"My Emperor… what enemy is it? Are we going to survive?"
Fear spread through the passenger compartment. Everyone knew what it meant to be attacked mid-voyage.
All they could do was pray for the blessing of the Golden Sun and the Savior.
"No need to worry. This ship will be fine. The Redemption Fleet and the Emperor's Angels won't stand by and do nothing."
A short, broad-shouldered abhuman with a white beard remained calm as ever.
He soothed the crowd and said, "I'm an Imperial Honorary Citizen. I fought at Baal. If danger comes, I'll protect everyone!"
This abhuman was a retired veteran. He'd lived in trenches during the Apocalyptic War. He wasn't afraid of a sea of xenos bugs, let alone a bit of turbulence.
He looked at Dorn and spoke with hearty swagger.
"Big guy, you're a veteran too, right? If there really is a boarding action, we'll go kill those heretic xenos!"
Dorn nodded.
His instinctive vigilance had leaked a trace of killing intent, and the old soldier noticed.
There was no helping it. Dorn had endured too much war and slaughter. It was hard to hide that aura.
Dorn decided he would act.
He didn't want these devout believers to die. More importantly, this was his transport to Terra.
No matter what enemy it was, they had picked the wrong target!
Creak.
Dorn grabbed the rail of a metal bunk and wrenched hard, tearing off a solid metal bar to use as a weapon.
In recent years, his weapons had been worn away to nothing through countless battles. But this body itself was the strongest weapon.
He stood with the bar in hand, like a wall given form.
The next moment, the short veteran's booming voice came from the side.
"Big guy, why're you damaging public property… heh heh. You probably didn't read the ship's sightseeing manual, did you?"
Dorn paused, momentarily stunned. He really hadn't had time to read the booklet written in Low Gothic.
"Yeah, figures. You're probably not a new Imperial citizen. Makes sense you wouldn't know."
The short veteran looked understanding.
"According to the latest fire safety standards, ships have to be equipped with emergency armaments, including the cabins we stay in. It's a public safety requirement.
The security department has to inspect it…"
Under everyone's gaze, the veteran walked up to a safety-marked panel and explained:
"If an intrusion happens, the ship will broadcast a notice and unlock the emergency armament safety locks."
As soon as he finished speaking, alarms blared and red lights flashed.
The captain announced that Chaos heretics had used sorcery to teleport aboard. All pilgrims outside were to follow guidance to designated safe areas immediately.
At the same time, the captain called on anyone capable to follow instructions to specified points and resist the invaders.
The short veteran remained composed, head down as he read the newest intelligence on his dataslate.
He had just requested access to the emergency comms channel.
"The enemy is a Red Corsairs Chaos warband.
There are about thirty-plus Traitor Astartes, and a large number of cultists. Their equipment isn't great, so their firepower shouldn't be too strong…"
He explained with relief. "Good thing it's not daemons, or we'd have a bigger problem."
Dorn listened, dumbfounded. Since when were Imperial civilians this tough, like they wanted to square up with a Chaos warband?!
Crack.
The veteran smashed the glass covering the safety panel and pulled out the now-unlocked emergency armament case.
Inside was a full set of weapons: light and heavy machine guns, las rifles, shields, plus frag grenades, krak grenades, and more.
"If we were in the public areas outside, veterans would even have authorization to get a light version of bolter weapons and temporary personal armor.
Too bad we don't have time. Those old bastards move fast…"
The short veteran sighed.
He was excited. He hadn't expected his retirement pilgrimage to include another chance to fight heretics.
Kill a few more heretics, and wouldn't he earn even more holy favor when he reached Holy Terra?
When his time came, he would absolutely return to the Throne!
…???
Dorn stared at the contents of the armament case and nearly went numb. There was enough in there to outfit an elite Astra Militarum squad.
The Imperium stocked weapons like this now?
Every public area and every cabin had a cache. How many weapons was that?
If this was true, then this pilgrim ship was basically a moving ammunition depot!
There was no helping it. During the previous insane expansion, the New Imperium's arms industry had manufactured far too many weapons, and the replacement cycles never stopped.
Older models were much better than what the Imperium used to have, but they still lagged behind the newest generation.
To digest those old stockpiles, the arms industry and logistics departments had worked themselves to the bone before the Savior finally agreed to push through new safety standards.
They classified warehouse weapons as part of fire safety, distributing them across Imperial ships and related public spaces.
That way, Imperial citizens could use them at any time to fight xenos, heretics, and evil, and protect themselves.
Of course, it was only temporary.
In the future, once the Imperium's situation eased and the risk of invasion was gone, the weapons would be collected back.
"It seems the Imperium has shaken off its old shortages. It has enough weapons now, and it values safety and defense more…"
As the Vigilant, the Lord of the Phalanx, Dorn cared most about security and fortification. He was pleased by these measures.
He hefted a heavy las weapon and took a combat knife as well.
In his hands, the heavy weapon looked like a sidearm. Still, it was usable.
Boom, boom, boom.
Outside, the roar of gunfire had already started, and the ship itself could be felt firing its weapons.
After arming himself, Dorn followed the short veteran out.
If the situation held, he didn't want to reveal his true state yet. Once exposed, it would be hard to conceal.
"By the Emperor's grace!"
After that, influenced by Dorn and the veteran, two more abhumans who knew how to handle firearms grabbed weapons and joined them.
They moved down the corridor toward the combat zone and found more pilgrims bursting out, weapons slung over shoulders.
Morale ran high. Some even greeted each other as they ran. The fear of invasion aboard the ship was evaporating.
"Hurry, hurry!"
"If you're late you won't make it!"
"Damn it, I have to kill a few heretics. This pilgrimage vacation is worth it!"
Those armed pilgrims looked well trained, advancing in an orderly way toward the firefight.
A mild-looking clerk wearing an electronic monocle adjusted his weapon with practiced ease, speaking excitedly:
"I'm the champion of my department's firearms tactics training. Years of hard practice, finally a chance to use it. Let's see who dares say I'm all talk now…"
Facing a Chaos intrusion, these people showed no fear at all. If you didn't know better, you'd think they were the ones invading someone else.
Dorn watched the bustling scene, unable to understand it. These Imperial civilians were nothing like the ones in his memory.
In the past, when disaster struck, Imperial civilians panicked in terror like helpless lambs.
They could only pray for the Emperor's protection and wait to be slaughtered.
But these people looked like they were rushing out to protect the Emperor himself.
This was the New Imperium's education strategy at work.
When citizens were in school, they had dedicated courses that taught them who the Imperium's enemies were and what characteristics they had.
They were also taught what the Imperium fought for.
Each year, schools organized basic military training.
The sports department would occasionally apply for funding and haul back real frontline equipment so students could see it for themselves and try it safely.
As for higher-level institutions like Loyalist Academies, the training was even harsher, with live-combat requirements and assigned "acceptable casualty quotas."
Even after graduates entered their respective workplaces, they still had corresponding training programs, regularly going out for field exercises.
At first, it was just a way to deal with munitions nearing their expiration dates.
Logistics had to clear warehouse space, and they were desperate.
But later, inertia took over. Nobody proposed canceling it, and it gradually became tradition.
Year after year, it kept being scheduled.
Under that kind of long-term training, ordinary citizens basically knew what the Imperium's enemies looked like, what traits they had, and how great the threat was.
Naturally, they weren't as terrified and frantic.
They had also trained through countless simulated combat scenarios, so they understood what situation they were in and how to follow commands.
Like right now, citizens understood that if a ship was boarded mid-route, there was basically nowhere to run. They could not sit and wait to die.
Everyone had to unite, or their odds of surviving would plummet.
"I'm an Honorary Veteran. From here on, I'll take temporary command.
The engine sector is secure. We're going to the main deck. Shield troops up front, and listen for my unified orders…"
The short veteran loudly announced his status and quickly organized the armed pilgrims in the area.
They continued to track the battle through the emergency comms channel.
They were effectively a militia now, mainly providing supplemental firepower. The chain of command formed smoothly.
Suddenly, the veteran received a message. He looked up and roared a warning:
"This sector is about to take an impact. Grab fixed holds, everyone. Brace for shock!"
Immediately after, the ship's alarms in that area blared again.
Dorn watched people lock themselves down in all sorts of practiced positions, preparing for the hit. They had clearly trained for this.
When the violent shaking ended, everyone got up quickly, reformed ranks, and advanced toward the firefight.
"These mortals are trained almost to the level of the Astra Militarum. Their weapons might be even better…"
That was his thought.
If Imperial citizens were all at this level, the war against xenos and heretics would not be as difficult as it once was.
Dorn had seen the misery on many Imperial civilised worlds. Most ordinary residents were half-starved and drifting through life, with no fighting capacity.
Those fit to serve as Astra Militarum recruits were rare indeed.
Often, the Adeptus Arbites simply bundled up local gangs to fill quotas, and those were more combat-capable.
But now these Imperial citizens had overturned his impression completely. The change was enormous.
Imperial citizens were no longer fearful and numb. They were hot-blooded and eager.
As Dorn's group pushed forward, more and more bodies appeared on the deck, mostly heretic cultists.
They lay in a carpet of spent casings, riddled until they were almost lace.
He even saw the corpse of a Chaos Space Marine.
The traitor was fused into a steel barrier, clearly the result of mass melta grenades.
Judging from the battlefield remains, this Chaos Space Marine had led cultists in an attempt to punch into the residential sector, only to be met with a savage counterblow. It was brutal.
"By the Savior above, this heretic is playing dead and trying to ambush us, huh!" a thrilled voice suddenly shouted.
"N-no, don't…"
The cultist, surrounded by the pilgrim militia, trembled violently.
He seemed terrified out of his mind.
"Changer of Ways, save me, please. I'll do anything.
I surrender!"
This cultist had followed his warband master in a raid on the residential sector. He never expected that before he even saw a single civilian, he'd be drowned in fire.
He had never experienced firepower this savage. There was even heavy las cannon fire.
They had nowhere to evade. Even that "master" had been wounded by dense las fire, then killed by more than a dozen melta grenades.
Utter humiliation.
The ship's security forces had terrifying firepower!
"You invaded Imperial territory, and you think you can surrender?"
"Unforgivable!"
The pilgrim militia boiled with righteous fury and opened up, reducing the cultist to something that no longer resembled a human shape.
After that, Dorn's group ran into small scattered pockets of cultists and wiped them out with crushing firepower.
Those cultists had worse combat discipline than the citizens who had just organized on the spot.
Even without the advantage in firepower, their training and coordination alone would have been enough to deal with them.
Bang, bang, bang.
Dorn's group charged out of the ship's bridge corridor and arrived at the main deck sector. The view opened up.
Roaring fire and harsh light slammed into them. A combat zone nearly a kilometer long was filled with battle.
It was practically a small war.
The pilgrim militia reached their assigned sector, took cover, and followed orders to fire in a designated direction or throw grenades.
They provided suppressive fire.
As supplemental firepower, they didn't even need to aim. Just pour rounds into the general direction.
Dorn and the others stayed behind cover and had no chance to act. Or rather, he wasn't needed at all.
He was astonished.
What kind of defensive system was this? Now Imperial ships had heavy war assets stationed inside them? Were they not afraid of blowing the ship apart?!
On the core battlefield not far away, two "Living Saints" nearly eight meters tall were unleashing torrents of fire. Several heavy emplacements nearby were also firing.
Meanwhile, the ship's security forces and militia belts formed a dense fire net, saturating the enemy's positions with overwhelming volume.
Dorn even spotted that same clerk in a militia line not far away, firing at the enemy.
"Just the ship's internal armament has reached this level. Those personal armor suits are even stronger than the Solar Auxilia's…"
Dorn could only sigh, and silently pity the enemy.
As a master of defensive warfare, he understood the battlefield and knew how hard this fire saturation was to break.
There were almost no dead angles.
Even he would find it troublesome to push through.
"Fall back, fall back!"
The Chaos Space Marine commander roared, ordering the Traitor Astartes who had failed to break out to withdraw.
His scalp prickled.
Not long ago, intelligence from the Lord of the Red Corsairs claimed that the Savior, the Emperor of the Imperium, had just won the Vigilance Star campaign and was about to reach the Sol System.
The Chaos warbands had planned a raid to blunt the enemy's momentum.
That was how this operation began.
The warband under this commander had intended to exploit the moment when the Redemption Fleet was tied down, hit this pathetic pilgrim ship, and butcher the pilgrims aboard.
They planned to use the pilgrims' corpses to build a blasphemous ritual array, then throw the ship into the Sol System as a provocation, to demonstrate to the Corpse-Emperor and the Imperium.
To make that so-called Savior, that Emperor of the Imperium, lose face.
There was no choice. Right now, the Chaos forces resisting the Imperium had been greatly weakened. For the time being, they had no way to strike the Imperium's core regions.
They didn't even dare touch larger ships.
But those warbands that rejected the Savior and the new Chaos Warmaster's rule, and that insisted on resisting the Imperium to the end, still wanted to do something to recover morale.
Even if it was just to annoy the Savior, it was better than doing nothing.
For a Chaos warband, raiding a civilian pilgrim ship should have been effortless. Send a few Chaos Space Marines and they could slaughter the entire vessel.
But to finish the blasphemous plan quickly, they still dispatched several squads plus large numbers of cultists.
Although the pilgrim ship's void shields and shipboard firepower were a bit beyond expectation, the Chaos Space Marines and cultists still boarded successfully.
Then everything spiraled beyond prediction.
The commander's main force was intercepted on the main deck sector, and then they suddenly realized that the "Living Saint" statues in that area were moving.
The deck shook. Heavy fire poured down like a storm.
Those were not decorative Living Saint statues at all.
They were refitted heavy war assets, Imperial Knights!
What sane ship would station that kind of heavy asset inside its interior? And not even a warship, but a civilian vessel?
"Damn it, this isn't even a key defense line. Why are there elite forces here, with Imperial Knights protecting it?
Is there some high-value target aboard?!"
The Chaos commander realized he had chosen the wrong target and fell into impotent rage.
This was the terror of the Savior's strategy of hiding soldiers among the people.
No matter where xenos and heretic forces attacked, even if they only hit a civilian ship, they would meet fierce resistance.
Not like the old Imperium, fearful and helpless, waiting to be butchered.
The Imperium's enemies would be swallowed by the ocean of Imperial citizens.
The Chaos Space Marines and cultists were beaten senseless. After several assaults failed to break the Imperial line, they were hammered so hard they barely dared raise their heads.
With reinforcements arriving, they were pinned so completely they couldn't even peek out.
The Chaos Space Marines' battered power armor could not withstand the fire of Imperial Knights and super-heavy emplacements, especially with personal-armored infantry supporting.
Their shield fields had already been ground down to nothing under sustained fire. They were even less willing to expose themselves.
Even so, death stalked them constantly. Krak grenades and melta grenades could end them at any time.
The Imperium's saturating fire never let up. They saw no hope of victory.
So there was only withdrawal.
They decided to abandon the plan and leave this damned pilgrim ship.
But the moment the Chaos commander gave the withdrawal order and tried to contact his pickup, he discovered his warship's comms channel had gone silent.
…???
He turned around, and his Chaos warship was already…
Gone. Blown apart.
Then a battle barge of the Blood Angels, painted in vivid crimson, slammed into everyone's view.
(End of Chapter)
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