Thump! Thump!
The bulkhead of Sector C groaned under the Iron Cavalry Terminators' mag-boots.
Six steel colossi strode out of the assault craft at a quick clip, each step stamping a clear dent into the alloy decking.
"Beacon deployed."
The eldest Carcharodon reported over the comms, his tone carrying a machine-cold timbre.
Then, with a click, the power claw on his left arm unfolded, though he didn't energize the plasma field.
Behind him, a fist-sized holo-beacon hovered in the air, casting a ghost-blue coordinate grid.
Tap, tap!
Just then, hurried footsteps sounded from the end of the corridor.
Nearly a hundred fully armed UED marines set a defensive formation at the corner, their power armor a matte sheen under the dim lights.
Their commander had just lifted his arm—
"Fi—"
CLANG—! CLANG-CLANG—!
The thunder of 1.0-caliber explosive bolt rounds tearing the air drowned everything else.
The Carcharodon veterans' right arms spat fire in unison, twin-linked bolters belching death.
The first volley turned the front rank's upper bodies into blood-mist on the spot. Reinforced armor tore like paper.
If they'd been Salamanders or Lamenters, those Astartes might have opened with intimidation fire, giving these "mortal" soldiers a chance to surrender.
They would have used nonlethal munitions to knock targets out—or shot the limbs precisely to take away combat capability—
After all, with Imperial biotech, so long as a breath remains, any wound can be healed.
There's even an unwritten "rule" among various legions that those favored by the Emperor—even "mortals"—can be brought back from death.
But the Carcharodons do not care for any of that.
This is why Athena sent Carcharodon veterans to assist the Investigation Department.
CLANG— CLANG—!
The second volley of explosive bolts smothered the remaining marines in a lethal rain.
One round took the commander square in the head; his pricey advanced helmet burst like an eggshell, its contents spraying radially across the bulkhead behind him.
Vzz\~— kzzzt—!
A soldier who'd dodged the first volley had just raised his plasma gun when a power claw cut him in half at the waist. Viscera and mechanical parts spilled everywhere.
"Advance."
The veteran gave the terse order, and the six Terminators crushed forward with suffocating, deliberate steps.
They disdained cover, didn't bother to bring shields online. UED rounds striking Terminator plate left only shallow dimples.
A badly wounded marine struggled up and lifted a pistol. The bullet skittered sparks off the veteran's chestplate.
The Carcharodons didn't even slow.
Schlit—!
The veteran simply flicked the power claw, sweeping the dying man aside like trash.
The soldier's body hit the bulkhead with a sickening crack of breaking bone.
Waaah\~— waaah—!
Sector C's alarm lights strobed madly, painting the butcher's corridor in crimson.
The few survivors broke and ran, only to be dropped in short, precise bursts.
The Carcharodons marched through the corridor paved with flesh, bolter casings clinking into the pooling blood.
"Teleport lock established." The veteran checked his tac display. "Second through Fourth Squads inbound."
As if on cue, Sector C shuddered violently.
A bulkhead in the distance rippled in warped space, and then—
Whoosh— whoosh—!!
With a blaze of blue light, the Second through Fourth Carcharodon squads flashed directly into the UED flagship's interior.
At the same time, the flagship's PA blared a warning:
"All units, be advised! Intrusion signals detected in Sectors B and D! Repeat, multiple sectors under incursion!"
That was part of the Carcharodon plan. With UED defenses split, the real "killing" could begin.
The lead veteran brought his power claw's field to life, blue-white arcs dancing along the talons.
"Clear the passage," he ordered curtly. "Open the way for the Investigation Department boys."
The six Terminators stepped off again, their heavy tread tolling like a death knell down the corridor, while more Carcharodon veterans moved to join the bloody feast.
Sector C's cameras recorded it all, piping the live feed to the bridge—
Exactly as intended.
Fear is the most effective weapon for breaking an enemy's will.
Inside the Thunder assault craft's hatch, the surface of Leon's nanosuit flowed with a mercury-like sheen, its optical camo blending him into the surroundings perfectly.
He raised his left hand in a tactical signal. Chris and Mike instantly understood and fanned the team into a standard assault formation.
"Stealth mode engaged," the mech-female voice confirmed in their ears. "All monitoring systems suppressed."
Leon felt the nanosuit's microcurrents stimulating his muscle fibers, his gene-enhanced body running at peak.
This kit—worth as much as, even more than, Terminator plate—let them endure the Thunder's near-suicidal maneuvers like Astartes.
What is fatal to ordinary humans was routine work with their modified physiques and the suit's augmentation.
Moving in silence, the spec-ops team ghosted through the bloody Sector C corridor.
Leon's HUD painted the optimal route, bypassing firefights and arrowing for the bridge.
At a corner, three UED marines had their backs to them, nervously emplacing a heavy weapon.
Leon held up three fingers, then drew a thumb across his throat.
After three whisper-quiet pulse pops, the marines crumpled in succession.
The team slipped past the bodies like ghosts and pushed on.
Meanwhile, the bridge was chaos.
The old general's bony fingers clutched the holo-table's edge. On the monitors, the Terminator-clad Carcharodons were smashing defensive positions like matchwood.
A heavy automated turret had just fired when a power claw tore it in half; the trooper manning it was blown to pieces by bolt rounds.
"Th-this is impossible—"
The general's voice was a rasp barely above a whisper.
He watched an elite quick-reaction squad, fully kitted, wiped out by six Carcharodons in under ten seconds.
The steel colossi didn't even bother dodging—letting plasma and AP rounds spat against their plate before swatting resisters like flies.
"General! Sector B is lost!" the comms officer's voice shook openly. "Sector D requests reinforcements!"
"All reserves are committed!" the tactical officer cried in despair. "Our small arms do nothing to them!"
The bridge officers kept working—efficient to the last—
The navigator plotting possible warp routes, the gunnery officer trying to bring shipboard defenses up, the engineers fighting to hold the power core stable.
But they all knew: the flagship was being lost piece by piece.
The old general's clouded eyes swept the tactical plot, red markers multiplying.
The Carcharodons spread through the hull like a plague; defensive nodes fell with shocking speed.
"General… what do we do?" the adjutant whispered, the need to live bleeding into his tone.
"."
The old man was silent a beat.
The key badge on his chest—last resort for triggering fleet self-destruct—glinted under the lights. But as he looked at the monitors, at UED soldiers being slaughtered, his withered fingers didn't press it.
"Initiate Emergency Protocol Seven," the general said at last, voice tired and ancient. "All nonessential personnel evacuate immediately."
He turned to his four elite guards. "Escort me to the lifepod sector."
The order hit the bridge like a hammer blow.
Protocol Seven meant abandoning the flagship, and the general's subtext could not be clearer—he was running.
"Y-yes, General." The adjutant swallowed hard and relayed.
Four fully armored guards closed in, wearing the latest power armor and hefting heavy plasma rifles.
One quickly worked his suit systems, calling up the optimal route to the nearest escape pods on his visor.
"The bridge is yours," the general said to the adjutant, then moved off at a quick trot toward the emergency passage with his guard cordon.
With his departure, the bridge grew even more oppressive.
Someone began to sob quietly. More kept working in a numb trance—not out of hope, but because a soldier's instinct wouldn't let them abandon duty.
In the shadows they couldn't see, Leon's team was already closing.
The suits' stealth carried them through security door after security door like wraiths. Only two hundred meters remained to the bridge core.
Mike pinged over the encrypted net. "Target spotted, moving toward Sector E."
Leon, Chris, and the others knew the prey was bolting—but the hunt was only just peaking.
Soon after, the general and his four guards were about to pass the final gate to the escape zone when—
KRA-BOOM—!
The alloy gate shattered under a breaching charge, a blast wave hurling metal fragments down the corridor.
The old general was thrown to the deck, his uniform smeared with dust and oil. A fine crack split the power-key badge that symbolized his authority.
"Contact! Watch all sides!"
He bellowed, his wrinkled hand shaking as it went for the pistol at his waist.
Though his aged body was battered by the blast, long years of soldiering told him this was no ordinary ambush.
The four elite guards were just as fast. They snapped into a defensive ring around the general. Heavy plasma rifles spat deadly blue-white globes.
Searing plasma burned shocking holes into the corridor bulkheads. Lights burst in the energy wash, and sparks rained.
"Scan full spectrum! Imaging on!"
The guard captain roared, his visor flipping through viewing modes.
They knew UED HQ and the capital had faced "invisible" agents before, but every detector now showed an empty corridor—
Except for the destruction they themselves had just caused.
"Keep firing! Cover every angle!"
Curled inside the ring, the general's clouded eyes swept the seemingly empty hall. His instincts screamed; a serpent's chill crawled up his spine.
Soon:
"Alternate reloads!" the guard captain ordered.
And in the instant two guards swapped power cells on their plasma guns—
"Hey, boys—put the guns down."
Mike's voice came from dead center of their cordon, light with teasing amusement.
??!!
The four guards stared in horror. The man they'd been killing themselves to shield was now held by five barely-there silhouettes.
Mike's knife kissed the general's carotid, while Leon and three other operators had pulse guns leveled at each guard's back.
"That's… impossible."
The guard captain's hands froze in midair. His tactical HUD had just read this space as empty.
Leon's faceplate irised open, revealing his eyes. "UED detection tech is decades behind ours."
His voice was calm. "Now set your weapons down. Kick them over."
The general's Adam's apple bobbed under the blade. "Who… are you…?"
"Human Empire Investigation Department, Special Action Group," Chris said from behind them, his nanosuit also dropping stealth. "Advise you cooperate, General. Our orders are to take as many alive as possible."
Cold sweat traced under the captain's helmet.
He noticed more than a dozen operators had appeared along the corridor, stealth dropped, every weapon locked on them.
Worse, their movement made no sound at all—like real ghosts.
"D-don't mind me…" the general suddenly thrashed. "Initiate self-destruct! They must not get the flagship!"
"Ahh."
Mike sighed, and his nano-knife flicked. The general's key badge pinged to the deck.
"Old man, your act is outdated." He caught the badge and twirled it on his fingertips. "This thing's a toy to us."
With a soft click, Chris had already popped the energy mag from the captain's weapon.
"You're lucky," Chris said, patting the man's pauldron. "It's the Investigation Department running today. If it were the Carcharodons—that pack of giants—"
He didn't finish, but the meaning made the guards shudder.
Thump, thump!
Heavy footsteps rolled from down the passage, the hum of powered servos rising.
The Carcharodons had finished with resistance elsewhere and were on their way.
Leon checked his timer—5 minutes and 43 seconds since the assault began.
By the time the towering Terminators loomed at the far end of the corridor, the spec-ops had reengaged stealth. The four disarmed guards stood dumb with shock, staring at those blood-slick steel colossi, tasting true despair for the first time.
"All key sectors secured." The Carcharodon veteran's voice echoed down the hall. "This ship now belongs to the Human Empire."
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