Chapter 28: Sharky Shark: Now Behaving
"Lord Tyberos, this way, please."
Colonel Kovek, having regained his footing, let out a sigh of relief. If Lord Romulus hadn't reminded them to engage the magnetic clamps on their Void Armour ahead of time, the logistics teams would be out in the void fishing for bodies right now. Compared to Lord Romulus, these warriors in their grim, slightly crude armor didn't seem to place much value on honor or ceremony.
He took a deep breath, pushing aside those subtle feelings and re-adopting his reverence for the Emperor's Angels. Escorted by a Tartaros Terminator, he approached the Sharks and extended the invitation.
"Lord Romulus has prepared a fitting welcome for you."
The shabbily armored Carcharodons, their faces masks of confusion, were ushered by the mortals into a pre-prepared banquet hall.
As they looked around, they saw no signs of a crew that had suffered a catastrophic disaster. They saw no cornered dogs baring their teeth to protect the last of their scraps.
Instead, neat ranks of Tartaros Terminators stood at attention. Massive, ancient vehicles served as a backdrop, creating a stunningly impressive scene for the banquet.
The Carcharodons looked down at the lavish feast spread on the tables and suddenly felt they had no appetite. Their burning gazes swept over the equipment in the room, their eyes nearly popping out of their helmets.
Weren't we here to rescue a remnant force of battered survivors?
Why does this ship look completely different on the inside than it does on the outside?
The Sharks cautiously eyed the Terminators standing guard and those protecting the mortals. The smooth, gleaming paint and magnificent ornamentation of their hosts' armor stood in stark contrast to the rivets and faded gray paint of their own. At a glance, it looked like the Carcharodons, the rescuers, were the ones in need of aid.
"Want some?" Romulus asked suddenly. His mind was already split into dozens of threads, conversing with the other Carcharodons and gathering information. Unfortunately, most of the Sharks were taciturn, at best showing a flicker of surprise when one of the drone-marines spoke to them in their own unique dialect. They were all awaiting the orders of the Red Wake.
"..."
Tyberos plopped down into the seat prepared for him and stared blankly at the feast, lost in thought.
To say he didn't want any of it would be a lie. But given how precious these vehicles and wargear were... honestly, he was already regretting sending Akia to negotiate. If this had been his own equipment, and someone had tried to take half of it in the name of a rescue, he would have fought them to the last drop of blood.
An encounter with such a wealthy Chapter should be an opportunity to foster friendship, perhaps even establish a long-term cooperative relationship, not just to take a bite and leave.
"As I said before," Romulus began, seeming completely unbothered by the Sharks' earlier aggression. His gaze fell upon Tyberos's lightning claws, as if hinting at something. "If you want it, you'll have to come and take it yourself."
How does he know I won these lightning claws in a duel against the Ashen Claws?
His body, encased in a modified suit of Cataphractii Terminator armor, a shell of adamantium and ceramite, offered Tyberos no security at all. His Indomitus-pattern helmet, which should have been fulfilling its sacred duty of concealing and protecting his abnormally pale face, now felt as if it had left him completely exposed.
Tyberos looked to Te Kahurangi, the Chapter's brain, only to find that the Librarian had already removed his helmet and was deep in conversation with the Deathwatch's Librarian.
Is this what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a psyker's mind games?
Romulus, seeing that Tyberos was completely flustered by his bluff, decided not to press any further.
"Let us duel," he declared, pointing down towards the Stormbird in the hangar below. Setting up a proper dueling ring was too much trouble, so Romulus had simply designated the top of the Stormbird's fuselage as the platform. The viewing angle was excellent, too.
"To first blood."
It was an ancient dueling rite. The contest would end the moment one combatant drew the first drop of blood from the other.
CLICK—
A bank of spotlights flared to life, illuminating the wings of the gunship.
A warrior in black armor, his power pack removed, stood in the center of the arena, issuing an invitation to the assembled Sharks. The suffocating pressure of his battle-aura radiated outwards, unrestrained. The swordsman's stance was flawless. The thick scent of blood emanating from him seemed to lick at the Stormbird's wings, making the gunship's young Machine Spirit tremble with excitement.
"Let us use the way you are most familiar with," Romulus said. "Let our blades do the talking."
The pack of Sharks began to stir restlessly. Their heated gazes were fixed on Arthur, who stood upon the wing, and on the rows of Mark IV power armor neatly arranged inside the Stormbird's open troop bay.
Wait, how are you so familiar with us? Is this my Chapter or yours?
Tyberos decided to stop playing the silent brute. The other party clearly understood his Chapter's culture and, despite their rough first meeting, had given him a clear way to save face. If he didn't step up now, it would be a massive sign of disrespect.
He unceremoniously took off his helmet and gave a hand-signal, a secret command known only to the Carcharodons.
WHOOSH!
A Carcharodon shot to his feet and, with a single leap, dove towards the dueling platform.
The next second—
CLANG!
The Shark was sent flying back to the observation platform with the same velocity he had descended, landing flat on his back on the metal floor.
An Apothecary rushed forward to check on him. The Shark's weapon had been severed at its weakest point. A shallow cut on his gauntlet was bleeding crimson. He stood up and gave a slight nod to his Chapter Master. Aside from the cut on his hand and some temporary nerve paralysis from being kicked, he was fine.
THWIP!
A master-crafted chain-axe landed at his feet, thrown with a speed his body couldn't even register.
"A token of apology," Arthur said, lowering his sword. He looked up at the spectating Sharks. "Perhaps you would like to have more numbers on your side?"
WHOOSH—
Three more Sharks stood up.
The Carcharodons cared little for so-called honor. The default one-on-one duel was a necessary sign of respect for an opponent. But since the opponent had made the offer, they weren't about to pass up such an advantageous condition.
However, their movements were quickly stopped by their battle-brothers. Their comrades wordlessly selected the three most battered and broken weapons from their own armory and solemnly handed them to the three challengers.
Akia, who had been about to rise to win glory for the Chapter, realized what was happening, quickly sat back down, and resumed stuffing his face.
"So this is the Carcharodons," Romulus mused. This interesting scene had given him a true insight into the spirit of the Sharks. Malice or goodwill—as long as no bottom lines were crossed, the Sharks simply chose their attitude based on their external environment. They were never bound by honor, nor did they show any preference for one course of action over another. They only cared about necessity.
Just like now.
People like this were, paradoxically, the easiest to change.
(End of Chapter)