While working under Cassius, Raynor honed himself into a sophisticated bureaucratic machine. Every piece of intelligence he provided was a product of delicate calculation.
He gave just enough for Cassius's squad to find a real Tyranid node—proving his worth and "loyalty" to the Imperium—while ensuring the source of the information never appeared too accurate or too easily obtained. He had to avoid the scent of suspicion.
He never proactively inquired about the details of the battles, despite his burning curiosity regarding the Astartes' tactics and equipnt.
Whenever Cassius or the other warriors ntioned combat, he listened with a mask of respectful awe and lingering fear. Then, he would subtly shift the topic, asking only what "external preparations" his unit needed to make for the next mission.
Raynor also issued strict orders to his patrol teams: never approach the core zones where the Space Marines had fought. Officially, the reason was "to prevent the spread of xenos contagion" and "to respect the Angels' purification rituals."
In private, he was blunter with his subordinates. "Those places are graveyards of alien filth. Who knows what radiation or toxins remain? If you want to die screaming, go join the crowd. Otherwise, stay back."
The true reason was fear. He knew that any attempt to recover biomass from an Astartes battlefield would leave an indelible mark. He couldn't take that risk.
Psychologically, Raynor felt as though he were walking a rusted wire over an infinite abyss. Every instruction sent to Sarah was ntally rehearsed a dozen tis, simulating every possible flaw. His communications with her beca increasingly brief and businesslike. Sarah didn't understand "indifference," so he felt no need to maintain a warm tone.
Late at night, in the relative luxury of his new ho, nightmares beca his frequent guests. Sotis it was Cassius's dark red lenses lighting up in the absolute darkness, tracking him like prey. Sotis, he saw Sarah's lair being vaporized by lta-fire, her armor lting and her consciousness fading into a silent scream. Often, the two scenes intertwined, and he was left shouting in a void, unable to stop the destruction.
He would wake up with his pajamas soaked in cold sweat, his heart pounding against his ribs. He would stand at the window, looking down at the Hive's morbid neon lights, reminding himself that he could not break.
At least, not yet.
Despite Raynor's extre caution, Sarah remained an "independent node"—a variable that had broken away from the Hive Mind's will. Her very existence was an abnormal vortex that could not be completely concealed beneath the chaotic surface of the Hive.
Cassius was more than just a warrior; his mind was a sophisticated biological supercomputer. The Sons of dusa possessed top-tier data analysis capabilities, even among the Astartes.
After efficiently eliminating four Tyranid nodes based on Raynor's intelligence, the squad's accompanying Tech-Priest—a taciturn being from Mars whose body was over eighty percent machinery—began a routine in-depth analysis of the battlefield data.
The Tech-Priest sampled the Hive City's entire psychic energy monitoring network and environntal pheromone levels. The massive amounts of data were processed through a mobile Cogitator Array for twelve standard hours.
When the final report was presented to Cassius, the Sergeant's white helt tilted as he reviewed the findings. The report highlighted two key anomalies.
First: "Signal Flow." The destroyed Tyranid nodes retained faint psychic echoes and pheromone markings. Usually, these signals dissipated quickly into the Hive's background noise. However, these residual signals showed a regular, slow "movent" tendency—a gravitational drift pointing toward a complex geological region at the boundary of Zone 7 and Zone 8. That area was the heart of Inspector Raynor's patrol district.
Second: "Anomalous Nodes." During the purges, the Tech-Priest noted that near that specific boundary, so Tyranid units experienced "lag" or exhibited behavior out of sync with the main swarm. This subtle confusion suggested an undiscovered node was competing for local control.
The Tech-Priest's conclusion was precise: "Behavioral bias is consistent with models of an undiscovered anomalous node possessing local interference or information competition capabilities. Match rate: 67.4%."
Cassius read the report in silence. In his cold mind, the logic chain ford: Raynor's highly effective intelligence; the signal anomalies in his district; the confused behavior of the xenos; and Raynor's own authority over that specific region.
A clear assumption took shape. Raynor might have a connection to this "abnormal node." It could be manipulation, or sothing far more clandestine. The possibility of an independent Tyranid node was a high-level threat; if it were connected to an Imperial official, it was a catastrophe.
Cassius did not strike imdiately. They had patience as thick as their erald-green armor. He needed more evidence.
He authorized the Tech-Priest to deploy covert surveillance equipnt around the patrol outposts and Raynor's residence. Disguised as ventilation modules, lighting bases, or roadside debris, these sensors began recording Raynor's every movent, his physiological data, and the subtle psychic shifts in the air he breathed.
An invisible, ticulous web was quietly closing around him.
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