In a dark corridor somewhere aboard the Mad Bull, a massive figure limped along.
Chandler was still alive. The armor on his back and right side had vanished, revealing charred flesh beneath. His left leg and right hand were gone, leaving only bare stumps that dripped green fluid. Vast areas of his skin were scorched, emitting a pungent, acrid stench of burning. In some places, pale white bone was exposed, embedded with jagged metal shards.
Yet, he still held the golden sphere tightly against his chest. The Mecha Secret Vault. This was the prize he had traded his life for; it remained unscathed, still radiating a soft, gentle golden light. On his left arm's armor, the big shoota still hung precariously. The barrel was warped from high temperatures, its only remaining use being a crutch to support his weight. Chandler leaned on the shoota, limping forward step by step, leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind him.
Enduring the agonizing pain, he moved without pause toward the pilot's cabin at the very front of the Mad Bull. This was a room as crude as could be, yet its control priority was higher even than that of the bridge. The entire console consisted of only a few levers, a glass viewport showing the outside, and a single red switch. Chandler threw himself against the glass, looking out.
Karl-2 was right before him. His territory. His last hope. Using the last of his strength, he slammed his palm down on the red switch.
The Mad Bull shuddered violently as if it were about to disintegrate. The massive Warboss-head prow of the ship separated from the hull at its base. Backup power systems kicked in, and single-use thrusters ignited. This enormous horned head was, in fact, an independent escape pod—a contingency Chandler had prepared for exactly this kind of situation. It detached from the Mad Bull like a shell fired from a cannon, streaking toward Karl-2 at an exaggerated speed, instantly distancing itself from the wreckage of the main ship.
Sarah stood on the deck of the Mad Bull, sensing the receding point of light. The emotionless monster actually let out a faint sigh. She did not give chase. This body had reached its limit, and Sarah's life force was slowly ebbing away. In the end, she had failed to complete her mission.
Through the monitoring screen of the escape pod, Chandler watched the chaotic battlefield behind him. He saw the Mad Bull slowly sinking, fire spewing from the gaping holes in its flanks. The Boyz still fighting were being squeezed from two sides. Meanwhile, the broadside lance arrays of that damned Imperial cruiser were still glowing.
He gripped the Mecha Core in his arms, his eyes flashing with bone-deep hatred.
"Jus' wait," his voice was hoarse and weak, yet filled with murderous madness. "When I get back an' build da real big gubbinz... I'm comin' back to rip ya all apart."
There were only ten thousand meters left. Once he entered the anti-air zone of Karl-2, he would be safe. The range of the planetary defense turrets covered that area perfectly; any pursuing enemy ships would be blown to scrap. He was already calculating which arm to repair first upon his return.
Just then, an Imperial vessel appeared on the flank of the escape pod. It was a Turbulence-class frigate, the fastest scout ship in the Imperial Navy, currently charging toward him at full speed. The thrusters at its stern spat brilliant blue flames as it opened fire, diving straight for his escape pod. Its posture was one of absolute, unyielding determination to see him dead.
"Feh! Dammit!!!" Chandler spat out a mouthful of bloody tooth fragments and cursed. He couldn't fathom where this crazy humie had come from. He could only frantically yank at the control levers, trying to force the pod to accelerate, but the single-use thrusters were already at their limit from the moment of ignition. The needle on the speedometer didn't budge. The frigate was closing in; it was about to ram him.
Luna stood on the bridge of the Turbulence-class frigate. She was covered in green fluid—viscous and foul-smelling. There was a deep wound on her face, sustained while personally leading the team to deal with the fleeing cruiser, but she didn't even have time to bandage it. Her eyes were locked onto the approaching escape pod, filled with nothing but raw desire.
"Faster," she roared. "Full speed! Give me full speed!"
The captain of the frigate didn't dare speak. The void shield readings were dropping frantically as the anti-air fire from Karl-2 poured down around the hull like a rainstorm. With every hit, the entire ship trembled, and alarms blared in unison. But Luna showed no intention of ordering a retreat. She stared fixedly at that escape pod.
Luna knew what Raynor had just done; survivors from the Measure of Discipline had told her what happened. A blue, insectoid monster had been sent to assassinate Chandler but failed. Now that Chandler was severely crippled, this was the perfect opportunity. She couldn't let Raynor hog the greatest glory for himself. She would capture that Warboss with her own hands and seize the "Mecha Secret Vault" personally. She had to prove that she was the protagonist of this crusade, not some Governor who hid behind the Tyranids.
"Almost there," a crazed smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
Aboard the Peak Obsidian, Raynor observed this scene through long-range sensors. He remained silent for a few seconds before softly uttering six words: "She really doesn't value life."
The captain beside him asked, "My Lord, should we go and help..."
"At this distance, it's too late," Raynor shook his head. He truly couldn't understand—if she wanted glory this badly, where had she been at the start?
Inside the escape pod, Chandler felt a surge of despair. That damned humie frigate was about to crash into him. In thirty seconds at most, he would be captured or smashed to pieces. Left with no choice, Chandler could only pin his hopes on the second-in-command he despised.
He knew Sith was sent by Ragna specifically to monitor him, and they mutually looked down on each other. Thus, he had never given the other a friendly face. But now, only Sith could help him. He pounded frantically on the console, screaming into the comms:
"Sith! Sith! I know ya can hear me! Get rid of dis tail for me, quick!!!"
The comms unit could only connect to his internal bodyguard camp; it couldn't reach the psyker leader at all. But Chandler knew Sith could hear. That damned psyker's perception could cover the entire core zone and even extend into the mid-layers of Karl-2. This was exactly what he hated most about Sith—he felt as though he was being voyeuristically watched all day.
So, he was certain Sith heard his plea for help. But the other ignored him.
"Zog it!" Chandler continued to roar. "Ragna still needs me to hold Karl-2! If I die, Ragna's gonna be disappointed!!"
Sith still gave no response. Chandler's heart sank to the bottom of the abyss.