Chapter 176: The Sub-Sump Power Suit
Kian Voss led the squad through a storm of violence, expending ten of his precious Grade-7 Bolts to reach the twentieth transit chamber.
Reno's voice crackled through the ceiling-mounted vox-grille:
"Excellent pace, warriors. You've cleared two-fifths of the sector. Look to your left—Chamber 888. That's a high-security armory. The Machine Spirit there is holding a fresh supply of gifts for you."
CLANK.
The heavy iron door of Room 888 cycled open. The squad filed in, tactical lights sweeping the racks.
As Reno warned, the armory was well-stocked, though mostly with solid-shot weaponry: PDF-pattern sub-machine guns, heavy stub-pistols, and semi-auto shotguns. For the Voss Guard, now accustomed to the "God-Tier" efficiency of Las-weaponry, these kinetic guns felt like "pea-shooters."
Kian stepped under a security lens, looking unimpressed. "Reno, you're sending me to a gift shop for dregs? These lead-slingers are trash compared to the sun-guns."
"Patience, Sergeant," Reno's voice chuckled. "The hardware might be standard, but check the heavy crates. The Spire-Guard doesn't play with toys."
A massive plasteel locker hissed open. Inside sat rows of Munitorum-Pattern Heavy Frag Grenades.
Kian picked one up. It was a dense, one-kilogram iron egg, packed with high-explosive filler and serrated shrapnel. Standard 40k engineering: if you can't be precise, be incredibly loud and destructive. The lethal radius on one of these was offensive.
"Loot everything!" Kian commanded. "Stuff your pouches! If you run out of pockets, put them in your boots! And top off your Las-packs at the charging nodes!"
The squad went into a frenzy. Every man walked out looking like a walking demolition charge, with five or six grenades dangling from their webbing. Kian, ever the "Frugal Hoarder," spotted an industrial logistics trolley in the corner—the kind used by warehouse thralls to move heavy components.
"Shiv, grab that trolley. Throw the spare ammo boxes and the remaining grenades in there. We're pushing the 'Stash' with us."
Once prepped, they returned to the main corridor. Reno's voice took on a warning tone.
"Heads up. Chamber 21 is a high-density labor dormitory. The Auspex is showing over a thousand heat signatures. It's a literal swarm. If you don't clear it fast, you'll be buried in meat."
"Reno," Kian voxed back, "if we get stuck, keep that rear door locked. Don't let the 'overflow' reach the Bishop."
"Understood. I'll manage the bulkheads. Don't die, Voss. It's bad for my quarterly report."
Kian looked at his men. "Grenades out. We're using the 'Area-Effect' meta."
Kian and Ash stood at the threshold, pins pulled, handles gripped.
Hiss-THUD.
The door opened. They didn't even look inside. They simply lobbed four one-kilogram grenades into the center of the room.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
The shockwaves were so powerful they blew the bird-masks right off the soldiers' faces. A wall of heat and pressurized dust erupted from the doorway.
When the smoke thinned, Kian peered inside. The dormitory was a cavernous hall filled with bunk beds. The first four grenades had vaporized nearly three hundred Poxwalkers in the center of the room, but hundreds more were still stumbling out of the shadows.
Kian didn't hesitate. With his Strength 30, he began hurling the heavy grenades like a professional pitcher. He sent them soaring across the length of the hall, landing them in the far corners.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
It was like a miniature artillery barrage. Human limbs and bunk-bed frames were launched into the ceiling. After twelve grenades, the thousand-man horde had been reduced to a few dozen scattered stragglers.
"Voss Guard, advance! Mop up with Las-fire!"
The squad moved in, their rifles clicking as they picked off the survivors. Within minutes, the "Boss Room" was silent.
"Masterful," Reno cheered over the vox. "That was the primary blockage. The next few chambers are low-threat. Scanners show 'Clean Zones' or maintenance rooms. You can take a breather."
The squad cleared five more rooms with zero resistance. They reached a management office—a dry, sterile room filled with cogitator desks, paper-slates, and water dispensers.
The stench of rot was absent here. The air-scrubbers were still humming. Kian ordered a halt.
"Helmets off. Five-minute break."
Kian lit a sacred candle to mask the scent of his own sweat and unclipped his rebreather. The soldiers collapsed into the office chairs, groaning as they massaged their cramped limbs.
Kian pulled out his canteen of Sanctified Spirits and took a sip, then passed it around. "One cap-full each. Clear the mental static."
As the soldiers relaxed, Ash decided to take his break on the floor, leaning back against a heavy plasteel desk. As he stretched out, he caught a glimpse of movement in the shadows beneath the table.
Two wide, terrified human eyes were staring back at him.
"THRONE! CONTACT!!" Ash shrieked, vaulting over the chair and grabbing his Lasgun. "SOMETHING'S UNDER THE DESK!!"
The squad erupted into a panic. Triggers were squeezed half-way, barrels leveled at the furniture. They weren't sure if it was a human or a Poxwalker waiting for an ambush.
Kian didn't take chances. He grabbed a discarded autogun from the logistics trolley, racked the bolt, and fired a three-round burst into the top of the desk.
BANG-BANG-BANG.
"NO! PLEASE! DON'T SHOOT!" a voice wailed from the shadows. "I'M HUMAN! I'M NOT A MONSTER! I'M COMING OUT!!"
Under the gaze of twenty high-powered Las-barrels, a middle-aged man in the blue-and-grey robes of a Water Guild technician crawled out from under the desk. He was shaking violently, his face pale, but he showed no signs of the rot.
Kian opened the stopper on his Holy Spirits and flicked a few drops of the liquid onto the man's robes. He waited. No sizzle. No screams. The man was clean.
Kian lowered his rifle. "Identify yourself, cog. Why are you hiding in a war zone?"
The man looked up at Kian, then at the bird-masks of the soldiers. "I... I am the Technical Supervisor for the Submersible Division. I was in charge of the maintenance for the Guild's Underwater Power Suits."
Kian's eyes sharpened. Power Suits? Like... Diving Power Armor?
Kian looked at the terrified technician, realizing he had just found the key to a whole new tier of heavy gear.
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