"Friendly fire! Friendly fire!"
"This is the Iron Warriors Legion! You're firing on us!"
"Fuck you! We're friendlies! Friendlies! Where the hell are you aiming those guns? You've hit friendly ships!"
The communications channel erupted in an instant, countless voices overlapping in furious roars, terrified cries, and incredulous demands.
The warship Commanders of the Iron Warriors Legion sent transmissions to the White Scars' ships, trying to make them stop this inexplicable attack.
But the only answer was an even denser barrage.
"The White Scars are firing on us! Fifteen warships have already been destroyed! Requesting permission to return fire!"
"This is the Iron Sanctuary! We're returning fire! We're returning fire!"
Chaos had engulfed the bridge of the Iron Blood.
Hundreds of Mortals officers worked frantically at their stations, their fingers racing across the Control Panel as their voices rang out over the communications channel.
Red alarm lights flashed wildly overhead, bathing the entire bridge in a harsh crimson glare.
Shrill Alarm echoed through the air, mingling with the officers' shouts and the clatter of their work in a suffocating din.
Amid the chaos, Bahadett Vort, the Iron Blood's first officer, stood at the command station in the center of the bridge.
Half his body had been mechanically augmented. His left arm was an intricate mechanical prosthesis, its silver surface covered in conduits and ports.
His right eye had been replaced with an optical lens, which now flashed red as it rapidly scanned the streams of data arriving from across the ship.
Several thick data cables connected to his spine, running down to the bridge's main control system and making him almost one with the entire warship's command network.
His brain processed thousands of information streams at once: damage reports, enemy ship positions, weapon charging progress, void shield status...
All that