Chapter 25: The Man-Eating Shark: Hehe, Big Brother Fu Is Here!

"Lord Karna!"

After roaming around for the day, Karna returned to the central elevator zone. As his iron-shod boots stepped into the area, he was greeted by a scene of surprising harmony. Space Marines clad in Mk X Tacticus armor patrolled the perimeter, accompanied by a squad of Cadian soldiers in void-hardened flak armor. At the far end of the plaza, in front of the canteen, stood an orderly queue where Astartes and mortals sat together at tables of varying sizes, enjoying their meal.

Unlike half a month ago, the area that once served as a defensive strongpoint had been transformed into a mess hall for the Astra Militarum and the Astartes to reorganize and dine.

"The usual." Karna handed his mess tin to the cook and began to survey the surroundings.

A Sister of Battle performing pre-meal prayers—yes, that’s fitting.
His companions, already deep into their food—yes, that’s fitting.
Colonel Kovek was on duty overseeing the dining area today—yes, that’s fitting.
The Tech-Priest... wait, where is he?

Squinting slightly, Karna searched the area until he finally spotted the orange-robed gear-head on the lower deck, prostrating himself and swinging a censer before a massive aerial vehicle. Oh, so he’s kowtowing to that Stormbird today?

Ever since the Tech-Priest learned that they had gifted these vehicles and equipment directly to the Astra Militarum, he had acted as if he were suffering from a severe oil leak, muttering incessantly about how such holy relics belonged in a reliquary and that it was a waste to give them to these "grunts." He was just that kind of machine-cultist. Honestly, if they didn't spend these assets now, would they just let them rot in their hands after getting wiped out in a war of attrition?

Following Romulus’s firm rejection of his complaints, the Tech-Priest had spent every day kowtowing to the vehicles, hoping to persuade their machine spirits to change their minds.

Yes, still banging his head against the floor. That’s fitting.

"Thanks." Karna took the overflowing mess tin and walked over to the table reserved for the Astartes. His three companions, whose armor had been repainted in the style of the Deathwatch, had already finished their meal long ago.

"Find anything good today?" Romulus asked as soon as he sat down.

"Nothing left. I’ve searched every nook and cranny of this ship. I checked the Orks, too, but their tech development isn't far enough along; the smaller components still rely on the Waaagh! field, so they’re useless to us."

"Fair enough. Finishing the catalog before the rescue arrives is worth celebrating."

"It is worth celebrating. We’ve managed to make corpse-starch taste like a gourmet meal." Karna grabbed a handful of ceramite powder and sprinkled it over his food before spearing a thick chunk of meat and popping it into his mouth.

"Thank goodness the Imperium’s technology is advanced; otherwise, I’d trade a few demons just to get some cola and fried chicken." Ramses, who had finished eating first, wiped his mouth.

***

At this very moment, what everyone was eating was one of the Imperium of Man’s most infamous delicacies across the multiverse: Soylens Viridians, also known as corpse-starch.

Essentially a high-nutrient substance derived from the Promethium refining process, it was the sole food source for the vast majority of the Imperium's citizens. It had almost no flavor and could take on various appearances depending on additives, usually presenting as a viscous paste.

As for why it had become what they were currently eating? It could only be said that humans capable of sustaining such an extreme regime also possessed extreme technology to match. By combining nutritional formulation technology salvaged from the Mechanicus, custom flavor-profiling tech found in a fleet officer’s quarters, and the inexhaustible supply of corpse-starch produced as a byproduct of Promethium refining, they had synthesized a delicious, nutritionally balanced meal.

And most importantly: it was as cheap and abundant as standard corpse-starch, enough to keep everyone on this ship fed for a year. It had to be said that the Imperium’s civil-utility technology was actually quite capable—it just wasn't used on the Imperium's own people.

"By the way, why do you two keep staring at 'toilet paper' every day?" Karna noticed the two men who had returned to studying the Codex Astartes after their meal.

"Beyond the restrictions placed on the Astartes, the Regent’s suggestions are still of great reference value," Arthur replied without looking up. "Moreover, we lack detailed knowledge of this universe; the Codex itself can fill the gaps in our understanding. It is necessary to study it."

"After all, it teaches you step-by-step how to wage war, how to manage a Chapter, and even details what each warrior should do during combat, with specific solutions for different environments. It’s very helpful for my command of the troops," Romulus added with interest.

It had to be said that the Codex Astartes was a top-tier reference book. It covered almost every situation an Astartes might encounter, to the point where, if you followed it to the letter, you would become a competent Astartes. Setting aside the prejudice of calling it "toilet paper" and some of its more outdated doctrines, it was a good book. The Regent must have put a lot of heart into writing it.

"The two honor students are grinding us again," Ramses muttered, watching them look so serious.

"If they don't grind, you'll be the one who has to learn it," Karna said, putting down his ceramite chopsticks, which he had snapped in half while chewing. Since they had transmigrated, his brain hadn't grown much, but his teeth had certainly gotten stronger.

"Then let the honor students grind," Ramses immediately backed down.

"Speaking of which, are we just going to let this misunderstanding continue?" Karna glanced at the Sisters of Battle at the neighboring table, who had finished their meal and were waiting for orders, and decided to change the subject.

"I feel like the four of us are about to be treated as holy relics."

Ever since they handed over that pile of equipment, the twenty-six Sisters had been guarding them almost constantly. Except for Karna, who was allowed to move about alone, the other three were met with the Sisters' watchful gazes the moment they left their quarters.

"This is a good thing. It’s better than being suspected of being a traitorous Chapter," Romulus said.

"If it’s a benefit, then there’s no need to worry about it. Arthur, Ramses, just tell them you’re Ultramarines, and improvise the rest. Let them fill in the blanks themselves."

"But won't a disguise eventually show cracks?" Karna wasn't very confident in his acting skills.

"Why disguise it? The equipment isn't fake, and our feeling of being out of place is real. Besides, how does that saying go? Our painstaking imitation is..." Ramses tried to recall, then got stuck.

"...not as good as a moment’s genuine outpouring of emotion from a loyal son," Karna finished.

"Honestly, not as good as M3 Earth," Romulus, still reading, chimed in with the meme.

"See? I told you there was no need to worry."

"..." Arthur’s expression was hard to read.

But it was true; to them, coming from M3, the current Imperium looked like a disaster, and to those from M31, the current Imperium was also a disaster. Look at how melancholy the Regent had been ever since he woke up. It was the same—no difference at all.

"My Lord, we have received a communication from an Imperial warship." The brief post-meal study was cut short by a report from a messenger.

"Code?"

"Verification passed."

"Affiliation?"

"They identify themselves as the Carcharodons."