The Marines boarded the New Pharos after it continued to glide through the void for half an hour.
General Sola broadcast bad news to them. According to Captain Copelos, there was a problem with the energy system of the flight deck and the landing guidance system could not work, which meant that the small landing gear of the Marines The ship must adjust its angle to enter the flight deck.
This is a technical job. If they are not careful, they will hit the outer shell of the transport ship and become a pile of scattered garbage in the void.
"It might be a little bumpy later."
The young officer spoke over the communication channel, and moved his shoulder armor to a more comfortable position while cursing the sweat that ran into his eyes behind his goggles.
The other marines gathered around, four in front and the rest behind, all wearing protective armor made by local foundries, no worse than those of the Astra Militarum.
The two leading sergeants had already raised their heavy ceramic shields. Since the insurgents had at most some live weapons, this kind of protection was obviously more than enough or even beyond.
The interior of the landing craft was bathed in an ugly red light, and two hundred heavily armed Marines stood ready for battle.
Soon, a piercing alarm bell sounded.
"Prepare!"
the young officer ordered, and he could only hold on to the handrails along the top of the compartment as a jolt caused his back to hit the armor of the soldier behind him.
For a moment, he thought they had successfully penetrated the New Pharos's outer hull, and then he realized that the backward thrust was the landing ship's shock-absorbing drive activating.
The actual invasion took a while to occur.
This time the inertia of the lander allowed him to stand still as he leaned forward. When the lander instantly penetrated the side of the bridge mast of the New Pharos, the surrounding metal trembled and groaned.
When the alarm bell went off, all the young officer heard was his own rapid breathing.
"Thirty seconds!"
The pilot's voice sounded in the cabin, and the officer saw the plastic steel and ceramic steel protective layer of the balancer advance with the automatic hinge lock, heard the thump of compression, and felt the tremor of friction between the deck and the bottom of the landing craft.
He suddenly felt the shotgun in his hand, which seemed to be unbearably heavy.
"Ten seconds!!"
The driver continued to roar.
"Get ready, soldiers."
The sound of loading weapons was loud in the enclosed, hot space. The officer let go of the armrest above his head and set up the sliding shotgun, his body feeling like he had just received a shot of adrenaline.
The alarm bell rang again, just once.
The red light washed the landing platform's flash of amber, then green.
There was a clang sound when the cabin door was clamped, and then a hissing sound came from a cloud of steam, and the air in the cabin began to depressurize.
"Forward! Forward!"
The Marines shouted, and they rushed forward, the young officer among them, half advancing, half being carried away by them from time to time.
But their war cries only echoed in the empty corridors.
The officer wanted to get a clearer view of the situation, but found himself among a huddle of soldiers, with the row in front holding their shields and those behind holding shotguns.
According to previous unit briefings, they would enter the bridge via one of the many service corridors surrounding the aft bridge mast.
As an integral part of the transport ship's outer hull, those narrow passages serve as a network for repair crews and maintenance servitors to quickly reach more important areas.
They are cramped, tidal places, inaccessible, and like the exterior veins of most starships, they are completely unnoticed, with only a smattering of dim lights, heat, and maintenance functions.
Now the Marines discovered that it was just a dark, closed world of rusted pipes and grid decks clogged with fungus.
More importantly, there were no signs of life.
"Quiet."
The young officer finally squeezed out from the crowd. He was the highest commander in this place.
"Reorganize the formation."
According to the structural diagram he obtained, there should be a gravity elevator fifty meters ahead.
"Proceed with caution."
Soon, the Marines were forming a tight line, weapons still at the ready.
Following the curve of the bridge mast, the passage continued to turn left, echoing with the clang of the soldiers' steel-hooked boots and the rattling and screeching of their armor.
The young officer tried to concentrate, scanning the wall of pipes as they passed, probing with his shotgun the shadows between the flickering orbs of light.
Before departure, General Sora told them not to stay in the outer shell for too long. According to the captain's description, a small number of escaped slaves on the ship may still be scattered in most areas, especially the outer shell.
The young officers didn't think those poor guys were a threat. As long as the transport ship arrived in orbit, they would have plenty of time to pull those guys out of the corners and send them to the ground to transform into servitors.
This was simply easier than hunting small animals in his family manor. He often used slaves as hunting objects, driving them into dark canyons, and watching them wail in agony in the traps was really a great pleasure.
Thinking of this, he felt much better.
"Seize the gravity elevator."
Soon, a voice came out from the communicator. That was the vanguard of the team. They had arrived at the intended target.
This is a large repair ramp, big enough to carry replacement circulation pipes or adamantine planks for the outer hull when the Marines enter.
The officer was the last to pull the switch.
With a trembling and whirring sound, the platform began to rise.
As the elevator reached the tower's central mast, the officers realized they had met no resistance so far.
In fact, there were no signs of life at all.
The auspicious readings were uneven and gave weird feedback, and the tactical display ahead was always black.
Even when messages are received, calls are short and choppy, cut into segments by static.
"Something is messing with our system."
a noncommissioned officer said on the short-range intercom.
"Our communications with orbit have also been lost."
Suddenly, the gravity ladder shuddered to a stop, and the soldiers gathered in front of the door and locked their shields together, forming an impenetrable ceramite barrier.
A drop of sweat formed on the young officer's forehead. He clearly remembered that he had clearly set it to rise to the highest point, so why did the elevator stop midway?
Unless, something is preparing to enter the elevator from the outside.
Then, the door of the gravity ladder suddenly opened...
Nothing.
Ahead lay an empty corridor, the only noise being the throbbing of the still-functioning ion drives in the distance.
"how--"
The young officer pressed the switch hard, but the elevator just couldn't operate. In desperation, he could only lead the team out of the elevator and entered an unfamiliar territory.
It was nowhere near as shabby as the outer hull, but the Illuminating Sphere still seemed on the verge of collapse, as if they had infiltrated a ghost ship that had been abandoned centuries ago and had traveled through the void to sit here forever.
The reality however is that it was only supposed to have been out of port for a week.
Suddenly the sphere of illumination went out entirely, and the darkness seemed to resist them, as thick and dark as their shields.
"Tie a light on the bayonet position!"
The officer gave panicked orders, and then the lights flickered, illuminating the corroded metal stairs and mottled steam-black rust.
"Go forward, get out of here!"
The Marines began to climb, the sound of boots hitting plastic steel echoing up the stairwell.
For the first time since boarding the ship, the young officer felt something other than adrenaline and the mixed tension of battle—a dark, eerie feeling surrounding him.
Something is wrong.
The feeling only intensified when he realized something was missing, and while the sound of boots was still loud in the narrow space, he noticed that the noise was no longer there in the back.
A cold shiver ran up his spine.
The young officer ran up, shotgun raised, turned around and shone his bayonet flashlight into the dark interior of the gravity elevator where they had been.
A thick smell of blood gushed out from inside. The young officer's eyes widened and he wanted to shout.
But it was too late.
