Chapter 141: The Plague Wars of Tyron

Upon receiving the orders, Adam swiftly orchestrated the comprehensive reconnaissance of the nearby star systems. 

The yet unnamed sector contained nineteen systems, some of which held strategic significance. These so-called "strategic points" were systems equipped with vessels capable of maintaining regular contact with Tyron, their status frequently updated, ensuring their safety. These strategic points were the linchpins of a dimensional engine-based strategy. When other ships detected enemy vessels, they would not engage immediately. Instead, they would jump to the strategic points, rendezvousing with the battleships, and together, they would return to confront the enemy. The battleships moved separately due to the longer charging time required by their dimensional engines, which would otherwise slow the entire fleet.

"There are three strategic points within the sector, with one battleship stationed at each," Adam explained. "Divide the cruisers into five fleets, as per our previous drills, and swiftly survey every star system."

"If enemy ships are detected, jump immediately to the strategic point, then, with the battleships, return to overwhelm them."

Adam's voice echoed through the fleet's communication channels, issuing clear and decisive instructions.

The maximum range for a dimensional jump was five hundred light-years—longer distances were possible but fraught with unpredictable risks. Typically, jumps were made system by system. In Tyron Fleet jargon, dimensional jumps were simply called "jumps."

"Move out," Adam commanded.

The fleet executed the plan immediately. Three battleships jumped to the strategic points while the remaining warships split into five cruiser squadrons and dispersed throughout the sector to commence reconnaissance.

The second system, the nearest to Tyron, had only one habitable planet among its twelve, making the survey relatively simple. Though the system was found to be plague-free, the mobilization order was still transmitted to its governor. Given the system's heavy dependence on trade with Tyron, the governor promptly complied with the orders.

Next, systems three and four were surveyed. Both displayed faint traces of plague. Ten regiments and a single Custodian were deployed to the worlds, tasked with purging the subterranean plague sources, while the warships remained in orbit, raining down antidote.

In most of the surveyed systems, the situation was manageable. Either the plague was mild, or the afflicted worlds were so primitive that the disease could not spread effectively. The antidote was not simply sprayed from orbit like water; it was encapsulated into shells, loaded with a catalyst. When fired into the atmosphere, the shells burst, seeding the clouds with rain that would scour the plague from the surface, eradicating both the virus and the plague-walkers.

The twelfth and fifteenth systems were where the plague raged most violently. Both were found and similarly treated, with the warships in orbit dispersing antidote while ground forces descended to cleanse the infected.

One of the worlds in the twelfth system resembled Tyron Three before its transformation by the Overdimension Skyshield—most of its population lived underground, with few on the surface. In such worlds, the efficiency of orbital antidote strikes was low, and sending troops underground seemed a poor use of resources. The most effective strategy was to bombard the surface, hoping the tremors would collapse subterranean structures, though this risked civilian casualties.

The Wailers Chapter, who had arrived aboard the transport ships, opposed this plan. Chapter Master Forros spoke to the cruiser captain over the comms.

"Send us down," he ordered. "Continue your mission, and once it's over, return to retrieve us and the civilians—then carry out the orbital bombardment."

"For those we cherish, we fight with honor!"

In the shadowy corridors of the underground city, Forros led ten Astartes in fierce combat against the plague-walkers, advancing relentlessly, their iconic battle cry echoing in the halls. All those capable of donning Terminator armor had done so, while the rest wielded heavy bolters or flamethrowers, specialized for combating the plague-ridden.

Though the horde of plague-walkers seemed endless, they were held at bay. Behind Forros, terrified civilians huddled, peering cautiously from behind the towering forms of the Astartes, calculating how long they had left to survive. Behind the civilians, a smaller group of walkers emerged from side corridors, though their numbers were few. A lone Custodian stood resolute in the center of the passage, using shoulder-mounted cannons and laser-shotguns to obliterate the oncoming threat.

While the number of plague-walkers in this world was finite, the eleven Astartes and their solitary Custodian could not possibly kill them all. The team had no choice but to fight off the enemies from both the front and rear as they pressed forward. As they moved from room to room, civilians followed, armed with crude weapons, searching for other survivors to rescue along the way.

After advancing roughly two kilometers, Forros spotted a peculiar metal box embedded in the wall. His experience told him its purpose. Rushing over, he tore it open and smashed the hidden button inside. Red lights flashed as heavy bulkheads descended, sealing the walkers behind thick doors.

A collective sigh of relief filled the hall.

"We're saved..."

"Emperor bless us..."

The civilians finally had a moment to rest, collapsing onto the floor in exhaustion. Though they had the task of searching rooms for survivors, they did not have to fight. The mindless plague-walkers had been drawn out by noise and killed, so there was nothing left for the civilians to deal with. But civilians were civilians, after all. Marching two kilometers was no great feat, but the fear along the way had worn them down.

"Thank you for coming with us," Forros said, approaching the Custodian.

The Custodian, who had insisted on joining the rescue mission, surprised Forros. He hadn't expected the Custodian to come, but he had.

"We Custodians aren't heartless beasts..." the Custodian said, removing his helmet and placing a cigar in his mouth.

"There's plague here, brother," Forros reminded him.

"Doesn't matter—I've got a reactor here," the Custodian replied, slapping his chest. "As for the cigar... it's an old habit from before my augmentation."

Forros chuckled and turned his attention back to the civilians. The Astartes were checking the conditions of each civilian, ensuring they could continue.

Though weary, the civilians' spirits were not entirely broken. In fact, after a brief rest, they seemed even more determined. After all, the arrival of the Emperor's angels was always a source of reassurance.

Forros noticed a young girl in the corner, clutching her little sister, trembling in fear, her face ashen. He walked over and handed her a knife. "You'll need a weapon. Use it to protect your family."

"T-thank you, my lord..." the girl stammered, taking the knife. Although she knew it was far too heavy for her to wield effectively, holding the weapon brought her a small sense of comfort.