Encounter on the Road

The sky over the Boros River was a dreary gray, the dry earth churned into dust by the roar of countless transport vehicles and airships. Through the busy atmospheric traffic lanes, the faint silhouettes of starships moving in low orbit could be glimpsed.

A long-gathering storm was about to break. The shifting pressure weighed on people's moods, making the gloomy sky feel increasingly ominous.

Estimated time to fully clear unknown interference: 20 hours 9 minutes. Cross-referencing indicates over 95% probability that the interference originates from the Warp.

Material deployment functions restored. Teleportation array affected, repairs underway.

Riding in a rugged vehicle bound for Numenas, Lox finally received some limited good news from his communication with the Cogitator.

Similar to what they had encountered during Warp travel, the interference affecting the Cogitator stemmed from the power of the Empyrean. It manifested as chaotic scrap-code, destabilizing any AI-adjacent existence.

If it were a conventional electronic virus, the Cogitator could have obliterated it in the time it took to complete a single logical operation. Strong artificial intelligences wielded power in the data realm like gods, capable of feats beyond comprehension.

But this was no electronic virus—it was nearly impossible to even define what it was.

Still, the news eased some of his tension. At the very least, the starships in orbit could now provide support for Lox and his team on the ground.

Since this was a mortal auxiliary force vehicle, the two Astartes had to squeeze into the rear cargo bed. They hunched over, knees pressed to their chests, filling every inch of the cramped space.

Tassa the Salamander took up two-thirds of the room, forcing the Iron Father into a corner of the truck bed. Vulkan's imposing build even caused one side of the vehicle to sag lower.

He gave the Iron Father a sheepish grin, trying to break the tension.

"Pretty warm in here."

Wayland was speechless. This was an open-air cargo bed. He shoved his bionic limb into the gap between his legs.

Then the rain came—black, heavy droplets slamming into their power armor like bolter rounds, leaving wet splatters in their wake. The earthy scent of an approaching downpour filled the air.

The storm had arrived!

The dry road was quickly covered by millions of raindrops, forming a shallow layer of water that sprayed up under the tires' high-speed churn.

Sergeant Herlock drove the 61st Company's vehicle himself, racing down the highway toward Numenas. Though the veteran didn't know the specifics, he could read the gravity on Lox and the others' faces.

"Looks like something big's coming, old friend. Better push a little harder."

The old soldier muttered under his breath to the vehicle beneath him, flooring the accelerator to max speed.

The dark sky grew heavier with clouds, nearly turning day into night. Only the occasional serpentine bolt of lightning split the heavens, followed seconds later by a rumbling roar.

Suddenly, Wayland turned his helmet in the cargo bed. His optical sensors locked onto an object moving at incredible speed.

"A Land Speeder. Ultramarines."

On the flat road behind them, an open-topped vehicle skimmed above the ground on anti-grav plates, its roaring engine pushing speeds far beyond what mortals could endure. It was mounted with a gun turret, its weathered cobalt-blue armor marking their allegiance.

Thermal imaging showed two Ultramarines piloting the Land Speeder. The external turret was highlighted in Wayland's vision—from the moment it entered sight, the Iron Father already had the capability to destroy it.

"Flag them down!"

Seeing the two Ultramarines, Lox immediately signaled the sergeant to slow down while flashing their lights to halt the approaching Land Speeder.

A loud horn echoed down the road, drawing the Ultramarines' attention.

"Easy, Seraton." In the Land Speeder's passenger seat, Ultramarines 4th Captain Ventanus signaled his companion to slow down via helmet vox.

The Land Speeder decelerated.

"Those are... battle-brothers of ours?" Seraton noticed the vehicles ahead slowing and signaling. In the cargo bed of one, two Astartes in Ultramarine power armor sat hunched.

The Land Speeder slowed further, falling in behind the convoy and pulling over to the roadside.

Ventanus jumped down from the hovering speeder, removing his helmet to reveal a bright smile. "Brothers, where are you headed?"

Lox opened his door as Wayland and Tassa vaulted over the cargo bed's railing. The vehicle lurched heavily to one side, metal groaning under the strain.

They too removed their helmets. Instantly, everyone saw that the unusually tall Astartes had charcoal-black skin, and his eyes glowed with a crimson light like subterranean fire.

This was...

Ventanus faltered. Some of his battle-brothers did have dark skin, but this one...

Clearly not an Ultramarine.

"Greetings, brother. Tassa of the Salamanders."

"Wayland of the Iron Hands."

They dropped the pretense. Trying to bluff their way past an Ultramarines captain was wishful thinking—they weren't Alpha Legionnaires, masters of disguise.

Ventanus paused for only a moment, then said nothing. He keenly sensed the heavy aura around the two Astartes and realized this might carry deeper meaning.

"My Ultramarine brother, we bear intelligence of utmost importance. You must use every means at your disposal to relay it to your Legion's high command."

"At any cost."

The Salamander and the Iron Hand spoke in unison.

"The Word Bearers en route from orbit are traitors. They and several other Legions have betrayed the Emperor. The Ultramarines are in grave danger."

The words hit Ventanus like a blow. For a moment, he wondered if his Leman's Ear implant was still damaged.

"The Word Bearers are traitors? How is that possible?"

Along the roadside, a steady stream of troop transports, cargo haulers, artillery pieces, and tanks rumbled forward through the rain, answering the Legion's call to muster. Mortal auxiliary soldiers in the passing vehicles spotted the Ultramarines standing by the road and erupted in cheers and laughter.

An endless column of self-propelled artillery stretched for dozens of kilometers. Shadowsword tanks and Hellfire war machines, produced by the Adeptus Mechanicus, thundered noisily past.

Yet this lively atmosphere could not warm Ventanus's heart. It was as if he had been drenched in ice water from Fenris—he could scarcely believe the truth of this news.

Legion. Betrayal.

These were utterly alien words to the Ultramarines, forbidden even to be spoken. He had heard of a warrior named Hill who was placed under confinement and review simply for proposing hypothetical tactics against the Astartes, and was even now being personally interrogated by the primarch.

There had never been a precedent for civil war among the Astartes. All were the Emperor's warriors—why would they slaughter one another?

"By Ferrus and Vulkan, I swear it, my brother—what we speak is true. The betrayal at Isstvan V has already claimed the Iron Hands, the Salamanders, and the Raven Guard. We have endured great hardship to reach here, only to bring you this news."

To swear by the primarch's name was the most solemn oath any Astartes could give.

Ventanus's caution led him to decide, for now, to trust the words of these two battle-brothers. He must inform the primarch and the Legion's high command as quickly as possible.

"We just wasted forty minutes heading to the spaceport, but the commanders I needed to see were not there. The nearest place with long-range communication capability is the Universal Museum."

Ventanus wasted no words. He swiftly returned to the assault speeder and signaled Seraton to advance at full throttle.

"Those veterans know the location of the Universal Museum. We'll go ahead, brother."

The Ultramarines vanished from Lox's sight in the blink of an eye. Lox felt a great weight lift from his heart for the moment. They had passed the information to the Ultramarines—the Word Bearers' betrayal might yet be stopped.

The group resumed their journey, and soon all were awestruck by the colossal forms looming on the plains beside the road.

A massive column of Titans, marching in formation, advanced with heavy steps, flanked by skimmers and other ground vehicles of the Mechanicus.

The gathered Titans were so numerous they blotted out the natural light. What little light remained was intercepted by these god-machines, casting vast, deep shadows.

An eerie glow fell upon the Titans' upper cockpits, radiating a profound killing intent. A full forty-seven Titans strode toward the assembly point with earthquake-like steps.

Lox's eyes held awe, but more than that, familiarity. In his time, Titans were weapons of war, though they seemed "gentle" compared to other, more dangerous armaments.

But in this era, these colossal machines possessed terrifying deterrent power and combat capability.

They surpassed nearly every ground unit. Whether super-heavy tanks or superhuman soldiers like the Astartes, all were as fragile as paper before Titan-grade firepower.