Warhammer 40k: Ours Journey

Chapter 36: There's Good Stuff on this Ark

Sigh—

A single sigh, filled with nearly ten thousand years of melancholy.

Ramesses frowned. "Did you guys hear something?"

"Huh?" The other three looked at him in confusion, then noticed that the Chaplain and the Sisters beside them had all begun to pray, and a bright light was falling upon their own armor.

"...Never mind," Ramesses said. They all understood what was happening. Just Old Man Gold having another one of His episodes.

Romulus said no more. He had only intended to subtly remind Ramesses not to get too wild with his experiments, but it seemed his friend was already self-aware in that regard, which made him feel a bit awkward. It was a good thing they all knew each other so well; otherwise, it could have come across as an "arrogant lecture."

"I was being overly suspicious. My apologies," Romulus said honestly. In truth, he sincerely believed that the most important gift the four of them had received upon arriving in this universe was not their miraculous abilities, but a heart that remained in awe of this cosmos. This gave him, as a transmigrator, a great sense of security. The thought of having a teammate who was constantly messing things up or giving false intel was a truly despairing one.

"So, are we going in now?" Arthur asked, drawing his sword. The holy light still clinging to the black blade drew the Chaplain's gaze. He had been glancing at the sword ever since the interrogation began.

"Hold on, I still need a bit of time," Romulus said, taking off his helmet and running a hand through his hair, which was slightly damp from the temperature difference inside the armor.

"Time for what?"

"Who knew our first operation would be a high-speed assault," Romulus gritted his teeth. "I have to change the armor on forty Tartaros Terminators, one by one." As everyone knew, you couldn't even put on a suit of Terminator armor without assistance, let alone take it off.

"Correction," Ramesses said gleefully. "Minus Arthur and Karna, who are also on the assault team, it's thirty-seven. You can skip three of them."

"Take your numerology and get out of here."

"Hahaha, no." Ramesses pressed his advantage.

"Right, Arthur," Romulus said, ignoring his fool of a friend as he continued to work on the armor. "Inform the Sharks of what the Chaplain told us. Tell them we have a way to get a lock on the Drukhari, and to prepare one hundred and thirty men for a joint assault. But we will be in command." He had no intention of disturbing Tyberos directly. A Chapter Master had a reputation to uphold. Being ordered around like that would be a loss of face.

"Karna, bring another transport of men over for me. Also, inform the Sharks that we will be clearing a space on our own ship. I need to run a simulation to check for any flaws and ensure the highest possible success rate." Romulus studied the map of the occupied section of the Ark.

"Won't you have to change a few more suits of armor then?"

"So be it. Being tired is better than being dead."

"Alright then." The two of them nodded and immediately split up.

"Akia."

In a deserted corner, Arthur, clad in his black armor, found the Carcharodons' 3rd Company Captain. As the "Reapers" of the Carcharodons, it was this company's duty to liaise with other Imperial forces, a responsibility that naturally fell to Captain Akia. Arthur had not removed his Cataphractii Terminator armor; at their level, the speed restrictions imposed by the armor were negligible.

"Lord Arthur." Akia glanced at the empty surroundings, assuming Arthur had some secret to impart.

After confirming they were alone, Arthur relayed the message Romulus had given him, which he was to pass on to Tyberos.

Thirty seconds later, Akia emerged from the corridor and returned to his men, a bloodthirsty grin hidden beneath his helmet. When he had first heard Arthur's message, his gut instinct was that this fight against the xenos was a lost cause. But since the "old-timers" said they had a plan, what reason did they have to avoid a battle?

Listening to the hum of the servo-motors in his armor, the belligerence in his genes made Akia instinctively ignore the fact that Romulus's strategy was still in the experimental phase. That wasn't for him to worry about. His muscle fibers twitched, and he clenched his fists, feeling an unbearable itch for a fight.

Look at this armor he was wearing—master-crafted War-hound pattern power armor from the Great Crusade, performance maxed out. Even his weapons had been upgraded to superior power axes. This time, he was definitely going to christen their blades with the blood of a few more xenos.

Another thirty seconds passed.

Arthur and Karna, along with a squad of Space Marines now armed with volkite calivers, emerged from the Thunderhawk's troop bay. They gave a silent nod to Romulus, then all turned to look at the trading floor, where a deal had just been concluded.

"In accordance with the ancient pact, the Carcharodons will receive twenty suits of Indomitus-pattern Terminator armor, including repair components, thirty basic loads of all-pattern bolter rounds, and two hundred of each pattern of bolter weapon. Do you require me to re-task a production line to convert these to power armor?" Archmagos Cawl asked Tyberos, withdrawing his mechadendrite from the black container, the hole sealing itself in an instant.

Compared to the stereotypical mechanical speech of other Magi, Archmagos Cawl's manner of speaking was much more human.

"No need." Tyberos refused flatly. He had already grinded enough power armor reserves for the Chapter through his daily "missions." They had enough for the short term, and the same went for weapons. He could always get more by sparring with Arthur later. By teaching him everything he knew, he could also improve his own skills. "Convert all the weapons to bolter rounds and explosives, and repair tools."

He hadn't forgotten that both the Carcharodons and the "Deathwatch" were short on cheap, basic ammunition. As for the Indomitus Terminator armor, he still wanted to keep that in reserve. While its performance was somewhat degraded, its role was well-suited to the combat doctrines of most modern Chapters. Tartaros armor was too difficult to wear without sufficient natural talent, making it unsuitable for the Carcharodons, and Cataphractii was too expensive. To equip an entire company would require over a hundred suits. Even if Romulus was willing to give them, Tyberos wouldn't have the face to accept. At the very least, he would have to serve as a hired thug for these "old-timers," who were probably younger than him, for a while to repay the debt before asking for anything else.

"As you wish." The Archmagos was indifferent. Several servitors began to haul the container away. "The production capacity must be reallocated. You may retrieve the goods from this warehouse in thirteen hours."

"Understood." Tyberos nodded, showing no intention of haggling.

Romulus, who had overheard the terms of the deal, couldn't help but frown.

Two STC fragments—even if one was for making snacks that cured most occupational void-sicknesses and the other was for synthesizing energy drinks from common elements, both useless to the high-stress, wartime Imperium—they shouldn't be this cheap, right?

It seemed the stories of trading an STC for a planet were fake. It was all about sizing up the customer. The Adeptus Mechanicus knew that a Chapter like the Carcharodons had no leverage to bargain with them.

And for such a small amount of goods, they still needed to reallocate production capacity?

(End of Chapter)