A scream tore through the silence. The air in the prison vibrated, thick with unease, panic, and the tension of confronting transhuman warriors.
Blue power blades rested against their throats. The Captain of the Second Legion and the Warden did not resist—they hardly could. Before their hyper-accelerated reflexes could even register a response, their cousins' blades were already at their necks, ready to claim their heads at any moment.
They stood motionless before their brothers' weapons. Inability to dodge was one reason; the other was the sheer shock paralyzing the Captain and the Warden.
A Rangdan infection within the Second Legion?
The fact hit like a thunderbolt, defying all reason and shattering their composure. Even the unbreakable hearts of the Astartes felt a surge of dread. Fear, like a cold hand, crushed the burning convictions within their chests.
As the unthinkable reality churned in their minds, one thing became certain: with a psychic infection present, the Legion would inevitably face investigation and be pulled away from the Rangdan front.
And the Primarch—
They could not imagine the magnitude of the impact this would have on their gene-father.
"Bro... Brother," the Seventh Captain's voice trembled. He spread his fingers and slowly moved his arms away from his waist to show he was not a threat. "Is it possible the machine malfunctioned?"
He still clung to a sliver of hope, praying for a one-in-a-billion chance of mechanical error.
Astra did not answer. The spear point remained steady while the Hound made its next move. The mechanical construct retracted its testing tendrils and moved to another Astropath, deploying its diagnostic tools once more.
The Astropath's body convulsed. That peculiar mechanical barking sounded again, and when the projection lit up, the Seventh Captain fell into near-despair.
The Rangdan infection was present.
In the holographic display, the dark green hue of the brain was piercingly bright, crushing the last remnants of hope.
"Nur once provided testing tools to all Legions. The latest report shows billions of people have been tested without a single error."
The words were calm, but to the Seventh Captain, they were a definitive death sentence for the Second Legion. His mind went blank, his soul yearning for escape. He cursed the moment he arrived here; he cursed having to learn this cruel truth.
"Nur provided the Second Legion with detection units. Why did you not perform self-checks?"
The interrogation began. Astra's dimensional spear pressed closer as the mechanical Aquila spread its wings, jamming all external communications.
The Seventh Captain remained silent, but the Warden provided an answer: "The Legion has testing protocols. The most recent Rangdan screening was recorded six Terran months ago."
The implication was clear: the Rangdan infection had appeared within the last half-year.
"Half a year?" Astra repeated the timeframe slowly, lowering his spear. "Are you certain of this timing?"
"I am certain," the Seventh Captain replied, regaining his focus. "Whether docking at allied ports or performing missions, the Legion conducts Rangdan checks. During void patrols, a comprehensive fleet-wide inspection is held every six months."
Seeing the Doom Slayer sheath his weapon, the Captain activated his tactical terminal, displaying the logs of every self-check the Legion had performed.
"The data is consistent," Astra nodded. "Sound the alarm."
"Regardless of the circumstances, the presence of Rangdan infection within the Second Legion is an undeniable fact. Let the Primarch decide."
"I understand," the Seventh Captain sighed with regret, his fingers moving quickly across the terminal to trigger the Rangdan alert. Before pressing down, his finger hovered in mid-air, filled with hesitation and sorrow.
Astra did not rush him. As one with deeper knowledge, he understood better than the Captain the consequences of sounding that alarm. It meant the Primarch would be forced to leave his chambers, the Legion would assemble due to the infection, Alpharius would gather evidence, and then—
He did not know how events would unfold from there.
One thing was certain: after this incident, the Second Legion's honor would be severely tarnished, perhaps even leading to their erasure.
Unaware of this deeper fate, the Seventh Captain simply believed the Legion might be withdrawn from the Rangdan War, losing their chance to prove their worth.
"Sigh..."
With a helpless groan, the Captain pressed the alert. The signal surged into the cogitator arrays and triggered the emergency protocols.
Beep— Beep— Beep—
Ear-piercing sirens wailed. The green lights in the corridors of the Gloriana-class battleship shifted to a harsh red. Holographic displays everywhere flashed the warning: Rangdan Infection!
Internal communications within the Second Legion went dead silent for dozens of seconds before exploding into a frantic wave of inquiries. The warriors could not believe it—how could an infection break out within the Legion at such a critical moment?
In the lounge, the alarm flared. Solas's brow furrowed. He turned from the viewport toward the door, then suddenly stopped. The Primarch walked to an automated assembly unit and turned around, spreading his arms as the machine began cladding him in his power armor.
Once armored, Solas headed for the door, hesitated again, and turned back to the desk to retrieve a storage module. When he finally stepped out of the lounge, his lithe frame was encased in custom bronze power armor. Holding his metal coiled-dragon war-staff, he was in a full combat stance.
"Guard this place," the Primarch said, raising a hand to stop his guard from following. He spoke to his most trusted sons. "Notify me immediately of any developments."
A series of events suggested that some power in the shadows was orchestrating this. Solas knew full well that his chambers were the ultimate goal of the mastermind; they wanted his secrets.
"By your command!" The Primarch's guard knelt in unison, a solemn vow to defend the Primarch's chambers to the death.
Nodding with satisfaction, Solas turned and departed. The Primarch's guard were his most trusted and powerful sons, bound by absolute loyalty. Even if an accident occurred, they would have ample time to sound the alarm and hold any intruders at bay until reinforcements arrived.
Alpharius watched his brother walk away and allowed a faint smile to play across his lips. His gaze drifted among his "colleagues" as he began calculating his battle plan.
Solas was right: no Space Marine could kill the guard before they raised the alarm. But that didn't account for another Primarch. And he was well-prepared, intimately familiar with the Second Legion's combat style.
In the ship's Grand Assembly Hall, the Legion's high command and elites gathered. The crowd was a dense sea of bronze armor, the atmosphere thick with tension. The warriors wore their tactical helmets, hiding their expressions, yet an aura of unease radiated from them.
Tens of thousands of fully armed warriors stood in formation. Before the ranks stood eight Doom Slayers. Under their heavy protection, several thralls carried a cruciform execution rack where the Astropaths were bound, their chests heaving slightly.
Everyone was there.
The envoy delegations from the various Legions were present in full force, fully armed, as if everyone before them was an enemy. Seeing the attitude of their brother Legions, the Second Legion warriors were initially incensed, but they soon understood. At such a critical juncture, an infection within their own ranks would naturally put the envoys on edge.
The Primarch entered through a side door, his helmet tucked under his arm and his war-staff in hand. His gaunt face was grimmer than ever before.
The Audit Team arrived. The mortal contingent moved in silence, their presence heavy and imposing enough to give even the Astartes pause.
"Primarch," the Chief Auditor wheezed, supported by his assistants. His aged voice was like dry leaves, yet he insisted on kneeling before the scion of the Emperor. "A terrible thing has happened. Please, allow me to exercise my authority."
The veteran politician's posture was humble, his words simple yet impossible to refuse. The power of audit came from the Emperor and the Regent. With the suspicion of Rangdan infection and collusion with the enemy, the Audit Team held the legal high ground.
At that moment, many more mortals entered through the main doors, carrying detection equipment.
"Forgive my intrusion," the Chief Auditor gestured for his assistants to turn him around. He bowed to the Second Legion warriors in apology, then looked up at the Primarch on the high platform. "Please, Primarch, give the order for the Space Marines to temporarily disarm and submit to equipment screening."
In law and etiquette, the old man was flawless. His humility left no room for objection.
But his request plunged the hall into a deathly silence.
The envoys were equally tense. They stared directly at their cousins, fingers quietly hovering over the safeties of their bolters. The Second Legion warriors did not refuse; they looked up at their gene-father, waiting for the command to cooperate and prove the Legion's purity. Even now, the warriors only thought of clearing their names and returning to the war as pure sons of the Emperor.
Perhaps there was resentment in their hearts, but it was not aimed at their brothers or the auditors—it was aimed at the Rangdan who had brought shame upon them. It was just a screening; they had nothing to hide.
Solas remained silent. He placed his helmet on the platform, his silver-gray eyes sweeping over every one of his sons. He delayed the order.
The atmosphere in the hall grew suffocatingly heavy as the Primarch withheld his stance. The silence was brief, but for the hyper-reactive minds of the Astartes, it felt like an eternity.