Traveling Together

"You mean those two Astartes are going to be working with us for a while? By the Emperor, this is the first time I've seen these big guys!"

The new recruit Bellein was full of shock, whispering to the veteran soldier Krank beside him.

"Calm down, kid. Even if you're a rookie who just enlisted a week ago, there's no need to get this worked up. You're making us look like a bunch of yokels." The veteran sighed, a bit exasperated, but he understood Bellein's feelings.

The Astartes were the Emperor's angels. Their battlefields were different from those of mortal auxiliary forces—far more dangerous, more brutal. Power swords and bolters tore enemies to shreds, whether they were xenos or some human faction unwilling to submit.

Sergeant Herlock looked at the young man before him. He claimed to be the mortal servant of two Ultramarines, speaking on behalf of the taciturn Astartes.

Decades of service told Herlock there might be something off here. This young man lacked the bearing of a soldier, and his mannerisms didn't carry the low-key deference of a servant.

But who cared? At least the two giants in Ultramarines power armor couldn't be faked—especially the big one, who looked at least 2.6 meters tall.

Herlock and the soldiers busy at the docks were ordinary infantry from Numenas City's 61st Company. Thanks to Herlock's company commander having a friend in the Ultramarines' 9th Company, they weren't strangers to these augmented superhuman warriors.

"Where are these weapons and ammunition headed?"

Facing Lox's question, Herlock stubbed out his cigarette under his boot, grinding it down. "Per orders from above, we're launching a purge operation against the xenos in the Gaslac region."

"A bunch of Greenskin Orks breeding on the edge of the sector. These abominable xenos are on the rise and posing a threat to Calth," he added.

"Greenskin Orks?"

Lox understood. He knew about these humanoid xenos. Greenskin Orks were a peculiar existence related to fungi. A bit of skin flake and the right environment, and they'd sprout from the ground like mushrooms.

Humanity had dealt with them before. They were tenacious, having coalesced into terrifying green tides on multiple occasions.

"Sergeant, say what you want to say. I'm just trying to get a handle on the situation—we've only just arrived on Calth."

Herlock caught the hesitation in the veteran's eyes. Clearly, there was more he wanted to say.

"With all due respect, I don't understand why a few Greenskin Orks require an entire XIII Legion, plus a full XVII Legion. By the Emperor, either one of those legions could obliterate the whole system and blast their empire to slag before those xenos even counterattack."

At the mention of the XVII Legion, the two Shattered Legions veterans behind Lox flinched. Their razor-sharp gazes, visible through their helmet lenses, locked onto Herlock's face.

The sergeant swallowed hard. He knew it was absurd to send two of the most elite legions to butcher a small Ork empire. There hadn't been a joint operation of this scale against Orks since Ullanor. But the reaction from these two Emperor's angels seemed a bit odd.

Still, he recalled Lox's mention that they'd just arrived on Calth as Ultramarines, which slightly dampened his suspicion.

"The XVII Legion... the Word Bearers."

Lox realized it too. The Ultramarines and Word Bearers fighting together—did that mean the Emperor's thirteenth son had also turned traitor?

Wayland's hand unconsciously clenched, his power armor grinding with a low growl.

That's right. Guilliman had betrayed the Imperium. He was a traitor!

"Stay calm, my brother!"

Tassa's voice cut through the vox-channel, soothing the agitated Iron Father. This alone couldn't determine the XIII Legion's loyalty.

"Sergeant, have you heard any other news? About the Warmaster, or Isstvan?"

"My lord, according to some rumors, the joint operation order for the XIII and XVII Legions came from the Warmaster himself. The Wolf Lord wanted to mend the rift between the two legions—that old business with the Perfect City. Word has it that Lord Guilliman wanted to reconcile with his brother, so he agreed to muster with them on Calth."

Herlock paused, then answered the question about Isstvan. "As for the latter, I've never heard that name. Is it a place?"

The Imperium's domain spanned most of the galaxy. For many mortal auxiliary forces, they might never set foot on another star system in their lifetimes.

"It seems they don't know about the Warmaster's rebellion," Lox murmured in the trio's private channel.

"And the tragedy of Isstvan hasn't reached them either."

If the XIII Legion had also turned traitor, they'd surely have heard of their ally's actions.

A terrible suspicion took shape. The three realized that among the ships mustering in Calth's orbit, the Word Bearers might once again strike with the poisoned blade of betrayal, just like at Isstvan V.

"The XVII Legion is coming. We need to hurry—before things spiral beyond recovery."

Lox steeled himself. There was no time to hesitate.

Based on current intel, the likelihood of the Ultramarines Legion betraying alongside the Warmaster was pitifully low. Instead, a new civil war between legions seemed almost imminent.

"Cogitator, hack into Macragge's Honour's systems. At least warn the Ultramarines high command—tell them the Word Bearers have betrayed."

Lox didn't care if this exposed the ship in orbit. Though the Cogitator calculated that neither the massive orbital defense weapons, the star forts, nor the cruiser fleets around Calth posed a real threat.

But the Red Alert wasn't a true warship—it was just a carrier for the STC.

Lox also feared there might be some leftover dangerous weapon on this planet that could threaten the Red Alert.

Interference detected. Self-purging.

The Cogitator's response sent a chill down Lox's spine. The normally stable vox-channel suddenly buzzed with faint static, as if some entity in the void had plucked a string. A subtle song began to rise.

What is singing?

It was all too coincidental. The moment Lox tried to send a warning, he lost contact with the ship in orbit.

All the Cogitator's processing power was dedicated to resisting the whispers from the void.

"It's the power of the Warp—similar to what we encountered during the voyage." A flash of understanding crossed Lox's eyes. He couldn't forget the Cogitator's erratic state when they faced that Warp daemon.

Clearly, they had been watching from the other side of reality all along, interfering at this critical moment.

Lox's strange condition quickly caught the attention of the two Astartes. They gripped their power weapons, ready to strike at any moment.

"Soldier, you need to take us to the nearest Ultramarines camp. Now!"

The sudden order stunned the sergeant. On paper, this young man claiming to be an Ultramarine's servant had no authority to command them.

"Do as he says."

The Astartes' voice, distorted by the helmet's vox-grille, rang out with undeniable finality.

Faced with a direct decree from the Emperor's angels, Sergeant Herlock's expression turned grave. He rallied his men, boarded a transport, and sped toward the nearest Numenas City.