Ans shouted over the communications channel. The situation before him was strange. The enemy defenders were launching outright suicidal charges. They must have been getting close to a core facility!
Evan's order remained the same: "Retreat."
Seriously, the First Expeditionary Force was right on their asses. When it came to gathering supplies, they were evenly matched with the Dark Angels, but when it came to cleaning out xenos, the Dark Angels were not only thorough, they were faster.
So why should they bother?
Remember to grab a ship for Magos Nine. And remember, the priest had been away on an exploration mission, and when he returned, his Forge World had been occupied by Genestealers. Was that clear to everyone?
Ans gritted his teeth as he watched surges of psyker power erupt around him. Who knew where the enemy's powerful psyker was hiding? No, wait. This was a Forge World. Some absurd force weapon might have just come online.
"Retreat! Cover each other! You Terminators, switch to anti-psyker bolter rounds!"
Ans had barely finished speaking when lightning struck. A thunderbolt as thick as a bucket blasted his heavy Adamantium Armor away. Anyone watching might have mistaken it for a lance strike.
An anti-psyker field operating at only thirty percent could not rapidly absorb such an enormous quantity of psyker power. The blast completely melted away the crimson paint on the front of Ans's armor. Under that searing force, even the adamantium showed signs of melting. The energy penetrating his armor bypassed the servo system's second layer of defense and struck Ans through the interfaces connecting his Black Carapace to his armor.
Ans immediately collapsed. The crimson paint marking him as a veteran was gone (to save money, the new batch of armor would have only insignia painted on, without nanocoating). His