"Pei Qiang! Where are you?!" Zhang Peng's voice crackled with urgency through the comm channel.
Inside the dark, narrow maintenance shaft of the enemy battleship, Liu Peiqiang flinched at the sudden call. He paused for a second before replying in a flat tone.
"Captain, I'm inside the enemy ship. I can't make it back right now."
There was a brief silence. When Zhang Peng spoke again, his voice had dropped to a lower, heavier tone.
"I told you—Han Duoduo is still waiting for you back on Blue Star. Don't throw your life away for nothing."
Peiqiang gave a wry smile as he continued crawling forward.
"I know, Captain. But if you keep yelling like that, I'm more likely to die of a heart attack from your voice echoing in my helmet than from any alien."
"....."
"I mean it. You really should consider going on a diet. Your voice echoes like a flashbang in here."
The comm line went silent after that. Liu Peiqiang pushed forward, nudging along a slow-moving mechanical drone ahead of him.
"Out of everyone on this mission, why am I the one stuck pushing this tin can..." he grumbled under his breath.
The robot gave off a soft electronic hum, almost as if complaining in return.
"Yeah, yeah… you're tired too. But try being me for a second. I'm the one pushing you, not the other way around."
Suddenly, the heavy thump of armored boots echoed from beyond the pipe. Peiqiang instantly tensed. Peeking through a narrow slit, he spotted several Durmoth soldiers patrolling the corridor with weapons drawn.
What he didn't realize—this wasn't just any ship. It was the Durmoth flagship.
"Alright… nice and quiet," he whispered, gently opening the bottom panel of the pipe and slipping out.
He gripped his heavy DC-17 blaster pistol tightly, scanning the dim corridor ahead.
"Hey! Who's there?!" shouted one of the Durmoth soldiers, spotting him.
Instinctively, Liu Peiqiang fired.
"Pew! Pew! Pew!"
Three blue plasma shots screamed down the corridor. Three Durmoth dropped instantly, smoking holes burned into their chests.
"Not bad," Peiqiang muttered, checking his weapon. "Way easier to use than conventional rounds."
Suddenly, a gruff voice shouted from behind.
"You bastard—!"
Before the soldier could act, there was a loud crack overhead. A ventilation panel gave way and crashed down behind Liu Peiqiang—crushing the Durmoth soldier in an instant.
Peiqiang slowly turned his head, eyes falling on the Astromech Droid still crawling its way out of the maintenance pipe, rolling out bit by bit.
"I'm sorry... I swear I'll never call you a silver trash can again."
With a sigh, Liu Peiqiang reached down and helped the little droid upright. Back when he first joined the military, he couldn't understand why every soldier was issued one of these "rolling bins." Now, it finally made sense—this wasn't just a robot. This was a comrade.
"............"
R2-11 let out a low hum. Maybe it was annoyed. Maybe it was touched. Who could really tell what a droid was feeling?
They moved forward again, navigating the dark corridors dimly lit by emergency lights.
"Alright, what now?" Liu asked, pressing his back against a steel wall, weapon ready.
"............"
"What? You want your name recorded in history?" Liu narrowed his eyes. "Bold ambition for a battery-powered tin can."
"............"
Without speaking—because it couldn't—R2-11 projected a holographic map into the air. A detailed layout of the enemy warship flickered into view.
"............"
"The command room? Are you serious?"
Liu looked at R2-11 like he was seeing it for the first time. "You… you're alright. I'll admit that."
At last, he truly understood why R2-11 had been assigned to him.
"Alright then. Lead the way."
He gave the droid's round dome a pat, and without hesitation, R2-11 zipped forward.
"Straight ahead," Liu whispered, following close behind.
At that moment, with the Imperial fleet launching a full assault from the outside, Durmoth forces had concentrated their troops at the main defense points. The corridors were nearly empty—only a few scattered guards remained. The path was clear.
The command room came into view. Inside, Durmoth officers shouted in a frenzy.
"We need to retreat!"
"If we fall back now, 80% of the fleet will be destroyed!"
Suddenly—Pew! Pew! Pew! Pew! Pew!
Liu burst through the doors, firing with pinpoint accuracy. In three quick moves, several guards collapsed, lifeless.
He leveled his blaster at the stunned Durmoth officers.
"Damn human!" one of them roared.
"Explosion."
Pew! An energy bullet pierced straight through his skull.
"Pew! Pew! Pew!"
The remaining officers didn't even have time to react. Within seconds, the command room was littered with lifeless bodies.
Liu Peiqiang shouted to R2-11, who stood beside him.
"Quick! Disable their control systems!"
"............"
R2-11 sprang into action. Its mechanical arms moved with lightning speed, tapping away at the console with deadly precision. Within seconds, the Durmoth battleship's control system was completely shut down. Lights flickered. Sirens blared. Holograms flashed wildly.
"Enemy control systems—disabled!"
"Attack now!" an alien voice roared.
From behind, the thunderous sound of footsteps echoed. Hundreds of loyalist Durmoth soldiers charged toward the control room, energy shields raised high.
"For the Emperor!"
"For Ruth and the All-Father!!"
Then—"KRANG!"
A steel wall exploded. Three wolf-themed Space Marines—Space Wolves—burst in with brutal fury.
"FILTHY ALIENS!"
The lead Space Marine, massive and wielding a gigantic chainsword, let out a savage roar as he swung his weapon. Dozens of Durmoth troops were obliterated in a single slash. The bolter in his left hand roared to life, blasting enemies apart one by one.
"FOR THE EMPEROR!!"
Liu stared in awe and fear. These Space Marines were beasts—wild, bloodthirsty, and utterly merciless.
The lead Marine approached him. The wolf-shaped helm glowed faintly.
"Raspy… Who are you?"
"I…"
Liu tried to answer, but—
"I don't care who you are," the Marine said quickly. "You took down their control system. That's badass."
His laugh thundered from within his helmet.
"Follow the squad behind you. Fall back to a safe zone. We… still have a massacre to finish."
The three Space Wolves burst into laughter, their voices rough and full of bloodlust.
One of them glanced back.
"That guy's cool. Should we recruit him?"
"I'm down. But with that height… he'd probably fit in better with the White Scars!"
"Whatever. I just want to finish killing the rest and get back to drinking Fenrisian mead."
"And roast up a whole GloryPork pig!"
"HAHAHAHAHA!"
Their laughter echoed alongside the thunder of weapons and savage slashes down the warship's corridor.
---
Meanwhile, on the surface of Concordia IX:
"Your Majesty, the Emperor," one of the officers saluted, "The battle against the Durmoth fleet has ended in absolute victory."
Kenthelion stood tall upon the tactical throne's balcony. His eyes scanned the battle display before lowering his hand to read the incoming report.
"Good. It's time to accelerate the expedition."
Kenthelion had no intention of wasting more time with the Durmoth. He had far more important matters to attend to. Countless reports had reached him—evidence that an alien alliance had entrenched itself deep within the mid and inner rings of the galaxy. What used to be mere rumors had become concrete reality.
And now, for reasons unknown, they had begun to reorganize… and launch assaults on their own initiative.
Kenthelion was hardly surprised—and he laughed at the thought. According to current intelligence, the military power of civilizations in both the outer and middle rings was laughably weak. Years without war had dulled their edge, and that complacency would be their undoing. It was the perfect time to strike.