8: Chapter 8: The orbital scan is blank; the judge panics.

The moment the Inquisition ship "Emperors Hammer" exited the Warp, everyone on the bridge felt that familiar tremor—reality re-enveloping the ship, like surfacing from water. The bizarre, kaleidoscopic Warp outside the viewports was replaced by endless darkness, and in the center of that darkness, a grey-green planet slowly rotated.

Dead Silence-42.

Marcus Aurelian stood before the bridge command console, hands clasped behind his back. His Inquisition badge gleamed coldly in the dim light of the bridge, and the three golden service studs on his pauldron represented his twenty-five years of unbroken field service—in an organization like the Inquisition, where the casualty rate consistently remained above forty percent, this in itself was a legend.

"Orbit reached. All ships enter Condition Three alert status." The captain's voice came from the command chair.

Marcus did not turn around. He stared at the grey-green planet projection on the tactical table, the scan data surrounding the projection refreshing layer by layer. Life sign scan. Surface anomaly scan. Warp trace scan.

"No life signs," the Tech-Priest reported with a hint of confusion. "Zero readings above the surface. Pure zero. Not even bacterial-level biological activity."

"Impossible," Marcus said. His voice was not loud, but the entire bridge went quiet. "Scans from thirty days ago showed dense biological signals on the surface of this planet. Thirty days later, and everything is gone?"

"What about the creep?"

"None either. Surface scans have not detected any traces of purple creep tissue."

Marcus tapped his fingers on the tactical table three times. An Inquisitor's intuition told him that a reading of pure zero was more suspicious than any other reading. After a forest disappears, it leaves stumps; after a city burns, it leaves ruins. Life does not vanish into thin air; it only changes form. A zero reading meant concealment, not emptiness.

"Deep scan," he said.

"The energy interference within the atmosphere is too strong—this residual Chaos corruption will severely affect the scan—"

"Then lower the orbit," Marcus turned to the captain. "Have a frigate enter low orbit. I don't need a complete scan map, I only need one coordinate—the area where the creep was most dense thirty days ago. Now."

The frigate "Hammer of Judgment" broke formation and began its descent toward the planet's surface. Its hull vibrated slightly as it entered the thin upper atmosphere, and the detection array at the prow operated at full power, projecting penetrating scan beams toward the surface.

On the bridge, Marcus watched the real-time data transmitted back by the Hammer of Judgment. The scan beams penetrated the atmosphere, penetrated the clouds, penetrated the surface—and were then scattered by something. Not reflected, but scattered. A certain layer deep within the crust broke the scan beams into countless fragments, each one pointing in a different direction, like light hitting a shattered mirror.

"Underground. The creep is underground. And—" the Tech-Priest's voice suddenly rose an octave, "it has evolved."

"Evolved?"

"During the last scan, the creep had no shielding capability against deep scans. Now it does." The Tech-Priest projected the scatter pattern of the beams onto the tactical table. "This is not random energy interference. This scattering pattern is too regular; it is an orderly, targeted deflection. It is hiding from us. It knows we are scanning."

Marcus was silent for a moment.

"What about the Grey Knights?"

"The strike team's Thunderhawk Gunship is ready. They can drop at any time."

"Have them stand by." Marcus turned his gaze back to the planetary projection. "Find the core of this thing first. I don't need the Grey Knights to carpet-search a planet; I need them to hammer the heart directly."

He reached out and traced a line on the tactical table with his finger—from the current position of the Hammer of Judgment, along the edge of the area where the creep had last appeared most densely, extending all the way to the planet's northern hemisphere.

"The equatorial region. The valley zone. This is where the creep was most dense thirty days ago. Find it. It must have left an opening somewhere."

Meanwhile, one hundred and twenty kilometers underground, the Brood Queen's Hive Mind node received the complete data from the orbital scan. It did not interrupt the actions of any The Swarm units, nor did it change the established concealment strategy—because the Overmind had determined the Imperial Fleet's search pattern the moment it received the first contact from the scan signals.

They would not find the core. They would find the opening. The Overmind knew this, and the Brood Queen knew it too.

This was part of the plan.

Deep in the underground catacombs, the creep covered every inch of the rock walls. But this creep was different from the creep covering the surface—its mycelial arrangement was tighter, and its surface was covered in an extremely thin layer of calcified shell capable of scattering penetrating scan beams. This was the first modification the Brood Queen made after taking over the catacomb stronghold, a mechanism extracted from the chitinous calcification pathways of native crustaceans, simplified and applied to the creep's defensive modifications.

Inside the iron cage, Caroline Valen felt something. It wasn't hearing a sound or seeing an anomaly, but a soldier's intuition—the pressure in the air had changed, like the silence before a storm.

"They are here," she whispered.

The One-eyed Sergeant looked up at her with his only remaining eye. "How do you know?"

"Scans. Orbital scans. Every time the fleet prepares for an orbital scan, there is an extremely low-frequency vibration." Caroline pressed her palm against the stone floor, feeling that almost imperceptible tremor. "Low-orbit craft, large detection arrays. Imperial Navy standard procedure. They are up there right now, looking for us."

What she didn't say was: what would happen if they found them. She and the One-eyed Sergeant were equally aware of the Inquisition's standard disposal procedures for those who had contact with xenos. Isolation and interrogation were the mildest outcomes. If the Inquisitor deemed that the contactees had been "tainted" by xenos, summary purification was the most common method of handling them.

Caroline glanced at the Brood Queen. It was still guarding the tunnel exit, its grey-purple carapace gleaming coldly in the faint light of the creep. A full day had passed since she attempted to escape, and she hadn't tried to run again. It wasn't because she had given up, but because she had realized one thing—rather than being "purified" by the Inquisition, being temporarily kept by these purple bugs might allow her to live a little longer.

This was not trust. This was comparison.

But by comparison, the bugs' "intentions" were actually clearer and more predictable. The Inquisition's logic was fanatical, capable of committing any absurdity in the name of "faith." The bugs' logic was pure—keep what is useful, dispose of what is not. This purity was safer than fanaticism.

The Brood Queen heard the sound of Caroline's footsteps as she stepped out of the iron cage. This time, she didn't walk toward the exit, but stopped two meters away from the Brood Queen, making a gesture that in human culture indicated "no offense intended"—slowly spreading her hands, palms up, then taking a step back.

"I want to talk to you." After saying it, she felt like a fool. What was there to talk about with a bug? But the fact that it could predict her escape route last time was enough to show that it could understand speech, or at least analyze intent. She decided to act as if it could understand.

"Your concealment is well done," her voice was calm, like she was giving a briefing to a superior. "The Inquisition hasn't found anything scanning the surface, so they will lower their orbit to conduct a deep scan. If your concealment can keep fooling them, congratulations. If it can't—their strike force will likely not be standard Imperial Guard, but possibly Astartes, or even Grey Knights. Do you understand?"

She paused and waited for a few seconds. The Brood Queen remained motionless.

"I can tell you intelligence about Imperial attack tactics—standard purge procedures, types of weapons likely to be used, customary tactics of Astartes chapters, provided you guarantee that my people and I won't be blown up by the fleet. If you can understand, give me a response I can understand. If not—" she took a deep breath, "then forget it."

The Brood Queen's neural center processed for a few microseconds. It was analyzing—not analyzing Caroline's proposal, but the logic behind her proposal. This human soldier had concluded that the Inquisition was more dangerous than The Swarm. Her proactive intelligence offer was not out of goodwill, but out of precise survival calculation. This was a behavioral pattern anticipated by the Overmind.

The Brood Queen moved. It used its forelimbs to draw three lines on the creep. Three parallel straight lines, and then two intersecting lines. This was not a symbol, nor was it text—it was a simplified image of the word "defensive line" in the Imperial Guard's standard tactical sign language. The Brood Queen had extracted more than just biological information from the human Psyker's neural synaptic growth factors; it also included neural signal decoding capabilities—these signals had been repeatedly activated in the brains of Caroline and the One-eyed Sergeant, and the Brood Queen had spent a few minutes decoding them after connecting to the Hive Mind.

Caroline stared at the figure on the creep, her pupils dilating slightly. She recognized the figure.

"You read my—" she paused. Not read her brain, but read her behavioral patterns? Fear churned in her stomach for a moment, but was suppressed by reason. Regardless, the response was clear.

"Good," she said. "First. The standard Imperial procedure for purging xenos—"

On the surface, the Hammer of Judgment's scan beams changed frequency. A stronger, more penetrating beam began to probe deeper layers of the crust. The Tech-Priest's voice rang out on the bridge: "Underground catacomb area. At a depth of three hundred meters, an anomalous echo was detected. It could be the outline of a target facility, or it could be a natural geological fault—it's impossible to confirm. But this is the only non-zero reading so far." Marcus stood up. "Enough. Transmit these coordinates to the Grey Knights. Tell them—the target may possess strong anti-scan capabilities; the landing zone needs to be cleared first, do not rush to breach." Then he pressed the comms button, "Cadia 87th Regiment, stand by. After the Grey Knights enter, seal the perimeter; do not let a single living thing out."

The Brood Queen sensed the frequency change of the scan beams deep in the catacombs. The scan beams were no longer just crudely sweeping across the entire area, but were piercing precisely toward the catacombs like probes. They had locked onto the general location. Although they didn't have a precise fix, the range had narrowed down to this catacomb system.

The Brood Queen sent a warning signal to the Overmind. The message was short: Orbital scan has locked onto the catacomb area. Imperial strike force expected to arrive within a few hours. Human prisoner Caroline Valen is providing Imperial tactical intelligence, assessed as reliable. Requesting instructions.

The Overmind's response arrived 0.3 seconds later. Equally short: Execute pre-plan. Protect the gene sample repository. Brood Queen has full command of the defensive battle.

The Brood Queen began issuing a series of commands. All samples in the gene analysis cysts—Psyker remains, Keeper of Secrets energy residue, Chaos adaptation gene modules, human genetic sequences—were transferred to deeper levels, entering a backup storage chamber seventy meters below the catacombs, sealed by Drones with calcified creep on the chamber walls to make them appear as natural rock layers during scans. Two Zergling were sent to the upper levels of the catacombs to lay creep spore sacs along the ventilation ducts—these spore sacs would not grow actively, but would rupture once stepped on by external forces, releasing high-concentration creep digestive fluid. This was learned from the traps in the Chaos Cultist underground catacombs; the defensive side had the home-field advantage.

All Zergling around the iron cage moved into hidden positions, burying themselves one inch beneath the surface of the creep, leaving only breathing holes and sensory arrays. Seen from above, the area around the cage was empty. But as soon as any non-The Swarm unit stepped within three meters of the cage, the Zergling would burst out of the ground within half a second.

The Brood Queen integrated the last set of data—Imperial purge tactics dictated by Caroline—into the defense model. Her voice continued, speaking faster than before, seemingly aware that she didn't have much time left: "The Grey Knights are the special forces of the Ordo Malleus, and every one of them is a Psyker. Their standard tactic is to first lock onto the target core with psychic powers, then concentrate strikes on the head, and after the decapitation, purge the remaining forces. If you encounter Space Marines on the battlefield wearing silver armor with the Holy Hammer emblem on their pauldrons, you must prioritize—"

She paused.

"Prioritize fleeing."

The Overmind received this transcription in the Hive Mind. Flee. A human was providing combat advice to The Swarm, and the third piece of advice was to flee. Her suggestion was rational—preserve the most important assets at the minimum cost, avoiding direct confrontation with enemies that countered The Swarm's strengths.

But the Overmind did not need to flee. The Swarm had faced "decapitation tactics" countless times in the Koprulu Sector—every fleet that tried to attack the Overmind's physical form directly eventually became biomass for The Swarm.

The Grey Knights were Psykers. Psykers could be countered.

Deep in the Hive City Ruins, two scout Zergling shattered a piece of stained glass on an altar while traversing the nave of a collapsed cathedral. The crisp sound of the falling shards echoed in the darkness, then stopped abruptly—the entire Hive City Ruins suddenly went quiet. The Zergling stopped. They did not have auditory fear, but they could perceive energy fluctuations—an energy source had recoiled after hearing the sound. It was like some kind of instinctive reaction to cover its ears. This was not the energy of Chaos. Chaos never concealed its existence. The texture of this energy was colder, older, and more precise.

The scout Zergling sent the signal back to the Brood Queen. The Brood Queen marked this signal as "Unknown Entity," with a priority level of Medium.

At the very bottom of the Hive City Ruins, less than three hundred meters from the scout Zergling, a sphere that had been buried in the ruins for sixty million years began to glow faintly. It was the entrance to a Tomb World. The symbols on it did not belong to humans, did not belong to the Eldar, did not belong to Chaos—it was older than all of them. It belonged to a race that even time had forgotten.

Necrons.

And The Swarm's scout Zergling were stepping right on top of it.