Through the conversation with these two unlucky souls, Nolan gradually became certain of one thing.
The Tetim Hive still had the defensive forces necessary to suppress this rebellion. The strength existed. The resources were present. Thousands of Planetary Defense Force soldiers, artillery positions, armored vehicles, enough firepower to flatten the lower hive if properly deployed.
But none of it was being used.
Various unknown reasons kept that power leashed, inactive, wasted. Neither the planetary governor nor the inquisitors who'd come to investigate seemed willing to pay any price to completely eliminate this rebellion. They sat in their upper hive palaces, made their pronouncements, threw expendable convicts into the meat grinder, and waited for... what? The problem to solve itself?
The realization only strengthened Nolan's determination.
He needed to get in touch with the upper nest. Needed to speak directly with whoever was actually in command. Needed to cut through the bureaucratic paralysis and find out why an entire regiment of loyal soldiers had turned traitor overnight.
From the perspective of ordinary civilians, he understood how he must appear.
The Emperor's Angel. A three-meter tall demigod in green ceramite steel, wielding weapons that unmade matter at the molecular level. Salvation incarnate. Divine intervention in their darkest hour.
But from the perspective of the planetary governor and the inquisitors...
A sudden and mysterious Adeptus Astartes appearing without warning or authorization was probably just another factor of instability. Something else to worry about. A variable they couldn't control in a situation already spiraling beyond their grasp.
Most importantly, Nolan didn't have a suitable Imperial status.
No orders from a Chapter Master. No writ of authority from the Administratum. No official sanction that would give him command over the hive's defensive forces. He was just an unknown Salamander who'd appeared out of nowhere, demanding cooperation from forces that answered to entirely different chains of command.
That would have to change.
DONG DONG DONG.
Heavy footfalls approached from behind, the distinctive rhythm of power armor crossing ferrocrete. David stepped forward, the ancient Man of Iron moving to stand near Nolan's position. The regimental banner swayed slightly on his power backpack, the Salamanders' colors catching the dim light.
David's voice came through the communication channel, calm and professional.
He'd been surveying the scene while Nolan talked with Hassan and Lucy, cataloging damage, counting bodies, assessing the tactical situation with the cold efficiency of a machine that had fought wars for ten thousand years.
Now he reported his findings through the encrypted vox-link, data compressed and transmitted in bursts too fast for human ears to catch.
David's eye lenses seemed to fall on the two people kneeling before Nolan.
The Cadian corporal with his purple eyes. The bald psyker with her metal amplifier. Both waiting for judgment, for orders, for whatever fate the Angels of Death would decree.
Nolan spoke, his vox-grille turning the words harsh and commanding.
"Which of you knows the road to the upper nest? In order to eliminate this rebellion, we must obtain the necessary command authority to mobilize the Planetary Defense Force to suppress the rebellion."
It was a simple question. Direct. Tactical. The kind of query that should have a straightforward answer.
But psyker Lucy's expression shifted.
A wry smile appeared on her lips, bitter and knowing. The expression of someone who'd seen too much of the Imperium's dysfunction to believe in simple solutions anymore.
"Lord Angel, you don't know." Her voice carried the patient tone of someone explaining an obvious truth to a child. "In order to prevent the rebels from snatching Leman Russ tanks or damaging the most important production lines, the planetary governor has ordered that most of the passages between the central nests be blown up."
She paused, letting that sink in. Entire corridors destroyed. Access routes sealed. The hive's internal geography deliberately fragmented to prevent rebel movement.
"Even the only large elevator leading to the upper nest was equipped with a large number of defensive positions and local defense forces." Lucy's wry smile deepened, taking on an edge of dark amusement. "As far as I know, they only received one order, and that was to prohibit anyone from entering the upper nest!"
Her voice rose slightly on the last words, emphasizing the absolute nature of that command.
"Even if you are an Astartes, an angel of the Emperor..." Lucy spread her hands in a gesture of helpless resignation. "Sometimes, your noble status is not that useful."
The words hung in the air like an accusation.
Then Lucy's expression shifted again, becoming more serious. She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a near-whisper as if afraid of being overheard despite the empty square around them.
"As a psychic servant of the Inquisitor, I accidentally learned some secret things." Her single visible eye glanced left and right, checking for eavesdroppers. "Perhaps, even one of the reasons for the rebellion of Mobian's Sixth Regiment is related to the Governor of the Planet."
She let that statement settle for a heartbeat before continuing.
"I mean, the rebels may have suffered a series of oppressions before finally choosing to betray."
The implication was clear. This wasn't just a military uprising. This was retaliation. Payback for wrongs committed by the very authorities who now cowered in the upper hive, refusing to confront the monster they'd created.
Nolan, who'd been listening attentively throughout Lucy's explanation, shook his metal helmet slightly.
The gesture was thoughtful, contemplative. Processing information and recalibrating strategy based on new intelligence. When he spoke, his voice emerged low and measured.
"Now is not the time to pursue the source of the rebellion." Practical. Focused on immediate tactical needs rather than long-term political questions. "If there is really no way to go to the upper nest, then we must try to kill the Planetary Defense Force."
He paused, considering the implications of that action.
"However, in this way, the remaining trust between the two parties will be completely broken. We can only rely on ourselves if we want to suppress the rebels."
The statement was delivered without emotion. Just cold tactical assessment. Kill the defenders blocking his path, lose any hope of cooperation, proceed alone against an entrenched enemy force. Not ideal, but workable if necessary.
"Wait, Lord Angel! I think I have an idea!"
The interruption came from veteran Hassan.
The Cadian corporal had been listening silently throughout the exchange, his purple eyes tracking speakers, his expression intense with concentration. But now something had sparked in his memory, triggered by the discussion of blocked passages and defended elevators.
His face lit up with excitement.
He looked up at Nolan, words tumbling out in a rush of realization.
"When a few of us passed by a factory workshop before, I seemed to have seen a hovercraft undergoing maintenance work!"
Hassan's entire posture had changed, leaning forward eagerly, hands gesturing to illustrate his point.
"If we can carry a hovercraft, then we don't have to go through the passage inside the hive city to go to the upper hive." His voice rose with growing enthusiasm. "We can fly directly to the top from outside the hive city!"
The suggestion was brilliant in its simplicity.
Why fight through defended corridors when you could simply fly over them? Why assault fortified elevator positions when you could bypass them entirely? The upper hive authorities had sealed the internal routes, but they couldn't seal the sky.
Nolan's response was immediate.
His metal helmet nodded without hesitation, the gesture sharp and decisive. When he spoke, his tone carried approval and command in equal measure.
"You can try. Corporal Hassan, lead the way for us!"
No deliberation. No debate. Hassan had provided a viable solution to their tactical problem, and Nolan seized it without wasting time on unnecessary discussion.
The group moved immediately.
Hassan and Lucy collected their weapons and ammunition with practiced efficiency. Hassan's mortal bolter, scratched and battered but functional. Lucy's metal scepter, the focusing crystal at its tip still intact. What little gear they had left after hours of desperate combat.
Then they were moving, following Hassan's lead through corridors and across open spaces littered with debris.
The factory workshop wasn't far.
Hassan navigated with the confidence of someone retracing recent steps, turning corners without hesitation, leading them past abandoned positions and through doorways that opened onto vast industrial spaces.
Not long after, they emerged onto a casting platform inside the factory proper.
The space was enormous, ceiling lost in shadows overhead, floor stretching away in all directions. Manufacturing equipment stood silent and dark, production lines frozen mid-process. The entire facility had been abandoned when fighting broke out, workers fleeing and never returning.
And there, sitting on the platform like a prize waiting to be claimed, was the hovercraft.
The vehicle's metal shell was spray-painted in gold.
Not just gold-colored, but actual gold paint, probably worth more than most people in this hive would earn in a lifetime. The kind of ostentatious luxury that marked it as belonging to someone important. A noble. A high-ranking administratum official. Someone who wanted everyone to know their status at a glance.
The hovercraft gleamed even in the dim factory light, polished surfaces reflecting back distorted images of the approaching group.
David stepped forward to conduct his inspection.
The ancient Man of Iron circled the vehicle with methodical precision, checking hull integrity, examining the anti-gravity engines, assessing internal systems. His sensor sweeps painted him a complete picture in seconds, every mechanical detail cataloged and analyzed.
After a few glances, he turned back to Nolan.
"My lord, the space inside can barely fit your Terminator and my power armor in." His tone was neutral, clinical, simply reporting facts. "However, there are no defensive means or weapons and equipment on it. If we encounter the hive's anti-aircraft firepower, we can only rely on flight speed for thrilling dodges."
A luxury vehicle. Built for comfort and display, not combat. No armor plating worth mentioning. No weapons systems. Just speed and the hope that no one would dare shoot at someone rich enough to own such a toy.
Nolan, wearing his metal helmet, shook his head.
Not disagreement, just acknowledgment of the reality. They'd work with what they had. Adapt. Overcome. That's what Astartes did.
He spoke in a low voice, calm despite the risks they were about to take.
"David, if necessary, you can hijack the hive's communication channel and show them our group identity." A pause. "If it doesn't work, then find a way to force a landing. As long as we land, everything can be done. We can't help them!"
The last sentence carried grim humor. Once they were on the ground in the upper hive, the defenders would have no choice but to deal with them. Can't ignore three meters of Terminator armor standing in your palace demanding answers.
"Understood, my lord."
David's response was immediate and professional. He moved to the regimental banner mounted on his power backpack, carefully folding the three-meter standard until it was compact enough to fit inside a vehicle cabin. The Salamanders' colors and the golden Aquila disappeared into neat creases, the fabric handled with reverence despite the pragmatic need.
The Man of Iron placed the folded banner behind his power backpack, securing it with mag-locks.
Then he approached the luxury hovercraft and opened the cockpit with deft manipulation of the control panel. The door hissed open on pneumatic hinges, revealing an interior that was all plush upholstery and polished wood paneling. Completely ridiculous for a war zone.
David slid into the pilot's position, his armored bulk filling the seat designed for unaugmented humans. His hands moved across the controls, activating systems, running diagnostics. The internal engine began to hum, a smooth purr of expensive engineering.
At that moment, Nolan turned his metal helmet slightly.
His attention shifted to Hassan and Lucy, who stood near the platform's edge with uneasy expressions on their faces. They were watching the preparations with obvious anxiety, probably wondering if they were about to be left behind to fend for themselves.
Nolan gently waved his ceramite palm at them, the gesture surprisingly casual from a figure so massive and intimidating.
"Get in the car! Try to squeeze in as much as you can!"
The invitation was simple. Direct. No ceremony or formality. Just an Astartes offering two expendable convicts a ride into the upper hive against explicit orders.
"Ah? Lord Angel! Thank you again for your kindness to us!"
Hassan and Lucy looked at each other, their expressions cycling rapidly through surprise, relief, and gratitude. They bowed to Nolan with genuine reverence, the gesture awkward but heartfelt.
Then they immediately scrambled into the passenger space of the luxury hovercraft.
The interior was cramped even for two normal humans once you factored in the space needed for power armor and Terminator plate. Hassan quickly assessed the geometry, calculated volumes and angles with veteran's practicality.
In order to leave maximum space for Nolan's Six-Armed Iron Cavalry, Hassan simply picked up Lucy.
The psyker made no protest, her expression blank and accepting. Hassan pulled her into his lap and huddled them both into the corner as tightly as physics would allow. Two bodies occupying the space normally meant for one, limbs tucked, shoulders hunched, making themselves as compact as possible.
BOOM BOOM BOOM.
The anti-gravity engine of the luxury hovercraft gradually began to hum with increasing intensity.
The sound built from a whisper to a roar, exotic matter reactions creating fields that pushed against local spacetime. The vehicle began to vibrate, every surface buzzing with restrained power. Dust shook free from accumulated layers on the hull, falling away in small clouds.
David sent a hint through the vox-channel.
Nolan received the signal and drove the Six-Armed Iron Cavalry forward, trying his best to squeeze the massive Terminator armor into the hovercraft's interior.
It was like trying to fit a tank into a sedan.
The Terminator's bulk barely cleared the doorframe. Ceramite steel scraped against metal with harsh grinding sounds. The four servo arms on Nolan's back had to retract and fold, tucking themselves tight against the power pack to reduce width. Even then, it was a tight fit that left no room for comfort or movement.
Nolan wedged himself into the remaining space with careful precision, armor plates settling into place with final clicks and hisses of hydraulic adjustment.
The next second, the luxury hovercraft controlled by David slowly floated into the air.
The anti-gravity field expanded beneath it, creating a bubble of altered physics that lifted tons of metal and ceramite as if they weighed nothing. The vehicle rose smoothly, rotating slightly as David tested the controls and adjusted for the uneven weight distribution.
After briefly adjusting its driving direction with small bursts from maneuvering thrusters, the hovercraft immediately shot toward the exit of the hive capital.
Acceleration pressed everyone back against their seats. The engine's hum became a scream. The gold-painted hull blurred into motion, crossing the factory floor in seconds, threading through the massive doorway that led outside.
Soon after, the luxury hovercraft plunged into the depths of the overlapping gray poisonous fog.
The world outside the windows turned into murk.
Thick chemical clouds enveloped them completely, reducing visibility to near zero. The golden shell gleamed briefly between gaps in the toxic mist, catching what little light penetrated the pollution. David piloted by instruments alone, sensors painting a picture of the hive's exterior that human eyes couldn't see.
The hovercraft launched its flying attitude toward the top of the hive, climbing at a steep angle.
Up through layers of industrial exhaust. Up past kilometers of rust and decay. Up toward where the wealthy lived, where air was filtered and sunlight still reached, where the Imperium's machinery of government continued grinding forward regardless of the chaos below.
However, just as the luxury hovercraft broke through the extremely thick gray poisonous fog...
Nolan saw something he hadn't expected to see again.
Sunlight.
Real, natural, warm sunlight streaming down from a blue sky that looked almost obscene after hours in the toxic murk below. The star that this hive planet orbited was yellow and bright, its rays touching his armor with gentle heat that the ceramite steel barely registered.
This was the first time Nolan had seen the charming warm sunshine of this hive planet through his eyepiece.
The view opened up around them as they climbed higher. The upper hive spread below, a completely different world from the industrial nightmare of the lower levels. Buildings here were clean. Well-maintained. Some even had actual architecture instead of just functional brutalism. Gardens dotted the spaces between structures, green plants somehow thriving in controlled environments. The wealthy lived well while the workers below choked on poison.
The moment of beauty was shattered by sound.
A warning alarm screamed to life throughout the entire hovercraft, shrill and insistent. Red lights flashed across the control panels. Targeting indicators lit up on every surface, showing weapons locks from multiple sources.
The mechanical voice from David reached Nolan's ears with calm urgency.
"My lord, the hive's anti-aircraft firepower has firmly locked onto us!" A brief pause for data processing. "The message identification I sent to the other party did not receive any response!"
They were being painted by targeting lasers. Tracked by radar. Probably had a dozen different weapon systems aimed at them right now, fingers on triggers, waiting for authorization to fire.
And the defenders weren't listening to David's attempts at communication. Weren't acknowledging the Salamanders' identity. Just treating them as another threat to be eliminated.
At this moment, Nolan looked through the porthole of the hovercraft.
His eyepiece zoomed, enhancing the image, giving him a clear view of the upper hive's architecture.
The buildings were magnificent. Soaring spires of white stone and polished metal. Flying buttresses supporting structures that defied gravity. Gothic cathedrals dedicated to the Emperor, their golden aquilas gleaming in the sunlight. Administrative palaces that housed thousands of bureaucrats. And at the center of it all, one building that stood taller and more ornate than all the others.
Very majestic and spectacular.
The kind of structure that announced its importance through sheer excess. More gold than practical. More statuary than necessary. More grandeur than any functional building required.
The planetary governor's palace, almost certainly.
Nolan made his decision.
He issued an order without hesitation, his voice cutting through the alarm's scream with absolute authority.
"David! Perform an emergency landing on the most luxurious and eye-catching building for me!"
A pause, then he added with grim satisfaction:
"It would be great if we could find the location of the planetary governor!"
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