"Of course, no problem."
Tyberos' voice rasped out from within his shark-tooth helmet, hoarse like the screech of some abyssal beast.
The captain clad in his signature Terminator armor raised his right arm, its scaled plating glinting under the lights. The hydraulic system of his power claw let out a bloodthirsty hum. "Slaughtering xenos, seizing resources—this is the sacred duty of the Carcharodons."
"…"
Marakin Foros said nothing.
The handsome warrior merely nodded slightly. The white feathered ornamentation on his back trembled gently, scattering faint motes of light within the hard-light projection. His fingers unconsciously stroked the blood-red ribbon wrapped around the shaft of his spear.
"…"
By contrast, Jim Raynor looked visibly worried.
After all, the target of this gathering of giants was none other than the "ex-girlfriend" he held so dearly in his heart.
Still, Raynor had little to add. Athena had stated clearly that the Emperor intended to capture Sarah Kerrigan alive. He and the Rangers just needed to support these giants.
"The Investigative Division will provide full support as well."
Leon added simply.
"In that case…"
Sigismund stepped forward, the Chinese script etched onto his pitch-black power armor clearly visible through the projection.
The legendary captain's face was as resolute as iron, his scarred muscles twitching faintly beneath the surface. "When do we move out?"
His voice grated like sandpaper against steel, every syllable steady with the weight of countless battles.
"Once all fleets complete essential maintenance and resupply, we depart immediately."
Athena's voice rang out like an oracle's decree from a temple, creating subtle reverberations in the air. "Estimated preparation time: twenty-four standard hours. In the meantime…"
Her gaze swept across each warrior. "You may take a brief rest."
As her words fell—
Sigismund raised his right fist to his chest, the scripture etched into his armor glowing faintly with the motion.
"The Black Templars stand ready at all times."
His image was the first to dissipate into a flurry of blue light particles.
"Heh… No problem."
A low chuckle echoed from Tyberos' helmet as the "deep-sea hunter" mimed a tearing gesture in the projection before dissolving like foam.
"At your command, my lady."
Foros bowed gracefully, the feathered adornments flashing once more before fading.
The bridge instantly returned to silence, with only the ambient hum of the environmental systems in the background.
Ariel Hanson finally returned to normal breathing, releasing her grip on the edge of her coat—her palm now soaked in cold sweat.
"That one…" her voice trembled slightly as she pointed to where Athena had stood. "Was she really the War Goddess of Olympus?"
Gaozan, in the process of shutting down the holoprojectors, let out a soft hiss from his armor's hydraulics. "More accurately, she is the Emperor-sanctioned avatar of war."
He then turned and continued, "Follow me."
As he spoke, the captain strode toward the exit, his mag-locked boots clanking rhythmically against the deck. The massive silhouette of his Terminator armor loomed under the red glow of the hatch.
…?
Hanson hesitated for a moment before jogging to catch up.
Six company honor guards were already waiting in formation in the corridor, each clad in Terminator armor bearing the Salamanders' Third Company's signature scale-pattern insignia on their pauldrons.
The lead sergeant's visor glinted a dull red as he turned and silently took the lead.
The corridor leading to the hangar was adorned with bas-reliefs of past battles, just like the flagship of any Astartes company.
As Hanson walked, she observed closely and realized that all the depicted battles seemed to have taken place outside her own universe.
Soon, the group boarded an internal maglev and arrived at the hangar.
The Thunderhawk gunship rested silently on its platform, its angular frame reflecting a cold sheen.
The captain's personal craft bore numerous honor markings, and near the portside hatch, a prayer from the "Codex of Humanity" was inscribed in Chinese characters.
Once everyone had boarded, the engines let out a low roar, lifting the gunship smoothly before it shot out of the Unyielding Flame.
"Shield corridor opening."
The pilot's voice crackled over comms.
Outside the porthole, Hanson watched as a section of the planetary energy shield split apart like a curtain of water, forming a hexagonal tunnel roughly a kilometer in diameter.
The Thunderhawk tilted slightly, flying precisely through the temporary gap.
As they passed through the shield, Hanson saw the hexagonal energy grid covering all of Mar Sara in full detail.
These translucent blue barriers looked thin, but each node was precisely calculated—any unregistered object attempting to pass through would be obliterated, vaporized in an instant.
Of course, even without Gaozan explaining, Hanson could guess that trying to "bypass" the fixed entry points of the orbital stations or gaining exit permission from elsewhere wasn't impossible…
But it would require immense firepower to punch through a section of the shield in one go—like the Exterminatus beams fired by the Unyielding Flame and the Wing of Sorrow. That kind of force would indeed break the barrier.
Yet doing so would undoubtedly draw immediate attention from the Imperium of Man.
Additionally, Hanson noted that some Zerg remains floated just outside the shield—evidently, ever since the system had been activated, any attempt by Zerg, Protoss, or other forces to infiltrate Mar Sara had ended in failure.
Soon, the Thunderhawk began to descend.
Hanson's gaze was instantly drawn forward—
A towering space gate pierced the clouds like a mythic Babel tower. The unknown alloy frame, six kilometers tall, shimmered like liquid mercury, reflecting mother-of-pearl hues beneath the starlight.
Even though she had seen it many times, the Emperor's "miracle" still made her breath catch.
The energy vortex at the center of the gate rotated slowly, occasionally releasing psionic sparks that arced golden trails.
"Every time I see it…" Hanson's voice caught in her throat, her fingers tightening around her coat's edge. "It feels like ancient humans gazing up at the stars."
"…"
Gaozan offered no reply to her sentiment, remaining silent.
The changes in the new city were even more astonishing.
What was once a sparse cluster of buildings had expanded into a tidy geometric matrix. Hundreds of megastructures built from nano-materials now towered skyward, their surfaces coated in photosynthetic layers that shimmered amber in the sunlight.
Overhead, maglev trains darted between the skyscrapers, their blue lights flowing like celestial rivers.
Even more surprising were the numerous ecological domes. Through their semi-transparent shells, lush vegetation could be seen thriving inside.
"The second phase of greening was completed three days ago."
Gaozan noticed her gaze. His power armor's servos hummed quietly as he said, "Surface vegetation coverage is now at 27%."
Below them, lines of New Canaan refugees were moving in an orderly fashion under the guidance of clone soldiers.
These soldiers, clad in fully enclosed exo-skeletons, held scanners that beeped constantly.
Every refugee had to pass through three biometric gates and finally receive a temporary ID card with a tracking chip. A few children curiously touched the glowing patterns on the gates, only to be gently pulled back by their parents.
The Thunderhawk landed on a dedicated pad in the western plaza.
Heat from the engines stirred dust and fallen leaves into golden swirls under the sunlight.
As Hanson unbuckled and stepped off the gunship, she immediately saw the nearby twenty-meter-high monument—
"In Memory of Agria"
Its inscription used a hybrid of holography and physical stone. During the day, it appeared as solid obsidian; at night, it displayed names of the deceased and even their holographic images.
Just then, a tide of familiar regional accents flooded her ears.
All around the plaza, people spoke in Agria dialects. Children played on new playgrounds and gravity mazes, their laughter rising and falling under the effects of anti-gravity devices.
Elderly residents basked on smart benches, which auto-adjusted temperature based on body heat thanks to their nano-material construction.
"Dr. Hanson!" a ponytailed girl ran over, holding up a handmade model crafted from recycled metal. "Look at my new project!"
The model was rough but imaginative—clearly inspired by the space gate.
Gaozan's terminator armor cast a long shadow across the plaza tiles. He deliberately walked lightly, careful not to disturb the playing children with his mag-boots.
Still, every adult who passed by instinctively stood straighter and placed a clenched fist to their chest—a spontaneous gesture of heartfelt gratitude from the colonists.
Hanson knelt down to meet the girl's eyes. "It's wonderful, Lina."
She lightly touched the gold paint meant to mimic the energy vortex. "Next time, I can bring you some better materials."
At the edge of the plaza, a team of engineering mechs was installing a new holographic fountain.
Its photon matrix would eventually form a 3D map of Agria—a commemorative design recently approved by the local "community office."
Farther away, the exterior wall of the new cultural center played an educational holo-drama recounting the Imperium's colonial history across universes.
Suddenly, Hanson realized this new city was evolving at a breathtaking pace—not just in architecture or infrastructure, but in the people themselves. Their will to rebuild civilization was unmistakable.
Moving forward, Gaozan led the way, flanked by the six honor guards in a rhomboid formation.
Hanson walked in the middle, her lab coat swaying gently with each step. The streets of the western sector came alive under the dimming sky, smart streetlights illuminating geometric patterns on the pavement.
The buildings on either side reflected a rich mix of styles—
Beside a standard modular human apartment complex stood a dwarven hardware shop.
A steampunk-style sign hung above the entrance. A brass gear-clock occasionally puffed harmless steam.
Next door, an elven craft store displayed tapestries woven from moonlight silk in its window. The runes stitched into them shifted colors depending on the viewing angle.
"Got a fresh shipment today!" the dwarf shopkeeper shouted in heavily accented Chinese, his red beard nearly brushing his waist.
Upon spotting Gaozan and Hanson, he waved cheerfully. "Hey! Doc, want to see the new batch of refined steel wrenches?"
Hanson smiled and waved back, noting several Agria workers browsing tools inside. The Atlas logo on their work pants gleamed under the lights.
Pedestrian traffic grew heavier.
Off-shift workers trickled out of the factories in twos and threes. Some carried shopping bags toward the holo-marked "Civic Market," evidently buying ingredients for dinner in their Imperium-issued homes—i.e., apartment kitchens.
Others headed straight for the restaurant district, the air thick with the aroma of grilled meat, spices, freshly baked bread, and the sweet scent of elven fruit wine.
"Dr. Hanson!"
Behind a produce stall, a vendor lady waved her glove-stained hands. "The mushrooms I grew this time—just like you instructed!"
The neatly stacked brown mushrooms indeed had that distinct Agria greenhouse sheen.
As Hanson nodded, she noticed the vendor still wore the emergency ID band from the evacuation—now cleverly repurposed into a stylish bracelet.
Gaozan's helmet rotated slightly. His visor quietly recorded every detail of the street.
Just then, a group of children ran past, one nearly colliding with Gaozan's leg armor—only to be preemptively avoided thanks to the suit's proximity sensors.
Neon lights flickered on across the dining district.
A line had formed at a Sichuan-style stew house. Next door, the terrace of an elven café was filled with off-duty workers. Most striking was a new hybrid-themed bar. Its holo-sign featured a dwarf beer mug clinking against an elven wine glass in endless animation.
"Doctor!"
The bar's owner—a former Agria militia fighter—ran out excitedly. "The first batch of our homebrew is ready. You must try—"
But upon seeing Gaozan, the man's voice quickly lowered.
Hanson was about to politely decline when Gaozan's voice came through his external speaker:
"Non-duty personnel are allowed appropriate rest. Liran, Lin Hao—stay here. And don't forget to pay."
At his words, two honor guards immediately stepped out of formation. Though their helmets concealed their expressions, their posture visibly relaxed.
The bar owner beamed, calling servers to bring out a barrel of ale and oversized mugs—clearly designed for Astartes.
As they continued onward, gratitude radiated from the people around them.
An elderly man paused, pressing his right hand to his chest and bowing deeply. Several young girls shyly presented the guards with flowers made from recycled metal wire. One drunken worker even raised his cup and shouted, "To our saviors! Woo-hoo!" before being quickly pulled back by his friends.
At a street corner's community holo-board, Hanson saw her own photo—
It was taken during her work at a temporary lab.
Below it, the captions recorded the entire journey of Agria's refugees—from evacuation to resettlement. The last line read, "Survival is born from perseverance. Rebirth begins with hope."
As dusk deepened, the city's holo-billboards lit up in full.
Now and then, a transport ship streaked across the sky. People paused to watch, not with fear as before, but with a calm certainty.
In this new home built of steel and hope, the wounds of Agria were finally beginning to heal.
(End of Chapter)
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