Mid-Hive Command Center
The metallic floor reflected the cold phosphorescent glow of the tactical displays. Robert stood silently beneath the shifting light, listening to AlphaBravo’s report through the communicator. With every sentence, his brow tightened further.
“Slaanesh-aligned enemies…” he murmured at last, his voice heavy in the quiet command center. “Whether they’re daemons or Chaos Space Marines, neither will be easy to handle.”
No one disagreed.
Chaos corruption was the galaxy’s most malignant cancer. Once discovered, it had to be cut out immediately. If creatures devoted to excess and agony were allowed to remain in the Upper Hive unchecked, there was no telling when they might tear open reality itself and unleash a Warp catastrophe.
A Greater Daemon appearing on Perditia would mean the end of the planet.
“For now, hold your positions and avoid direct engagement,” Robert ordered after a brief silence. “Since the bar is temporarily secure, establish an observation post there and wait for heavy-weapons support to reach the Upper Hive.”
“Understood,” AlphaBravo replied immediately.
The line went dead.
Robert lifted his gaze toward the gathered officers and the Tech-Priest Reddito. The atmosphere inside the command center grew noticeably heavier.
“What’s your assessment?” Robert asked. “Could we simply level the Governor’s Mansion with concentrated bombardment?”
“With respect, Commander—unlikely.” Reddito was the first to respond. His mechanical head tilted slightly, bionic eye flickering with streams of analytical data. “The higher one’s social standing, the more obsessed one becomes with survival. Upper Hive nobility, in particular, invest enormous resources into personal security.”
He paused for half a second.
“I am, of course, speaking statistically. Not implying anything about any present company.”
A few players exchanged glances.
Reddito continued, “Given Perditia’s former prosperity, the Governor’s Mansion was likely constructed with military-grade materials. Reinforced ceramite would be the minimum expectation. Adamantium structural supports would not be surprising.”
Robert immediately understood.
“So unless we convince the Navy to perform orbital bombardment, collapsing the mansion is unrealistic.”
“Yes,” Reddito replied flatly.
Mua’dib folded his arms nearby, expression grim. “That complicates things. Daemons are already difficult enough, but Chaos Space Marines…” He exhaled slowly. “If we’re unlucky and a veteran from the Long War is hiding in there, then in close quarters it won’t matter how many troops we send. We’d just be feeding it bodies.”
The room fell quiet for a moment.
“Best option,” Mua’dib continued, “is finding a way to force them out into prepared firing zones.”
“The servants of Chaos are not mindless beasts,” Reddito said calmly. “The fact they have remained hidden in the Upper Hive for this long suggests they are protecting or pursuing something of great importance. In the short term, they are unlikely to abandon their position voluntarily.”
Coming from Reddito, “short term” could mean ten years.
Robert pinched the bridge of his nose.
“We don’t have ten years. Before today, ignorance was an excuse. Now it isn’t.” He looked around the room. “Gentlemen, we need a way to flush them out.”
The command center sank into deep thought.
Then Mua’dib suddenly spoke again.
“What if…” He paused thoughtfully. “We fired excrement into the Governor’s Mansion?”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The entire command center froze as though someone had slammed a pause button on reality itself.
Several players stared at him blankly. Even Reddito’s mechanical processes appeared to stall for a moment.
“Hm…” The Tech-Priest’s head rotated with audible precision. It took him a full three seconds to verify that his audio receptors had not malfunctioned. The glow of his bionic eye dimmed… then sharpened.
The players finally recovered first.
“That is unbelievably low.”
“As expected from the founder of the Self-Destruct Faction…”
“What kind of heretical strategy is that?!”
Then Reddito spoke.
For the first time since the meeting began, his synthesized voice carried unmistakable emotion.
“First,” he declared, “I am incapable of calculating this plan’s success rate. Neither my historical archives nor my personal experience contain precedent for weaponized fecal bombardment.”
“Second—”
His mechanical head snapped toward Mua’dib.
“—I will NEVER permit sacred artillery pieces blessed by the Omnissiah to be filled with excrement.”
Mua’dib shrugged innocently. “Why not? Victory justifies methods, doesn’t it?”
Several people looked horrified.
“Besides,” he continued, “even if it doesn’t work tactically, it changes the psychological atmosphere. Terrifying Chaos murderers become lunatics covered in filth. That has to reduce morale impact by at least fifty percent.”
That horrifying logic instantly infected everyone’s imagination.
The command center descended into chaos.
“…Actually, that’s not fifty percent. That’s negative numbers.”
“If a Chaos Marine charged me covered in sewage, I think I’d laugh myself unconscious.”
“The genre just shifted from grimdark horror to toilet comedy.”
“Now I kind of want to see what a daemon prince looks like drenched in shit.”
Robert closed his eyes.
For several seconds, he appeared to be engaged in intense spiritual warfare.
Finally, he inhaled deeply.
“…List it as a backup plan.”
The room erupted.
Reddito immediately added, in a voice filled with mechanical disgust, “If this plan is ever approved, I refuse all responsibility for manufacturing those shells. You will produce them yourselves.”