Chapter 37: The Plan Has Changed, Let's Kill Them All!

Romulus narrowed his eyes slightly after outfitting the Iron Riders. A series of questions flashed through his mind, and when combined with the words of the Black Templar Chaplain, he seemed to understand exactly what it was that required this Archmagos to be so calculating with the production capacity of an Ark Mechanicus.

He turned his head back.

"Hmm..."

The four of them exchanged glances, each wearing a meaningful expression; they all understood what was on this ship. No wonder the Archmagos had to be this cautious.

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"Brother Tyberos."

After arguing with the Inquisitor and being persuaded by the Chaplain to give it one more try, Marshal Orlando approached him.

Although he desperately wanted to shove that wretched witch into an adamantium casket just like the brothers of the Deathwatch, even the Black Templars could not simply act against an Inquisitor without concrete evidence. If they were to execute an Inquisitor of the Ordo Originum on a flimsy pretext, the Imperial worlds passed by this expeditionary fleet would soon be flooded with rumors highly detrimental to the Chapter. In time, those rumors would become accepted as fact, and within a century, the high lords of Terra would come calling, followed by the inquisitorial audit fleets. For the vast majority of Astartes Chapters, that would be a devastating blow.

"Speak."

Tyberos said coldly, looking down at the Marshal.

"We need the help of the Carcharodons to purge the Aeldari. The Archmagos has only granted us five minutes of operational time; otherwise, the deal is off."

The Marshal held his head high, maintaining the gravity befitting his rank. Tyberos looked toward Archmagos Cawl, who had not yet departed. The Archmagos gave a slight nod, confirming the validity of the request.

"And no heavy weapons are allowed. Every redundant explosion risks causing significant damage to the assets this ship is carrying."

"How many xenos are there?"

"Around five hundred. The exact number is unclear."

"What is the distribution?"

"They are in the stern compartments. The corridors are intricate and complex; our probe attacks suffered heavy losses, with a casualty ratio nearing 3:1. Furthermore, we have no knowledge of the enemy's specific disposition."

Stiffness has its advantages; it strips away meaningless rhetoric, leaving only the raw reality. Orlando did not seem to mind Tyberos’s cold demeanor, spending a moment relaying the detailed information they had gathered.

"The terms are harsh."

Tyberos’s refusal was evident. Even though the Carcharodons were currently well-supplied with both manpower and equipment, and he truly desired to slaughter xenos—and perhaps capture an Archon to extract information about the Void Glass—he would not blindly sacrifice his men to fulfill the absurd mission of an Archmagos.

"My Lord!"

Before Tyberos could turn away, Akia, the Third Company Captain, stepped forward and relayed the request of the "Trans-travelers" via internal comms.

"..."

After hearing Akia’s report, Tyberos looked at the Trans-travelers, who were still standing with the Black Templar Chaplain. Romulus, his head covered in condensation, gave a thumbs-up to the thirty-seven warriors behind him who had already equipped their laser muskets, signaling his confidence. He had already tested them in the section the Sharks had assigned to him; it was solid.

Well, that would do.

"Kahurangi," Tyberos called to his Chief Librarian. "Have the First Company send thirty more men."

He used an external broadcast.

"Brother?" Marshal Orlando looked surprised, not understanding why the other party would mobilize forces to the Ark after seemingly refusing.

"The plan has changed." Tyberos flexed the talons in his hand, sparks flying from the gears of his chain-fist. "I ask Lord Romulus to explain."

Before Romulus could react, Tyberos ceded the floor to him. Tyberos never cared for so-called honor; as descendants of the Forgotten, honor was something that never existed for the Carcharodons to begin with. As for the outer reaches, it mattered even less; most who attempted to deal with the Carcharodons became very polite once they saw him in person.

He knew why Romulus was acting this way, and that was exactly why he should let these old men take the lead. Just as Romulus and his men respected his position as Chapter Master, the respect of a Chapter Master could significantly elevate their status. Status was a very useful tool within the Imperium. Unlike the Carcharodons, who had always drifted along the fringes of the Imperium, the objective of Romulus and his group was clearly to return to the Imperial fold, where they would face endless probing and scrutiny from various Imperial factions. Having a full Chapter backing them was a completely different matter than having none.

"..."

Romulus walked naturally toward Cawl, locking eyes with Tyberos beside him. Tyberos gave a slight nod, signaling that he had ceded the lead. The Sharks remained silent in formation, having no objection to backing these ancient warriors. Setting aside their generosity, there was the matter of their attitude—willing to fight for humanity even after realizing the Imperium had become something alien. If it weren't for the oaths to the Void Father that drove the Carcharodons to fight the horrors of the outer dark that threatened Imperial borders, they would have long since abandoned their heritage and vanished into the void, rather than resorting to collecting the Red Tithe to replenish their numbers, disgusting both themselves and the Imperium.

That these ancient warriors were willing to return after witnessing the current state of the Imperium was the definition of unfaltering loyalty.

"My Lord?"

Now it was everyone else’s turn to be confused. Except for the Venerables interred in Dreadnoughts, who else could be addressed as "My Lord" by a Chapter Master? When Marshal Orlando’s gaze landed on the Deathwatch members, the questions in his mind multiplied. *Wait, why does the Deathwatch have so many Imperial Fists? They’ve deployed this many for a single kill-team—is Terra being left undefended?*

"The Carcharodon fleet is towing a strike cruiser with its main hull intact but lacking combat capability, along with an Orks vessel of the same class," Romulus said, cutting straight to the point with the Archmagos. "I wish to trade for ownership of a frigate."

Logically, this was a poor deal; towing those two ships to a Forge World and paying with the Orks vessel would net a brand-new strike cruiser within two years, but Romulus did not think they had the luxury of waiting two years in one region.

"Not enough." The Archmagos replied decisively.

"Then add the Aeldari cruiser to the deal?"

The Archmagos stared coldly at Romulus. Romulus looked calmly at the Archmagos. There was no trace of posturing, arrogance, conceit, or fanatical religious zeal on his face, nor was there the desperation of one making a final stand. He was calm, as calm as if he were stating a fact, or presenting a conclusion reached after rigorous analysis.

It was an expression Cawl had not seen in a long time... so long that it felt like ten thousand years.