He could no longer obtain precise information directly through Rena and slowly lay his plans as he had before.
Now, he had to "act out" the intelligence-gathering process, and he had to be fast and accurate.
At the very least, he had to match his previous peak efficiency, otherwise...
Working with the Sons of Medusa meant he had to completely cut off any direct physical contact with Rena that might be discovered.
His earlier caution had become a lifeline.
All their exchanges took place through the system's "communication function," whose range expanded as affection increased.
Cold, brief, efficient text messages, like encrypted telegrams.
Once he had worked out a plan in his head, he began his "performance."
He sent out patrol teams to conduct a highly publicized "grid search" along several fringes of District Seven, creating an atmosphere of tension.
Then he secretly dispatched Anvil Society members to search a specific area for clues.
Through Rena, he had already selected a target for Cassius's squad: a Genestealer Cult hideout.
The hideout was very close to the location the Anvil Society was searching, so the gang members were bound to find some traces.
Sure enough, progress came in just half a day.
A search team made up of gang members found a small Genestealer Hybrid gathering place.
Although it was already deserted when they found it, they still came under Xenos attack on their way back and suffered heavy casualties.
After handing the intelligence over to Cassius, Lynn proposed that Cassius follow up on the clues himself.
He had already paid a sufficient price, losing several of his underlings.
Lynn adopted an air of "this is putting me in a very difficult position."
Like the Imperium's higher-ups always did, Cassius cared nothing for such losses of low-end manpower.
But Lynn had established a persona of someone who "loved his soldiers like his own sons."
Cassius agreed to Lynn's request. Lynn had already found enough clues.
Seeing his proposal accepted, the faintest hint of a smile lifted the corners of Lynn's mouth.
The performance had been a success.
He had openly sent official troops to search for traces and stir the snakes from the grass, while secretly using covert channels to find leads on the Tyranids.
To make it more convincing, he had Rena send a squad of Hormagaunts to ambush the Anvil Society members who found the clues.
Then, relying on the persona he had established, he withdrew from the subsequent in-depth investigation on the grounds of "cutting his losses."
After all, the more he revealed, the greater the chance of exposure.
Looking at the warped Iron Halo behind Cassius, he understood that it never hurt to be cautious.
About half a standard day later, Cassius came to see him.
"An abnormal concentration of biomass and psychic disturbances have been detected in the designated area.
Preliminary assessment indicates a possible spawning nest. Prepare for action."
Cassius's tone had not changed at all, but Lynn knew he had passed the test for now.
"Your team will secure the perimeter and clear secondary passages, eliminating any low-level units that may escape.
Entry into the core area is forbidden."
Lynn breathed a sigh of relief, though inwardly he grew wary.
Being forbidden from entering the core area meant he could not witness the details of the battle himself, nor could he immediately "recover" any valuable biomass.
But it also meant less risk, and he immediately accepted the orders respectfully.
The day of the operation.
Lynn brought his patrol team, now considerably better equipped, their morale buoyed to a somewhat hollow high by the prospect of "fighting alongside Space Marines."
As local officials, they arrived at the designated perimeter area ahead of time to set up defenses.
They sealed off several major pipe outlets and ventilation shafts, setting up simple laser tripwires and vibration sensors.
The team members gripped their weapons tightly, staring nervously into the deep darkness.
Then they heard low, rhythmic vibrations coming through the metal grating beneath their feet.
Next came heavy, precise footsteps, like hammer blows forging steel, approaching from the distance, accompanied by the distinctive, powerful hum of Power Armour servos.
The Sons of Medusa squad appeared.
They did not run, merely advancing with that efficient, steady stride.
Cassius led the way, his white helmet like a guiding beacon in the dim light.
Behind him, besides several Space Marines carrying Meltaguns and flamers, were no fewer than four Indomitus Pattern Terminators.
The weapons these Terminators carried were even more astonishing: Assault Cannons paired with Chainfists.
For a moment, Lynn almost had the illusion that he was seeing "miniature Dreadnoughts."
No wonder they're a Chapter with such close ties to the Tech-priests. Just look at that equipment, Lynn silently marveled.
They paid no attention to Lynn or his team, passing straight through the defensive line and disappearing into the enormous pipe entrance leading to the core area.
Their heavy footsteps gradually receded, finally swallowed by the deathly silence deep within the pipes.
Waiting.
Lynn's team members shifted uneasily, whispering among themselves.
Lynn leaned against a cold support pillar, resting with his eyes closed.
About half an hour later, the deathly silence broke.
First came faint, muffled explosions, seemingly rising from deep underground, making even the ground beneath their feet tremble.
Then sharp, inhuman hisses and roars became faintly audible.
But they were quickly drowned out by fiercer, more sustained explosions and thunderous booms.
Those were the distinctive, air-rending reports of Heavy Bolters, unbroken, like a torrential rain of steel pouring onto flesh and blood.
And there was the piercing shriek of air flash-heated by the discharge of Melta weapons.
Even from so far away, in a relatively safe area, Lynn could imagine what a horrifying scene it was.
In the cramped pipes, swarms might surge in from every direction, but what greeted them was interlocking fire with no blind spots.
Bolts shredded carapace and flesh alike, flames consumed all organic matter, and Melta beams melted metal and living creatures into boiling liquid.
The sounds of battle lasted less than ten minutes before gradually weakening and dying away.
They were replaced by the lingering crackle peculiar to the aftermath of intense burning.
And a strange odor drifted faintly through the ventilation ducts, mingling burnt stench, ozone, and molten metal.
Lynn's team members exchanged looks, awe and lingering fear written across their faces.
Their task was to promptly kill any Xenos that escaped the encirclement, preventing any adverse consequences.
Now it seemed they were nothing more than decoration.
Some time later, heavy footsteps sounded again.
The Sons of Medusa emerged from the depths of the pipes.
Their Power Armour was covered in fresh stains.
Blackened, carbonized matter, spatters of green slime, and scorch marks left by intense heat.
Yet their strides remained steady and their formation orderly, as though they had merely completed an insignificant combat drill.
They passed silently through Lynn's defensive line and left without a word, not even sparing these mortals another glance.
Only once they had vanished completely did Lynn order some of his team members to cautiously enter the edge of the combat zone.
To conduct a "battlefield survey" and "follow-up cleanup."
What greeted them was truly a "place baptized in steel."
Along a roughly hundred-meter stretch of pipe, both walls and the ceiling were riddled with honeycomb-like bullet holes, pits melted by extreme heat, and glassy crusts.
The floor was covered in a thick layer of charred black material, a mixture of ash, metal slag, and carbonized organic matter that crunched underfoot.
Not a single intact Tyranid corpse remained.
The air was scorching and thick with an acrid smell.
Lynn stood at the entrance, looking at the ruins still radiating heat.
Beyond his shock at the tin cans' combat power, a profound chill rose within him.
This way of fighting, this devastating destruction of the surroundings-if they discovered Rena's nest...
How long could it hold out against a saturation bombardment of heavy firepower on this scale?
He had to learn more.
Perhaps next time, Cassius's target might be closer to Rena's hiding place.
Or Rena herself. He had to do something to protect her.
He needed to know the specifics of the fighting in the core area, to assess the Sons of Medusa's tactical details and weapon effectiveness.
And their possible weaknesses.