“We rest and heal for now. But when that is done… we suffer not the xenos to live.”

Losis nods, “I could use the rest. Rib plate is still fusing back together and patching the holes after the damn shootas split it.”

“That, and you need a new helmet. I am surprised you still have a head.”

“The plate in my skull will remind me to duck next time.”

“You had better!”

Stockpile Update:

870 rounds of 0.75 caliber bolt ammunition. Suitable for bolters and bolt pistols. 136 rounds of 0.75 caliber Hellfire bolt ammunition. Suitable for bolters and bolt pistols.

Specialist rounds for special targets; Hellfire Ammunition bypasses all natural or organic armor, and liquefies the target from the inside out.

1270 rounds of 1.57 caliber heavy bolt ammunition. Suitable for heavy bolters. 20x frag AP grenades, hand throwable. 22x krak AT grenades, hand throwable. 70x units of armor repair cement, for patching armor breaches in the field. Enough combat rations to feed your squad for seventeen weeks.

You watch the thunderhawk land. Gorlin and Hagrdict disembark, looking slightly battered. You can’t pin down exactly why for a moment, but then your eyes pick out the details of a rushed repair job on their armor. You frown. Deathwatch Command must be under heavier strain then you thought if its armories and Techmarines don’t have the time or the spares to properly repair combat damage!

You greet your returning squadmates with firm handshakes, forearm-to-forearm in the tradition of warriors. “What word?”

Hagrdict shrugs, “nothing coherent. Warp storms seem to have cut off half the Imperium, and another Black Crusade is tearing its way out form the Oculus Terribilis. Rumor is that the planet of Cadia, the fortress-world gatekeeping that sub-sector of space, shattered under orbital bombardment and fighting still rages on its surface.”

Gorlin flexes his cybernetic right arm, still getting used to its weight and motion, “nnrgh. No word on Destroyer Six. Command had no record of such a unit, at least as far as my security clearance would let me see. I am beginning to think its an Inquisition unit, not a Deathwatch one.”

Losis frowns, examining his replacement helmet, “the orders came through Deathwatch communications links, not Inquisition ones. A kill-marine you think?”

You shrug, “or an Inquisition unit dedicated to serving with the Deathwatch. We will know when it arrives. For now, we have some retribution to plan. Our objective: Cleanse that Ork ‘ship’ from bow to stern.”

The growl of agreement from your team shakes the deck beneath your boots.