Lower Hive, Rear Factory Base.
Massive old factories used for weapon production were being leveled by SCVs. All the debris and architectural ruins were gathered into a single designated zone. Alexei immediately ordered the SCVs to begin constructing Barracks on this cleared ground.
Apart from "Building Zero"—the very first structure of each type which required system-enforced construction—subsequent blueprints were automatically recorded into the SCVs' databases. The operators only needed simple inputs to let the SCVs build autonomously.
Though this method was slower, it saved precious system resources that Alexei intended to use elsewhere. Watching the busy SCVs, he decided to check on their progress later; first, he needed to find the High Commander who had been "filled up" by the Infestors.
Inside a makeshift tent, Alexei looked at the slumped man on the ground and cleared his throat softly. Colton slowly opened his eyes. He remembered being dragged here by that traitor Lutheca, and then a revolting xenos entering the tent. Before he could react, a sharp pain in the back of his neck sent him into unconsciousness. Now, he shook his groggy head and looked at the heretic he had once loathed.
"You... damn...?" His expression shifted. The man before him seemed different from when he first saw him. Why did he look so... sacred? So majestic? Colton was confused. By the Emperor, have I been bewitched by heresy?
"Sit. My name is Alexei, leader of the Sons of the Tide gang. You've likely heard of me." Alexei motioned for Colton to sit across from him.
Colton opened his mouth, then sighed. "Colton. High Commander and Marshal of all Planetary Defense Forces on Planet Aiur."
Alexei nodded. He didn't want to waste time. "The ruling family of this planet has betrayed the Imperium. They have accepted the blessings of Chaos and thrown themselves into the arms of the Dark Gods. Join us. Let your subordinates fight alongside us to purge the traitors."
Hesitation flickered across Colton's face. "But... even if you say so, the Hordem family has served the Imperium loyally for nearly 8,000 years. I find it hard to..."
Alexei sighed, knowing the man wouldn't believe it until he saw the evidence with his own eyes. "Then tell your men to stop resisting. These are meaningless sacrifices. Once we reach the Spire, you will see the truth."
Alexei then questioned Colton extensively: the Hordem family's plans, the orders they received, the nature of the Governor, the state of war in other secondary Hives, and whether there were other powerful armed forces on the planet. After receiving the answers, he sent Colton to handle the captives. Colton stood, gave a stiff Aquila salute, and followed Lutheca out to integrate the remnants of the PDF.
Sitting alone in the tent, listening to the crackling of the oil lamp, Alexei pondered Colton's answers and decided which Terran unit to unlock next. He had enough resources to unlock another set of power armor, and he had many choices. He walked out toward the temporary medical area. As he approached, the sounds of wailing and sobbing grew clearer.
Alexei entered the temporary infirmary. A few gang members with basic medical knowledge moved frantically between the wounded. Most of the injuries were severe—missing limbs, bodies pierced by various munitions. Massive blood loss had left many without even the strength to scream. They looked at their leader with pleading eyes, either begging for a quick end or hoping for a miracle.
In the old Underhive, these people would be classified as disposable waste or scrap parts. Severe injury meant certain death. But this man was different; he was merciful enough to be close to "trash" like them. They wanted to live.
Alexei stood amidst the wounded, seeing the glimmer of hope in their eyes. His voice rang out: "Rest easy. You will live. Just hold on a little longer."
He looked at his interface and selected the CMC-405 Light Power Armor—the Medic's armor. As one of the few frontline medical units in the StarCraft universe, the Medic had always been the "white moonlight" for the Marines. Their presence drastically reduced unnecessary casualties. In this dark Warhammer universe, this armor would provide new hope for these poor souls fighting for him.
Alexei waited before a nearly completed Barracks. Behind him stood elite gang members in CMC-400 armor. He wasn't going to find ordinary women to wear the CMC-405; on a chaotic frontline, only calm, disciplined soldiers had a high probability of survival. Their medical knowledge was basic, but that didn't matter—the CMC-405 came equipped with automated medical systems. Even fatal wounds could be managed.
Once the building was finished, Alexei led them inside. After they were fitted with the white power armor, Alexei nodded in satisfaction. The armor was less bulky than the CMC-400, but the arm shield on the left and the grenade launcher on the right gave them some combat capability.
"Excellent. Let us go heal our brothers."
Alexei led them back to the infirmary. Under his guidance, the Medics began treatment. Beams of green light mended wounds as onlookers watched in shock. Bleeding stopped, and pain receded. When a soldier with a hole in his abdomen saw his wound close completely, he stood up and cheered—he wasn't going to die. He knelt before Alexei in tears of gratitude.
As more were healed, they began chanting Alexei's name. To them, this was a miracle. This man was their Savior. Alexei saw the fanaticism in their eyes. If they had joined the Sons of the Tide out of coercion or survival before, now they were truly, deeply loyal.