Alexei had managed to talk to a lot of his brothers. Many didn't believe it, many didn't want to believe it and for good reason. But Alexei had come prepared and replayed the information that Tarvitz had spoken to Garro over and over again, to make sure that at least most would get a move on.
He could feel that something was in the air. Something was coming; the viruses in the air warned him. And he felt a great connection to something large up in the atmosphere. Instinctively, he knew that the life-eater virus was about to be fired on the planet.
He was not afraid. The virus bombings weren't the problem for him. It was what happened afterwards. The life-eater virus infected everything, and the deaths would release gases into the air. After a few hours of waiting for all the living organisms to die, a single shell would be released from the ships in orbit and would ignite the gas, killing all of those who might have survived the initial virus infection.
He had already taken an important role among his brothers. Those who were open enough to listen and trust his words agreed and began moving downward into the catacombs and bunkers, seeking shelter from the imminent attack.
The problem was the others who didn't believe it. Sadly, Alexei couldn't do anything about those. The division caused tensions to rise as those who agreed with Alexei to seek shelter were not only seen as cowards but also as almost traitors.
This was, of course, ironic because the true traitors were about to rain hellfire upon all of them while they argued on the ground.
.
The plaza was a truly horrendous sight, ankle-deep in thick blood and strewn with thousands upon thousands of shattered bodies. Most of the corpses had been blown completely open by exploding bolter rounds, but many had been brutally hacked down with chainblades or otherwise torn limb from limb.
All in all, it was a regular day for the World Eaters Legion. Those poor bastards weren't entirely at fault, though. They didn't really have a choice, as they were forced to have the Butcher's Nails implanted into their heads, which basically made them feel tremendous pain and immense anger.
Tarvitz hurried through the mess toward the makeshift strongpoint at the centre of the square, where the defensive walls had been formed from carved-up human bodies piled high between the battered hulls of fallen drop-pods.
A World Eater warrior with blood-soaked armour and a heavily scarred face nodded to him as Tarvitz climbed the gruesome ramp of dead bodies. The warrior's white-and-blue plate was so entirely drenched in red gore that Tarvitz wondered for a brief moment why the marine hadn't just painted himself red to begin with.
"Where is Captain Ehrlen?" Tarvitz said over the noise.
The bloody warrior wasted no breath on words and simply jerked a heavy thumb in the direction of a veteran with dozens of fluttering parchment oath papers hanging from his massive breastplate.
Tarvitz nodded his thanks and set off through the defensive position. He passed wounded Space Marines who were being tended to by an apothecary who looked as if he had fought just as hard as any of his patients. Beside the medical station lay two fallen World Eaters, their heavy bodies unceremoniously dumped out of the way to clear the path.
Ehrlen looked up from his position as Tarvitz approached. The captain's face had been badly burned and disfigured in some previous campaign, and his massive chainaxe was clotted with so much thick, dried blood that it better resembled a blunt club than a bladed weapon.
Ehrlen turned around and saw Tarvitz approach.
"Looks like the Emperor's Children have sent us reinforcements!" Ehrlen shouted. "One whole warrior! We are truly blessed; the enemy will run away for sure now."
This earned a series of rough grunts and laughter from his nearby fellow World Eaters.
"Captain," Tarvitz said, stepping up to join Ehrlen at the barricade made of Isstvanian corpses. "My name is Captain Saul Tarvitz, and I am here to warn you that you have to get your squads into deep cover immediately."
"Into cover? Unacceptable," Ehrlen said, narrowing his eyes and nodding toward the far side of the open plaza.
Hostile shapes could be seen moving in the windows and between the grand mansions.
"They're regrouping over there. If we move or pull back now, they will overwhelm us."
"The Isstvanians have a bio-weapon. They're going to fire it. It will kill everyone and everything in the Choral City," Tarvitz said, knowing a flat lie about the source of the attack was the only way to quickly convince the stubborn World Eaters to retreat.
"They're going to destroy their own capital?" Ehrlen barked, sounding genuinely surprised. "I thought this place was some kind of grand church? Holy to them?"
"They've already shown how much they value their own people," Tarvitz replied quickly, pointing his hand at the massive heaps of dead civilians in front of them. "They will happily sacrifice this entire city to kill us. Driving our Legions from their planet is worth far more to them than keeping this city intact."
"So you would have us abandon this hard-won position?" demanded Ehrlen, his jaw tightening as if Tarvitz had personally insulted his martial honour. "How do you know all this?"
This was the way of the World Eaters; they valued their warriors' honour more than anything. Which is also why Tarvitz knew that, had he told them Angron, their Primarch, was in on the betrayal, they wouldn't have just 'not' believed him; they would have killed him right then and there.
"I just got here from orbit," Tarvitz urged, looking straight into the captain's eyes. "The weapon has already been unleashed from above. If you and your men are still above ground when the virus strike hits, you will die in agony. If you believe nothing else I say, believe that."
Ehrlen stared at Tarvitz for a long, silent moment, weighing the Space Marine's absolute desperation.
"Then where do you suggest we move to?"
"Just to the west of this position, captain," Tarvitz said, stealing a quick, worried glance at the sky. "The edge of the trench system is thick with concrete bunkers and blast-proof shelters. If you get your men into them, they should be safe."
"Should be? That's the best you can offer me?" Ehrlen snapped angrily.
He stared hard at Tarvitz for another second.
"If you are wrong about this, the blood of my warriors will be on your hands, and I will personally kill you for their deaths."
"I understand that risk, captain," Tarvitz urged, his voice tight, "but we don't have much time."
"Very well, Captain Tarvitz," Ehrlen finally roared, turning back to his troops. "Sergeant Fleiste, left flank! Sergeant Wronde, right! World Eaters, general advance to the west, blades out!"
The surrounding World Eaters immediately drew their chainaxes and heavy swords. The blood-stained assault units hurried to the front lines and stepped over the makeshift barricades of human corpses.
"Are you coming, Tarvitz?" Ehrlen asked, looking back over his shoulder.
Tarvitz nodded his head, drawing his own broadsword and following the frenzied World Eaters out into the open plaza.
Although they were fellow Space Marines, Tarvitz knew he was a complete stranger among them as they ran, spitting loud battle curses and loudly splashing through the puddles of dead blood toward the potential safety of the western bunkers.
.
Meanwhile, a few hundred meters to the west, within the inner trench lines where the Death Guard symbol marked the bleeding edge of the compliance, the situation was rapidly spiralling toward fratricide.
Alexei stood tall in his bone-white Astartes shell, the hijacked vox-grill of his armour looping the intercepted transmission between Saul Tarvitz and Nathaniel Garro over and over. His digital vox-virus projected the data straight into the tactical displays of every XIV Legion warrior in the sector.
"Listen to this!" Alexei roared, his dual-layered voice cutting through the localised static. "The fleet is dark because we have been marked for death! The shelters are our only salvation!"
He could feel it. The viruses humming in the air and his body, tied to his existence now, gave him an intimate, instinctual connection to the microscopic world. The very pathogens and humidity in the atmosphere were shifting. High above, the Life-Eater warheads were already in position and ready to fire; it was a matter of minutes now.
"He speaks madness!" shouted a veteran line sergeant, levelling his heavy bolter directly at Alexei's chest plate. "The Death Guard does not retreat into holes like rats! To suggest that our gene-father, Mortarion, has turned his back on us is a heretical lie! Stand down, or I will cleanse this trench myself!"
Tensions escalated. The inner trench sector fractured violently down the middle. Those who trusted Alexei's words and the damning evidence of the looped vox-log began stepping backwards toward the concrete stairwells of the subterranean bunkers. The remaining loyalists, blinded by rigid loyalty and a stubborn refusal to accept the truth, brandished their combat blades and bolters.
"Cowards!" the sergeant spat, his finger tightening on his trigger. "You dishonour the XIV Legion! You are no better than the rebels we came to slaughter!"
"We are trying to save the blood of the line, you stubborn fool!" a loyalist marine barked back, his own bolter snapping up to bracket the sergeant.
Suddenly, a massive roaring sound echoed from the eastern approaches of the western trench system.
The sound of revving chainaxes and roaring battle curses split the air as the vanguard of the World Eaters broke through the shattered civilian posts. Captain Ehrlen was at the front, his disfigured face snarling as he led the remainder of his blood-drenched warriors in a dead sprint away from the Choral City plaza.
Right beside him, his purple-and-gold armour stark against the white and blue of the XII Legion, was Saul Tarvitz.
"Get inside!" Tarvitz bellowed over the wide-spectrum vox as he cleared the lip of the trench, his broadsword drawn. "The atmosphere is about to be compromised! Seal the blast doors!"
The sudden, chaotic arrival of World Eaters, the most aggressive warriors in the Imperium, running for cover, was the final shockwave that shattered the standoff. The stubborn Death Guard traditionalists hesitated, their bolters lowering slightly as they witnessed the terrifying sharpness of Ehrlen's words.
"The World Eaters do not run from anyone," Morturg muttered, stepping forward as his analytical mind finally locked the pieces of the puzzle together.
Tarvitz glanced up through the smoky air at the dark, gathering clouds, and felt his chest tighten with terrifying realisation. Not only him, but all the Space Marines also looked up.
And there it was. What they had been warned about. Not the lie that the World Eaters had been told, but what did it matter now?
Morturg looked up at the sky.
The first burning, silver streaks of the virus bombs were already tearing through the atmosphere, falling straight toward the city.
"By the Throne... It's true."
...
...
"Move!" Alexei shouted, his voice roaring over the collective vox-channels of both Legions.
"Every second you waste out here is a second your flesh spends melting inside your plate! To the bunkers!"
With the threat of fratricide instantly dissolved by the looming hand of the apocalypse, the transhuman discipline of the Astartes reasserted itself. The Death Guard and the World Eaters began throwing themselves down the heavy concrete bunkers, their massive boots hammering against the iron stairs.
Alexei stood at the precipice of the inner bunker line, his eyes fixed on the sky. He didn't go down; that wasn't what he wanted. It was true that the virus wouldn't do anything to him if it gave him new ideas, but the single explosion that came afterwards definitely would.
Still, he had to stay for a short while to get a taste of the virus at least.
The betrayal was in full swing.
The Isstvan III Atrocity had officially begun.