generous supporter "God-Emperor above, Slaanesh below, me in the middle" for the master certification gift. Bonus update for National Day.)
In the passage, the Space Marines raced ahead with Charlie at their head.
Their footsteps crushed the fragments and ash littering the floor, while the Servo Systems of their Power Armour gave off a continuous, low whine under the strain of their sprint.
Behind them, the Mechanical Crawlers pursued at tremendous speed, their six-legged drive mechanisms pushing them to their limits.
Both sides raced through the narrow passage at over a hundred kilometres per hour, separated by a gap that could vanish at any moment.
In theory, they were Space Marines, the Emperor's currency, the sharpest blades forged by the vast war machine of the Imperium.
They did not flee. They kept their fear under control and fought to the death.
The creed of fighting for humanity had been etched into their genes, their bones, and every drop of their blood from the very beginning.
They had once believed that was the only right path, the only destination, the only glorious end.
But now, things were different.
Their mission had changed from getting out to covering Nur's escape from the Constantine Satellite.
They were no longer a squad trying to break out and survive, but an escort carrying critical cargo.
Nur held data samples on the enemy drone swarm's communication protocols, along with his still-unformed idea that might cripple the entire enemy force.
If he could reach Macragge alive, if Gage could hear his report, then perhaps this hunt in the darkness could still be turned around.
Charlie knew very well that Nur's survival was worth less than the deaths of all five members of the squad.
So they ran, they retreated, and they abandoned the principle