Chapter 41: Dealing with the Tyranids Is Our Bounden Duty

Within the Astronomican, the closer the light points are, the faster a message can be received. This Deathwatch kill-team was only a few light-years away. At the speed of King Joe or a Pandonian spacecraft, it would not take long to reach them—perhaps a day or two. Moreover, this would be a safe journey without the need for any warp travel.

A windfall of system gold coins was laid out before him; there was no reason to refuse. At this stage, the only way to earn coins was by eliminating Tyranids, and Rod had been fretting over where to find them.

"My lord! Please, I implore you to notify the Imperium. Tell them to send help immediately. We can hold out for a week at most, if that," the Deathwatch Chaplain pleaded. He knew this "lord" likely couldn't intervene personally, so he could only pin his hopes on Imperial reinforcements.

"Faithful Chaplain of the Deathwatch, I have heard your plea. I shall transmit a distress signal to the Imperium. May the Emperor protect you," Rod replied. He had already decided to go to their rescue; this was a prime opportunity to farm points. However, he would need to adopt a new identity and plan his approach carefully.

If he followed the original plan and waited for Imperial rescue, heaven only knew how long the Imperial Navy would take to dispatch a relief fleet. The response speed of the Imperial Navy was notoriously glacial, and since the immediate threat of the Tyranid invasion on his current location had been repelled, theoretically, the danger had passed. It could be years, or even decades, before the Navy arrived to evacuate personnel.

The Chapter Master of the Crimson Fists might discover the situation and send aid, but the Second Company was currently only here to recruit, a task that could take years. The other companies were fighting across the galaxy, and for the Chapter Master to realize the situation and deploy reinforcements would take far too long. After all, the nearby light points in the Astronomican did not include any Crimson Fists Librarians or Astropaths from their ships. Waiting here was unwise; it was better to take matters into his own hands.

"I am eternally grateful, my lord. The Emperor protects! May our souls return to the Golden Throne upon our death," the Deathwatch Chaplain nodded, ending the astropathic transmission.

Rod ignored the other distress signals and severed his connection to the Astronomican.

"Lord Rod! Was that Chaplain Maglo?" Captain Drez of the Crimson Fists Second Company asked anxiously. Years ago, Maglo had been the designated successor for the Chapter's Chief Librarian, but the needs of the Deathwatch had required a psyker Chaplain, and Maglo had been sent to serve. He could hardly believe he had accidentally made contact with this predecessor.

"I can confirm it is indeed your former Chaplain, Maglo. He is currently on a planet, fighting a desperate battle against the Tyranid swarms," Rod replied.

"May the Emperor protect them! I pray the heroic Deathwatch Astartes can hold the line and defeat these vile xenos," Sister Anna, the Battle Sister, said, pressing her hands to her chest in prayer. Deathwatch Space Marines were held in high regard across the Imperium as elite warriors drawn from various Chapters to exterminate alien threats. Upon completing their service, they would return to their Chapters to share their knowledge on how to combat powerful xenos foes. The only ones viewed with suspicion in the Deathwatch were the Black Shields—Astartes forgotten by their home Chapters, doomed to serve in the Deathwatch for life.

"Lord Rod, please, send that distress signal to the Imperium. I fear the situation for Chaplain Maglo and his brothers is dire," Captain Drez sighed. It was all they could do, though he desperately wished he could join them on the battlefield.

"I will send the signal, but given the pace of the High Lords of Terra and the Inquisition, that planet will be a dead world by the time reinforcements arrive. They are under assault by at least fifty hive ships. The odds of the Deathwatch Astartes surviving are vanishingly slim," Rod remarked.

"They are loyal warriors; their death will be glorious. May their souls find peace at the Golden Throne," Sister Anna sighed, feeling helpless to do anything but pray. Though she did not know the exact strength of the defenders, they were facing a Tyranid fleet many times larger than the forces here. Unless a miracle occurred, there was no chance of survival for the Deathwatch marines.

Captain Drez clenched his fists in fury and slammed them against the ground.

"Do not despair! Although the Imperium cannot send aid in time, I have decided: I will go to their rescue myself," Rod declared.

"Lord Rod! Are you joking? How could you possibly get there? We don't even have the capability for warp travel," Sister Anna shook her head. To traverse the galaxy, one required warp engines to tear through reality, Geller fields for protection, and a Navigator to steer through the Immaterium. These were the bare essentials.

"Everything is a gift from the Emperor. You have seen this great machine-god. Under the Emperor's blessing, it has gained the ability to navigate the warp. Through the Emperor's grace, I have awakened psychic powers and established a link with the great Astronomican. This machine-god shall be blessed once more to traverse the warp. All of this is because the Emperor desires me to support the loyal Astartes of the Deathwatch. The world they protect is vital; it cannot be allowed to fall," Rod proclaimed.

It was time to use the 26,000 system gold coins he had saved. Rod applied the points to finalize the upgrade of King Joe. The massive battle robot was bathed in golden light once more, instantly transforming into a behemoth over 120 meters tall, shimmering with a glorious, radiant gold. It had reached the size of an Emperor-class Titan, the largest and rarest class of war engine in the Imperium.