Orvillea's pledge of loyalty was a pleasant surprise for Luka, though the rewards were modest. A notification popped: "Secured a Mechanicus Sage's allegiance, +100 XP." No points, though. Her aid was limited—she was already doing what she could. Beyond fighting or crafting, her value overlapped with Gutress's. Like comparing a blacksmith skilled in plate armor to one crafting scale mail—different, but not by much.
Still, her loyalty meant no more defiance, a fair trade. Luka had only aimed to counterbalance her with Gutress, not bind her to service. This was an unexpected win.
With Orvillea settled, Luka turned to the Necron tomb's threat. It loomed large. He handed her cog emblem and their agreed-upon spoils to Merlin, the Rogue Trader, to take the frigate to the Forge World and contact Orvillea's sister. As planetary governor, Luka couldn't leave Rostov II, especially with Flayed Ones to handle. Before, he'd have gone himself, but with Merlin, Twilight, and Gutress, he could split tasks.
"Just us two for the combat dive—think we're enough?" Gutress asked, uneasy, as he prepped his power armor and weapons. Tabletop was one thing—a Forge Master could crush a Flayed One squad—but real combat wasn't dice rolls. Flipping was a real risk.
"What're you stressing for?" Luka scoffed. "You're an Astartes Forge Master, I'm a relic-geared Inquisitor, and we've got a Battle Sister squad. We're overkill for Flayed Ones unless we stumble into a Cryptek or a horde. The PDF's locked down the sewers—if there were tons, they'd have broken through by now."
"First time, man. I'm nervous," Gutress admitted with a sheepish grin, leaning on his forge-axe. Its Necron phase-blade was sealed, but it still packed a standard axe's punch. His backpack-mounted bolter gave him baseline Astartes firepower. With Luka and the Sisters, they'd be fine unless they blundered into a trap or overwhelming numbers.
They boarded a Chimera and reached the A7-012 sector, now a ghost town. Civilians were evacuated, and PDF forces swarmed the streets. Rachel had set up barricades and heavy weapons, turning the area into a warzone. Checkpoints lined the route, but to Luka and Gutress, the defenses were flimsy. PDF couldn't stop Astartes or Sisters—five Space Marines could shred hundreds of Guardsmen with ease; Sisters weren't far behind. But Rostov II only had PDF, so Luka didn't complain.
At the sewer entrance, they greeted the PDF major and descended. Sealed power armor spared them the stench, but a servo-skull's sensors analyzed the air. "No toxins. This planet's environment is pristine," Gutress remarked via helmet comms.
"Less pristine, more undeveloped," Luka replied, eyes scanning the dark. "Only colonized for seventy years. No centuries-old hive waste here." Flayed Ones weren't top-tier Necrons, but underestimating them could be fatal.
As they chatted, the servo-skull pinged. "Contact! Right tunnel!" Luka barked, raising his plasma pistol. Gutress and the Sisters snapped to attention, weapons trained on the shadows.
No waiting needed. Two metal skeletons draped in tattered flesh lunged from the darkness, claws gleaming.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Bolter fire echoed through the sewers.
(To be continued)