Many high-ranking generals remained silent.
They looked at the holographic strategic projection, waiting for Calgar to continue.
This was destined to be a difficult battle.
Using limited forces to stop the flood-like tyranids would inevitably come at a heavy price.
More than half of them might not live to see the Primarch.
But this was their mission.
They would not refuse their mission out of fear of death.
Calgar also gazed at the projected layout of Vitoria, his finger, embedded with a sensor chip, sliding across the holographic projection.
"I have faced the tyranids directly before, and I know their horrors. But the tyranids also have a weakness: their over-reliance on node organisms. Therefore, I need you to be prepared. Once those massive node organisms are discovered, you must eliminate them as quickly as possible."
"Furthermore, regarding infiltration, we conducted a comprehensive sweep of the rebels who claimed to seek freedom but were actually controlled by genestealers. However, never underestimate the intelligence of those abominable creatures; any act of underestimating them will come at a heavy price."
"Conduct comprehensive screening throughout the hive city. Do not relax your vigilance. And strictly guard important power plants, armories, and other facilities. Absolutely do not give them any opportunity."
The meeting lasted for a long time.
Calgar conducted a comprehensive assessment of all defensive works, ensuring no major errors would occur.
At the end of the meeting, Calgar looked around at the high-ranking generals. He knew some of them might perish here.
Today's meeting would be the last time they saw each other.
Even though some of them were mortals, Calgar still showed them respect.
Any warrior brave enough to march towards death for the great blueprint constructed by the Emperor and the Primarch was worthy of affirmation and praise.
"We fight for the Lord of Ultramar, and we shall stand beneath the Emperor's throne. Fellow comrades, I wish you martial prosperity," Calgar said. "Humanity shall prevail, the Imperium shall prevail!"
"We shall prevail!"
The generals responded with firm voices.
They were not enthusiastic, because they knew the sacrifices behind those words.
The Emperor would summon those brave warriors in large numbers, bringing them to rest beneath the throne.
War was coming, and humanity would never fear.
No part of the camp was quiet.
The clamor of constructing fortifications echoed far and wide.
Hawk watched his comrades build defensive works and deploy heavy firepower like artillery and grenade launchers.
War was slowly approaching; everyone could feel it.
People had even started having nightmares.
According to the propaganda department, the tyranids were less than a month's journey away from the Vitoria system.
The Warp shadow formed by the Hive Mind had already enveloped the Vitoria system, tormenting every human within it.
The Astropaths had become useless.
They could no longer find information in the Warp.
Psykers or those sensitive to the Warp with special talents were also constantly howling in the dead of night.
The shadow tormented them.
Later on, the situation worsened.
Everyone began to dream of those terrifying and distorted nightmares.
The Warp shadow is a terrifying soul-force of the tyranids; it can sever Warp connections.
Making it difficult for any psyker power to be unleashed.
Imperial scholars believe the Warp shadow is a phenomenon caused by the excessive congregation of tyranids and the two-way communication of the Hive Mind, resulting in a large amount of psyker activity that paralyzes other life forms' ability to use the Warp.
It's like a computer's memory processor; if too many threads occupy computational data simultaneously, it lags.
It is precisely because of this that Astropathic communication and Warp travel are interrupted.
Of course, this is just the speculation of Imperial scholars.
As of now, no one knows exactly what the Warp shadow is.
Hawk knew more than the average soldier.
Their Astropathic communication was cut off, and ships could no longer enter the Warp for travel.
This meant they were completely isolated here.
Hawk checked the fortifications, then turned and returned to the tent.
The chemical lamp produced by military industry had a plastic switch.
Hawk reached out and twisted it, quickly turning on the lamp.
The chemical lamp provided bright light for the tent.
The tent's layout was somewhat simple: a large tabletop sand table was placed in the center, and a street layout map hung on the wall.
An hour ago, several commanders sat here for operational instructions.
Their mission was simple: hold the streets against the tyranids.
There wasn't much room for Hawk and his men to maneuver.
The higher-ups had long ago determined the position and role of each unit.
All they needed to do was obey.
Hawk examined the map and sand table, thinking about how to minimize losses for his unit while still completing the mission.
However, profound strategies were too complex for him.
Moreover, the higher-ups had already restricted their initiative.
Looking further, Hawk could only pray to the Emperor, hoping the Primarch would arrive soon.
In such a grand and magnificent war, nothing he did could make much difference.
But Hawk was still thinking.
He wanted to keep his men alive as much as possible.
To the higher-ups, those men were just insignificant numbers.
The 502nd Regiment was just a relatively obedient and capable unit of ten thousand men.
Hawk guessed that the higher-ups thought this way.
Anyone in a high position would have this feeling.
After all, so many troops were committed to a single battle. If the higher-ups were too concerned with personal feelings, the battle basically wouldn't be fought.
Hawk also felt this way: if sacrificing one platoon could save a company, why wouldn't you do it?
Everyone yearns for equality, but a war commander only considers how to win.
Those who are more responsible will consider whether casualties can be reduced while winning.
The scumbags wouldn't care about any of that!
The rhythmic sound of boot soles hitting the concrete floor echoed.
Hawk looked at the newcomer, stood up, and performed a not-so-standard salute.
"Sir."
"No need to salute," the newcomer said.
The newcomer was a Commissar responsible for inspecting the troops.
If Hawk remembered correctly, the other man's name was Abel.
His uniform was neat, and he wore shoulder boards indicating his rank.
In the Imperium, Commissars held great power, responsible for integrating various units.
They were the ones who helped the Imperium maintain combat effectiveness and kept soldiers in their positions.
Commissars all came from official academies; they possessed a political acumen and military talent that ordinary people lacked.
The commanders of each regiment were slightly lower in status than Commissars.
Hawk's promotion was rapid, but undeniably, he was just a hive city factory worker.
It was impossible for him to command a battle on his own.
But the lower ranks also needed to see hope; winning had to come with rewards.
After Guilliman launched the Indomitus Crusade, the original veterans were broken up to fill new structures.
But even so, it was difficult to gather enough command personnel.
Soldiers like Hawk, who had outstanding performance, became the new command personnel.
To ensure that the promoted rank-and-file soldiers could understand orders, the position of Commissar became indispensable.
Commissars would teach these rank-and-file soldiers how to organize their units and deploy defenses according to Imperial standards.
Abel walked into the tent, sat down opposite Hawk, and after looking at the sand table for a while, spoke.
"How are the preparations going?"
"Things are going well. The company's tasks have been assigned," Hawk said.
"Do you have a loved one?" Abel asked with a smile.
Hawk thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I enlisted before I was assigned."
"That's a good thing," Abel said. "Don't think I'm mocking you. Sometimes, without attachments, you won't be too afraid. I had a relationship when I was at the academy; we even planned to get engaged, but we canceled it later."
"Why?" Hawk asked, puzzled.
"We are all people who have dedicated our lives to the Emperor; we are not qualified to enjoy such things," Abel said.
"Joining the Astra Militarum means being transferred away from home, Warp travel, fighting daemons, traitors, and cultists. There are endless wars in the universe; you will constantly move between these battlefields, from your youth until you grow old. You might even forget where you were born, forget your former family and friends."
"Nathalians won't forget where they came from," Hawk said.
"I hope so," Abel smiled. "My task is to understand your mental state. The tyranids are coming, and those things always cause nightmares. People always have nightmares; some were even tormented to madness in the past. I hope you won't be."
"I haven't yet," Hawk said.
"Then are you afraid?" Abel asked with a smile.
"Yes," Hawk said.
"Then will you become a deserter?" Abel asked.
"No," Hawk said.
Abel stood up and walked towards the tent entrance.
"I hope not either, Hawk. Remember the Emperor's gaze is upon you; any act of desertion will result in immediate execution."
Having said that, he walked out.
Leaving Hawk alone in the tent.
Deep within the 502nd Regiment's camp, Jorn and Kakar were organizing the interview records they had gathered from various parts of the hive city.
They planned to write a book about the changes brought about by Guilliman's awakening.
The people of Vitoria had long suffered oppression; merchants used money to seize their freedom and then leveraged the Imperium's military might to maintain their status.
Those who claimed loyalty were merely a bunch of snakes, flies, rats, and insects.
In the name of loyalty, they constantly hollowed out the foundations of the Imperium.
When the iron fist of justice arrived, they delusionally attempted to use clever words and appearances to whitewash their crimes.
They painted greed as loyalty, regarded selfishness as justice, and oppressed the truly loyal in the Emperor's name.
Guilliman's arrival changed everything.
The guilty were banished, and the capable began to gradually rise to power.
As long as they could survive the terrifying tyranid tide, the people of the Vitoria system would usher in a new life.
Jorn gave his book a title.
*The Great Guilliman*
Of course, many generals who had helped him also appeared in the book.
When this book became popular, they would surely become well-known figures throughout the Imperium.
This was exactly what many people dreamed of.
This was also what Jorn and Kakar wanted to do; they wanted to pass down the stories of these heroes for future generations.