"You require aid, and the Talon System will provide it," Qin Mo spoke first, even before Phoros could voice his request.
"By the Emperor… thank you, truly," Phorosexhaled in relief. This was why he had come, to secure assistance in a desperate hour. Despite Klein's repeated assurances that the Lord of Talon was a man of honor, Phoros's heart had wrestled with the dread of rejection, a fear born of the countless trials endured by his beleaguered Chapter.
But Qin Mo's willingness to lend a hand wasn't solely born of sympathy for the Lamenters' tragic fate. It was also a calculated opportunity, to forge ties with an Adeptus Astartes Chapter. No matter how accursed the Lamenters might be, they were still Space Marines. Phoros, even stripped of his pauldrons, remained a Chapter Master, and with that came his own authority and battlefield worth.
Offering assistance now would earn a debt of loyalty that a Chapter like the Lamenters would never forget. It would not be some transactional "favor for favor" agreement, but something far deeper.
Back during the Badab War, the Lamenters had been dragged into Huron's rebellion more by confusion than conviction. There were reasons someone later vouched for their pardon. That loyalty, though buried and tarnished, still lingered in bones and oaths.
"I don't manufacture your standard-issue Astartes wargear here," Qin Mo explained, his tone shifting from warm diplomacy to brisk technical interest. "I'll need to study your existing arms and armor before I can reproduce and resupply them."
"Of course," Phoros nodded firmly. "Is there anything we can do to assist in that process?"
"Not at the moment," Qin Mo said with a faint smile. "Justprovide your gear for analysis. In the meantime, you and your warriors can rest on Talon-III."
"If there's anything we can do to help, we're at your disposal."Phoros saluted again, grateful.
It was evident to Qin Mo that Phoros and the ten battle-brothers who had survived the destruction of their battle barge had endured a brutal ordeal.
One had lost his arm plating, another limped, his left greave missing, exposing the black carapace beneath, and one brother wore only the upper half of his armor, the rest evidently destroyed.
What surprised Qin Mo most was that one among them wore Terminator armor, the revered Tactical Dreadnought Armor. Even if the armor was incomplete and battered, the mere fact one survived the crash was impressive. That particular warrior appeared to be Phoros's bodyguard.
To most Chapters of the Adeptus Astartes, handing over sacred wargear to outsiders for study was unthinkable. The Lamenters found it equally difficult to swallow, but there was no alternative.
Desperate times left no room for pride.
If there was a chance to receive resupply and to find their lost brothers, Phoros was willing to make any sacrifice.
In the end, Qin Mo received three full sets of armor and weapons for study: oneArtificer-patternpower armor, one standard-issueMark VIIsuit, and oneTerminator Armor. Alongside them came a variety of weapons including aboltgun, apower spear, and more.
Klein stood by, satisfied. Bringing these Astartes into the Talon System had already paid off. Qin Mo now had the chance to reverse-engineer Astartes equipment.
But to Qin Mo, this wasn't a gain, it was efficiency. He only requested the gear to save time. Reverse engineering blueprints directly from the existing suits was far easier than trying to deduce the design from scratch.
"Take them to Talon-III," Qin Mo instructed Klein.
"At once, Lord Governor," Klein replied, motioning for Phorosand his men to follow.
Less than two days later, Phoros, who had been restlessly awaiting news, finally received the update he longed for.
Their armor and weapons were ready.
He and his ten warriors boarded a ship back to the Hive World Talon I. Upon arrival, they were teleported directly into the fortress's central hall, the air rippling with residual energie discharge. Guided by drones, they entered a chamber on the left side of the hall.
It was an armory, filled with racks of power armor and weapons. These, however, were standard issue for Talon System troops, not Astartes.
"Your equipment is here," Qin Mo said, already waiting in the chamber. He stepped to a wall and pressed a concealed button.
The wall lifted, revealing a massive vault. Inside, lined in perfect rows, were power armor racks, each bearing a newly-forged suit of Astartes-grade armor.
Boltguns, power spears, and other weapons were mounted neatly on the wall beyond them.
Phoros stepped forward and began inspecting the sets. There were twenty suits of standard Mark VII power armor, ten for immediate use, and ten spares. A generous provision.
Behind those were twenty suits of Terminator armor.
Phoros and his ten surviving brothers could scarcely believe what they were seeing.
Tactical Dreadnought Armor was incredibly rare. The Lamenters had never possessed twenty suits, not even during their prime. Even among other Chapters, such a number was significant.
"These… these are for us?" Phoros asked, examining each suit.
Each Terminator suit had already been painted with the yellow heraldry and Chapter sigils of the Lamenters. Their ownership was beyond question.
Phoros was staggered. He couldn't fathom how these suits were created so quickly.
Tactical Dreadnought Armor, or Terminator armor, was notoriously difficult to produce. The knowledge to fabricate even a single suit was held by only a handful of forge worlds, zealously guarded by the Adeptus Mechanicus. Each suit required sacred materials, centuries-old schematics, and arcane machine spiritswilling to bind to their wearers. The sheer industrial, technological, and spiritual cost meant that even founding Chapters sometimes went generations without receiving a single new set.
Forging even one suit could take decades.
To fabricate twenty wasn't just improbable. It was miraculous.
Mark VII power armor, while more common, was still no less revered. Each suit was more than wargear, it was a relic. Forged in the fires of forgotten forges, its components required precise alignment, psycho-reactive alloys, and a full rite of consecration. Even maintenance was a liturgy.
Qin Mo had somehow delivered both, Mark VII and Terminator armor, flawless and in number.
Previously, he'd wondered why an Inquisitorial warship was stationed in the Talon System. Now, the answer for him was clear, it was because of this overwhelming industrial capability.
"I've made some optimizations to the Terminator suits' control systems," Qin Mo said. "But you'll still need to train with them and adapt."
"That won't be an issue," Phoros replied, still stunned.
The real challenge with Terminator armor wasn't operating it, it was having it in the first place.
After inspecting their new gear, Phoros turned to Qin Mo with deep sincerity. "What can we do in return? Is there an enemy within the system?" This update ıs available on 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡~𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢~𝙣𝙚𝙩
"You owe me nothing," Qin Mo replied, resolute. "I gave you thesesupplies because I know if the Talon System ever faces peril, the Lamenters will answer. That's all I ask, that you use this equipmentto protect those who need it."
But Qin Mo didn't act purely out of altruism. He knew well: to those who still possessed honor, the best way to earn undying loyalty was to give first, without demanding a return.
Had it been a Chapter like theFlesh TearersorCarcharodonsinstead, this strategy would've failed. They'd have taken everything and said, "Clever move, mortal," before stripping the place clean on their way out.
This wasn't manipulation. Qin Mo truly intended to support the Lamenters long-term. Their only repayment was a simple pledge: fight for Talon if ever called.
"Still… let us do something in return," Phoros insisted. "We cannot accept this and do nothing."
Qin Mo thought for a moment, then nodded. "If you insist… I do have a task in need of attention."
"Name it," Phoros said.
Qin Mo snapped his fingers. A drone floated in and projected a holographic star map.
Talon System was marked in the center, with surrounding systems labeled numerically, none of the border systems had formal names, so Qin Mo had assigned numbers instead.
The map zoomed in on System #4, highlighting a single planet.
"A plague has broken out on that world," Qin Mo explained, voice clipped and businesslike. "The planetary governor has begged for aid. I want you to investigate the outbreak, contain the spread if possible, and retrieve a viable sample of the virus for study. I will dispatch a regiment of Talon auxiliaries to support you." He paused and then added, "Complete this task, and what I've given you won't be charity. It will be fair trade."
Phoros didn't buy it. He knew the forces stationed in Talon were more than capable of handling a simple plague. The real reason Qin Mo was asking for help… was to give Phoros a reason to feel he'd earned what he received.
Such nobility… or perhaps suchcunning.
Either way, Phoros nodded solemnly. "I'll see it done. But know this, what you've provided is worth far more than this task. From this moment onward, if the Talon System ever needs aid, the Lamenters will answer the call. We pledge ourselves to your service… until the last of our Chapter falls."
"Don't be so grim," Qin Mo chuckled. "I have no intention of letting your Chapter fall."
Phoros did not share that optimism. He suspected that he and his ten men were the last of the Lamenters still alive.
But there was no time for self-pity.
He turned to his brothers. "Arm yourselves. We march to war."
If you'd like to support me and read a bit ahead, feel free to check out my . (/c/Hemont).
Do you Novel? Then pls consider supporting me by Commenting or Rating it.