"My Lord, Governor Beowulf has... passed away," Kaeder reported to Alexei, who was currently reviewing documents.
Alexei looked up in shock. After a long silence, he spoke softly. "I understand."
Kaeder acknowledged this and prepared to leave, but Alexei called out to him, "How did he die?"
"In his sleep, My Lord."
"Perhaps that is a good end," Alexei murmured with a complex expression. This sector had now, in every sense of the word, lost its administrator. "See to it that Governor Beowulf is buried with honor."
"Understood, My Lord." Kaeder vanished into the shadows.
The command deck fell into silence once more, save for the rhythmic beeping of instruments. After a long while, Alexei asked, "Adjutant, what is the current status of the battlefield?"
The holographic projection immediately displayed detailed reports from several fronts. Aiur's fleet had leveled almost all major settlements; the plague husks were being mown down like grain by air-to-ground laser arrays.
On the Tyranid front, the creep had covered nearly the entire southern hemisphere. The plagues of Nurgle had significantly receded, and the plague husks were largely cleared out. Having finished their primary task, the swarms began to consume one another, reverting back into primal biomass.
Within the Iron Fortress, the Aiur Guard had fully taken over administration. Surviving civilians were being vaccinated in sequence. The Plague Marines hiding in the outer districts were being hunted down one by one and reduced to ash. Near the high mountains, the rot had been dispersed by Allie's psionic power, turning the area into a safe zone.
As for the habitable planets within the system, the Swarm had been sent to colonize and develop them. Once the Swarm's power fully matured and the hive mind's psionic network cast its shadow, the system would not fall so easily to Chaos corruption again.
"What is the status of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica hub planet in this sector?" Alexei asked, struck by a thought.
"There is no response," the adjutant replied mechanically.
"Was it also attacked... or is it something else?" Alexei frowned, deep in thought. He had an ill-omened feeling; surely it couldn't be such a coincidence. He immediately dispatched several Ghost squads to reconnoiter, hoping to gather intelligence.
Alexei stopped what he was doing and headed toward a room within the ship. The Fallen Angel, Atol, was there. He needed to consult him.
Upon boarding, Atol had made only one request: a bare room to serve as a chapel. He spent his days in penance and prayer for his past betrayals, seeking the forgiveness of his gene-father and the Emperor before seting out to slay traitors and carve hunting marks upon their corpses.
Alexei stood before the closed door. After a short wait, he knocked twice. "Enter," a voice called from within.
The automatic door slid open to reveal an extremely austere white space. There was no bed, table, or chair—only a steel pillar engraved with script, as Atol had requested.
The Fallen Angel had removed his power armor, placing the pieces on an automated display rack. Dressed only in a simple monk's robe, he knelt silently before the steel pillar in prayer. Alexei, in no rush, stood aside with his eyes closed to rest. After a moment, Atol stood up and turned to Alexei. "Why have you come?"
Without hesitation, Alexei relayed the adjutant's news. Atol's expression grew grave. "Do the reconnaissance images show that everything on the planet has fallen into stagnation and deathly silence?"
Alexei recalled the reports and images, then nodded. "Yes."
"Then it is likely the work of Him," Atol warned. "He consumes everything on a planet, rotting it back to its primordial state. You will know for certain once your scouts return."
"It seems my intuition was correct." Atol turned toward the display rack, allowing the mechanical arms to help him don his power armor. "Once the detailed intel arrives, I will go with you to see for myself."
Alexei nodded, but before he could speak, the ship's adjutant issued a warning: "Warning: Enemy fleet signature detected at the system's edge. Warning: System edge..."
"It seems we'll have to wait a moment," Alexei said to Atol before turning to leave. In his mind, he commanded the Swarm's Leviathans to prepare for battle. Aiur's fleet also departed the atmosphere of Grevan's planet, moving into low orbit to ready themselves. "Let's see what they're made of."
At the Mandeville point at the edge of the system, over twenty warships of varying sizes emerged. Most of the vessels had become sickening Chaos constructs—half-flesh, half-machine. On the flagship of the fleet stood the leader of the "Vile Pestilence," a Nurgle-aligned Chaos warband. He was a Lord of Nurgle known as "Erosion."
His body was massive and bloated. Putrid corpse-fluid dripped constantly from organs exposed through gaps in his power armor, causing a "hissing" sound as it corroded the flesh-like deck of the ship.
"Heh... the Master's will..." His eyes, oozing pus and shedding maggots, stared through the fleshy viewport at a planet in the distance. Long ago, he had received a revelation from his Master: there was a power there that his Master desired.
After destroying several Imperial worlds, he had obtained the artifact capable of containing this power. He had been granted the honor of completing this task and would receive his final ascension to daemonhood. However, he soon realized they were not the only ones in this system.
The Chaos Sorcerer beside him informed him that another Nurgle warband was currently ravaging a planet in the system. "Heh heh, it seems we arrived just in time..."
Under his command, the fleet immediately began to change course. That "thing" wasn't going anywhere for the moment. They would first destroy that world, absorb the rival warband, and then complete their Master's task.
As the fleet reached the center of the system, they suddenly encountered a massive Tyranid fleet that shouldn't have been there. "Tyranids?" Erosion murmured, looking at the colossal bio-ships. He then issued the order: "Rot their shells! Devour their flesh!"
Abathur was not as skilled in direct combat as Zagara, but he was more than capable of commanding a small-scale space engagement. Looking at the distant fleet shrouded in plague clouds, the Leviathans immediately vomited out dense swarms of organisms. They charged recklessly toward the plague fleet.
The moment the swarm touched the green clouds, they dissolved into basic bloody fluid. But that did not matter. The next wave arrived instantly. This time, they were able to pass through the clouds and get close to the ship hulls.
Wave after wave of the swarm approached like a black mist. In just half a day, they evolved from dying on contact to being able to completely ignore the plague's interference.
The twenty or so massive Leviathans, which had been maneuvering around the enemy, now began a rapid close-range assault. Without the protection of their plagues, the enemy was nothing more than a weak fleet of rust and meat. They stood no chance against the mighty Hive Fleet.
Abathur turned away, no longer paying attention to the battle. In his view, victory was already decided.
"Weak. Simple genetics."