They continued to track the battle through the emergency comms channel.
They were effectively a militia now, mainly providing supplemental firepower. The chain of command formed smoothly.
Suddenly, the veteran received a message. He looked up and roared a warning:
"This sector is about to take an impact. Grab fixed holds, everyone. Brace for shock!"
Immediately after, the ship's alarms in that area blared again.
Dorn watched people lock themselves down in all sorts of practiced positions, preparing for the hit. They had clearly trained for this.
When the violent shaking ended, everyone got up quickly, reformed ranks, and advanced toward the firefight.
"These mortals are trained almost to the level of the Astra Militarum. Their weapons might be even better…"
That was his thought.
If Imperial citizens were all at this level, the war against xenos and heretics would not be as difficult as it once was.
Dorn had seen the misery on many Imperial civilised worlds. Most ordinary residents were half-starved and drifting through life, with no fighting capacity.
Those fit to serve as Astra Militarum recruits were rare indeed.
Often, the Adeptus Arbites simply bundled up local gangs to fill quotas, and those were more combat-capable.
But now these Imperial citizens had overturned his impression completely. The change was enormous.
Imperial citizens were no longer fearful and numb. They were hot-blooded and eager.
As Dorn's group pushed forward, more and more bodies appeared on the deck, mostly heretic cultists.
They lay in a carpet of spent casings, riddled until they were almost lace.
He even saw the corpse of a Chaos Space Marine.
The traitor was fused into a steel barrier, clearly the result of mass melta grenades.
Judging from the battlefield remains, this Chaos Space Marine had led cultists in an attempt to punch into the residential sector, only to be met with a savage counterblow. It was brutal.
"By the Savior above, this heretic is playing dead and trying to ambush us, huh!" a thrilled voice suddenly shouted.
"N-no, don't…"
The cultist, surrounded by the pilgrim militia, trembled violently.
He seemed terrified out of his mind.
"Changer of Ways, save me, please. I'll do anything.
I surrender!"
This cultist had followed his warband master in a raid on the residential sector. He never expected that before he even saw a single civilian, he'd be drowned in fire.
He had never experienced firepower this savage. There was even heavy las cannon fire.
They had nowhere to evade. Even that "master" had been wounded by dense las fire, then killed by more than a dozen melta grenades.
Utter humiliation.
The ship's security forces had terrifying firepower!
"You invaded Imperial territory, and you think you can surrender?"
"Unforgivable!"
The pilgrim militia boiled with righteous fury and opened up, reducing the cultist to something that no longer resembled a human shape.
After that, Dorn's group ran into small scattered pockets of cultists and wiped them out with crushing firepower.
Those cultists had worse combat discipline than the citizens who had just organized on the spot.
Even without the advantage in firepower, their training and coordination alone would have been enough to deal with them.
Bang, bang, bang.
Dorn's group charged out of the ship's bridge corridor and arrived at the main deck sector. The view opened up.
Roaring fire and harsh light slammed into them. A combat zone nearly a kilometer long was filled with battle.
It was practically a small war.
The pilgrim militia reached their assigned sector, took cover, and followed orders to fire in a designated direction or throw grenades.
They provided suppressive fire.
As supplemental firepower, they didn't even need to aim. Just pour rounds into the general direction.
Dorn and the others stayed behind cover and had no chance to act. Or rather, he wasn't needed at all.
He was astonished.
What kind of defensive system was this? Now Imperial ships had heavy war assets stationed inside them? Were they not afraid of blowing the ship apart?!
On the core battlefield not far away, two "Living Saints" nearly eight meters tall were unleashing torrents of fire. Several heavy emplacements nearby were also firing.
Meanwhile, the ship's security forces and militia belts formed a dense fire net, saturating the enemy's positions with overwhelming volume.
Dorn even spotted that same clerk in a militia line not far away, firing at the enemy.