Chapter 342: Side Work, Part 3
Over the next six days, the Inquisitor's fleet would be resupplying at the asteroid and taking delivery of the two Sword-class Escorts the world had pledged as support. That gave Kian six days to clear out the Stealers.
He returned to the Inquisitorial flagship and brought his own three thousand power-armoured guards down to the asteroid.
Before setting out, Kian spent a full hour giving everyone a crash course.
Basically a "Genestealers 101" briefing.
What Genestealers were, what each hybrid generation looked like, how to handle an encounter, all of it.
He put special emphasis on one point: if they ran into a variant they couldn't beat, something fast enough to blur in front of their eyes, something that could tear a man in full power armour apart with a single hit, they weren't to hesitate for even a second. Call it in over comms, then run. That was a true Genestealer. They had no business fighting it. Leave it to him.
With that, Kian led the group out and began sweeping the districts one by one.
The residential zones here were carved into the asteroid's interior, hollow rock chambers each housing twenty to fifty thousand people, all linked by long, narrow connecting tunnels. Seal off the tunnels, and each chamber became its own isolated pocket.
Kian decided to start with the six yellow zones, clear the easy work first, and save the three worst red zones for last.
Before entering the first danger zone, Kian raised the Governor on his armour's personal comm.
"Governor, we're moving into Yellow Zone One now. Confirm receipt."
"Confirmed, my lord Inquisitor. Signal's clear. I'll be at the control center the whole time, ready to assist however you need."
"Good. Now, per my instructions, cut the air supply to Yellow Zone One. Bring it down to the point where nobody can exert themselves hard."
The Governor privately marveled at the professionalism of it, that Kian had come up with such an elegant solution to a potential uprising without missing a beat.
Of course, it helped that his own men were fully suited in power armour with self-contained life support built in. An ordinary Astra Militarum unit would have had no way to pull off a trick like cutting the oxygen.
The Governor immediately gave the order at the control console, and within moments the air supply to Yellow Zone One began to drop, low enough that no one would die from it outright, but low enough that any real exertion would leave a person gasping.
Genestealers themselves barely needed to breathe, their oxygen consumption was negligible, but their human-hybrid offspring needed to breathe normally like anyone else.
With the air thinned out, a mass hybrid uprising was no longer a real threat. Their speed was gutted.
Once the air supply dropped, the residents of Yellow Zone One quickly found themselves breathing hard, their lungs straining to compensate, dizzy and short of breath after just a few brisk steps.
That was when the gate sealing off their chamber swung open, and rank after rank of soldiers in olive-drab power armour, each bearing a small black sword painted across the chest and shoulder, marched into the district in tight formation.
Every soldier was sealed head to toe in power armour, faces hidden behind ceramite, lasrifles fitted with bayonets that caught the light and gleamed under the overhead lamps.
The armoured infantry formed up in the open plaza once inside the chamber. Dozens of squares, ranks so precise you could have measured them with a ruler.
The sight sent a jolt of fear through the residents of the chamber, and people scattered back into their homes, too frightened to come out.
Kian gave his orders over the internal comm, addressing everyone at once.
"Listen up. This is Yellow Zone One, population thirty-four thousand.
First Battalion, seize every major junction and crossroads, set up checkpoints. Anyone found walking the streets, fire a warning shot first. If they don't stop, put them down.
Second Battalion, split into squads and go door to door. The local civil officials will assist you. But watch yourselves, the officials might be infected too.
Whenever you deal with an official, have him strip down first. Wipe his skin with a damp cloth and check for keratinous plating. Check his fingernails and toenails for unusual sharpness. Shine a light in his eyes and check for abnormal pupil contraction. If anything's off, shoot him on the spot.
Third Battalion, you're with me. We're sweeping the ventilation shafts, maintenance conduits, the underlevel piping, all of it.
Give me everything you've got for these six days, and when we're back on the ship I'm handing out hard liquor and rations for everyone!"
A cheer went up over the comm channel, quickly drowned out by officers barking orders.
Squad commanders led their men off to their assigned sectors, and the sweep began in earnest.
Infantry squads moved door to door under the guidance of local officials. The chamber had originally been converted from a prison, so most residential units still had heavy iron doors, and the officials' electronic cards could open any of them.
The armoured soldiers entered each unit and ordered everyone to strip down for inspection.
Anyone with abnormal keratinous patches on the skin, or strange growths on the forehead, was shot immediately.
Anyone who resisted, or refused to cooperate, took a round to the head as well.
Every so often, a burst of lasfire would crack out from inside a residence, followed by a report over the internal channel confirming another infected eliminated.
Some of the hybrids realized the end had come and tried to grab their belongings and run.
But when they stumbled out into the streets clutching their deformed infants, they found armoured soldiers posted at every corner, every alley.
The moment they were spotted, warning shots rang out, ordering them to stop where they stood. Anyone who kept running was cut down on the spot.
The soldiers with the black sword insignia gave the same warning every time, fire a shot, order them to halt for inspection, and if they made any other move, it was a full burst from the lasrifle.
Meanwhile Kian, leading the Flavor Terminators, swept through the empty districts where Stealers were most likely hiding.
He moved at the head of the squad, working his way toward an abandoned warehouse complex.
The auspex array built into his heavy power armour picked up a large number of bodies inside, even through the walls.
He opened up his Warp-sight and swept a glance through the structure. Every single soul in there was warped beyond recognition.
He turned to the Flavor Terminators and the nearly hundred power-armoured guards falling in behind him.
"Weapons hot, weapons hot!"
The squad confirmed they were ready, and Kian put his boot through the warehouse door.
The gate came down with a thunderous crash, and every Stealer inside the meeting hall snapped their heads around at once.
Kian, in his heavy power armour, opened fire with two heavy-barrel lasrifles slung on each arm, all four cannons blazing at once.
The Flavor Terminators around him either matched his loadout, four heavy-barrel lasrifles apiece, or carried a single Lumberer-pattern Heavy Stubber, spitting long tongues of fire.
Nearly a hundred more armoured guards fanned out around them, lasrifles up, firing in unison.
In an instant, close to ten thousand beams of laser fire tore through the warehouse, and the mass of Stealers burst apart in sheets of blood mist.
Physically, this batch of hybrids wasn't much to speak of, roughly street-thug tier. A properly organized force could cut through them without breaking a sweat.
A few of the hybrids tried to bolt, but the air was so thin in there that they made it only a few steps before they were wheezing like dying men.
Kian led the charge into the warehouse, every weapon firing at once, blood mist churning through the air.
Within moments, the warehouse floor was carpeted in Stealer corpses. Not one of them made it out alive.
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