Kerry and Isud were stunned.
They had envisioned that beneath the visor might be the grotesque mouthparts of an insectoid xenos, a rotting face, or twisted, mutated tissue. They never expected it to be a human face that looked completely normal—even handsome.
Is he human? Or does he simply look human?
And if so, what exactly is this armor?
A profound sense of confusion overwhelmed their understanding. While they stood there, bewildered, something fell onto the deck plating at Raynor's feet with a heavy thud.
The two of them subconsciously looked down. It was an arm—more precisely, an arm belonging to a Drukhari. The skin was corpse-pale, and the wound was jagged, as if it had been torn off by immense brute force. The limb still wore an exquisite mesh-armor gauntlet on its wrist.
Immediately afterward, several drops of viscous, dark green liquid dripped onto the deck beside the arm, making a soft, hissing sound. Several small pits were instantly corroded into the metal surface, emitting pungent white smoke.
Kerry and Isud slowly looked up toward Raynor's shoulders. Only then did they realize with horror that Raynor was not alone.
A colossal purple shadow loomed over him. The outline of the shadow revealed a creature of terrifying proportions—nearly six meters tall, its head almost brushing the ceiling of the corridor. This nightmare was currently chewing on the mangled corpse of the Drukhari lieutenant who had led the attack on the bridge. The upper body was already gone; only the legs remained dangling.
The sound of wet, rhythmic chewing was chilling.
"Eat slowly, no one is going to take it from you," Raynor said gently, comforting the figure on his shoulder.
Sarah was strangely suspended over Raynor, maintaining an anti-gravity levitation through her powerful psychic energy. It looked as if Raynor were effortlessly carrying her weight.
"What proof? Explain in detail."
It wasn't until Raynor spoke again that the pair barely recovered from their paralyzing fear. Kerry looked at Raynor's human face, then at the terrifying shadow on his shoulder. His brain had completely shut down; his lips trembled, but he couldn't utter a single word.
Raynor frowned and turned his gaze to Isud.
"Looks like he needs some time to calm down," Raynor remarked. "You speak."
Isud's complexion wasn't much better than Kerry's, but her will was far stronger. After the initial shock, her survival instinct and cold reason regained the upper hand. She stared at Raynor's human face, her thoughts unreadable.
This "Titus" was definitely not Imperial Navy. Who exactly was he? An alien imposter? A genetically modified freak? Or some other, more terrifying entity?
None of that mattered now. What mattered was that he needed them. As long as they remained useful, they had a chance to survive—and perhaps even room to negotiate.
Isud took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing her terror, and kept her voice clear: "You have taken the first step in proving your identity by seizing control of the ship—the 'vessel' itself. The orbital stations at Brevis already know that the Song of Farewell has arrived carrying the new Governor."
Seeing that Raynor did not order her to be slapped again, she continued.
"However, to truly pass the triple scrutiny of the Brevis orbital station, the Ecclesiarchy, and the Noble Council, one must do more than just arrive. You will need three key supporting documents to formally assume the governorship."
"Which three?" Raynor asked.
"First, the Sector Governor's Letter of Recommendation," Isud said at a steady pace, as if delivering a formal report. "This is a physical document from the Governor's Office of the Calixis Sector, certified by the Adeptus Arbites. It serves as the Sector leadership's endorsement of Kerry's qualifications."
She noted that this letter was the easiest to forge, but the next two were far more difficult.
"Continue," Raynor prompted.
"Secondly, the Genetic Code," Isud explained. "It is a bio-encrypted data chip containing top-level secrets about Brevis that only the Governor may know. This data can only be unlocked and read by Kerry's specific genetic sequence. It is the core of the Governor's authority; only a legitimate heir can grant full authorization."
She emphasized that it required Kerry's genes specifically, thinking to herself: If you want to take over, how will you resolve a biological lock?
Raynor showed no expression, only a slight nod.
Isud felt a flicker of unease—the stranger seemed entirely unconcerned about the genetic lock. She suppressed her doubts and moved to the final requirement.
"Thirdly, the Governor's Scepter. It is not only a public symbol of status but also a functional key. The scepter contains a biometric code that requires genetic verification. Once verified, it allows the Governor to activate and manipulate Brevis's orbital defense systems. It is his most potent power."
She added, "However, the scepter is not currently in our possession. According to procedure, it is held by the Cardinal of the Ecclesiarchy in the Brevis Sector. Only after the first two verification steps are completed and your identity is confirmed will the scepter be formally transferred to you during the inauguration ceremony, in front of the assembled nobility."
She had explained the difficulties without omission, curious to see what this "heretic" relied on to plot the seizure of an Imperial world.
Raynor stroked his chin, lost in thought.
As expected, it wasn't a simple matter. The Imperium's bureaucracy was sluggish, but for a planetary appointment, there was a robust—if complicated—verification process. A letter could be forged, but the genetic locks were a high threshold.
However... Raynor's lips curled into a slight smirk. In terms of genetic technology and biological camouflage, how could mere humans compare to the Tyranid swarm?
"Where are the secret orders and the letter of recommendation now?" Raynor asked.
Isud glanced at her useless husband and sighed. "They are in a secure, sealed vault on the upper deck of the bridge. It requires Kerry's genetic verification to open."
"Lead the way," Raynor commanded.
The purple mask slid back over his face, and the six compound eyes flared to life once more. Guided by Isud and supported by an infected crewman, the group left the corpse-strewn corridor and headed toward the bridge.