Warhammer 40K in a box

Chapter 573 The Final Standoff
The massive hulls of the "Iron Will" and the "Analyst," like two wounded behemoths, dragged their weary steel bodies slowly away from the death zone of the Kuiper Belt, a region filled with turbulent energy and spatial debris. Behind them, the "Throat of the Pioneers" rift twisted and groaned in agony amidst the aftershocks of the ruins' complete collapse, its enormous spatial vortex greedily devouring everything, becoming the final epitaph of this thrilling adventure.

Inside the bridge, the engines, which had roared furiously in combat, softened into a deep hum of cruising. The main lighting dimmed, leaving only the eerie glow of the instrument panels and star map. The air was thick with the mingled scents of ozone, molten metal, and cleaning agents, masking a faint stench of blood. The exhaustion of surviving the ordeal weighed heavily on everyone's shoulders like a tangible gravity.

Guterres removed his helmet, revealing a weathered, sweat-stained face. He leaned against the cold, adamantite control panel, his gaze sweeping over his Titus squad members. Their silver-grey power armor was covered in scratches and burn marks from energy, yet each suit of armor remained steadfast. Silent nods, weary yet resolute glances met, conveying unspoken agreement and the tacit understanding of survivors.

Maria's "Radiant Sentinel" knight mech sat silently on the hangar deck, several new, conspicuous scars appearing on its massive body, the servo systems at its joints emitting a low, cooling hum. She climbed out of the cockpit, her meticulously crafted pilot suit soaked with sweat, the sharpness of her battle-ready eyes replaced by deep weariness. But when she looked at the "Blackrock Cage-7" confinement box, heavily guarded in the center of the hangar and surrounded by multiple force fields and Death Watch warriors, a complex, indescribable light flashed in her eyes—it was a price to pay, and also a hope.

Sage Aurejana stood at the bridge technology station, her servo arms rapidly scanning damage reports from the ship's systems. Data flowed smoothly across the screen before her, but deep within her mechanical eyes, the human element seemed dimmed by excessive computation and mental stress. Several mechanical cats hovered quietly beside her, emitting soft, calculating sounds.

Sister Liz was carefully placed within a specially designed stasis field inside the medical pod. Her Silent Sister armor was covered in dust and dried-up energy residue; her face beneath the hood was ashen, and her breathing was weak and rapid. The powerful "emptiness" field, maintained at a high intensity for an extended period within the core of the ruins, had nearly drained her life force. Several medical servo skulls connected to the Black Stone field generator surrounded her, continuously stabilizing her vital signs and isolating her from any potential mental disturbances from the outside world. The Carleone Institute stood outside the field, eyes closed, intently monitoring her recovery with his psionic energy, his brow furrowed.

Like the keel of a ship, Feralas still stood in the center of the bridge. Her silver-gray figure appeared cold and silent in the dim light. She gazed at the deep void outside the main observation window, which was gradually returning to calm, and at the return route marked on the star map. No one knew that in the last moments before the core of the ruins collapsed, the living metal probes that sprang out from her back had extracted a primitive and unanalyzed energy flow characteristic from the dying ruins' foundation, independent of the data transmitted by the "Watchers." At this moment, this information, like an encrypted seed, was buried deep within her powerful logic processing core, waiting for the right moment to sprout. A faint, fleeting stream of data light flashed in the depths of her silver-gray eyes, before returning to the calm of a deep pool.

The brief respite was mercilessly interrupted by the piercing alarm.

"Multiple energy signals detected! Bearing: Delta-7! Distance: Extremely close! Signal signature match... Inquisition ship! It's the 'Fire of Purification' and its escort fleet!" The sensor operator's voice, filled with metallic shock, shattered the brief silence in the bridge.

Ahead, amidst the dense shadows of the asteroid belt, several ships covered in heavy scripture armor, their bows branded with the massive Inquisition "I" emblem, suddenly revealed their menacing silhouettes like lurking vipers! Warren's Lunar-class cruiser, the "Purifying Flame," stood in the center, its savagely modified bow's signature multi-laser cannon array flashing ominously with charging light. The thick targeting beam had pierced through the void, like a cold noose, firmly clamped around the midsection of the "Iron Will"! Several smaller escort ships spread out like hyenas, all their weapon ports activated, blocking any possible escape routes.

"All personnel, prepare for battle! Maximize shield energy! Activate weapon systems!" Guterres roared, instantly pulling back his helmet, the crimson goggles glowing. The Deathwatch warriors instinctively took their positions, their power armor joints humming as they charged. Maria's relaxed nerves tightened again, and she turned and rushed towards the hangar.

The main communications screen was abruptly switched to displaying the view of the bridge of the "Purifying Fire." Inquisitor Warren reappeared, clad in black inquisitor armor, his face hard as iron, his eyes burning with suppressed rage and a chilling resolve born of humiliation. He didn't utter any further roars; his voice, transmitted through the communicator, was like the slamming of a cold anvil:
"Master Guterres! Halt immediately! Hand over the 'Heretical Core'—the 'Watcher'—and all related data and samples to the Inquisition for supervision! This is the final order of the Holy Inquisition! It is also a final ultimatum!"

The air on the bridge froze instantly. Warren's words were like poisoned icicles, piercing the nerves of everyone present. He no longer mentioned "cooperation" or "purifying the ruins," his focus now being on the results they had brought back after risking their lives.

Ferrus slowly turned around, her silver-grey eyes calmly meeting Warren's hate-filled gaze on the screen, without a trace of emotion. She didn't speak, but simply made a very subtle gesture to Guterres.

Guterres stepped forward and connected to the highest-level external communication. The Death Watcher's distinctive silver insignia, composed of swords and stars, prominently occupied the "Iron Will's" response screen. His voice, amplified by the ship's loudspeakers, was cold and forceful, each syllable like it was forged from fine gold, carrying the unquestionable authority and power of an Astartes:

"Inquisitor Warren. 'Blackrock Cage-7' and its contents are now under the highest jurisdiction of Deathwatch. In accordance with the Codex Astartes and Deathwatch's special authorization, the transport procedure has been initiated, and the destination has been locked. Any unauthorized interception, demand, or attack—" His voice suddenly rose, like the pounding of a warhammer, "will be considered an act of hostility against the Imperial Angels, tantamount to treason!"

He paused for a moment, letting the weight of the word "treason" press down on the enemy bridge as if it were a tangible weight, then continued, each word carrying immense weight:

"The consequences, you and your fleet cannot afford. Immediately disengage your weapons and clear the way!" The communication channel fell silent. Only the low growl of engines and the hissing sound of shield energy flow echoed in the background.

On the bridge of the "Purifying Flame," Warren's face was contorted violently in the flickering light of the screen. Anger, humiliation, hatred for Astartes' privileges, and an instinctive fear of the heavy weight of the "treason" accusation intertwined on his face, creating a grotesque image. His bloodshot eyes were fixed on the emblem on the screen, symbolizing the Death Watch's supreme authority, then swept across the scanned image of the transport ship "Analyzer" carrying the imprisonment crates, and further away, the unstable star belt formed by the complete collapse of the ruins, still churning with dangerous spatial turbulence. Opening fire would not only mean a full-scale conflict with the Death Watch, but could also detonate that star belt, annihilating everyone.

Time seemed to freeze for a few seconds. Finally, Warren slammed his clenched fist heavily on the control panel in front of him, making a dull thud. He practically spat out the command, filled with endless humiliation, through gritted teeth:

"...Unlocked. All units...clear the way."

He then added, his voice coming through the communication device, as cold as the ice of the Kuiper Belt, each word like a poisoned oath:

"Tell Governor Chen... the Holy Tribunal's gaze has never left Rostov. His 'mechanical miracle'... will ultimately face final judgment under the Emperor's holy flame!"

The echoes of the threat still reverberated in the void when the energy signals of the "Purifying Flame" and its escort ships began to weaken, and their menacing cannons slowly shifted, clearing the blocked route. The aiming beam went out.

"Full power engines! Disengage! Prepare to enter the designated subspace jump point!" Felus's voice broke the silence on the bridge, decisive and clear.

The massive thruster nozzles at the stern of the "Iron Will" and "Analyst" erupted with dazzling blue-white light, the powerful thrust pressing the crew firmly into their seats. Like arrows released from a bow, the two ships accelerated out of the Inquisition fleet's encirclement, leaving the hostile airspace and Warren's venomous gaze far behind.

Inside the bridge, the soft all-clear beep sounded. The tension finally eased, replaced by a deeper weariness and an indescribable sense of exhaustion, like someone who had survived a catastrophe.

Guterres removed his helmet, exhaling a long, greasy breath reeking of engine oil, and leaned back in his chair. The members of the Titus squad also relaxed, silently checking their equipment or closing their eyes to rest.

Ferrus turned his gaze back to the main observation window. On the deep curtain of space, the stars still twinkled indifferently. The navigation beacon at the subspace jump point remained steadily lit on the star chart. The brief crisis had temporarily averted, but Warren's final warning, like cold chains, bound Rostov's future.

Deep within her silver-grey eyes, the unanalyzed data stream from the ruins' foundation stirred subtly, like a colossal beast lurking in the deep sea. Ahead lay not only the light of the furnace that forged the world, but also the blazing holy flames of the Inquisition, and the unknown "key" slumbering within the imprisoned box.

"Set course, target: Rostov III Forging World. Countdown to entering subspace." Felus's voice rang out calmly, bringing a temporary pause to this thrilling chapter.

The ship adjusted its attitude, the roar of its engines becoming deep and rhythmic. The massive Geller force field generator began to hum, preparing to tear open the veil of the real universe and plunge into the unpredictable vortex of the subspace. The journey home was still long, and what awaited them were even more complex situations and unpredictable challenges. They had gained a breath of fresh air for survival, but the real test might have only just begun.

(End of this chapter)