Chapter 26 The Broke Space Sharks

Wielding censers and sacred unguents, the tech-priests concluded their frantic prayers of blessing and immediately set to work assisting General Dhrost’s troops in equipping their new wargear.

With the combined, hyper-efficient efforts of the tech-priests and servitors, the Astra Militarum regiments were fully outfitted in record time.

“Now this is what an elite fighting force is supposed to look like!” General Dhrost grinned so widely his face nearly cramped.

The standard-issue power armor the Forefather had provided for the mortal infantry obviously didn’t possess the sheer, transhuman specifications of Astartes plate.

However, compared to their old flak and carapace armor?

The difference was quite literally night and day.

On top of the standard suits, the heavy weapons teams had been outfitted with specialized heavy-assault rigs.

These suits featured absurdly oversized shoulder-mounted plasma casters, integrated micro-missile pods on the back, and twin-linked rotary cannons mounted on the gauntlets.

Once equipped, a single Guardsman essentially transformed into a walking, high-yield heavy weapons platform, maxing out their damage output.

If the Imperial defenders had been armed with this gear from the very beginning, they actually stood a genuine chance of holding the Cryptus System and breaking Hive Fleet Leviathan on their own terms.

“With the Forefather leading us, the total renaissance of humanity is absolutely within our grasp,” Canoness Amity stated, staring in profound awe at the roaring, fully automated manufactorums churning out gear in the distance.

If the entirety of the Astra Militarum could be outfitted in power armor, what terrifying heights would the Imperium reach?

The Tau Empire shouting about the ‘Greater Good’?

The Necron Dynasties dreaming of reclaiming their ancient dominion?

The Aeldari desperately clinging to their lost glory?

The Orks seeking endless war?

Every single xenos race would be nothing more than stepping stones paving humanity’s path to absolute, eternal supremacy!

“I wholeheartedly concur,” Dante nodded, deeply agreeing with the Canoness’s assessment.

“Alright, the gear swap is done.

Stick to the operational plan.

I’ve got work to do.” Vane had zero interest in standing around listening to their dramatic philosophical monologues and fanatical praise.

He tossed out a few final instructions and immediately dragged Steve away to finish calibrating the automated factories.

He needed to max out his production lines immediately to churn out a fully upgraded, top-tier void armada.

He wasn’t just stalling Leviathan—he was building the fleet that would completely wipe the Tyranid swarm off the map and complete his conquest objective.

— Meanwhile, deep within the Immaterium, a fleet bearing the heraldry of a shark struggled violently against a raging Warp storm.

Ravenous, emaciated Daemons continuously swarmed against the ships’ flickering Gellar Fields, their hateful, agonizing shrieks echoing endlessly through the hulls.

This was the Carcharodons Astra Chapter—the Space Sharks.

They had just barely survived a brutal, meat-grinder engagement against the Tyranids on the very edge of the galactic fringe and were desperately trying to retreat to Imperial space.

Inside the strategic command center of their flagship, the Nicor, the Chapter’s high command was gathered around the central hololith projector.

Chapter Master Tyberos the Red Wake, Chief Librarian Te Kahurangi, First Captain Huri, and Second Captain Akamu all stared grimly at the tactical display, enveloped in a suffocating silence.

After breaking out of the Tyranid encirclement, the fleet had performed an emergency translation into the Warp.

Unfortunately, they had almost immediately run head-first into a catastrophic Warp storm.

The violent turbulence had completely obscured the guiding light of the Astronomican, leaving the fleet entirely lost in the abyss.

The sheer frustration of failing to halt the Great Devourer, compounded by the grim reality of being lost in the Warp, had completely crushed their morale.

None of them had the energy to speak.

Suddenly, Tyberos’s personal vox-bead chimed with an urgent priority ping.

He tapped the receiver, noting it was a direct transmission from the Chief Astropath.

“Speak.” “Lord Tyberos, we have detected a highly anomalous beam of golden light piercing the storm.

It appears to be intentionally guiding us back to realspace.” “Guiding us to realspace?” Tyberos remained completely stoic.

“Is it a deception born of the Warp?” “I cannot be certain, my Lord,” the Chief Astropath replied.

“Shall we adjust course to follow it?” Tyberos looked up, turning his gaze toward Chief Librarian Te Kahurangi, silently requesting his assessment.

The Chief Librarian closed his eyes, extending his psychic presence into the roiling Immaterium, carefully probing the golden light the Astropath had reported.

After a long, tense silence, Te Kahurangi opened his eyes.

A profound mix of shock and religious awe washed over his ancient, scarred face.

“That golden light is immaculately pure.

There is absolutely no trace of malice or corruption within it.

Instead…

it radiates the undeniable, divine presence of the God-Emperor.” “The Emperor’s presence?

Are you saying the God-Emperor Himself is guiding our fleet?” First Captain Huri’s eyes widened, a rare flicker of intense emotion breaking through his grim exterior.

“Where is He leading us?” “Wherever it is, it is His divine will.

Our only duty is to obey,” Second Captain Akamu stated flatly.

Tyberos considered the tactical data for a microsecond before issuing the command to the Nicor’s shipmaster.

“Adjust course.

Follow the golden light and initiate translation into realspace.” The massive warning bells tolled, echoing across every deck of the colossal warship.

The shipmaster’s voice boomed over the internal vox-casters.

“Prepare for Warp translation!

All hands, brace for realspace insertion!” “Repeating…” After a violently turbulent, bone-rattling transition, the Carcharodons fleet successfully tore through the veil, emerging into the cold void of realspace.

“What is our location?” Tyberos immediately demanded.

The bridge crew rapidly relayed the auspex data.

“Lord Tyberos, augur sweeps and stellar telemetry confirm we have translated into the Cryptus System.” “Auspex is detecting massive, system-wide combat signatures.

Dante, the Lord of the Blood Host, is currently leading the Blood Angels and the Flesh Tearers in a desperate defensive campaign against Hive Fleet Leviathan.” “The galaxy is truly infested with these xenos vermin.

It appears the Emperor has guided us here specifically to reinforce them,” Tyberos growled softly.

“What is the current tactical situation?” “Lord Dante’s coalition has temporarily secured the upper hand, crippling the primary Leviathan tendril.

However, the Hive Mind is actively rallying its surviving bio-ships.

A second catastrophic engagement is inevitable.” “Broadcast our identification codes immediately.

Inform the Blood Angels that we have arrived.” “At once, my Lord.” — Aboard the Blade of Vengeance.

“They claim they were explicitly guided here by the God-Emperor’s divine light while lost in the Warp.” Dante immediately relayed the news of the Carcharodons’ arrival directly to Vane.

Vane: “…” That damned old man on the Golden Throne!

He completely ignores my demands for real estate compensation, but he suddenly has the free time to act as a GPS for a bunch of lost Space Sharks?!

“Forefather, do you wish to grant them an audience?

If you prefer not to be disturbed, I can receive them on your behalf,” Dante offered.

“Nah, send them in.” Vane shook his head.

They’re already here; might as well see what kind of stat blocks they have.

Shortly after, an incredibly battered, heavily patched Thunderhawk Gunship touched down on the Blade of Vengeance’s primary landing deck.

As the assault ramp lowered, Tyberos and his elite command squad strode out.

“This is the Forefather.

Born in the Second Millennium, he is the undisputed herald of the God-Emperor and the living avatar of the Omnissiah.” Dante formally introduced Vane to Tyberos and the Carcharodons, his tone ringing with absolute, unconditional reverence.

Witnessing Dante’s posture, the Space Sharks exchanged completely bewildered glances beneath their helmets.

For the legendary Chapter Master of a Founding Chapter to act this deferential toward a completely unaugmented, baseline mortal was entirely unprecedented.

Vane casually looked Tyberos up and down, carefully inspecting his wargear.

The Chapter Master’s Terminator armor was an absolute mess.

The pauldron plating and greaves were visibly mismatched and fundamentally asymmetrical.

It was painfully obvious the Chapter lacked standard replacement parts and had literally scavenged pieces from completely different marks of armor just to keep the suit functional.

After staring for a solid ten seconds, Vane finally spoke.

“Wow.

You guys are really broke.” Vane instantly understood exactly why the Big E had sent them here.

He sent these absolute hobos to my doorstep so I could give them free gear and carry them through the campaign!

The Carcharodons’ wargear was genuinely tragic to look at.

If you knew who they were, you’d recognize them as the Adeptus Astartes.

If you didn’t, you’d assume they were heavily augmented mutant scavengers who dug through an Imperial landfill.

The Chapter Master himself was wearing a Frankenstein’d relic suit of Terminator armor held together by sheer willpower and duct tape.

The rest of his command squad wore power armor so heavily scarred with claw marks and mismatched replacement plates it barely functioned as a cohesive unit.

If the highest-ranking officers of the Chapter were equipped this poorly…

one could only imagine the absolute garbage the standard battle-brothers were forced to wear into combat!

Tyberos: “…” He had mentally prepared for countless different scenarios before this meeting.

Being aggressively called broke to his face within five seconds was absolutely not one of them.

An insult must be answered!

A Carcharodon does not suffer disrespect!

Tyberos gripped his massive chain-fists, Hunger and Slake, fully preparing to formally challenge this arrogant mortal to an honor duel to defend the Chapter’s dignity.

But just as he raised his weapons, the mortal casually waved his hand.

A literal mountain of factory-new, hyper-advanced Terminator armor—boasting specifications far superior to anything the Imperium currently produced—materialized out of thin air, crashing onto the deck.

“Alright, take this gear.

Enough for every single Space Shark to get a full suit of Terminator armor.” “Suit up immediately, and then we’ll talk strategy.

If the other xenos see you fighting in that rusted junk, they’re going to think the Imperium is literally bankrupt.” Tyberos stared at the mountain of Terminator suits.

A rapid tactical estimate put the number at well over a thousand complete sets.

He completely froze, his brain utterly failing to process the reality in front of him.

Are…

are all of these actually for us?!

When in the entire history of the Carcharodons Astra has the Chapter ever possessed a thousand suits of Terminator armor?!

Having finished dumping the loot, Vane turned back around and saw Tyberos standing there with his massive weapons raised high in the air.

Vane blinked in confusion.

“Uh…

why are your weapons raised?

Are you trying to attack me?” Tyberos instantly snapped out of his shock.

He fluidly transitioned his raised weapons into a highly dramatic, perfectly choreographed martial stance.

“Honored Forefather!

I would never dare harbor such profoundly treasonous thoughts!

I raised my weapons simply because…

because I wished to perform the Carcharodons’ traditional, ceremonial war dance in your honor!” —

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