Those faces would be etched into his mind with all the others that fell with him during battle. Some tears rolled down his eyes as he continued his lonely journey. There was a deathly silence apart from the intermittent sound of gunfire.
Thankfully, the lift that would bring him to the depths of the city was still functional albeit covered in blood.
“Floor 122”, he commanded.
The lift descended for several minutes.
The lift door opened revealing a Tyranid right in front of him.
It lunged at him. The wheelchair’s automatic defences kicked in leading to immediate machine gunfire that pushed the monster back. Shaken, he nevertheless drove forward. Horrible shrieking came from it before it slumped lifeless to the floor.
Timothy could see his ship now and his wheelchair raced to its destination. The loading bay automatically opened creating a ramp and then closed once he was inside.
His care-bot automatically activated.
“Do you need a wash, sir? There’s much dust and other detritus on you?”
“Not till we’re off this world.”
He immediately went to the control panel. The care-bot strapped down his wheelchair and then itself. A few moments later they were leaving the atmosphere. Timothy looked back at a planet ablaze but there were still pockets of green and blue here and there. All that destruction but there was still hope, especially without the Emperor.
Then he had a moment of clarity about what he should do next. He would bring Wheelchair Wars and the fight against the Emperor to the Imperium. Now, to find a planet in a different quadrant so that he can start again.