Badab Sector, Palace of Thorns, Strategic Briefing Room of the Astral Claws Chapter.
In front of a massive tactical holographic projection table, Lufgt Huron stood with furrowed brows, flipping through a dataslate in his hands. As the Master of the Maelstrom, this "Tyrant" was well-accustomed to facing all kinds of bad news on a daily basis: harassment from Chaos warbands, xenos invasions, and his biggest headache—those greedy, foolish planetary governors who were forever trying to evade their taxes.
But today, something felt off.
Everything was going too smoothly.
"This is highly abnormal." Huron tossed the dataslate onto the table with a sharp slap, scanning the Astral Claws captains surrounding him. "In recent months, those planetary governors who usually act like stingy iron roosters—how have they all suddenly started dutifully handing over their 'protection fees'?"
He pointed at the green light plots illuminating the holographic map one by one: "Look at this, Rhea IV. That governor used to cry poverty every single time, delaying supplies and materials. This time, he actually delivered the full mineral quota and tithe to the transport ships three days ahead of schedule.
And this one, and that one. It's the same story everywhere."
Huron crossed his arms, his tone thick with suspicion: "If only one or two had a change of heart, I would simply be pleased and perhaps even grant them some reward. But when so many planets become this 'diligent' and 'loyal' at the same time, it forces me to take notice. In the Imperium, excessive integrity and efficiency usually signify a much grander conspiracy."
The briefing room fell into a brief silence. The warriors of the Astral Claws looked at one another, clearly sensing that this matter carried a strange, unnatural aura.
"Um..." An Astartes responsible for intelligence analysis hesitantly raised his hand, proposing a hypothesis that made everyone's heart skip a beat. "Brother Huron, is it possible that this is... a Genestealer infestation?"
The moment the words were uttered, the temperature in the briefing room seemed to drop several degrees.
The Space Marine continued his analysis: "Think about it, brothers. Those mortal governors are usually as foolish as pigs and as greedy as rats; that is their true nature. To make characters like that suddenly become diligent, honest, and not only refrain from embezzlement but even exceed their quotas... outside of the Emperor Himself manifesting a miracle, the only possibility is that they are being controlled by some form of collective hive mind."
"Are you suggesting... the Great Devourer?" another sergeant gasped.
"Exactly. It is highly probable that they have encountered a Genestealer infestation!" The more this Space Marine spoke, the more logical it sounded to him. "The Maelstrom is a melting pot where all sorts of monsters and demons mingle. It wouldn't be surprising for a Genestealer Cult to stick their hands in. Only infected individuals would display such bizarre selflessness and efficiency for some 'noble' purpose—like welcoming the Great Devourer."
Hearing this, the gathered Astral Claws nodded one after another, their expressions turning grim. Though the theory sounded terrifying, its internal logic was practically airtight.
"If that's truly the case, then we are in massive trouble," a veteran said with a severe expression, pointing at the star map. "If the Genestealers incite simultaneous riots across these planets while we pool our forces for critical operations against Chaos warbands, cutting off our logistics and supply lines..."
The image was simply unthinkable. While the frontline fought to the death against traitors and daemons, their home base would be backstabbed by bugs. How could they fight a war like that?
Huron's demeanor became entirely solemn. He nodded: "Well said. Regardless of whether there are Genestealers lurking, this anomalous 'smoothness' is a massive hidden danger in itself. We must uncover the root cause as quickly as possible. Even a false alarm is better than being stabbed in the back."
"Then, who do we send to investigate?" someone asked.
"If it is merely an investigation and screening process..." a staff officer pondered for a moment before suggesting, "Why not send the Helldivers? I heard that on Macragge, the Ultramarines' homeworld, they demonstrated a highly potent capability for identifying Genestealers.
Supposedly, they can spot who is wrong at a single glance, with accuracy surpassing even the Adeptus Mechanicus's instruments."
"Is a mortal army enough?" another expressed concern. "If a large-scale infection involving over a dozen planets is underway, the Helldivers alone probably cannot resolve it."
"It's just dealing with Genestealers, and it's not even certain they exist yet. Maybe the governors really just found their consciences?"
"No, it is better to be cautious," Huron interrupted the debate, tapping his fingers on the table. "Since this involves potential xenos corruption, an Astartes Chapter must be deployed to anchor the operation."
Huron contemplated in silence. As the bedrock of the Maelstrom, the Astral Claws could not be easily moved. Their traditional allies, the Mantis Warriors and Executioners Chapters, were currently engaged in combat. If that was the case, the only ones left were...
He paused for a moment, his eyes flashing: "The Lamenters Chapter approached me not long ago. After those noble warriors received the power armor and bolt ammunition supplies we provided, they stated they could not accept them for nothing and insisted on contributing to the defense of the Maelstrom."
Huron struck the table, finalizing his decision: "In that case, let us satisfy their sense of honor. Have the Lamenters Chapter operate alongside the Helldivers! Let those sons of Sanguinius keep watch over the situation. If there are xenos, slaughter them all; if there are none, treat it as a joint patrol."
"Understood, Chapter Master Huron."
No one in the meeting raised an objection. Though the Lamenters Chapter possessed notoriously poor luck, their combat capability was the real deal. Paired with those genuinely useful Helldivers, this deployment could be considered luxurious.
Having dealt with this potential "hidden threat," Huron's mood eased slightly. He stood up, walked over to the massive star map, and gazed at the regions deep within the Maelstrom that flickered with an ominous red glow.
"Next comes the major objective."
Huron's voice was low and brimming with ambition: "These past few months have been strange. Those annoying Greenskins and Dark Eldar haven't launched a single raid against the primary shipping lanes. This has allowed our tax revenue to arrive smoothly, filling our storehouses more than ever before."
He had no idea that this so-called "smoothness" was entirely the result of those Death-Seeker players wildly stirring up trouble outside, going so far as to use daemons to scare away the Dark Eldar.
It would take several more months without any sign of Ork Orks or Dark Eldar before Huron realized that this, too, was highly unusual. After all, while it was rare for Greenskins to suddenly take a few months off from fighting or for the Dark Eldar to halt their raiding for months, it wasn't completely unheard of.
But a planetary governor suddenly losing their greed? That was a definitive anomaly.
Huron clenched his fist, his power claw emitting a low, vibrating hum: "Since our supplies are abundant and our rear is secure, it is time to use these assets to plan our next purge against the Chaos warbands. I will make those dregs in the Maelstrom understand who the true master here is!"