The Twin Islands base settled back into its rhythms.
The Gang Dogs were in the training grounds before dawn and still there after dark, the work continuing at the pace it always had, wearing down the parts of a person that needed wearing down and building what remained. The female agent trainees had gained something they had been lacking since the programme began: the Black Widows were now among them, and for the first time the curriculum had instructors who knew the material from the inside. The quality of training shifted noticeably within the first few days.
Nolan rested briefly, then suited up and went back to work.
He led David, disguised again in the form of an Astartes, down into the depths of the underground base. The circular square had grown since his last visit: the automatic servo robots were expanding its perimeter steadily, and the Intelligent Control Corps units stationed there had received proper storage facilities and hardened bunker emplacements. Heavy stubber auto-turrets covered the main approaches. In several key positions, Hellhammer lascannons had been installed to handle situations that required more than suppression.
When Nolan was satisfied that the preparations were adequate, he and David, the ten rings secured on Nolan's forearms alongside the rest of his weapons, stepped through the portal and disappeared.
A few hours later they came back.
David's power armor was marked with damage across most of its surface. Nolan's vibranium shell was intact.
"The ten rings held up well," Nolan said, pulling off the helmet and turning it over in his hands. "The vibranium shell managed the chaos weapons without difficulty. The only thing I couldn't test was the The Empyrean Qilin, since the enemy didn't survive long enough to require it."
David's optical sensors cycled once. "My lord, it may be worth considering the systematic acquisition of additional abilities or items from this world that complement your combat capability without affecting your physiology. Special resources that arise naturally rather than being forced."
"If something suitable presents itself, we take it," Nolan said. "No point pursuing it deliberately otherwise."
He raised one palm and a throne coin materialized from the portal's residual mechanism, dropping into his gauntlet with a faint chime.
"Take the armor to Doom for repairs and load additional melta bombs. Then we go again."
"Of course, my lord."
David moved off toward the passage. Nolan found a corner of the circular square, sat down against the wall, closed his eyes, and let the exhaustion drain out through the floor.
Two hours later David returned, the ceramite casing repaired and the loadout refreshed. Nolan was already awake, his breathing returning to its normal rhythm as he opened his eyes and began rearranging his weapons without being asked.
They went through the portal again.
This time the destination was Catachan.
The death world sat at the extreme edge of the star territories, and its primary threat was not what had spilled through the Great Rift in the wake of the Cicatrix Maledictum. The Chaos Daemons that had found their way into the Catachan jungles were a problem. The native lifeforms of Catachan were a different category of problem entirely: one that had been filtering out Daemons and Tyranids for longer than most Imperial records extended.
The Catachans accepted two Astartes appearing in their jungle without excessive ceremony. They helped clear the Daemon incursion, then waited in a human settlement for the portal to open again.
When they stepped back through into the base, David stood still for a long moment before speaking.
"My lord." His metal head moved in a slow, deliberate arc that communicated something without quite being an expression. "I had not previously considered that trees could run. Or that they would choose to run toward things."
"The jungles of Catachan stop everything eventually," Nolan said, scanning the simulator interface. "Chaos Daemons, Tyranids, us. There is a reason the planet has its reputation." He closed the page on the mission summary. "The practical outcome, beyond the throne coin, is that we have made first contact with one of their settlements. Diplomatic relation established. Catachans as potential recruits is a possibility, though they will need specific handling. They don't join things easily."
"Shall we continue, my lord?"
Nolan considered it.
"No," he said. "I need the jungle out of my head first."
They went to the decontamination room adjacent to the circular square and ran the full process on both suits of armor, clearing any plant spores or seeds that might have made the transit with them. The Catachan flora was not something to bring back as a passenger.
Nolan shed the vibranium power armor, walked to his private rest room, and was asleep within minutes of lying down.
He did not know how long he had been under when the vibration woke him.
It was the simulator. He opened his eyes, reached for the device, and pulled up the page.
The Golden Throne interface had changed. A prayer support mission that had been assigned to another force had been overridden. Something had moved it directly onto his queue.
[II. Prayer for Assistance: Lamenters Chapter. Slaughterhouse III.]
[Note: Entry and exit from the Warhammer universe requires the assistance of the Farrows Lighthouse.]
[Note: Thorough decontamination of Greenskin spores upon return is mandatory.]
[Note: The standard support reward is one Throne Coin regardless of mission outcome, redeemable for a simulation opportunity.]
[Note: Probability of successful recruitment of Lamenters Astartes significantly increased.]
[Note: Probability of attracting Greenskin Ork presence continues to increase.]
Nolan sat up slowly and stared at the notification for a moment.
"Even the Emperor can't watch the Lamenters suffer any further," he said to himself, quietly.
He thought about it for another second, then swung his legs off the bed.
"Well. If it means bringing back more Astartes."
He turned toward the door and raised his voice.
An automated servo robot came through the entrance almost immediately, its mechanical tentacles raised in readiness.
"Find David," Nolan said. "Tell it we have something large to prepare for."
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