Bryan shook his head, his expression grim. "Only one thing was clear: fear. Pure, unadulterated fear—and confusion."
John sighed, his breath heavy as he moved toward the star map. He manipulated the holographic interface, zooming in on the sector and tracing the coordinates. Bell stood quietly behind him, her sharp eyes scanning the data. "There's no sign of Chaos activity in the vicinity," Bell spoke up, her voice steady but filled with suspicion. "Could this be something else?"
"Maybe," Bryan replied, his eyes flicking over the star chart. "Our last sector update was a year ago, near the Ultramar system. It's possible the data's out of date, but I'm not ruling anything out. Could be a small group of Chaos raiders, alien pirates, or even human ones. None of that's uncommon."
"But if it's a real attack, we'd expect more than just a few scattered ships," Johnson interjected, leaning over the map. "There should be a few destroyers hanging around for defense. This isn't adding up."
John clicked through the data, bringing up a readout of Victoria's main star. The hive world looked ordinary on the surface—just another industrial hub in the Imperium. But something felt off. He tapped a few more controls. "Anything from Victoria Prime?" he asked, eyes still fixed on the screen.
"Nothing yet," Bryan answered. "We haven't heard from the main star. Do you think they know about the attack already?"
"It's possible," John said, frowning. "After all, we've already received the message. If we're getting it, the people on the surface should be aware too."
Bryan turned toward the bridge crew. "Navigator, how far are we from Mandeville Point in Victoria?"
"Six seconds, sir. We're entering the Mandeville Point range now."
Without missing a beat, Bryan opened a communication line. "Astropath, send a message to Victoria Prime. Tell them to warn their fleet not to mistake us for enemies."
But before Bryan could finish, John raised his hand, stopping him. "Wait a moment. Don't send anything just yet."
Bryan looked at him, confused. "What's wrong?"
John's eyes locked onto Bryan's. "I have a feeling we've got a mole on the main star," he said, his voice quiet but tense.
Tony snorted, unable to suppress a wry grin. "Greedy governors, rebel factions, mutants, Chaos cultists... You know, the usual mess that comes with hive worlds."
"Don't forget the Genestealers," Robert added with a chuckle, arms crossed.
John nodded, his expression hardening. "If this is the work of traitors on the surface working with some outside enemy, we need to figure out who they are—before it's too late."
Robert groaned. "I hate all this sneaking around and guessing. Can't we just hit something already?"
Johnson placed a heavy hand on Robert's shoulder. "Patience, brother. Your time will come."
John smiled grimly. "For now, we stay quiet. We'll jump into the system, take a look at the space station, and see what we're dealing with. But remember, no contact with the locals. We don't want to give ourselves away."
Bryan nodded, immediately giving orders to the bridge crew. The room hummed with activity as preparations were made. John checked his wrist communicator, then glanced at the Astartes. All four warriors stood at attention, each of them checking their weapons with practiced precision. "Octopus," John said, his voice calm and measured. "Is our ride ready?"
"Thunderhawk's prepped and ready to go, Inquisitor," came the response.
John smirked and turned to the Astartes. "Time to take a little trip."
The Thunderhawk gunship descended into the inky blackness of the space station's docking bay. It was eerily silent—no lights, no sounds. The landing lights, indicator signals, even the usual hum of the station's machinery were all off. Just a cold, unsettling silence.
The crew of the Thunderhawk didn't flinch at the atmosphere. The engines roared to life, pushing the ship lower toward the darkened apron. Flames shot from the jet thrusters, cutting through the darkness with a searing, violent glow. Slowly, the ship's massive form touched down on the cold metal floor with a thud, shaking the hull slightly.
The hatch opened with a hiss, and the first figure to step out was massive—clad in black power armor, his silhouette cutting a daunting shape against the flickering light. Behind him, the rest of the Deathwatch Astartes followed, their armor gleaming in the harsh light. The cold, clinical brightness of their helmets pierced the gloom, their footsteps heavy and sure as they stepped onto the station.
The silence pressed in, suffocating, but the Astartes were ready. Weapons were raised, bolts clicked into place, and John followed them out, his bolt pistol drawn and safety off.
"Stay sharp," John murmured. "We don't know what we're walking into."
The Astartes warriors, their power armor gleaming in the dim light, moved swiftly, surrounding the Thunderhawk's deck. Armed with explosive charges and brutal melee weapons, they stood like silent sentinels, ready for whatever lay ahead. John, however, was the first to step out of the craft. His helmet was sealed tight, his magnetic boots clicking against the metal floor with each step, leaving behind faint, glowing trails of fluorescent lightning.
He scanned the area. The space station before him was eerily still—too still. It was obvious the gravity and life support systems had either been disabled or destroyed. There were no signs of life, not even the usual hum of machines that kept a station alive.
John nodded to Robert, who, with a grunt, lifted his chain axe and marched toward a half-open door. In a single fluid motion, Robert ripped the door off its hinges and tossed it aside, the metal sheet floating lazily in zero gravity before it drifted off into the dark corridor. He took a few more steps inside, eyes scanning for movement through his blue-tinged helmet visor. "It's clear," Robert's voice came over the comms, his tone rough but reassuring. "No threats so far."
The rest of the group followed, their footsteps heavy and methodical, the sound of their boots echoing off the metal walls of the station. They moved like a wall of iron and muscle, John surrounded by the Astartes, their massive forms blocking out all exits. The air was thick with silence, so complete it felt unnatural, like the place had been abandoned for years, not hours.
Randy, walking alongside John, passed a sign that had once proudly displayed the station's name but now looked faded and neglected. "This place used to be bustling," Randy remarked, his voice cutting through the stillness. "At least, I imagine it did."
"Usually, a space station like this runs with hundreds of people on board," Tony chimed in, pushing past a broken table. The fragments hit the wall with a soft clink before slowly floating off into the void. "If there's been an attack here, we should have seen at least one body by now."
"I agree with Tony," Robert said, his voice filled with a grim realization. "There's definitely been a fight. Look at these walls." He gestured with his head, and the light from his helmet swept across the corridor, illuminating several bullet holes. "Looks like someone was trying to hold their ground."
John stopped in his tracks, the rest of the team pausing behind him.