Warhammer 40k: I Refuse to Be a Slaanesh Marine Chapter 44 44: 44: Betrayal

Enkidu loosened his grip, and the Warlock's corpse slumped to the floor. The once-arrogant Aeldari was now devoid of fury or hatred, leaving behind only a heavy silence.

A crystal-clear gemstone sat nestled in Enkidu's palm, emitting a faint blue luminescence like a bottled star. He cast a regretful glance at his severely damaged Charnabal Sabre before hanging the xenos power sword at his hip and limping toward the exit.

An Aeldari Witchblade... surely it won't have any ties to Slaanesh?

Then there's no harm in using it for now.

Walking through the sinking ship was like traversing a long-dead tomb. The sounds of macro-cannon impacts and close-quarters slaughter beca muffled and distant in the thinning atmosphere. He dragged his battered power armor for thirteen minutes—cutting down two more Aeldari warriors who attempted to prey on his weakened state—before he was finally located by Telax, who had just broken free from an Aeldari pursuit.

"You look pathetic, Brother Komnenos. I don't have ti to get you a fresh suit right now."

"Doesn't matter. We have 'Cogs' now; I'll have them fix it later."

Enkidu shook his head tiredly, looking at Telax.

In terms of appearance, Telax fared no better. His power armor was a map of scorch marks and punctures, revealing sparked wiring beneath the plates. Upon a section of the armor where the cracks couldn't fully close, a terrifying scab of clotted at had ford. Several crates were strapped awkwardly to his shoulders, adding a bizarre silhouette to the warrior who had just carved his way through a swarm of xenos.

"You went to the Armory?"

Telax nodded. Enkidu imdiately grasped his intent. Telax cherished resources, but only to a point. With the Velvet Abyss being torn apart, they had to abandon ship imdiately, or it would beco their sarcophagus.

The two exchanged a silent look and accelerated in unison.

The corridors were littered with corpses: mortal slaves, cultists, Aeldari, and Astartes. So were already charred husks; others had been cleaved in two by monomolecular blades; a few still drew ragged breaths. Enkidu bypassed them in pained silence, having no ti to grant them even the rcy of a final peace.

"What do you plan to do about Varex?"

Enkidu asked. A lethal realization had struck him: when he had searched the Apothecarion, many of the chemical racks were empty. He wasn't sure if Varex had taken the drugs in preparation for the battle, or if soone had stolen them. If they had been stolen, the situation was about to turn ugly.

Varex and his sycophants without their combat stimms were nothing more than weeping bags of flesh—they wouldn't last a minute against the Aeldari.

"Let him die," Telax replied without looking back. "He led the brothers into a dead end. He deserves to pay the price."

"I have no objection. Provided we live long enough to see it happen."

Enkidu kicked aside a half-shattered airlock and ducked into the hangar bay. The chaos here was total—several shuttles had been blown apart, their debris scattered across the deck. The mortals who should have been busy clearing the flight paths were either drifting out of the hull breaches or frozen into solid blocks of ice.

In the distance, a pristine shuttle had already ignited its engines, letting out a high-pitched roar.

"VAREX!!!"

Telax stared at the shuttle as it detached from its berth and punched into the void. His facial muscles twitched, and blood almost seed to leak from his eyes.

"You son of a Grox and an Ambull hybrid! I will kill you! I'll turn your skin into a latrine rug so the slaves on the lower decks can trample you every single day!"

Enkidu proactively shielded his hearing to prevent Telax's string of profanities from distracting him. Thirteen minutes later, his search through the wreckage finally bore fruit.

An ancient Arvus-pattern lighter was tucked away in a corner, mostly shielded by debris from a prior explosion. Because of the rubble covering it, the shuttle had remained largely intact, suffering only surface gouges rather than structural failure.

Truly Imperial-made. Built like a brick.

He sighed inwardly and tapped a piece of rebar against the shuttle's hull.

"Stop cursing, Telax. He won't live long. I found sothing. If we dig it out, we can make it back together."

The Chaos veteran, imrsed in his rage, finally shut his mouth. While putting his back into the manual labor, he didn't forget to open the vox and summon the remaining warband survivors.

Three minutes later, a handful of silhouettes appeared at the entrance. Everyone was wounded; so were carrying dead brothers on their backs.

Enkidu kicked away the last piece of scrap blocking the hatch and shoved the supply crates inside.

"Does anyone here know how to fly this? I've never touched the controls of a lighter."

"I do."

Armand stepped into the cockpit. The abrasive and reclusive Astartes had taken heavy damage in the fight, blood dripping steadily from his armor, but it didn't stop him from manipulating the buttons and levers—ant for mortal hands—with a cramped, awkward posture. Fortunately, while the machine was venerable, its machine spirit was still faithfully performing its duty.

The indicators on the dashboard flickered to life one by one. Plasma vented from the thrusters. The shuttle humd, lifted off, and finally veered out into the stars.

After a series of hair-raising gas of "orbital dodgeball," the Arvus finally dove into the hangar of the Golden Dawn, completing its final, most vital mission.

CLANG!

The shuttle door hissed open, and Enkidu stepped out, covered in soot and gri. After the sequence of high-intensity combat, he felt an unspeakable exhaustion. The physical wounds were manageable—nothing was missing or broken—but his spirit felt frayed. The excessive use of psychic power had left his mind feeling untethered.

However, it was obvious the battle was far from over.

"Mortal. Report. Did another Astartes arrive here via shuttle recently?"

"Y... Yes, Lord."

The deck hand stamred, his soul almost leaving his body in terror at the sight of this wounded, blood-stained giant.

"Good. It seems we're in the right place," the Astartes praised, his massive hand resting demonstratively atop the man's head. "Go tell your Lord Captain to prepare dical bays and supplies. And tell your people to stay out of the way. If accidental casualties occur because soone ignored the rules, that's on your heads."

"Yes... Yes, Lord."

The deck hand bowed palely and turned to leave, but was called back by another Astartes erging from the cockpit.

"You forgot to ask one thing, Brother Komnenos," Telax said. The fire of impending violence smoldered in his eyes, his voice low like distant thunder.

"What's that?"

"Where exactly did Varex go?"