Mid-Hive, inside the command center, the metallic floor reflected the cold, phosphorescent glow of the tactical screens. Robert listened quietly to the report from AlphaBravo coming through the communicator, his brow furrowing tighter and tighter.
"Slaanesh-aligned enemies, huh..." He pondered for a moment, his voice particularly grave in the solemn command center. "Whether they're daemons or space marines, neither is easy to deal with."
But they couldn't just leave them be. Chaos corruption was like the most malignant tumor; once discovered, it had to be excised. Allowing these beings, indulged in extreme pleasure and pain, to remain in the Upper Hive, who knew when they might unleash a warp horror, tear open the veil of reality, and summon a Greater daemon or two? By then, the entire Perditia would be completely finished.
"For now, you'll temporarily hold your positions; do not act rashly," Robert ordered after a moment of hesitation. "Since the bar is temporarily safe, establish an observation post there and wait for heavy weapons units to arrive in the Upper Hive."
"Understood," AlphaBravo's voice came through clearly.
Hanging up the communication, Robert looked up, his gaze sweeping over the company commanders and Tech-Priest Reddito standing before him. The atmosphere in the command center grew heavy with the news.
"What do you all think?" he asked. "Is the proposal to directly collapse the Governor's Mansion with heavy bombardment feasible?"
"With all due respect, Commander, almost none," Reddito was the first to shake his metallic head, his bionic eye flashing with analytical light. "The higher one's position, the less willing one is to take risks, valuing one's life above all else... Ah, I am not alluding to certain important figures; this is merely a conclusion based on sociological statistical data. Upper Hive nobles often feel extreme fear of death, while Mid-Hive workers and Lower Hive commoners often hold a disregard for death, or if not disregard, then they are oblivious to the ever-present death..."
He seemed to realize he had strayed too far, paused, and continued, "In short, given Perditia's past prosperity, the main materials used to construct its Governor's Mansion could easily be as hard as space marines' ceramite armor, or even the adamantium of a warship's keel, which would not be surprising."
"Which means," Robert immediately grasped the key point, "unless we can get the Navy to conduct orbital bombardment, collapsing the Governor's Mansion is out of the question."
"Yes," Reddito gave an affirmative answer, his electronic voice completely flat.
"This is troublesome," Mua'dib, who was standing nearby, said, crossing his arms. "Whether the enemies are daemons or space marines, trying to overwhelm them with us mere mortals is a challenge.
Especially Chaos space marines; new recruits are one thing, but if a veteran of ten thousand years pops out... In the complex indoor environment of the Governor's Mansion, no matter how many people we throw in, it won't be enough for it to kill."
He paused, adding, "It would be best to find a way to make them voluntarily come out of their shell and charge towards our pre-established heavy weapons positions."
"The Great Enemy of Chaos is not a foolish beast," Reddito said noncommittally. "Furthermore, their ability to remain safely in the Upper Hive for so long without venturing out proves that there is definitely something deeply attracting them there. At least in the short term, they have no intention of coming out."
As a Tech-Priest with an unnaturally long lifespan, Reddito's 'short term' could translate to ten years, or even longer, in human time.
Robert, of course, understood the gravity of the situation: "We cannot let them remain there for so long. It was one thing not knowing before, but now that we know, it must be resolved as quickly as possible. Gentlemen, we must come up with a way to drive these beings out of the building."
The command center fell into contemplation. Just then, Mua'dib suddenly posed a highly constructive question: "What if... we fired excrement into the Governor's Mansion? Is there a possibility that those beings, unable to bear the humiliation, would be forced out?"
At these words, the entire command center seemed to hit a pause button. Everyone else present, whether they were external players or Reddito, a Wahammer native, fell into several seconds of shock. The air seemed to solidify.
"Hmm..." Reddito's precise head rotated slightly, taking a full three seconds to process and confirm that the sound waves he received were correct. The red light emanating from his bionic eye subtly, indescribably, changed.
The other players also snapped out of their shock at this point.
"This... this is just too low!"
"As expected of the founder of the self-destruct faction, to have such an outrageous idea..."
Then, Reddito's electronic synthesized voice, for the first time in this meeting, showed a clear inflection: "Firstly, I cannot predict the success rate of this plan, because in neither the historical data I have downloaded nor in my personal experience has anything similar ever occurred..."
"Secondly," Reddito's mechanical head turned to Mua'dib, his metallic face showing no expression, but his focused bionic eye conveyed an unprecedented seriousness, "this is the ultimate insult to the sacred creations of the Omnissiah, the God of Machines. I will absolutely not allow you to stuff foul excrement into sacred cannon barrels!"
"Why? I think this plan is quite good; any means for victory, right?" Mua'dib shrugged. "Even if the enemies aren't affected, it can change their image in our eyes from psychopaths who like to skin and dismember people to psychopaths bathing in mountains of shit and seas of piss... The level of deterrence instantly drops by half, doesn't it?"
This peculiar argument seemed to flip a switch in everyone's imagination, and strange images appeared in everyone's minds.
"It's more than just dropping by half; it's going straight into negative numbers..."
"I'm afraid my soldiers, seeing the enemy charge out covered in shit, would just laugh and collapse on the ground, losing their combat effectiveness..."
"Hey, hey, hey, why is the art style suddenly shifting from grimdark and bloody to a torrent of shit and piss?"
"Don't say it, the more you talk, the more I want to try it. Aren't you curious what warp daemons or Chaos space marines would look like covered in shit?"
And as the Battalion Commander, the highest-ranking person present, Robert, after an extremely conflicted, almost heavenly struggle of deliberation, finally took a deep breath and, with a decisive tone, made up his mind: "...Let's list it as a backup plan."
"If this backup plan truly needs to be implemented," Reddito immediately stated, "I will absolutely not be responsible for producing those special shells. You'll have to figure that out yourselves."