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Prelude

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The wisps of sound dissipated into the endless lines of artifacts and dilapidated war machines. Head down, the dark figured darted amongst the floating hulks and around the drying pools of blood. She weaved through the shadows and dodged the beams of light. She never understood why her master kept this part of the compound so brightly lit. It agitated her to no end, like so many things he did.

A snarl came to her lips as she bound over the corpse of a decapitated guardian. She wondered if it was kept so bright just because it agitated her. No, she thought to herself, she was not that special. At least she hoped that was the case, his attention was not something she was hoping to ever receive. Where ever his focus was pointed, things ceased to exist, after a prolonged period of intense pain.

Some day she would put him in his place and she would control the lights along with every lying traitorous being in his cabal, but…….. her snarl returned in frustration, not today.

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She suddenly stopped. She stood tall but kept her head down. She gazed at the floor in waiting. He was in front of her with his back to her. The tiles by her master were burned and melted. The smell of cooked flesh and smoldering stone was emanating from the pit. To his left several of his court members stood looking over the empty burned out depression. Two Sslyth and a Medusae hastily departed with a flick of her masters wrist. A pair of males from the warrior cast were dismissed immediately thereafter from her right. All of them walked past her without any hint of acknowledgement.

She waited in silence and studied the surroundings that she could see while keeping her head down. There were fresh kills nearby, all warriors from her masters Cabal. “Only six,” she thought to herself, he must be in a good mood despite his personal collection having been invaded by the corpse emperor’s lackeys.

A pair of bare feet silently padded nearby. She knew who it was the instant the smell of sweet violence crept into her nose. She opened her hands so she would be prepared to quickly grasp her knives on her back if needed, but as quickly as the other wych arrived, her master spoke.

“What news do you bring me?” a strong voice commanded. A hint of annoyance and displeasure rimmed his words. She lifted her head to see her master still facing away from her. His unarmored back was glistening and youthful. His curling tattoos writhed across his back like headless serpents. A black face mask hung on a chain made from the hair of alien children under his right arm. It had been a long time since he had removed the mask from his ancient face.

She lifted her head to look at the back of his. The Incubi that stood nearby studied her as they always did. Their long curved blades held at the ready in their white gloved hands.

“The fleets are gathering and our agent is ready,” she stated with as little emotion as possible.

“Finally,” he purred. He let the word linger while he held his hands out to his side. He stretched out, clenched his fists, and moaned with pleasure. “Move the Ceaseless End into position. Send a message to my commanders, their reward for our successful raid will be another, more extravagant raid. This time the monkeigh of the Imperium will fill our prison ships.” He looked down into the burnt out pit before him once again. He slapped his hands together and let the echo dance in the air.

“Send word to our agent, the Cabal is coming,” the slightest hint of satisfaction ringed his final words.

Looking forward to it! OOPS! Now you don't have to re-do the post.

The promise of more troubles has been issued!

Chapter 1 – the Reckoning

The hall erupted into raucous applause as Tarvu, the first captain of the Ice Angels, finished another tale of victory. The cheering of a thousand space marines shook the tables and rattled the utensils. This rare gathering was one that the marines of the Ice Angel chapter would never forget. A Reckoning had many practical applications but for all involved, the memories of the event would outweigh any organizational use. Bonds were strengthened, kinship revisited, and the awe inspiring site of an entire chapter would temper the spear that was the Ice Angel Chapter.

A Reckoning was held only when the majority of the chapter could gather. The territory that the Ice Angels covered, along with their Imperial requirements to share some of their expertise with other chapters, made them typically spread far and wide. This was one of the largest Reckonings on record but even now the seventh company was away along with several small units, each with missions of their own. In the history of the Ice Angels, the entire chapter had only gathered for war once.

Captain Razzik thought back to his first Reckoning when he was a newly initiated brother into the chapter, surrounded by heroes and marines of legend. Today he’d get to speak amongst the captains. He gazed at 1st Captain Tarvu, the master of ceremony, and admired the 1st Captain’s theatrics. He was setting the scene of another great space battle the 1st Company had recently been through. The heavily augmented marine commanded the audience of the chapter as he elaborated on his company’s actions on the cusp of battle. He wove his tale in the center of the hall on a raised dais, meeting the eyes of his brethren as he spoke to all around him.

The story was fantastic and spoke of true heroism. He spoke of the death of the enemy and the valor of the fallen. The room exploded into cheering as he went into detail of Brother Shwatarna removing the head of a greater demon of chaos amidst a sea of traitorous marines. Tarvu pointed out to where the Shwatarna stood, entombed in his dreadnought. Thirty other ancient brothers stood around the perimeter watching the feast and speaking when spoken too. This was one of the only times they were awake for anything other than war.

The room continued to buzz as Tarvu turned and went back to his throne amongst his brothers. Servitors spilled into the tiered hall bringing more food and drink for the chapter. Razzik heard his glass being filled and the clank of trays as steaming meats and savory cheeses once again covered the tables.

He didn’t pay any attention to the servitors or the marines around him as they chattered and exchanged stories. His mind was lost in thoughts about the past and the unknown future. His body shook as a slap on the back from Shar-Vashu tore him back to reality. Razzik looked up to see the burly form of the 6th Captain grinning down at him.

“Razzik! You look lost within yourself.” He said with a smile and a chuckle. “I know you must tell your tale next, “he paused for a moment, “but do not let it weigh on your hearts any longer. Let what he stood for and what he did be a lesson to us all, eh?”

Razzik gave him a nod and raised his glass, “to the Fallen and the Frozen,” he toasted with a forced smile.

“TO THE FALLEN AND THE FROZEN!” Shar-Vashu bellowed. The room quaked with an echoed response.

Shar-Vashu winked as he went back to his seat. Razzik was watching him head back when he caught the gaze of Chapter Master Duggon from across the hall. The Inevitable had a cold stern look on his face, like a father judging his son. Razzik held the gaze and waited for him to speak but the Inevitable looked away when another Inevitable asked him a question.

Razzik surveyed the new spread of food at his own table as he half listened to conversations being held around him. He grabbed several fruits and a still smoking leg that smelled of dozens of spices. He sank his teeth into the succulent meat and looked out over the room. All of the battle brothers including the newest neophytes sat together in long tables. Every Ice Angel wore only a plain unadorned black robe. In a Reckoning there were no rankings or insignia’s allowed other then the colors of the units in which you’ve served. On Razzik’s black robe the ice blue of the chapter was braided with the purple hue of the Ashurbani down the sides.

Above the marines and their tables were three empty tiers of dark marble that ringed the room. Ice blue aquila’s adorned eleven separate sections. When the tales and feasting ended the marines would be reorganized and take their place in their assigned section. Razzik looked over to the lectern above the 10th Aquila. Soon he’d be there and his company would be behind him.

First, however, he had to relive the death of Captain Ruusa. He had to tell the final tale of the second captain so the chapter would know how he lived and how he died.

* * * * * * * * *

With a quiet thump he closed the final book in his reclaimed collection. He took one last look at the faded red cover of the tome. “The Defiance of the Last Knight” was the title. He pondered on what he had read as he watched a distant mechanicum lander breach the confines of a hanger. Lazily it crept away from the sprawled compound of the red robed sect and entered the cloud cover. He monitored its slow progress until it entered the atmosphere. The massive flier was only a spec in the distance by the time he looked away and reviewed the scene below him.

It was fantastic. The magnificent view was one that artist would strive to replicate. Poems would be written about such majesty. The Mechanicum fortress was primarily underground and hidden in the mountain range to his right. To his left the forest took over with its colorful red, orange, and yellow hues. In the far edges of the forest he could see the tops of the human castle that claimed dominance over the region. Further ahead of him still he could see the shattered remains of several city spires that at one time held millions of people in their towering forms.

His mountain perch was the ideal location to see all that was around him and it was a sight he’d never forget, yet the beauty and the magnificence of the scene hid something. That something was why he was here. That something was why he hated the scene before him and the entire planet. Then again, he has hated every planet he has ever visited.

A shift of dirt and rock to his right reminded him that he wasn’t alone. He glanced over at the gray robed figure who sat in the back of the rocky alcove. He wondered what the figure was thinking and what prayers were being repeated. Despite him spending half a decade next to the quiet tormented figure he still knew little other then his name, Micus. The Unknown, they called him more often than not. Currently he was mouthing another prayer and his face was tight in concentration, occasionally his face would twitch and his body would tremor. It was clearly one of his better days.

Approaching footsteps heralded the arrival of another companion. The dirty marine wore a brown cloak over his maroon and gold quartered armor. He gave a small acknowledgement before securing his range optics into a protective pouch.

“It is finally time for us to rejoin the others. You have everything Xerin?” he asked to the brown cloaked marine.

“Yes Sergeant Mortifex,” he responded.

Mortifex snorted at the formal response before turning to Micus. “Let us get off this wind blasted mountain.” He hoped for a response from the quiet marine but Micus merely stood up, fidgeted with his belt and adjusted his gauntlets the same way he did every hour.

With a head shake he put his book back in his collection and secured the bag over his shoulder and under his backpack. Once he was done he took a final look over the serene valley. Xerin stood next to him and took in the view.

“This is the last possible sector for it to be in Sergeant. Where shall we start?” Xerin asked.

“We move to the city spires to set up camp. We’ll see what the others have uncovered first before planning our next move,” Mortifex motioned to move out. Xerin and Micus began to walk down the steep treacherous path back down the mountain. Mortifex took one last look at the picturesque valley. With a sneer he looked away. Pretty or not, he couldn’t wait to get off this blasted planet.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A deep resonating bell signaled the end of the first feast. Servitors and human staff cleared off the tables with quiet efficiency. The jovial tone in the room fled the room as quickly as the plates and empty dishes were carried away. When the last door closed Chapter Master Duggon stood from his table. He looked up to the dais as the 2nd company badge was illuminated from within the dais.

Per tradition he waited for the second captain to rise, but after a minute he turned to the Chaplain of the 2nd company.

“Cyaxeres, Chaplain of the 2nd Company and Collector of Debts, who will speak on behalf of the fallen?” Master Duggon said with stiff formality.

“Razzik, Captain of the 11th Company and Veteran of the Ashurbani, will speak on behalf of the 2nd Captain, my lord,” Cyaxeres responded with a bow.

Razzik stood from his seat. The space marines of the chapter made no noise as he slowly walked around his table towards the center of the room. Over a thousand marines were in that massive chamber and not one of them moved or made a noise, to do so would be a great sign of disrespect for the fallen. The oppressive nature of the silence was a great testament of how loved the 2nd Captain had been.

As Razzik’s foot falls echoed throughout the chamber he found himself mentally wandering away from the task at hand. In a moment that seemed like an eternity he replayed his entire time with Ruusa, from the second they met on the Rage to the moment he laid his corpse on the floor of the ork Rokk. Razzik thought on how Ruusa acted, he treated others, how he was liked and how he fought.

The same thoughts replayed through his head that he had thought on for the past few days. When the mental escapade ended he found himself standing before the dais. He reached into a pouch on his belt and retrieved a data crystal. He set it into a port near the floor and above the dais a perfect image of Captain Ruusa hovered. Razzik looked up at the armored marine. Ruusa carried a double bladed axe in his right hand and storm shield in his left. He looked off into the distance. The image had been taken right before Ruusa had departed the Frozen Rage for the last time.

The 3d image began to rotate for everyone to view. As it did Razzik read some of the many quotes etched in Ruusa’s armor and shield.

“Know thy duty. Know thyself.
Know thy brothers. Know thy past.
Know thy enemy. Know the unknown.”

Razzik stood up on the dais with that phrase in his mind. He looked out at the brothers before him. He could name many of them but there were still many fresh faces and even some older ones he had yet to meet. As he took in the sight he looked up the ring of dreadnoughts. He looked at Ancient Brother Frakkatazuli, the oldest being in the room. He was one of great power and knowledge. Razzik looked forward to hearing his stories of Sanguinius and the times before the chapter was even its own entity.

First however, he must do his part. “My lord, I, Captain Razzik, will speak on behalf of the fallen,” he said with a bow. Duggon gave a head nod to begin. Razzik met the gaze of Cyaxeres for a moment before he cleared his throat.

“Ruusa, Captain of the 2nd Company, Champion of the Mantle, Keeper of the Vale, Master of the Axe, Destroyer of Warlord GoNobz, Eradicator of Hive Fleet Gwendel.” Razzik shook his head, “The list of titles Captain Ruusa has obtained is one of a true hero and legend of the chapter.” He paused and took a deep breath as he looked around once again.

“The history of Captain Ruusa is long and glorious. In the Halls of Ice, the Tome of Captain Ruusa is still being written. I will not give you the full history of Captain Ruusa today because I do not know it all nor can I give it the justice it deserves. Instead I will share with you what I saw. I will share with you what I felt.”

Razzik paused, “Captain Ruusa was the ideal Ice Angel. He embodied what it was to be of the Ice and the Mantle. Know thy Duty. Know thyself. Know, your brothers,” Razzik looked around and hinted at a smile when he saw his old squad mate Hunzuu. “Know your past, your enemies, and know the unknown. This was what Ruusa strived for. He led the second company, and every company before that with purpose and the desire to know.” Razzik looked up at the image of Ruusa once more. He pointed the quote on his shield. “Duty! Is ingrained into us all. Knowledge of our enemies, we have countless vaults filled with, and we constantly thirst for more. The past is often shrouded in darkness but ours is untarnished and clear as Ice. Know Thy Brothers! This Reckoning is one of the many ways we further know one another.” Razzik looked back up to the shield. “Know the unknown and Know thyself. To some of us those two are the same thing yet Knowing thyself is the most important of them all. Of all of these simple ideas, what do each of us spend the most time on?” Razzik waited and looked around the room.

“Ruusa, above all else, knew who he was and what had to be done, just as our Primarch Sanguinius did. They both knew when the ultimate sacrifice was needed. Ruusa defied death long enough to give a warning to us all. Had he not, I and several of the second company wouldn’t be here before you to tell you his tale.”

The words lingered and Razzik watched them sink in. Veterans nodded in agreement. Neophytes absorbed and contemplated the words. Razzik realized that the words he had spoken were truly for him more so then the chapter. He vowed then to not let his apprehension of captaincy get in the way any more.

“The greenskins had been fighting the Imperials for seven months before the second company arrived……….” He began to retell the events that led up to Captain Ruusa’s last mission and relive the last moments of the beloved captain’s demise.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The journey down the dark side of the mountain was quiet and uneventful. It would have been harrowing and treacherous for a normal human, but for three power armored genetically altered humans it was like any other training exercise, minus the gun fire, timer, or unrealistic objective.

When they reached the tree line, the mountain side became easier to traverse. The additional cover also meant they could pass back to the sunny side and head in the direction they wanted. For hours they moved. No idle banter or questions were exchanged, merely the sense of duty and the focus on their respective tasks. Xerin watched the sky for mechanicum spotters, Micus concentrated on not going insane, all while Sergeant Mortifex led the way.

Through the night they moved as they passed through the forest and into the jungle. Multiple times Mortifex thanked the Emperor for his power armor as giant bugs and 12 legged spiders assaulted him. The dense jungle was home to all manner of creatures and plants. All of them were larger then what any Terran would consider “normal”.

After two days of marching they stopped to eat and update their positioning. Micus found the darkest place, ate several nutrient bars, and quickly fell into one of his deep trances. Xerin inspected the immediate area. Mortifex took out his long range communications array. After several minutes he had set up the quad pod device and was prepared to send out several short bursts of information into the sky. Mortifex tried to discern the sun's location through the canopy but resorted to checking his time device on his wrist display.

The noise of the jungle began to ebb. Mortifex found himself watching a three foot scorpipede burrow itself into the moist earth at the base of a tree. The eerie silence settled over the area like a dark cloud preparing to unleash its wet cargo.

Mortifex quietly drew his combat blade. He scanned the area around him. The broad leaf plants and bulging tree roots limited the distance of his vision. The massive trees cast dark shadows from their high reaching canopy.

When Mortifex turned to meet the glowing visor of Micus he paused. The unmarked marine had his large power sword in both hands. The red hilt was a stark contrast to his bland outfit. Micus slowly looked up. Moritfex followed his gaze.

Silently in the canopy above him moved a creature with disturbing purpose. Its tentacles stretched to great lengths to grasp the next pair of trees. As the center of the creature past above him, Mortifex saw chitinous armor encompassing the rhino sized body mass.

Mortifex thought back to his readings. A series of books scribed by a Master of Biologis came to mind. He trudged through his memory attempting to remember what this creature could be and more importantly how he could best deal with it.

Before he could classify the tree traveling monster, his vox line opened and the calm voice of Xerin spoke. “A hunting party is approaching from north east. Hide.” The short phrase sounded extremely loud to him but he knew nothing outside his armor would have been able to hear it.

With a curse on his lips, Mortifex grabbed the communications array and hid his armored form in some leafy undergrowth. Within seconds the quad pod device was collapsed back into its condensed form and thrust into some foliage next to him. Knife in hand he waited.

A soft rustling of undergrowth came from his right. Mortifex stayed completely motionless as he caught glimpses of a tall human. The camo covered man was as tall as a space marine but unarmored. He carried a thin blade across his back, several smaller weapons on his chest and a crossbow in his hands. He warily walked past Mortifex, while scanning the area. He stopped just in front of Mortifex’s position. He moved some leaves with his foot to examine the area the quad pod had just been standing when a guttural shout came from behind him.

The man dove forward with astounding reflexes out of Mortifex’s line of sight. A tentacle smashed into the ground where he had just been standing. When it quickly recoiled up, all manner of plant and rocky debris went with it.

Another man came leapt in from Mortifex’s right. This one was even bigger then the first. In fact, he had to be the largest person Mortifex had ever seen. He carried a crossbow attached to a line that he pointed up at the creature above them. The seven foot harpoon that sat in his crossbow shot forward with a deep twang.

The sound of several other similar sounds echoed nearby. Rustling in the forest echoed all around him as more guttural commands were issued. The deep voices of the ogryns seemed to restart the noises in the jungle.

Mortifex watched as the largest of the men before him threw a cable around a root and activated a winch. Within seconds several others kicked in. A gurgling screech came from above followed up the sounds of breaking tree limbs. The two men leapt away as a large branch tumbled into the space between trees. The larger ogryn laughed and spat as he pulled out an ornate weapon that looked similar to a pick ax.

The giant stepped out of sight and Mortifex risked taking a better look above. He moved one of the larger leaves above his head so he could see where the creature would fall. The tentacled monster was about to loose the fight against the metal lined harpoons and winches.

It was twitching and jittering. Countless smaller limbs that ended in barbed talons were slashing at the air around a slobbering maw in the center of its mass. A glistening wet tongue was being pulled out by a harpoon from behind Mortifex’s position.

When the creature plummeted to the ground it would land right in front of Mortifex’s position. He quickly thought on his options. He didn’t want to reveal himself or his men, not like this at least.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Life on Mortimon Secondus – Volume XXXII
Trapstar: According to earliest found records these flowering tree based echinoderms eat insects. 1700 species were documented during the 33.14 crusade, The Reclamation of the Haver Cluster. Often these colorful creatures were placed near entry ways to homesteads to help with the abundant number of insects. Creatures ranged from five to eleven limbs. The largest documented was nearly three meters from tip to tip. Average size for more common Trapstar 50 cm…….

The passage materialized in Mortifex’s thoughts as he watched the behemoth tree horror tear half of a tree off in its failing attempt to stay in the canopy. The description was closer to anything else that came to mind but size was inaccurate as was the prey.

Mortimon System: Historical Synopsis and Imperial Tithe Record
Post ork incursion, plant life on Mortimon Secondus began to grow at a rapid pace. Xenos spores corrupted areas especially around the desert plains were the ork warbands continued to roam after their……………

“Ork warbands remained only in the southern hemisphere.” Mortifex thought to himself before thinking elsewhere in his readings.

………..after the defeat of the tyranid splinter fleet in the Mortimon System, wildlife in all neighboring planets began to mutant and in nearly every case become aggressive in nature. Largest known infection zone: Mortimon Secondus, Wyrdmire continent, located in the northern hemisphere. Despite bi-decade exploratory missions, no confirmed Tyranids have ever been……….

With an internal grunt Mortifex began to envision what other jungle wild life may lurk nearby ready to kill him.

The mutated Trapstar tore off another massive limb before beginning its rapid descent. Mortifex didn’t move. The creature tumbled through the air as its tentacles grasped for any other trunk or limb. When it finally smashed into the ground, the earth shook. Mortifex had to grab onto the trunk behind him to keep steady. The Trapstar hissed in anger as its armored tentacles began to right itself. Mortifex watched intently as countless smaller limbs began to twitch and once again reveal the fleshy maw of the creature. Its tongue was still held to its side by a blood covered harpoon.

A scream from his right preempted the ogryn attack. Half a dozen giants rushed the Trapstar; each carried a sharp pointed pick axes. The pointed blades were longer then his arm. Mortifex watched with morbid curiosity as the axes struck through the exoskeleton and bit deep into the flesh of the creature.

One of the ogryns fell too close to the tongue of the creature and with amazing speed was pushed towards the smaller limbs. In seconds the ogryn was eviscerated and shoveled inside the mouth of the creature. The efficiency of the process was astounding to Mortifex.

“Sergeant, a hovership is approaching from the west,” the voice of Xerin spoke in his vox.

“Disperse. Continue to rendezvous, begin vox silence,” Mortifex commanded.

He didn’t know where Xerin or Micus were but he trusted they would follow mission parameters. Mortifex kept his eyes on the ogryn attack and the thrashing Trapstar as he knelt down to reach the communication array. He was half way down when an armored tentacle came down right at him. He launched himself left, moments before the heavy limb crushed the foliage he had been using as cover. The thick tree trunk he was in front of shook from the impact.

Mortifex came up from his roll and was shocked to meet the gaze of the tall human he had first seen. The man held his loaded crossbow and was staring at Mortifex in amazement. They were the same height but the dirt covered white armor of Mortifex made him appear twice as wide. The sound of the incoming hovership entered Mortifex’s ears. Without giving the human another thought he turned and ran at full speed.

Being seen by a native was easily corrected. Being spotted by a mechanicum ship would jeopardize the entire mission. Mortifex entered his combat trance as he ran. He registered the sounds of victorious ogryns turn into screams of warnings as the hovership lowered itself into the canopy above the fallen trapstar. He wove through the jungle putting as many trees and bushes between him and the renewed combat as he could.

He ran for sixty seconds before melting back into the jungle. He knelt at the base of a tree behind a thick fern. The sounds of combat were distant and waning. He knew it wouldn’t take long for the Mechanicum to claim their victims.

The nearby shuffling of leaves alerted him to the presence of another being. He thought at first it was one of his marines but then heard several other footfalls. Too careless for one of his fellow astartes, he thought to himself. After a few more moments Mortifex caught a glimpse of a dirty boot to his left. It was a simple design, leather, no metal. The fern was hiding nearly all of the being, but he knew it had to be the human whose gaze he had met.

A sharp brief whistle pierced the air. The human crumpled to the jungle floor. They met each other's gaze one more time as the human looked up from his prone position. This time, however, the human was losing all feeling and entering a comatose state. Mortifex wondered if he should end his life before it got worse, but then again how could he judge whether or not the human deserved one fate over the other.

The comatose human and Mortifex stared at one another for several seconds before a hovering servitor came by to pick up its cargo. The entire time Mortifex wondered what kind of servitor the human would be turned into. By the time the human was gathered up and the servitor began to fly away he had located the passage he was looking for in his head. With perfect memory he recalled the section he had read months ago.

Red Bind: Status updated on Mortimon System, 121 years after previous Inquisitorial visit: After the plague ravaged the agricultural world the fourth planet was converted into a much needed prison world. Mechanicum facilities were created at both poles to begin servitor conversions. For eighty seven years they produced millions of servitors, until the planet was utterly destroyed by the cleansing of the orks that ravaged the system. The mechanicum relocated to Mortimon Secondus yet the prisons were never rebuilt. Ships still bring subjects for conversion but the Mechanicum facilities are producing only a fraction of what they were creating before. According to recent Munitorium orders, Mortimon Servitors are viewed to be the highest quality weapon servitors in the Imperium. Per Magos Vendenstrope, the local clans send the weak and sick to be “healed,” believing the Mechanicum Servitor conversion a worthy honor if unable to join the ranks of the Mortimon PDF.

Mortifex risked a glance around his tree at the departing hover servitor. The tall human hung limp upside down. Mortifex scanned the jungle around him, patiently waiting. He was unwilling to make any further movements. A crack of thunder echoed overhead. Within seconds rain began to pierce the thick canopy. He couldn’t hear the hovership over the rain so he waited even longer. He didn’t mind the delay. It gave him more time to think.

* * * * * * * * *

“Are you sure we should be doing this?”

“Can you hear me?”

“Your vox working?”

The door slid open to the void before him. Stars and ships glistened in the darkness. In space faring standards the ships were incredibly close to one another but to the naked eye each vessel still seemed minute compared to the vastness of space.

“Aquilum! I am not following you out there until you answer me.” Inushi was getting frustrated with the depressed Contemptor Dreadnought.

The dreadnought stared out into space. “Should we do this? Only the Emperor can answer that. Yes, I can hear you and Yes my vox is working.” He paused for a moment. “You do not have to follow me. I have never asked you to follow me Inushi.” Without looking back the quartered pink and yellow dreadnought stepped to the open door and stepped on to the exterior of the moving vessel.

Inushi watched him leave. He was upset with the behavior of his wounded friend. His reckless behavior was getting worse. There had already been threats of keeping him suspended when not in war like many dreadnoughts. Inushi still didn’t like that alternative. Instead he followed Aquilum onto the exterior of the ship.

The dreadnought had walked to the nose of their transport vessel. His large yellow and pink fur coat floated behind him as he stood looking at their target. The filthy ork banner he had taken was floating over his right arm. Inushi looked around. The Ice Angel fleet was off to his right. The Munitorium vessels were behind him. A mechanicum repair ship was to his left. Ahead of him was their target, the Benevolent Aberration.

Inushi couldn’t help but marvel at the dreadnought suit Aquilum had been gifted. The Ice Angels had supplied the body while the Mechanicum had added on the weapons. When his training was completed and the suit blessed, Aquilum somehow snuck away and then got it “updated”.

A team of artists spent an entire month painting the suit and adding in the unique motif that Aquilum had requested. The pink and yellow were now complemented with carved and painted panels of exquisite detail. As Inushi approached he located the panel he was most intrigued by. Aquilums left shoulder was an elaborate scene depicting Aquilum, Inushi, Pyrox, Reven, Hunzuu, Shar-Drasha, and Philosir gambling with the skulls of orks and laughing.

Aquilum continued to look ahead. The ship was quickly growing in size as they sped towards it. Inushi looked behind him at the cockpit. Two naval officers were waving to get Aquilum out of their line of sight. The large cloak was floating in front of them. Without a word he turned back to Aquilum and followed his gaze.

The alterations on the Benevolent Aberration were being rapidly completed. The ship had been painted black. A braided red stripe ran down the top and bottom of the vessel. The supplies were being loaded. The new crew had been transferred. Ships buzzed around the vessel completing their work like insects on a corpse. Inquisitorial Captain Nefas was somewhere on board, impatiently waiting for Razzik and his 10th company.

“I need to do this Inushi,” Aquilum quietly said as he prepared to jump.

“What’s the point in doing this Aquilum? Is your goal here simply to anger Nefas?” Inushi asked with arms open.

“Nefas means nothing to me Inushi,” Aquilum began.
“Then who?” Inushi interrupted, “the Emperor?”

“No Mantis,” Aquilum slowly responded, “for me.” He paused. ”I have already given my life for the Emperor.”

“You’re being absurd Aquilum. What will this prove? Leaping from one ship to another through the void we’ve already done. How is this different?”

“It isn’t any different but it’s the only place I can be alone and feel…….. like myself.”

Inushi watched Aquilum leap off the nose of the ship. Their private vox line shut down. Silently the brightly colored dreadnought floated ahead of them directly at the Benevolent Aberration. With a sigh Inushi turned back towards the open door, perhaps Aquilum did need some time.

* * * * * * *


For several days Razzik listened to the tales of the captains and select members of their companies. There were several breaks were he mingled and spoke with old friends and Angels he had never met before. Afterwards the tales would continue.

Shar-Vashu wove a blood curdling tale of betrayal from an Imperial officer that lead to the deaths of several Ice Angels. He ended the tale reenacting the fight between the warp twisted officer and himself. Librarian Vayu told a story of his small force that was used to reclaim an Imperial Outpost from the hands of Eldar pirates. Techmarine Zuphalx retold a battle versus the Belanians. He instructed everyone on how to properly deal with their disturbing chemical weapons. Boarding Master Bel Quapoo entertained everyone with a story of his time with the Angels Vermillion. He also awarded one of the neophytes with an cream colored bolt pistol that was gifted from the other chapter for saving the life of a veteran Angel Vermillion.

The hundreds of stories were full of emotion and tactical advice. Razzik focused on each speaker and committed everything to memory. He would spend many months analyzing what had been said. The speakers were telling their tales of glory while teaching the marines what they had learned.

After a pilot, Brother Orravik from the 9th, finished his thrilling tale. It was Razzik’s turn to tell his tale as temporary captain of the second company. He made sure to spend time explaining what he had learned from each marine that joined his cause. “Knowing your enemies is almost as important as knowing your allies,” he had said.

He received mixed responses from the crowd every time he mentioned Inquisitor Vervin and he intentionally left out his deal with Nefas. He also purposefully left out the death of Sybyl Quip and her comrades. He knew he had acted accordingly but was not proud of how Nefas took matters into his own hands and killed Razzik’s guests.

After several hours of speaking he went back to his seat to the applause of his chapter. It was a feeling he would never forget.

The only remaining captain after Razzik was Muttabriqu, but he had yet to command his company. Instead of him speaking, the Inevitable Ishtannuu receited some of Muttabriqu’s previous success as sergeant of the veteran Uttuakki.

When all the stories and rituals were completed the Chapter Master stood on the center platform. He looked around at the chapter before him. With a mental command the tables lit up. In front of each marine was their own name and the squad in which they were assigned. For many this was no surprise. For the newest initiated marines it was the beginning of their new lives as brethren of the Ice. For the tech marines, pilots, and tank crews, it was their first chance to see what vehicles they were being blessed with.

“Captains, take your positions at the head of your companies,” Inevitable Duggon commanded.

Razzik, along with the others, stood and walked over to their respective areas around the perimeter of the room. Razzik looked over to Muttabriqu. He was now the eleventh captain. Razzik briefly thought about how Muttabriqu had always been such an intense and outspoken rival of his. Now they were both captains and after their combined time in the second company, they had a new found respect for one another.

“Honor guards, join your captain's.” Duggon spoke once again.

Hunzuu and the Ashurbani along with several other veteran units stood up and went to their respective captains. The Ashurbani saluted as they got to the base of the first tier. Razzik saluted back. Hunzuu took his position slightly behind Razzik while his men stood together a tier above them.

“Brothers, “Master Duggon began, “It is time to set our ranks until the next Reckoning. Think on what you have heard the past few days. Our continued success depends on moments like this. Where will your strengths best benefit the chapter?” He paused as he looked around the room as the words lingered in the air.

“Sergeants, listen to the Emperor and choose wisely. Mission briefings begin at 2200 for each Captain.” Master Duggon mentally activated the table monitors before stepping down from the dais.

For nearly every sergeant a gray Aquila appeared in front of them within the tables. Beneath the symbol was the break down of each company and what positions were available. On Razzik’s podium he saw that the 10th company was granted a standard deployment, eight squads along with equivalent support staff.

Two sergeants amongst the entire chapter did not have the Aquila in front of them; instead they had the chapter symbol, a frozen shard of blood held aloft by icy wings. They were chosen to pick their companies first.

Iron Arm Katorak was first to stand. Without hesitation he stood and strutted over to the first company. He pledged his continued loyalty to Tarvu and took his position behind him. Katorak’s squad mates moved to the first company after the short ritual. While that was occurring the second sergeant stood. Shar-Takano, the Scythe, slowly reviewed his choices. His black skin was heavily tattooed with metallic silver designs. The jagged lines came up his neck and crested the base of his firm jaw like blades of silver. Shar-Takano methodically turned and studied each captain standing at their respective podiums before he walked towards the new second captain. When he broke the perimeter he gave a side glance to Razzik.

Razzik gave him a slight nod of respect. The emotionless façade of the Scythe didn’t respond at first but when he looked back at the second captain he stopped in his tracks. He turned back to Razzik and marched over to him.

Razzik looked down at the legendary Ice Angel from his elevated podium.

“Captain, is it true your next mission is not one of our own but one the Inquisition is sending you on?” Shar-Takano loudly asked so all could hear. Razzik felt all eyes, including those of the Inevitables turn his way. His body tingled at the weight of the moment. He felt right then that this question would impact who chose his company more so than his story or anything else that had occurred throughout the Reckoning.

“Honorable Shar-Takano you are correct. In order to protect the chapter and our honor I have given my company’s service to the Inquisition. What that mission is or where it leads, I have not been told.” Razzik wanted to try and sell the severity of the mission, but he had no facts and stopped with his short answer.

Shar-Takano studied him and let the mumbles of the chapter die down.

“I pledge myself and my men to your cause. The Suu Squad will be your blade, let us reap the blood of your enemies.” Shar-Takano nodded his head and gave the sign of the Aquila. Razzik returned the salute.

“It would be my honor to have you in the 10th.” Razzik said. Around the room the four other members of the Suu Squad stood. The Hammer, the Wisp, the Left, and the Column began to make their way to Razzik. They were all heroes and he would be their captain. He kept the look of shock out of his face as they approached. He saluted each as they joined his company. It was rare for a veteran terminator unit to join a company as low as the 10th. He thanked the Emperor for their support.

Once Squad Suu had taken its position, two more Aquila’s turned to chapter symbols. Two more sergeants picked their company.

Within the hour Razzik had squads Rimsin, Salandria, Arshaka, Samsu, and Makru in his company. He had room for two more squads when the sergeants in the room stopped standing. The remaining sergeants were either new to their squad, or contained too many newly initiated brothers to warrant them to choose their own company. These units were assigned to their company according to the council or Bel Quapoo, the boarding master. Razzik soon found himself face to face with two new sergeants and their squads.

The pilots, drivers, and support staff came next. The pilots were determined merely by seniority and which vessel each company was utilizing, only the drivers had much choice. Razzik couldn’t help but notice he was given the minimum number of transports and support vehicles. He was not fortunate to receive any land raiders. There were only a sacred few in the chapter.

Next the Techmarines left their tables to their assigned companies. Unlike the sergeants who made their decisions individually. The Techmarines made their determinations according to an elaborate algorithm to determine where each techmarine’s skills would most likely be needed. With a binary blurt each tech marine joined a company. Captain Razzik couldn’t help but smile at Philosir as he approached along with Manniquapuu and Shu-Takii. Shu-Takii was at the next stage in his training to becoming an official Tech Marine. Within the next few years he’d be shipped to Mars, but for now he too would be part of the 10th company.

The priests went next. Prayers were issued and blood was consumed. The ceremony was short and to the point but everyone there was aware of its significance. When it was completed the priests were sent to their assigned companies, two priests per company. The pair he was assigned he had never met, he admired the twisted colors on the robe of one. He was clearly a veteran of many units. They took their position before him as the chapter Librarians prepared themselves.

They met in the center of the room and held a silent conversation. A psychic council was held for the entire chapter to see. It took a long time for them to complete their ritual. When they were finished, the council had determined which psyker would join each company. Razzik was hoping to see Bel Baraxati but instead was sent Voxxik. As the no nonsense librarian approached, Razzik stood firm. Voxxik gave a sharp salute before walking past Razzik to the tier behind him.

Razzik didn’t have to look behind him to feel the distaste from some of the other marines. Voxxik was a powerful psyker, that has never been questioned, but he was known to be difficult to work with and quick to anger. He was also nearly impossible to talk to without him snapping out etiquette and rules.

The thought of etiquette and rules brought him back to the task at hand. The room was now filled around the perimeter except for several score or so marines in the center. The Chapter Master stood on the central platform while the unassigned Inevitables stood nearby. The remaining marines were either initiates, on special assignment, or chaplains.

The chapter chaplains, the soul keepers of the chapter and shepherds of the White, stood next. The Chaplains each held a specific rank and were tied to specific companies, but during the Reckoning they were assigned something more than just a position amongst the companies. They were reassigned to the members of the White. Chaplain Gonatzu was assigned to the 10th. He was a burly marine with a long white mane. His words were few but when he spoke, it was wise to listen.

Brother Shwatarna approached from the perimeter of the room. The dreadnought was half white and half black. Ice blue trim lined his ornate armor. A white and gold helm sat above his armored sarcophagus and as he reached the chaplains and the Inevitables he reached up with both powered fists and gingerly removed it. Chaplain Utuaah, the first, and Mast Warden of the White, gingerly took the helm and turned it over. He removed a small satchel from his waist.

Chaplain Utuaah slowly retrieved a white crystal from the satchel, on each was inscribed a name. “Brother Zaloti” he pronounced before placing the crystal in the helm. “Brother Byna” he said with the next. The process continued until he had moved all of the crystals into the helm. 34 names had been read. It was the most living members of the White the chapter had ever had at one time.

When he was finished he knelt before Duggon. The chapter master was already deep in concentration. The room cooled and soon the breath of every marine could be seen. Frost formed on the tables. A sharp crack pierced the air. The helm and hands of the chaplain were encrusted with ice. Utuaah appeared unphased by the ritual.

Slowly he stood and held out the helm, his hands were still fixed to the helms frozen sides. “Cyaxeres.” He said.

The 2nd Chaplain approached and reached into the helm. He pulled out a small ball of opaque ice. In order of seniority each chaplain approached as their names were spoken. Each would reach into the helm and remove a ball of ice.

After the 11th chaplain reached in and removed an ice ball, a chaplain in training approached and chose the last ball. The last would be given to Chaplain Utuaah once he was able to release the helm from his frozen grasp.

Master Duggon began to sternly speak, “Chaplains, your duty is of the highest importance. Your justice must be swift and without pause when the time arises. The names of the White you are now responsible for are in your hands. These lost souls are our burden and also our future. Learn from them and guide them to the Emperor when their time arrives but until then, let them vent their wraith upon our enemies.”

The expansive room quickly returned to its previous temperature but the severity of the ritual seemed to make him shiver well after the cold had passed. The ice balls slowly melted in the chaplains hands. Utuaah broke the ice around his hands and gingerly gave the helm back to brother Shwatarna. The dreadnought placed it back in its armored shoulder mount. The newest chaplain bowed before Utuaah and passed the ice ball before too much had melted away. For minutes the room watched the chaplains and their melting cargo.

“Chapter Master, no names are within my Ice,” Utuaah spoke as he confirmed the melting contents in his hands were void of crystals.

“Chapter Master, no names are within my Ice,” Cyaxeres said shortly thereafter.

Razzik was astounded, as was everyone else, as each chaplain repeated the same response, up until Chaplain Gonatzu hesitated.

The chaplain of the 10th, Razzik’s company, was counting his crystals when it was his turn. The chaplain looked up from his cupped hands.

“Chapter Master, there are 34 names in my Ice,” he firmly stated. Razzik could hear rumblings from around the room. It was incredibly rare to have the entire chapter’s death company in one place under a single chaplain especially when the death company had swelled to the largest size the chapter had ever seen.

The volume in the room began to rise before Master Duggon held up his hands to silence the room.

“This Reckoning and the rituals within have guided this chapter since its inception. Have faith in what has occurred.” Duggon turned to look directly at Captain Razzik, “Captain Razzik, I hope you are aware of what you’ve been granted.”

Razzik nodded under the gaze of Duggon. Razzik could feel the cold stares from around the room. He didn’t fully understand the ramifications of what had happened but when his gaze passed by Gonatzu, Razzik couldn’t help but get the creeping suspicion that he may be unprepared for what will be asked of him in the future.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 2 – The Crate

The last ship had docked. The servitors had finished their tasks and were back in their locked closets. The deck crews had completed their shifts or moved onto other docking bays. For a very rare span of time, the wide five door hanger was quiet.

At the request of Inushi, the center door was kept open.

In the exact center of the hanger, Inushi sat on a dark green patterned rug. His armor had been removed after he had arrived on the Benevolent Aberration. Now he wore the kimono of his home clan.

Physically, he felt more relaxed then he had in a long time. He had already gone through his stretches and exercises. Now he concentrated on his breathing and the silence that rippled around him.

He tried not to think about Aquilum, or how long he would be outside on the exterior of the ship. It had already been longer then he had anticipated. Instead Inushi thought about the decisions he had made. He thought that hindsight would lead him to further clarity but it only seemed to worsen his feeling that he had made the wrong decision followed by other wrong decisions.

When he had returned to the Iron Torch, Nefas had explained that he was a Commander of an Inquisitorial Task Force. He would not explain much more than that, but he had given Inushi the option to come along or return to his chapter. Inushi had not felt any pressure to stay from any one, but he had still requested to come along with Nefas on whatever mission they were sent on.

He wanted to feel like he had made the right decision but he had trouble overcoming the feeling that he had given up the opportunity to help his chapter. “Or would I be more of a detriment? Perhaps this is the learning experience that I need,” he thought to himself. “How can this be helpful to the Mantis Warriors though?” The question echoed in his subconscious.

Two quick thuds removed Inushi from his mental state of calm. Inushi opened his eyes to see the pink and yellow dreadnought stepping into the hanger and approaching him. The long fuzzy cloak of the dreadnought hung just inches from the floor.

Inushi watched the war machine approach with a mixture of annoyance and awe. The machine itself was an obnoxious piece of art, yet the lethality of it was still awe inspiring. It was a perfect reflection of the pilot condemned within.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting too long Mantis,” Aquilum said. His voice had a hint of the jovial tone it once contained.

“I had time to wait,” Inushi stood up in a fluid motion. He bent over to roll up his rug. By the time the dreadnought was next to him he had gathered and stowed all of his things.

“One of the Tech Priests requested you visit when you return for a final test. Something about a docking station,” Inushi waived, “I stopped listening when he got into specific details.”

To Inushi’s surprise the dreadnought laughed. The raucous sound made Inushi smile. It reminded of him the laugh that he originally despised so much to hear. Inushi chuckled to himself at the thought.

“I apologize Mantis. But I think some of my bad habits may have rubbed off on you.” Aquilum stated. “I never expected you, of all people, to stop listening to any one, especially one of those drab mechanicum fellows. If I ever catch you ignoring your superiors I’ll ban you from ever spending time with me again.”

“Who gave you the authority to ban me from anything?” Inushi quipped.

“The Emperor! I have gone through rigorous training in order to properly ignore superiors and any relevant orders.” Aquilum bent over the unarmored astartes. “You have not.” He stated. “Only a Fool is permitted to do so.”

Aquilum stepped around Inushi and began to walk towards the nearest exit. Inushi quickly moved to follow. He had to take three steps to every one of the dreadnoughts massive strides.

“Plus, I’ve been ignoring Nefas much longer then you. I already know what he is going to have me do. Why bother listen to him say it yet again?”


They reached the doorway. Servitors had recently been slaved to the door frames. A hairless head looked at them through protective armor glass, with a blink the door way began to open.

Aquilum strode through the doorway as soon as there was enough room for him to pass. He took a left. Inushi followed. The hall way had boxes lined the walls. Crates were still waiting to be put away. Inushi ignored it all. His focus was on Aquilum, he felt like he had to say something or ask him something but he didn’t know what.

Then it struck, “How long have you known Nefas?”

Aquilum grunted before he spoke, “I’ve been under his command for several decades now. Nefas acquired Jaska right after I joined up actually.”

“Wait, both of you have been working for Nefas this entire time?” Inushi asked.

“That depends on how you look at it Mantis. Jaska has been working for Nefas this entire time, yes. I have been under his command this whole time. HA!” Aquilum laughed at himself. Inushi pondered his words.

“Did any of the other marines that joined the Ice Angels work for Nefas?” Inushi asked as they passed a unit of naval staff with servitor loaders.

“Surprisingly no. Those marines truly joined to support the Angels cause. Razzik speaks true and people believe him. It’s great for making friends, but it’ll probably kill him.” Aquilum quickly added as he ducked under a low support beam.

They turned another corner and they were in a heavily modified cargo hold. A tech priest, along with a gaggle of thralls and servitors, waited in silence. The room was thick with incense and sweet smoke. A hovering lantern lazily patrolled the room oozing a purple haze.

Aquilum looked into the room at the serene sight. A dreadnought docking station sat against the back wall. It was powered up and ready to accept its victim. The tech priest looked over at the doorway and shouted several commands in binary. Servitors and thralls a like activated and went to preset locations.

Aquilum turned his upper torso to face Inushi, “Thank you Inushi,” he said in a hushed tone.

Inushi rested his hands on the black belt of his kimono. “There is no need to thank me Aquilum. Friendship has its own demands and I am merely fulfilling my requirements,” he gave a faint smile.

“When this is over then, I think it’s my time to fulfill my end, eh?” Aquilum said as he strode into the room. “How long will this procedure take priest?”

“Not long Revered One. You’ll return to your gallivanting and armor disgracing before you know it.” He said with a hint of disdain. “Please stand in the docking station. We need to calibrate and……”

“Don’t bore me with the details Priest,” Aquilum waived his cannon arm. Aquilum and this priest had been arguing on and off ever since they met months ago. Inushi wasn’t sure if Aquilum did it out of spite or amusement. “Let’s get this over with.”

Two mounted wall arms reached down and removed Aquilums massive furry cloak and placed it off to the side. A small team of servitors hung it in an alcove and carefully folded the bottom before sealing it away behind a glass door.

Inushi watched them with distant amusement, “such a menial task turned into a ritual” he began to think to himself. A sudden strange feeling came over him. Aquilum stood in the docking station and leaned back. The mounted arms returned along with several clamps. They held him in place as a pair of thralls approached with large bundles of cables. The priest prayed in gothic and binary. The thralls used special tools built into their arms to adjust several armor panels on Aquilums torso, they then plugged in their bundles.

At the crescendo of the Tech Priests prayers lights on Aquilum activated along with several wall monitors. The priest stepped over to a pedestal and checked an array of screens. Inushi watched with concern. Aquilum was silent and completely inert.

“Thank the Omnissiah.” The tech priest said. “Clean and prep, load the arsenal.” He commanded.

The servitors began to remove the weapons systems from Aquilum for cleaning. Inushi looked at the helm of his friend and noticed the yellow lens had gone dark.

“Load the arsenal? Are we heading into battle?” Inushi questioned.

The priest did not bother to look at Inushi. Instead he continued to give orders and check his panel. Inushi began to cross the room when the priest shot him a glare.

“You are not authorized within this room during a procedure. You could upset the machine spirit during this transition.” The priest spat.

“Transition? What transition are you speaking of?” Inushi retorted.

The priest looked back the dreadnought as its pink arm was removed at the shoulder. “The transition from alertness to controlled slumber.”

“Wait, you put him out? I thought it was a test.”

“It was a test. We had to see if everything would function as necessary. Yes, we did put him out. He will stay asleep until he is needed. Now, please leave.” The priest said as he went back about his business.

Inushi gritted his teeth. He felt cheated, he felt betrayed, even worse he felt like he had betrayed his friend. His younger self would have had some strong words with the priest but instead he kept his calm and left the room. He couldn’t stand to see his friend treated this way.

* * * * * * * * *

“Death is but a door,” Mortifex began to whisper to himself as he patiently scanned his surroundings. His senses were peaked.

He didn’t see where the projectiles had come from but a dozen or so had splattered across his armor. They were unable to penetrate his holy wargear but the fact that the attack had occurred unseen and he still was unable to locate his assailant angered him.

The brush was thick around him as it had been for nearly a week now. In his left hand he held his combat blade, with his index finger pointed forward. He was prepared to adjust the blade in an instant. His right hand was empty and ready to parry or grapple.

Water slowly dripped onto his white armor in large droplets. Mortifex couldn’t tell if it was raining or merely water was still dropping from the canopy above him. He continually scanned as echoes of scampering claws reached his heightened senses.

The sound of moist wood being crushed preempted the next attack. Mortifex didn’t see the beginning of the attack but he was alert enough to dodge the spine covered tail as a small creature sailed right over his head. Mortifex spun around to see the four legged creature float onto a partially unearthed root. Webbing between its legs allowed it to float from the canopy while swing its spine covered fluffy tail. It had a pair of multifaceted eyes that seemed to glow with an inner hatred. It snarled at him revealing a small set of very sharp needle like teeth.

The creature was no larger than his forearm yet it still assaulted him. Mortifex found it very surprising but it upset him nevertheless. He took a step forward when a screech behind him made him spin back around. He reflexively slashed forward during the spin. He removed the tail from another assailant that was sailing past him. He heard the creature tumble into the underbrush and screech.

In his off-hand he batted away the next. His blade sailed back and cut in half the next. He leapt into the air and let his armored legs kick out of the sky three more. A stream of flying vermin flew in a thin formation at him.

More than half were mortally wounded or killed as they approached but the coordination of the attack was truly impressive. Mortifex duck and wove around his assailants taking minimal hits while defeating many of his attackers. Seeing their initial attack not yield their typical results they quickly scampered away.

“Mantiquirrels,” he said as he closely examined one of the dead. The passage floated to his consciousness but he chose not to revisit it. “Killing a thing is the best way to know a thing,” he said to himself.

He cleaned his blade on a large leaf before continuing on his course. He noticed what appeared to be a clearing up ahead.

After only a few minutes of walking through the jungle he reached the clearing, a foliage lined chasm. He kept himself in dense greenery as he crept the last few meters towards a tree that leaned over the bottomless pit. To his right, the jungle lined tear in the earth curved deeper into the foliage. To his left the chasm ended in a metal platform with a tall metal pylon in its center. Mortifex could see, on both sides of the chasm, giant pieces of ferrocrete and discarded metal. The pylon was hundreds of meters tall. It reminded him of a support beam for a road or pipe line.

Mortifex was scanning his surroundings when the sound of engines pierced the jungle. He sank back into darker cover as the sounds quickly approached. Within seconds a trio of vehicles flew into view from his right. They were flying in and above the chasm.

The vehicles were of different designs but they seemed to be little more then hovering platforms with minimal railing and a pair or trio of engines. The lead vehicle was piloted by a woman with vibrant red hair. The second had a crew of men in green fatigues while the third vehicle had a massive muscled human standing on the prow.

As the vehicles approached the pylon they each executed banked turns to round the pylon and head back the way they came. The third vehicle waited too long to slow down and clipped a tree that was hanging over the chasm. The flimsy vehicle then proceeded to tumble into the jungle. The pilot and ogryn sized crew were tossed from the vehicle.

The first two vehicles sped away as a fourth vehicle came into view at a lower altitude to avoid the now oncoming vehicles.

Mortifex watched the fourth vehicle approach the pylon at amazing speed. Another ogryn stood on the prow and with a long hooked polearm he grabbed the pylon and used it as a pivot. The pilot didn’t slow down like the other vehicles and when the ogryn unhooked the pylon they shot forward right up behind the first two vehicles.

The vehicles were gone as quickly as they had approached. Mortifex studied the pylon once more. He saw several devices moving near the top. They looked like sentry mounted gun turrets but upon further inspection, he realized they were cameras.

A passage instantly came to mind from one of his books, “after the fall of the first Imperial settlers, the clan system reasserted itself. However, unlike before, the clans did not return to endless battle and needless slaughter, they remained a nation of city states bound by the common enemies that seemed to always attack the planet. Instead, the bloody wars were replaced with sport and competition. The games of old were modified and updated and humans of all kinds were allowed to participate. Upon the ruins of the old city spires, the games are held. Races are fought in the jungles and hunting competitions in the plains. The population of…………”

Mortifex warily crept away from the chasm, careful to not be seen by the pylon cameras. The city had to be nearby and just beyond that was his destination, the city spire of Allatoose.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

One by one Razzik watched the captains depart the Inevitable’s council room. They would come back out of the room with a dataslate and a look of determination. Good byes and Emperor’s graces were exchanged before they would then go on their way. Razzik watched every captain take his orders and leave, even Muttabriqu, went before he did.

After several minutes Muttabriqu returned with a look of accomplishment. He saluted Razzik and smiled before he spoke. “Razzik, it has been an honor serving with you. It is good to see you as a brother instead of the rival I despised for so long.”

Razzik couldn’t help but return the look, “Likewise Muttabriqu, it is truly beneath us letting those kinds of emotions get in the way of our duties.”

Muttabriqu dropped the salute and let the smile fade away, “make sure the Emperor guides you Razzik, not Nefas. I hope your time with him is limited.”

“I couldn’t agree more Muttabriqu. I look forward to hearing all about your campaigns when we meet again.” Razzik finished. With a curt nod Muttabriqu turned to leave Razzik by himself.

When it was finally his turn, Razzik was summoned into the chamber just like the others. Inside the dark room Chapter Master Duggon sat in the center of a crescent shaped table, seven other Inevitables sat around him. The masked Shar-Kallii was to Duggon’s left and Ishtanuu was to his right. Razzik stood opposite them with his hands behind his back. The frozen wings of the Ice Angel chapter badge stretched behind the council members in blues and gold. Candelabra lined the perimeter of the room. Razzik could smell the lingering hint of Shattermantle Poise, the common incense of his home world.

Countless questions flitted through his mind as he looked around the room. Countless scenarios played through his conscious. The mental exercise was exhausting yet he felt prepared to retort any question or comment made by the council. Razzik felt as if this may be his only chance to get some answers.

For minutes he stood in silence waiting for permission to speak. The Inevitables were silent, some stared at Razzik, and others looked off into the distance. Master Duggon kept his head down before he took a deep breath and met Razzik’s gaze.

Razzik saw a hint of sorrow in Duggon’s eyes. It puzzled Razzik and caught him off guard.

Duggon raised his hand to stop Razzik before he had even opened his mouth, “I know you must have a lot on your mind my son, but before you speak you must listen.” Duggon sat back and for the first time, he appeared weary. He took another deep breath before looking at his fellow council members. The masked Shar-Kallii spoke next.

“Razzik, as you know, this council has guided this chapter since its inception. We’ve pooled our gifts for centuries trying to decipher what the Emperor is telling us. Throughout this council’s meetings we’ve foreseen what task each company should undertake. Whether or not we foresee success we send each company to where we feel they are destined.” Shar-Kallii’s voice was smooth and deep which seemed to amplify the weight of his words.

Inevitable Ishtanuu spoke next. The long white haired marine had chiseled angelic looks more akin to their parent chapter, the Angels Encarmine, “Our council often comes to the same conclusion for each company, yet every time, “ his face showed a hint of frustration, “every time we look at your future, we see something different. We have each seen moments of glory and moments of intense pain. Some of us believe your actions will strengthen our chapter beyond what any of us could ever imagine. Others believe your actions will bring the destruction of everything we’ve built.”

Duggon leaned back into his throne and wrapped his hands together as Ishtanuu spoke. He then took his turn, “each captain before you has left here with a data slate containing mission parameters, goals, supplies, time tables, enemy information, essentially everything the captain will need. For you, we can give you nothing other then a list of assets you’ve been assigned. Your mission is unknown even to us Razzik. We have not even been able to foresee what enemy Nefas sends you against. It is as if you’re walking through a black curtain with limitless possibilities for an exit” Duggon raised his hands to his lips as he seemed to drift away once again.

“In our history this precognizant masking has only happened twice before, one time it led to our survival against the hulk that smashed into our homeworld. The second time led us to being banned from the Munitorium’s supplies and under strict scrutiny from the Inquisition.”

Duggon focused on Razzik once again and starred for a long moment. Razzik couldn’t help but look away. He felt ashamed. He felt cheated for having this burden placed on him. Confusion and indecision wracked his thoughts.

“Whatever Nefas has planned for you, whatever mission he sends you on, is more important than anything else our chapter is currently tasked with doing.” Duggon chuckled to himself, “we thought about sending the entire chapter with you but….”

Ishtanuu raised his hand and shook his head, “what little of your future we can see only worsens, so your company is on its own. The council has faith in you Razzik. We believe the Emperor has destined the Ice Angels for this moment.”

Duggons gaze hardened as if he was pushing all doubt aside to strengthen his words, “our future is in your hands.“

The mental scenarios Razzik had been running vanished along with all of his questions. He seemed weakened by their words. It was not what he had expected to hear. They spoke to him very candidly, not in their typical mysterious ways and it unnerved him. Shar-Kallii held out a dataslate. Razzik took it without looking at him. His mind was racing yet his body felt like it was submerged in ice water.

For several seconds Razzik stood facing the council waiting for more. He kept his focus on Duggon, but was met by the cold blank look of his chapter master. When Razzik finally realized they were done he turned and left.

He had gone through the entire meeting without saying a word. He didn’t even bother looking at the data slate.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The halls of the Benevolent Aberration were an endless labyrinth of construction zones that Inushi aimlessly wandered. He had no duties or tasks, merely to keep too himself and wait until needed. The Aberration had minimal facilities in which he could train so instead he wandered. He told himself it was an exercise to better familiarize himself with the odd ship but his mind quickly stopped creating a mental map and instead thought about his situation.

There were times when the ship felt like the Imperial vessel it was built upon, but more often than not he would take a turn that he thought went somewhere and end up in a dead end. On several occasions he came across members of the servitor cleaning crew, still removing blood stains from the Ice Angel cleanse that had happened months ago.

After passing three recently sealed corridors he came across an extra wide artery of the ship. The walls looked heavily altered as if this rectangular pathway was cut out through any room or preexisting structure. New walls and unpainted slabs of metal were set on both sides of the long straight pathway. It ended in a large doorway and a pair of ramps going up and down. Inushi realized he hadn’t seen anyone in quite some time. The feeling of seclusion was comforting.

Before Inushi reached the doors he noticed wall mounts and empty redoubts set around the path. It was clear this was going to be a heavily guarded sector of the ship. The constant thrum of the engine was slowly replaced by a different whirr. Without thinking Inushi lightly stepped towards the descending ramp. He darted down the ramp and waited. The whirring came from the other ramp and it was accompanied by several sets of footfalls. The sounds of binary communication pierced the air like a bird squawking over food.

Silently Inushi walked up the ramp and peered around the corner down the hall. Four servitors and a pair of menials flanked a tracked flatbed. On it contained eight heavy bolters, wires, tools, and a dozen servo skulls ready to be implanted into the walls mounts, the first of many defenses that would be invested into this area of the ship.

Inushi watched them go about their work. The low level mechanicum grunts guided the servitors who tirelessly went about their tasks. Methodically they lifted each piece, blessed it, and set it into place. Wires were attached, weapon systems were bolted in; each step was practiced and ritualized.

Still unnoticed, Inushi continued to watch until a deep thumping crept down the ramp across from him. He glanced at the ramp trying to decipher what the sound was. He looked back to confirm the menials and servitors hadn’t noticed him before slipping across the hall and up the ascending ramp.

The smooth ramp wound a tight spiral up three floors before reaching a dark hall. The lights flickered on and off from exposed wires. They dangled from the ceiling like jungle vines. Halfway down the hall a doorway was cracked open on his right. A tight beam of light poured into the hall. The thumping he had heard earlier had turned into a deep rhythm; someone up ahead was playing music. The tempo of the music was fast with a driving beat and a layered harmony. It was a music that he was not familiar with, but it reminded him of some of the noise Imperial Guardsmen would blast when they were not in a war zone.

Inushi passed closed storage doors before arriving at the cracked open door. He peeked inside to see a balcony that ran the length of a vast cargo area. The balcony overlooked a hold with armored closets around the perimeter. The closets were open, each revealing massive ordnance shells. It was too far for Inushi to read any of the labels but given their size and devices they sat on, he assumed it was for the ships batteries.

In the center of the room was a score of humans standing in a circle. They were dressed in only gray pants and light shirts. They were taking turns allowing members to come into the center of the circle to spin, twirl, and dance.

From his vantage point Inushi could not see all that was below him. He carefully slid the cracked door open enough to let him pass. The door made minimal noise that would not have been heard over the beat of the music. As Inushi stepped onto the balcony he noticed that only a few feet to his left was a woman. She wore the same gray fatigues as the others and was watching the dance below. She carried a quad barreled automatic shotgun casually on her left hand and a lit black smoke stick in her right. Inushi watched the woman bob her head in time while occasionally taking a drag from the stick.

For several minutes he watched the woman gauging where her peripheral vision began before sliding forward just enough to be in the doorway and to better see the dance below. A muscular dark skinned man that wore only baggy pants flipped into the circle, on only his hands he spun around. His legs spun in time with the song. His body, along with everyone else’s, glistened with sweat. Shouts of approval came from several of the onlookers as the spinning upside down man switched from his hands to his head. When the song finally came to an end the man fell over onto his side with a huge grin. Applause quickly followed.

A woman with dark purple hair and matte black metal arms stepped forward and helped him up. When the next song kicked on she started the next round of dancing. Simple foot work turned into complex jumps, she even used one of the onlookers as a springboard for a back flip. She landed in perfect time with the song. The song suddenly changed style and slowed down. More shouts of approval followed.

“Awwwwww yeah!” the woman to Inushi’s left shouted. She began to sway with her eyes closed with the smoking stick in her mouth.

Inushi looked back down to the floor. The whole group of men and women down below had broken out and were now all dancing in small groups. The dancing involved a lot of acrobatics with kicks and flamboyant punches. Had the music not been playing it may have looked more like a riot then a dance party.

The large dark skinned man ceased dancing to step over to his discarded shirt. It was draped over a crate. The man took it and wiped off his face. The movement revealed a simple icon on the crate. Inushi narrowed his attention. The symbol of the Administorum Biologis was stamped into the plasteel crate.

The curiosity and desire to explore the ship suddenly dissipated. Inushi watched the dark skinned man put his shirt back and turn back to the dance. For some inexplicable reason he looked up and met the gaze of Inushi. The man didn’t move or quiver like many humans when they first see an astartes, clearly Inushi wasn’t his first. His hesitancy though, rippled through the room and the dancing quickly halted as they all looked up to him.

The slap of a hand on a weapon alerted Inushi to the woman next to him. With superhuman speed he batted away the weapon as she attempted to point it at him. The shotgun fell from her grasp and would have fallen down into the cargo hold had it not been attached to the woman by its ammo feeds. Instead it clattered against the railing.

To Inushi’s surprise the woman had already pulled out a side arm instead of going for the fallen weapon. Inushi grasped the top of the auto pistol flicking the magazine release switch. Ammo slid out of the grip and bounced off the floor. The woman let go of the pistol and jumped pack to pull out a thin combat blade slightly larger than Inushi’s index finger.

Inushi calmly turned to square up with the lithe woman. He debated on drawing both his katana and his combat blade, he knew she could see the pair of hilts, yet she still stood ready to strike. She didn’t show any signs of fear or hesitation standing before an astartes. She moved into a perfect stance designed to attack a larger target. Clearly she had had advanced training or was very experienced.

He kept his face blank as he studied her. The room below him was silent. All eyes were on the pair, none had yet spoken. Inushi turned his head enough to keep one eye on her and the majority of the room below him in his peripheral vision.

The dark skinned male from below was the first to talk, “you think you can take him K’tla?” he said with a chuckle.

A smile crossed the knife wielding woman’s face, “permission to engage commander?”

To Inushi’s surprise, the metal armed woman responded, “try not to hurt him too bad,” she then paused, “hipshee.”

The word was unfamiliar to Inushi but he quickly gleamed its meaning. The woman next to him darted forward with her empty hand, knife hand held back to strike. In the millisecond it took him to determine her attack he countered with a downward open palmed strike. His hand came down on the top of her head and her small frame buckled before his might. Her knife couldn’t complete its thrust before Inushi had crushed her face onto the balcony. Blood splattered and bones cracked. As she coughed out her first mouthful of blood and broken teeth, Inushi disarmed her and flipped her over.

Through her swelling and bleeding face she managed a weak smile, “that was a bit unnecessary” she slurred. She wiped away some of the blood from her crooked nose and winced at the pain. “Medic,” she said as she rolled onto her side.

Inushi casually watched several men run to grab some medical supplies. The metal armed woman cursed before heading to a ladder that would take her up to the balcony. K’tla rolled onto her back and looked up to Inushi, blood still freely flowed from her nose, jaw, eye brow, cheek, and chin. One eye was almost completely swollen but she seemed unphased by the pain she must have been feeling.

“By the way, I’m K’tla,” she said as she reached for the discarded smoking stick that had rolled to the edge of the balcony. She took a pained puff that resulted in more coughing. Inushi watched her in silence. The metal armed woman was the first to arrive. She took one look at the bleeding K’tla before measuring up Inushi.

She wore a simple top. Inushi could see where her metal arms were grafted into her torso, they were not the typically bionics the guard were granted. They didn’t make any noise as she moved them and she seemed to have full range of motion with them. They were smooth and well formed, even artistic, yet built for war. Someone wanted her to be able to do her job without looking like a soldier. Inushi began to get the feeling he wasn’t going to like her.

“You must be the Mantis?” she said as she placed one had on her hip. She spoke in perfect high gothic. She nodded her head assuming she was right. “Why are you in my cargo hold?”

A raised eyebrow was his response. The medics arrived and tended to K’tla who grunted in pain as they examined her.

“Did that shorrbo, Jaska send you?” She spat with distaste. Her accent switched to low gothic and sounded venomous. Inushi smiled, maybe she wasn’t so bad.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Razzik marched down the promenade of glory on the Herald of Sanguinius towards his support staff. He had sent away all of the aids and naval staff that had requested to come along for the long walk. After several quick commands they were all granted tasks to get them away. He knew they only wanted to impress and do their duties but he needed to think.

The promenade of glory was an art filled gallery that meandered down the length of the ship. It was a very indirect route to take to reach his men but they didn’t know when to expect him so he did not see any harm.

Razzik chuckled to himself as he reminded himself he was their captain. He may have dozens of marines under him with more experience but he held the rank. With that thought in mind he looked down at the tablet he had been holding. He slid out the listening device and placed it on his left ear. With a quick series of taps the ear piece began to recite the list of supplies he was granted while he continued his stroll through the glories of the Ice Angels past.

The supplies he had for the marines in his company was the minimum amount protocol would assign the 10th company. The sergeants were granted all of their squads’ standard equipment which did give Razzik access to some extra transports and some specialized equipment but nothing more. Razzik was once again glad to have Techmarine Philosir around; he had all sorts of his own creations to bring along.

The ear piece continued to recite the tablets information. Next was the list of naval vessels. The Shattered Peace was the 10th companies assigned ship, with it came its standard escort ships and supply vessels. To Razzik’s surprise he was granted a long list of additional vessels, even one of the chapter’s devastation class cruisers.

Razzik expected the list of ships to end and lists of assigned guard regiments to begin but the list of ships was followed only by silence. When the ear piece finally ceased speaking he took his first look at the list of items on the data slate.

“Minimal marine supplies, not a single guard regiment, yet nearly triple the naval strength of a typical company,” he said quietly to himself as some frustration began to boil into other things deep inside.

“Did you have any questions about that?” a voice said.

Razzik turned to find Master Duggon standing before him.

“What is this?” Razzik asked as he thrust the dataslate at Master Duggon. A hint of surprise crossed Duggon’s face before it reformed back into its hardened glare Razzik was used to.

“That is generosity Razzik, you’d be best not to forget that,” Duggon retorted. He crossed his arms.

“Generosity? You’ve given be some extra ships but not a single extra vehicle or extra piece of equipment? I’m running the 10th with the bare amount of supplies and no guard complements or PDF detachments. What do you know that I do not? How will extra ships help my company?” Razzik spoke quickly and let his emotion take over before he silenced himself to let his chapter master speak. Razzik found himself surprised at his heated candor with his chapter master.

“I’ve already told you what I and the council know. I also don’t have extra equipment or guard to accompany you Razzik. Your mission is unknown to us so our limited resources were sent to where we Know they would be needed.” Duggon slowly responded. His deep voice and tone seemed to instantly wipe away Razzik’s urge to spew forth a dozen more questions.

Duggon gestured to walk down the promenade. Razzik fell into step next to him and they walked past several artful depictions of Ice Angels in battle. The lift that would take Razzik down to his men came into view past a fountain that was built into the statue of a legion titanicus war engine the size of a dreadnought.

“You still haven’t explained your generosity?” Razzik dared to ask his superior.

The sound of Duggon laughing startled several nearby naval officers that were sitting by the edge of the fountain.

“Razzik, before I explain, you need to know something. Your history of arguing with authority and disregarding rank did not help you get to your current position. I personally find it refreshing but you are not thought of very highly by several chapter leaders because of it.” Duggon said as he stopped before several blossoming trees that ringed the fountain. “With that in mind, you have to understand that the generosity was of none of my own doing. In fact no one on the council suggested it.”

“If the council did not, then who granted me the extra ships?” Razzik quizzically ran down the list of officers with that kind of authority.

Duggon raised an eye brow as he spoke, “to my surprise Razzik, each Captain after we gave them their orders, reviewed their assignments and then requested that several of their ships be reassigned to your fleet.” Razzik was astonished and felt ashamed for questioning Duggon the way he had.

“It was rather amazing and very unprecedented. I don’t think it was planned either. Every captain gave a different, yet logical reason for reassigning their ships to you.”

Duggon turned to look at Razzik once again. His light blue eyes commanded Razzik’s gaze. “Do not forget that your brothers, even those that don’t find you worthy, all weakened their own fleets to send you aid.” Duggon reached out and grabbed Razzik’s shoulder. “Now go to your men, be the captain I know you are meant to be. If you think you require more aid, get it from Nefas. See what he can provide for this mission that he is keeping from you.”

Razzik studied the fathomless eyes of his chapter master before he nodded his head. He took a final look around the glistening white halls of the promenade. Banners of allies and victory marks lined the walls, statues of heroes and replicas of chapter relics were staged all along the path. Razzik looked back to Duggon who responded with a fatherly smile. Razzik stood motionless before saluting to his chapter master.

“Good luck. Keep us informed as much as you can,” Duggon said before returning the salute.

A simple nod was all Razzik could do before he headed towards the lift.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The patter of rain drops had turned into a dull roar and within seconds it evolved into a downpour that was so loud his sound dampening systems activated. Mortifex walked in silence. He felt the weight of the water crashing down onto his massive shoulders. He watched the puddles deepen past his knees as the moist ground enveloped his armored legs. Mortifex forged on disgusted at every silent sloppy step.

The ravine was to his left and the amount of debris had increased. In between the canopy he could catch glimpses of the spire that was still miles away. The shattered tower had toppled centuries ago but its remains would forever litter this jungle. Vast pieces of metals and plastics created small clearings that Mortifex would circle but in this relentless rain he had chosen the quicker path. He climbed up onto a curved piece of suspension road that was lying at a slight angle. He appreciated the sturdy ground, despite its angle down to his right.

As quickly as the rain poured, it stopped. Light streamed down through the canopy and the sound dampening system deactivated. Mortifex cursed himself as the sound of engines hummed nearby. He was halfway across the suspension road piece when the rain ceased. He quickly ran the last few meters and leapt into the foliage once again.

He kept himself in the thicket as he tried to ascertain the location of the engines. It had to be close. It sounded as if it was behind the nearest tree. Mortifex kept still as the dual engine vessel hovered around the tree directly above him.

“Sergeant, we’ve commandeered a vessel,” the voice of Xerin stated.

Mortifex muttered complaints to himself. He stepped out of his cover to look at the floating platform. It was damaged and bent. Two of its three engines were functioning. Micus sat at the front of the ship, his head was shrouded by his hood. Xerin stood near the controls. He moved the vessel over the damaged road piece and lowered it. Mortifex quickly jumped onto the road and climbed aboard.

Xerin didn’t waste any time hovering back into the canopy. He carefully increased its speed. Xerin wove through the canopy but didn’t move faster then needed. He wasn’t Mortifex’s first choice as pilot but he was keeping the vehicle headed in the right direction.

“We were running behind sir,” Xerin added. “I thought this may prove useful.”

“Have you seen any more spotters?” Mortifex asked, still unsure of Xerins logic.

“No sir, we haven’t seen any since we were separated,” Xerin began.

Mortifex truly hoped that was the case. Their newly acquired ship would greatly expedite their trip but it would make it very hard to hide if they did come across a mechanicum spotter. He did not say anything but deep down he felt like they were going to get caught at any moment, then again he always thought this mission would fail.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Do you often wander around your ships Gissvin?” The metal armed woman asked.

Inushi pondered the meaning of Gissvin before he thought about the question, “typically no.”

She harrumphed before leaning back and looking at the gathered men and women. Inushi was sitting across from her. A crate full of explosives sat between them. Four drinks were dripping with condensation onto the top of the plastic box.

“You sure Jaska didn’t inadvertently send you?” she asked again.

For unknown reason she seemed very skeptical of Jaska and it intrigued Inushi. “Why would he send me to spy on you?”

A grin crossed her perfect face. She casually adjusted some purple hair that was dangling in her face. “I would imagine to check in on his supplies.”

“His supplies?” Inushi asked with surprise.

She waived her hand and looked around the room. “He becomes quite attached to his things, especially in between fights. I think it’s his way to cope with the boredom of transit.”

“All of this is his?”

“Technically no, it belongs to the Imperium, or the Inquisition or Nefas, depending on how you want to look at it, but he collects it all and on rare occasions he gathers some of it on one ship.” She stood up and walked around the room. She touched several of the crates gingerly before turning back to Inushi.

“He is truly gifted at acquiring what is needed but he has trouble parting with it when it comes time to use it. She looked off into the distance for a moment before speaking again, “do you know where we’re going next?”

“No, I don’t even know what we are doing. Nefas tells me nothing,” he responded as he thought about how lost he felt without the direction of his superiors.

She contemplated his words as she walked over to a crate. She easily lifted the large box. She carried it over and dropped it onto the floor. “They don’t tell us anything until necessary but of all the boxes they’re hiding in here with us, this one gives us the best idea,” she placed one black boot on the lid and leaned forward. “Whatever it is Gissvin, it's going to be quick and dirty.”

Nods of agreement and contemplative looks crossed the faces of many of the others. Inushi leaned forward to remove the lid. Inside were Imperial uniforms of dark blue and green trim. A thin man with a curled mustache reached in to grab the top uniform. The jacket unfolded and was twice as wide as he was.

“This was must be yours,” he tossed it to the large dark skinned man. He caught it and slid it on, it was a perfect fit.

The dark skinned man looked around at the room, “do you think we’ll rendezvous with Mithril and Onyx?”

A white haired woman with pale skin nodded as she answered, “what would he need the entire task force for?”

“Do you remember what happened last time the entire Clishmaclaver got together?” the mustached man asked.

“I earned my pay on that trip,” one of the medics added with several chuckles.

“None of us made it out unscathed,” the dark skinned man added.

“Not all of us made it out,” the metal armed woman added.

The scene fell silent as Inushi saw the familiar looks of distant memories flashing back to life. A small muscular man spoke for the first time, “Aye Widow, not everyone escaped but we won didn’t we? We saved the planet, as painful as that mission had been. Ne’er forget that lads.” His accent was thick and carried a lot of weight.

Inushi watched with curiosity. He wanted to ask more but got the impression it was still a deep wound still waiting to be healed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 3 – The Mission

The Ice Angel fleet slid apart like shattering glass in slow motion. Groups of ships slid at odd angles and departed towards their assigned jump points. The Herald of Sanguinius casually sank below Razzik’s viewport. Farewells and honor oaths had been exchanged between captains. Razzik was blessed with several brotherly comments from Muttabriqu and Shar-Vashu but to his surprise not a single council member sent him a message before the Herald began its’ descent. Within the day the 10th company and its assigned support fleet would be alone with the Benevolent Aberration. Even the Martian repair ships had already left to attend other vessels closer to the distant Iron Torch.

Razzik looked at the scroll one of his servitors had produced. It listed the tally of vessels and shuttles that had visited and departed the Benevolent Aberration. At the very bottom was a peculiar vessel, the Emperor’s Coinpurse.

Nefas was on his way to finally elaborate on what their mission was. Razzik wanted to feel relieved to be in motion once again but he paced his quarters with a sense of apprehension. He was on the cusp of something much greater then he felt prepared for.

The shuttle would be several hours before arriving, Razzik set down the scroll to ponder one his first commands. Who should accompany him to the meeting with Nefas? He could bring all of his officers but decided that would possibly limit the amount of information Nefas would share. He thought about bringing Voxxik, the psyker, or Gonatzu his chaplain. He reviewed his staff in his head before a promising thought came to mind, the one person who already had dealings with Nefas, Techmarine Philosir.

“Message,” Razzik clearly announced. A servitor on a single rubber wheel rolled quietly forward. Razzik wrote two messages. One with Philosir’s name on it, the other with Gonatzu’s name on it, Razzik wanted everyone else gathered and ready once the mission was set. It did feel good to finally be giving commands. He handed the two slips to the servitor. Pincers grabbed the messages and tucked them away before the wheeled servitor rolled out the door into the hall.

After a moment of contemplation Razzik went back to his view port. Many of the Ice Angel vessels were already becoming only small specs of light in the distance but the support fleet was repositioning itself around the Shattered Peace. One in particular caught his eye, the Alabaster Reflection.

The black vessel was painted like every other Ice Angel vessel except for the bright white iconography that ordained the vessel. The small transport was heavily armored for its size. It contained minimal weaponry but a powerful drive system. It was perfectly designed for its simple task. When the time arrived, it needed to drop its 34 pieces of cargo to wherever Razzik deemed necessary.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The lopsided pink and yellow ship stood in stark contrast to the grayscale colors of the hanger. Nefas exited the rear ramp while a pair of guardsmen began to unload crates onto the deck. Ice Angel serfs waited for commands to assist.

Razzik waited next to Philosir. Razzik could hear the tech marines’ myriad of optical units whirring and zooming in on the crates. Nefas was striding towards them in his power armor. It was black as ash with a red aquila across its chest. His right arm was also painted red. Nefas did not wear his helm and looked as emaciated as ever. It was disturbing to see a marine look so ill.

“What did he bring for us brother tech marine?” Razzik asked while he waited for Nefas to reach them.

The monotone voice of Philosir responded quietly, “weapons, and powerful ones. I’d like to examine them before they see any use.”

“Of course,” Razzik responded.

The pair waited in silence as Nefas arrived before them. Philosir bowed with respect while Razzik gave a welcoming nod.

“Welcome to the Shattered Peace, Inquisitor,” Razzik said with a small amount of disgust and a smile.

Nefas raised an eyebrow, “I hope your council meetings were enjoyable?” He seemed annoyed by the delay it had caused him while Razzik and the chapter had gathered.

“I assume you did not enjoy your short hiatus while we planned?” Razzik asked while motioning towards the door. Philosir stepped out of the way to let them through. Nefas didn’t move.

“Enough Razzik, I did not come here for another one of your lovely dinners,” he hissed. “It is time for your end of our deal.” Nefas produced a scroll case with a wax inquisitorial seal on it. “Take one of your ships and your company to the Mortimon system. On Mortimon Secondus you will meet up with Sergeant Mortifex. He has been there for several years gathering vital information. He will then advise you on the next part of your mission. The rest of your fleet and one of your squads will be coming with me.”

Razzik narrowed his eyes. Nefas continued, “Do not make your presence known when you get there. Secrecy is one of our most potent weapons. I brought with me the means and encryptions you will need to reach my agents.”

Philosir reached out and took the sealed scroll. Razzik tried not to let the anger cloud his judgment or affect his words but the quickness at which Nefas pissed him off was astounding. After a deep breath Razzik gathered himself, “I’ve gathered my officers if you would like to say anything to them.”

“Not necessary, nor do I have time. Pick a squad and have the sergeant report to me at once. Make sure your fleet knows that they are to listen to every command I give them. We leave within the day.” Nefas paused and look at the two marines, “so do you.”

Razzik didn’t like this at all. The strength of his fleet, the gifts from his fellow captains was already being stripped from him. Nefas continued to look between the two marines. Philosir remained silent, holding the wax sealed scroll. Razzik focused on who to send and which ship to take.

The feeling of hopelessness crept back into Razzik. He battered it aside; he was still the captain of his company. He was determined to see his men through whatever Nefas threw at them. “Sergeant Shar-Takazz will report to you at once along with every ships commander. We will depart immediately.”

“Excellent,” Nefas hissed with surprising glee, “we will meet again Captain Razzik.” He then spun on heels and headed back to the pink and yellow storm bird. The crates and boxes had already been moved away. The ships engines roared back to life.

Razzik didn’t stay to watch it leave. He fumed at the commands given. He now had to tell his officers of their mission along with all of his commanders. It wasn’t how he envisioned starting out his captaincy of the 10th.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The jungle covered courtyard was cut back in several paths. Mortifex could see where the locals had created trails into the broken spire. He looked up at the cloud scraping remains. He wondered what had happened here and why it had been abandoned. Plenty of books had been written but after reading them all Mortifex determined that they were merely speculation. Most of the stories seemed more fiction than anything else and as Mortifex looked up at the decrepit structure he could see why the tales were written. The jungle covered mountain of metal looked like it belonged in an art piece. It looked like a terrible place heroes would go to die.

Stories of ghosts and dream visiting revenants came to mind as he examined the entrances before him. The nearest ones looked well traveled. He ruled those out.

“Okay, let’s move to the north side, it seems less traveled. We will find another way in. Once we’re on the inside we shouldn’t have to much trouble finding the statue,” Xerin nodded. Micus seemed oblivious, as usual.

They carefully descended the jungle retaining wall. The twisting trees and massive roots made the descent easy and well hidden from view. When they reached the bottom Xerin came up next to him.

“Do you think everyone will be here sergeant?” He asked.

Mortifex at first assumed they would all be dead and he would have to do everything alone, but then he thought about the unique squad he led. “I expect them all to be,” he sighed” There is no reason they wouldn’t be here. I can’t see how a planet full of giant humans and servitors would be able to stop a space marine, even the misfits Nefas has collected. I just hope they found what we need. I have no desire to be sulking around this jungle or this planet any longer.”

Suddenly Micus drew his sword. He wielded it at one of the nearest trees.

He growled like an animal.

“MICUS!” Mortifex snarled. He cautiously approached the marine. “Not here damn it. Get a hold of yourself.” He held out his hands and tried to motion for the other marine to lower his weapon.

“You’ve been doing so great Micus, just a little longer. It’s just a tree.” Mortifex pleaded. He knew he could not take out Micus especially when he was in his attack mode, he was very dangerous in these situations.

Micus looked like he was in agony. His breath came in short bursts and his face was flushed with sweat.

“Come on, it’s just a tree, please don’t hit it. We do not need to announce our presence.” Mortifex watched the marine begin to glow. His sword took on a reddish hue. Mortifex dropped his arms in disgust.

“He’s going to hit the tree isn’t he?” he asked to no one in particular.

Xerin answered any ways, “I believe he is sir.”

Mortifex nodded his head in defeat. Micus built up energy within his body and sword. With a flash of movement he thrust his sword into the trunk of the tree all the way to the hilt. Mortifex and Xerin dove for cover. The trunk of the tree then exploded outward with a thunderous detonation. Every sound in the jungle dissipated. The ten foot thick tower of wood split into countless pieces of wooden shrapnel and cut down all the nearby vegetation. The top half of the tree then tumbled off the jungle retaining wall towards the spire.

Mortifex and Xerin could do nothing but watch as it careened into several other trees. Branches shattered and creatures scattered. Within seconds the shaded vicinity they had been hiding in was revealed to all the surrounding area.

Micus held up his sword and kissed the hilt as if he had just vanquished a mighty foe.


“Damn it Micus, MOVE,” he commanded as he ran past.

The command shook him out of his reverie and he shook his head, suddenly ashamed of what he had done. The three marines ran for jungle cover to the north. Micus chanted prayers of repentance as they ran.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The flashes in space were miniscule. Razzik watched them with distant curiosity. He tried to focus on the sight in order to help keep his emotions in check but the myriad of feelings clouded his thoughts. When the last of the ships departed Razzik continued to stare into the void.

A deep voice harrumphed behind him. “Warp travel is a bizarre thing. I have always wondered what it sounds like when a ship tears through reality into the immaterium.”

The monotone voice of Philosir quickly answered. “There is no sound in the vacuum of space Chaplain Gonatzu.”

“Every tear makes a sound my tech marine brother, space just prevents us from hearing it,” Gonatzu retorted.

“Enough of this useless banter, how soon can we depart?” Voxxik quickly spat.

Razzik could hear the pacing of the terminator librarian.

“AH, very soon,” the librarian said just before the airlock slid open. “Everyone is on board captain and the ship is prepared, please issue the command to began our travels.”

Slowly Razzik turned around. He gave Voxxik a look of annoyance before looking at a naval officer that was quickly walking across the floor of the stardeck. The officer did not make any eye contact as he approached. When he was near Razzik he held up a thin strip of paper while keeping his head down. Razzik calmly took it and read it.

All transports have arrived. All supplies are secured. We are at your command, honored Captain Razzik.

Razzik opened his mouth to speak when Voxxik cut him off with an exaggerated sigh, “Please do not delay this. No one wants to hear your speech.”

“Stay out of my head Voxxik! I understand you’re impatient, we all are, but we will wait here as long as I deem necessary.” Razzik snarled while pointing at the librarian.

The librarian tightened his jaw before crossing his massive armored arms and retreating to the perimeter of the room. He stood in the corner like a dark cloud.

Captain Razzik watched Voxxik for another moment before looking at the marines in the room. Standing before him was his command staff and all of his sergeants. They were all fully armored except for their helmets.

“Whether or not Voxxik wants to hear it or not I have something to say.” He said without looking at the bitter librarian. “I have a feeling we will not have the opportunity to get to know one another before this unknown mission of ours gets ugly. The Inevitables have no idea what we are getting into and Inquisitorial Captain Nefas has not told me anything useful. We do have a destination and a name but that is about it.” Razzik looked around the room as he spoke. He made eye contact with each of the marines before him.

“Before the rest of the chapter departed Master Duggon told me that our mission will change the entire future of our chapter. What we do here together and how we act together,” Razzik looked back to Voxxik, their eyes met, “could change everything.”

After a long pause Razzik looked past the marines before him. The stardeck was a chamber on the exterior of the Alabaster Reflection. Three of the walls were force fields similar to those around the hangers. Clear barriers that solid matter could pass through yet still managed to keep the void of space outside.

“We head to the Mortimon System.” Razzik said with a nod to the naval officer that still stood nearby. The human quickly fled the room of super humans. “There we are meeting with a marine named Sergeant Mortifex. He works under Nefas. I am hoping he will give us a target in which we can vent some frustrations.”

Several marines nodded in appreciation of Razziks words. “Be prepared.”

He waited a moment while gauging reactions within the room. A lone deep breath and he moved on.

“Sergeant Phiniki and Jarvik, I want to see both of your units fully prepped and ready to deploy in the forward hangar in sixty minutes. Tech marines, I want everything Nefas sent us checked and rechecked before any other Ice Angel touches it. The rest of you have your typical assignments.” Razzik took a moment to look at his men. “Dismissed”

The astartes gathered themselves and left towards the three air locks. Voxxik and Gonatzu were all that remained. When the doors had shut Voxxik stepped from his dark corner. His terminator armor made him the biggest object in the room. His psychic hood was arranged over his skull like a tight cap. His hairless head seemed peculiar to Razzik, like it was smaller than normal.

He knew Voxxik was going to be difficult and just by having that thought, Razzik figured that Voxxik knew that as well. The psyker continued to glare at him.

“Do you know why the Emperor sent you to be a part of my company?” Razzik asked.

Voxxik’s response was a cocked eyebrow.

“No, because it is not relevant whether we know or not. The Inevitables, however, spend their time trying to decipher what the Emperor has planned for us. I can imagine that prior knowledge of what is going to occur can often change what will occur.” Razzik walked up and stood right before Voxxik. The terminator clad psyker stared down at Razzik, intrigued.

“What did the council say to you when they sent you with me?”

Voxxik narrowed his eyes, “I would not dwell on what the council says.”

“Are you saying that because you are not part of the council or because they told you nothing in order to keep you hidden from our path?” Razzik quickly retorted. He could tell he had hit a sore spot with Voxxik.

Razzik watched the face of Voxxik as the psyker gritted his teeth, “they told me nothing, other then I would be needed.”

“I agree Voxxik. You will be needed! You will be needed on the battlefield doing what you do best. You will NOT be needed inside my head.” Razzik then thought of a long string of Shatt’el’hai swear words to gauge the psykers reaction.

“Very well Captain.” Voxxik sneered with a disgruntled harrumph before turning towards the air lock.

For several minutes Razzik and Gonatzu stood in silence. Razzik wondered what range Voxxik could read thoughts at. Then he decided it didn’t matter. He did not want to try in vain to hide his opinions from a brother.

“Was that too hard, brother chaplain?” He finally asked to the burly chaplain.

“No, I think the direct approach with Voxxik, will suit you both best in the long run. Besides, I don’t think you should expend any more of your thoughts on him. He may be dour, rude, and simply difficult, but there is no other psyker I’d rather have next to me when the bullets begin to fly.” Gonatzu responded. His voice seemed to sooth Razzik. He found himself more relaxed then he had been all day.

A gentle whirring came from below the floor. Metal armored panels slid over the force fields to completely block line of sight into the void. The ship was preparing to enter the warp. A servitor rolled out of one of the airlocks. The two human heads chanted a deep psalm as the tracked unit spread incense in thick clouds of green vapor. When the armored doors finally locked into place the servitor pressed a mechanicum sigil of fortification into the center beam. It then completed its perimeter check before departing back into the airlock it had arrived in.

“On second thought, perhaps instead of keeping him away until needed you should give him a vital role. That may give him something to focus on instead of brooding over what was thought or said,” Gonatzu mused will rubbing his chin.

The 10th captain pondered his chaplain’s words. “I think that is an excellent idea Gonatzu. I have just the role in mind. Our newest squads could use some special attention,” Razzik motioned for the door. The chaplain nodded his head as he strode that direction.

Razzik slid on his helm to activate a private vox line to Voxxik. “Brother Librarian, I have a task for you.”

“I’m already headed for the forward hanger Captain. I will meet you there.” Voxxik quickly responded.

A flare of agitation tingled in the back of Razzik’s thoughts, “I told you to stay out of my head Voxxik.”

“I wasn’t in yours Captain,” Razzik could hear the satisfaction in Voxxik’s voice. “Thank Gonatzu for the suggestion.”

The vox line closed. Razzik was not sure if he should be displeased or not with Voxxik’s actions, either way he was thankful for something to keep Voxxik occupied. Gontazu gave a chortle in amusement as he slapped Razzik on the back and motioned towards the lifts.

* * * * * * * *

A dozen chapter serfs lined both sides of the hallway. They had been unloading supplies when Razzik had approached. They each stopped what they were doing to bow to Razzik. As he neared the officer, the sound of distant singing drifted into his head. It was a beautiful song sung by a male choir. Razzik paused amidst the bowing serfs. The tune sounded familiar yet he could not place the name of the song.

The nameless music floated away and he realized he was standing still. He nodded to the officer of the crew that bowed to his right, “The Emperor thanks you for your service”. The officer seemed unable to respond in any way, perhaps the shock of being acknowledged by an astartes was too much for him. After Razzik had past he turned back to look at the serfs as they went back to work. Their pace had quickened and the officer held himself higher then he had a minute before. The minute action had seemed to reinvigorate them all.

The sounds of weapons clashing and armor crashing turned Razzik back towards his destination. Razzik calmly approached the next set of open doors. Within was a scene he was not expecting.

Voxxik stood in the center of the hanger. His armor was frosted and his eyes seemed to be bleeding yellow light into the air. Around him twenty space marines were splayed across the floor or getting up, most of them had been disarmed.

The terminator librarian surveyed the hanger before turning towards the open doors. “Welcome captain.”

Razzik observed the marines standing up and collecting their weapons. Sergeant Phiniki walked up the open doorway and retrieved his power axe that was lodged into the metal frame. Razzik looked back to Voxxik and raised an eyebrow in question.

“Captain, you were right in sending me, only Phiniki required additional effort to stop.” Voxxik explained with an air of superiority.

“Please keep your additional efforts from breaking our weapons, if you could,” Razzik casually said as Phiniki put a leg on the wall to help pull the axe out of it. When the marines were finished collecting themselves Razzik looked back to Voxxik.

“Please proceed,” Razzik said as he crossed his arms near the open double doors.

“For the next few weeks all of your training will be done by me. I will be testing all your mental facilities to the max in order to improve you. That was a dismal first attempt at resisting only the minimal amount of power that could be unleashed at you. You are astartes and Ice Angels at that. I do not know how many of you were even allowed to don the Ice at all, simply pathetic.” Voxxik snarled as he looked at the marines before him.

Razzik studied the marines as Voxxik lectured them on how worthless they were and how much more powerful they should be. Many of the marines were newly initiated. Without even looking at names he could tell which they were. The others were older marines but new to these units. Sergeant Phiniki was the more tenured of the two squads. Razzik had not seen him in several decades but long ago they had campaigned together. It was good to have another familiar face around.

“By the time we arrive at our destination, you will either be the whirlwind of blades I need you to be or I will personally liquefy everything between your ears.” Voxxik stated before stomping over to one of the marines. He leaned over in his terminator armor and got in his face, “and YES I can read your thoughts.”

A smile crossed Razzik’s face. He will either have two powerful squads that can truly manage Voxxik’s talents or…. Razzik let the thought disperse.

“Voxxik,” Razzik interrupted with a raised hand. “Voxxik you are not allowed to liquefy any of my marines without consulting me first.” He paused to look at the marines. The fresh faces still showed hints of emotion; the others were cold, only their eyes gave anything away.

“At my command I have a single company of Ice Angels. Emperor knows if it will be enough, but you’ve seen what Voxxik can do. There will be a time when he may need to exert himself and when that happens the twenty of you will be needed to maximize the gifts he’ll grant you. As difficult as it will be to learn from him, you must find a way. I’ll need you all to do much more than you ever thought you were capable of.” Razzik watched the room. The stern looks and tightened jaws gave him a feeling of satisfaction.

Without another word Captain Razzik turned and left the hanger. The doors closed behind him. It was time to visit one more unit before he could rest. He wanted to see the White.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Razzik marched through the halls of the Alabaster Reflection to the center of the vessel, the Vault. The transport drop ship was built and designed around the frozen prison that dwelled in its core. There is only one way in to the sub zero fortress and nearly half of the ships armed forces guard it. Compared to other vessels of similar size and shape the Alabaster Reflection carried three times the number of naval security.

It saddened Razzik to see the level of defenses that lay within the halls of the ship. The thought of brothers killing each other and losing control over themselves was a dark shadow that lurked behind every member of the chapter. Seeing the winter garbed humans patiently waiting behind fortifications and patrolling in sentinels was even worse.

His head steamed in the frigid cold outside the Alabaster Wall. Razzik looked at the scores of humans and servitors that maintained vigils around the turrets and firing points. There was a fifty yard kill zone between the soldiers and the gated entrance.

A naval officer approached from Razzik’s left. He saluted when he was several steps away. His face was covered in a mask and he wore a full length trench coat. Fur lined his sleeves and the bottom of his coat.

“Captain Razzik,” he snapped.

Razzik regarded the officer before looking back across the empty room. It hardly felt like he was still in his own ship. It was as if he had been transported to a new battlefield.

“I’m Warden Officer Tsabo, Chaplain Gonatzu told us you’d be arriving. Please don your helmet, power up your weapons, and let me know when you are ready to cross.” Tsabo stated.

The words struck Razzik oddly before he powered up his fist and donned his helmet. He then nodded to Tsabo. The Warden Officer held up a hand and spoke into his vox. Wall mounted weapons swiveled into place, men reached for the weapons, servitors powered up their weapons systems. The distant wall began to light up. Several paths along the floor lit up a moment later. The paths were each a different color and no wider than a space marine. The entire room began to hum.

Tsabo watched it with a critical eye. He would preempt each step with a look as if his eyes alone started the process of each weapon system.

“Captain, in your honor we’ve deemed the purple path the safe route today. Please do not stray.” Tsabo ended with a hand gesture towards the wall.

A simple head nod was Razzik’s thanks. Slowly he examined the purple path. It had several turns in it and was far from the most direct route. He had no indication as to what would occur if he left the path but he had faith in the servants of his ship.

Steadily he walked the path. He had traversed a quarter of the way when he crossed a white chalk line and a purity seal. Several steps after that he saw several other purity seals. The seals were attached to the floor and as Razzik proceeded he noticed that there were more the closer he got to the door.

A semi circle of white marble indicated the swing of the doors. Razzik paused at the end of the path. The doors stayed closed. The lights around the door changed their blinking pattern before turning a solid red.

With a crackle and a hiss the doors cracked open. Air rushed out from the opening. The frost covered form of Chaplain Gonatzu stepped into the doorway.

The somber tone of Gonatzu preceded him, “welcome to the Vault Captain Razzik.”

* * * * * * * * *

Razzik passed through the double doors of the vault entrance. The entryway reminded him of the exterior of a void craft. The double airlock and scanning system was also reminiscent of any venture back into a spacecraft. These multi chambered rooms were connected by wide doors, large enough for transport vehicles to pass through. The very last one opened into an ornate room with multiple stairways and alabaster pathways. Directly across from him stood doors that were caked with ice and frost, wisps of frigid air danced around the room.

Gonatzu paused in the center of it all. Razzik looked and realized all of the other pathways ended at dead ends, there were no other doors other then the ice covered one and the entrance they came through. He also noticed another purity seal on the floor. Without the pressure of walking a specific path he approached and knelt over the seal. It was fixed to the floor with a golden pin.

Gonatzu spoke as Razzik read the seal, “Each purity seal marks where one of our own had to be stopped.” Gonatzu motioned back the way they came, “the white line you crossed was the furthest any of the White has ever managed to reach.”

“Dazranak the Relentless,” was all that was written on the seal.

The muscular form of the chaplain seemed heavy with the weight of his words. “The transition from battlefield back to frozen is the most, challenging. If we can not control them and they escape they are funneled through these doors. All of them open flush with the walls. The White have no place to go but towards the waiting guns outside the vault.”

Razzik took another look around at the dead ends. Gonatzu followed his gaze, “There are doors at the end of each but they are seamlessly built in the walls. We do not want the White to ever wander around the inner workings of the vault. In their raged and confused state they have never once looked for any other door. Once they are given an opening, they move.”

A look from Razzik prompted the chaplain to elaborate. “Once loose from our control, they each have their own purpose or desire, it is hard to describe. Each case is slightly different.” Gontazu added.

“Case?” Razzik asked.

Gonatzu hesitated as if Razzik was asking about things he may not want to elaborate on. Gonatzu weighed Razzik in that moment with his dark eyes, but the scales were in his favor this time. “Yes, each case. Whenever an Ice Angel succumbs to the rage, his entire history and life is studied so we may try to find a way to prevent further losses. It also helps immensely when we have a deep knowledge of the marine we are trying to corral on the battlefield.”

Countless questions about these cases came to mind but Razzik determined it wasn’t the right time. Now he wanted to see what kind of asset the White would be, or how best he could use them if the time came. For all the whispers about the Ice Angel death company, they were rarely unleashed. In Razzik’s history with the chapter he had only seen the White a handful of times.

“You mentioned the inner workings of the vault, what else is there besides the area where the White are held?” Razzik changed the subject.

“The vault is a self sustaining system within the Alabaster Reflection. It has its own power and life support system, it contains floors of empty barracks and a little used armory. If something were to happen to the majority of the ship, the vault also serves as the last fall back point. If the ship were to be taken, it would be the final stand.” Gonatzu chuckled and looked down the hall. “The enemy wouldn’t make it down this hall.”

Gonatzu then pointed to the stairs, “the vault has its own backup bridge if the main one falls. It has its own drop pod system and a small vehicle depot. The Vault is completely capable of managing every ship system from here if we needed it to.”

With a wave of his armored hand he gestured to the frozen doors. Depictions of white clad marines fighting all manner of xenos and traitor adorned the door. Gonatzu pressed his rozarious into a perfectly matched indentation while turning one of the bone and sapphire, frost covered handles.

The cold air that assaulted him set off warning systems in Razzik’s armor. Immediately his void systems activated, Razzik looked at the icon to cancel the change in his armor but decided to let it be. Gonatzu opened the door just wide enough for them to slip through the opening. Immediately following he closed the door.

The dark chamber had only a dull glow coming from mounds of crystals. Razzik could make out tall columns of ice lining the walls and a hulking machine in the center that seemed to ooze out the frigid temperature. The distant back wall held rows of weapons of all shapes and sizes. Razzik was amazed at the scene. It was serene and peaceful. The machine did not make any noise. In fact, Razzik couldn’t hear anything. It was utterly silent in the room.

His footfalls shattered the silence as he took his first few steps into the room. Razzik examined the tracks in the ceiling and the machines near each of the pillars of ice.

Gonatzu stood back unmoving, simply observing his captain.

The workings of the room began to unfold to Razzik’s superior mind. He began to understand how the pillars were dismantled and each frozen member was loaded into the waiting drop pods that were held within the walls. Slowly Razzik crunched a path down the left side of the sub zero machine in the center of the room. In between the tall columns were other sub chambers. Within each were frozen servitors and even tech priests. Everything the room needed to function was frozen within.

Beneath the center pillar on the left hand wall Razzik paused. The pillar was only two ice blocks tall, but wider than the others. Each block contained a dreadnought sarcophagus, white rectangles of metal that contained the broken forms of Ice Angels.

Razzik stopped in his tracks and looked back to the entrance where Gonatzu still maintained his vigil.

“How many members of the White are bound within sarcophagi?”

The frost covered chaplain looked down the left side of the room, then the right. He looked to the back of the room before he spoke. “Six.”

Razzik returned to his march as thoughts of six dreadnoughts played through his head.

After passing several more pillars he reached the rear of the room. Racks of weapons and equipment lined the walls. Four large doors that looked frozen shut sat deep in the wall, iconography notated that a weapon shop, apothecarion, workshop, and……..

Before Razzik could inspect the last door the hulking from of a skull covered black dreadnought froze his thoughts. The dreadnoughts sarcophagus was missing. The metal behemoth held upright in its firm grasp a weapon of gigantic proportions. It was a two handed crozius built for a dreadnought suit to wield. The frost covered wings of the Ice Angel emblem adorned the top of the weapon thirty feet in the air.

“The Crozius Ultima,” Razzik mumbled in awe. He had never scene the weapon but every Ice Angel knew of its lore. One of the greatest chaplains in the Ice Angel history wielded it for centuries. It was said it could crush battlewagons and knock limbs off titans in a single swipe.

“I wonder if we’ll ever get to see another chaplain wield the Ultima,” Razzik’s words trailed off in thought. Slowly he reached up to touch the weapon.

The crunch of Gonatzu’s boots drew Razzik’s attention. The chaplain stood next to the last pillar on the right side and motioned for Razzik to look within. A black sarcophagus was held within it. A white X was painted across it.

Razzik couldn’t make out the name so he scraped off some of the accumulated frost. He recoiled his hand in surprise when he could read the name of the ancient chaplain held within.

“Shar-Shamii,” he stammered, “He has been dead for hundreds of years, that can’t be him.” Razzik was astounded that the legendary chaplain could still be here.

Gonatzu stood next to Razzik. “Officially, yes he did. What really happened was a secret no one must know of Razzik. Our greatest chaplain fell in battle and when he was recovered he was far from dead. He had lost himself to the rage. One of our purest souls had succumbed to our greatest weakness. He has only been woken a three times, he is very lucid in between battles but once unleashed and he begins to kill….” Gonatzu paused. “He will not stop until the enemy, or we, disable his war engine.”

Razzik took another look at the sarcophagus. One of the greatest heroes of the Chapter was held frozen before him. A sense of awe and a sense of dread seemed to crush Razzik. Why would such a marine ever be released? How could any Captain give that command? What situation would be so dire that it could jeopardize the integrity of the chapter?

Alerts chimed in Razzik’s heads up display. The cold of the room was beginning to stress his suit beyond agreeable levels. He hadn’t realized he had been rubbing his gauntlets together as if it would warm up his hands.

Gontazu stood studying Razzik. The chaplain almost seemed at one with the cold and the room. He seemed peaceful.

“We must leave the vault Captain but before we do, you must know,” Gonatzu hesitated, reluctant to go on, “if we need to unleash them all. Shar-Shamii will be our only hope of controlling them.” The chaplain looked back at the white marked sarcophagus. “Only such a hero as Shar-Shamii could command that kind of force.”

Putting command in the hands of a broken soul, bound in a dreadnought did not seem like a sound tactic to Razzik but he had little experience with the White. He wanted to trust Gonatzu’s judgment, but had trouble comprehending the logic. He had more questions for his chaplain and thankfully, they still had some time to discuss. Their destination was still weeks away.

Chapter 4

The hours had ticked by and the room had been relatively quiet. Several slaves had stopped by to deliver reports but the remainder of the time had been calm. An occasional chuckle or the tail end of words would sneak out of her master’s mouth as they watched the chamber before them fill with ships. She tried to locate edges of the impossibly large area. The dark spaces around Commorragh were an incomprehensible twist of reality that she tried to not spend any mental energy on. To her, it was just another place for ships to gather.

Ethereal images of the other Drukhari commanders stood around the room. They each waited on their own ships. The command could come at any moment so they dared not leave their master’s side.

She tried to ignore their hateful stares as they played their own mental games with one another, each of them had their own agenda and desires, and the tension it created was delicious, yet she was growing increasingly bored with it all.

Outside the viewing glass was a gathering like she had never seen. Ships of all shapes and sizes packed in next to each other. They lined up all facing the ship she now stood on. Prison ships, raiders, vast crescent shaped murder platforms, and vessels that had unfathomable purposes, all jockeyed for position. Directly in front of her in the center of the chamber floated a crystal of light that was held aloft by a mirror ship. It was half of her master’s prized possession.

Another chuckle issued from her master. “Soon, very soon,” he whispered absently. “I can feel their hunger. I can taste their lust for pain. Even from here, I can feel their anticipation.”

“Savra, whose emblem is that?” Her master pointed to a ship with mild curiosity. A dark purple flower was dying in what looked to be a pool of dark liquid.

“That is the Coven of the Drowned Garden a sub cult of the Kabal of Silent Screams, they accepted your invitation only after the Pain Sears announced their intention to join,” she stated. She kept her voice level and quick. She did not want any of her words later held against her.

“Ah,” her master responded without taking his eyes from the view.

Off in the distance a park vessels slithered into the chamber, piercing a dark cloud like predators on the hunt. The view port, reacting to her masters will, suddenly lurched forward to zoom in on the ships. He stood up and adjusted his vest all while maintaining his focus on the newest arrivals. With a sneer and a hand wave, the images of the other commanders vanished.

“Savra, bring me my tools. I believe we will be having a visitor before we depart.”

Savra looked at the view port one last time. The red iconography over a black circle was known to everyone. The Kabal of the Black Heart, led by the overlord of Commorragh Asdrubael Vect, had sent a raiding party to join in the real space raid that her master had orchestrated.

This boded very well for her master which in turn meant it was good for her. She could not help but smile as she whipped around and ran out of the room. Her master needed his weapons, for no one went unarmed to a meeting with members of the Black Heart.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The hall was cloudy. Dust and debris floated in the air from recent repair. The warp engines were very quiet, so quiet that Inushi had to concentrate to hear them. He stalked the halls towards his destination like a ghost. He wore his body glove under a simple tunic with a small mantis icon on his breast. He looked forward to spending another day training with the humans he traveled with. The camaraderie they had with one another was refreshing and despite being the outsider they seemed to have accepted him as a guest in their unit.

First he had to pay Nefas a visit. Inushi did not know what the Inquisitorial Captain would need from him but it was his first summons in weeks.

The distant warp engines and periodic noises from repairs drifted away from Inushi like a fading dream. He found himself thinking about his old mentor. Memories of war games in the jungle and arguments in the classroom brought a smile to his face. Before he knew it he stood before the quarters Nefas had chosen for himself. They were in a distant part of the ship seemingly alone from the rest of the crew. Not even Jaska had a room nearby.

Inushi was raising his hand to the door when he heard the whispers of voices from inside. He stopped mid hand raise. He had no desire to snoop but nevertheless he found himself doing just that. He ran a mental checklist trying to ascertain who Nefas could be talking to. The voice of Nefas was quick and full of hisses, it did not sound like any version of gothic Inushi was aware of. In fact Inushi couldn’t make out any words but it sounded like a heated debate was being had.

For several minutes he stood motionless before the sound of Nefas’ voice died down. Inushi then firmly tapped on the door.

“Enter” Nefas responded, seemingly unphased.

When Inushi opened the door he met the red gaze of Nefas from across the room. The Inquisitorial Captain sat at a large wheeled chair rubbing his temple with his left hand. The room was void of decorations and furniture, only a simple bed and desk joined Nefas and his chair. The smell of lubricants and incense swirled in the air. Another smell wafted past him. It strung a familiar chord but he couldn’t remember what it was, all he could recall was a feeling of sorrow.

“You summoned me?” Inushi began after he gave a quick salute. He mentally shook aside the bizarre combination of smells.

Nefas sighed before composing himself. He stood up from his chair and smacked his dry lips several times.

“Very soon we will be arriving at a planet that is harboring a traitor,” Nefas began as he looked around the room, carefully choosing his words. “The Inquisition has several agents already there and I believe they have finally located our target. You will be joining the Clishmacleaver and assisting them with whatever needs to be done. An attack is imminent and the entire world is in danger if we can't stop this traitor mid plan.”

Nefas approached Inushi and held a gaunt hand out to clasp Inushi’s shoulder. His touch was startling warm. With his other hand he pointed and touched Inushi’s chest.

“I will need you to help me do whatever is necessary to stop them. Whatever…. Is… Necessary.” Inushi momentarily lost himself in Nefas’ gaze before Nefas released his warm grip.

“Once the agents contact me I will know more, until then continue to familiarize yourself with the Clishmacleaver and their tactics. They are unlike astartes but they are exactly what we need.”

“What do we need Nefas?”

“Subtlety, Inushi.”

Inushi thought for a moment before speaking, “How will the Ice Angel fleet help with that?”

Nefas smiled and it made Inushi uncomfortable. “We will need them if we are too late to stop the traitor.” Nefas turned and sat back in his chair. It rolled back before stopping at his desk. “I’ve found it much easier to stop an invasion when I have fleet of astartes vessels at my side.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The rusted and overgrown remains of the Ruby Gate were often mentioned in the books Mortifex had committed to memory, yet as he stood before them he couldn’t understand why. It was a marvel that any of the gate still stood but it was also a reminder of the inadequacies of the people that lived behind that gate.

The technological masterpiece that was the spire behind that gate was now a mile high treacherous pillar of decay and lush foliage. For a moment Mortifex thought on the power of the jungle slowly reclaiming the cityscape for its own purpose.

Dusk was settling in around him. The constant chirping, buzzing, and yelping of the diurnal creatures were quickly devolving into the eerie whoops and caws of the nocturnal beasts. This Spire now belonged to them.

Once the darkness fully settled they would move in but now they waited and watched. There were no signs of the others. Mortifex was very unsettled, which he was used to. With another glance at the night sky Mortifex slowly turned back to hide behind the cover they were borrowing. He looked over at Xerin as he moved behind a fallen metal beam. The Sons of Ouroboros marine was eating a large fruit in silence. His short hair was messy and his bronze skin looked like well worn leather. He always had a stern look and Mortifex couldn’t remember if he had ever heard him laugh.

The smell of the sour fruit wafted past Mortifex. His mind was instantly analyzing the scent for poison or possible source of nutrition. Xerin met his gaze at that moment then glanced to his right. Five more fruits were next to him. His red gauntlet grabbed one and quickly threw it at Mortifex.

A second followed quickly there after. “Micus, eat.” He commanded.

Mortifex threw one of the fruits to the hooded marine. Micus did not lift his head or respond until the last possible second. The gray armored marine caught the fruit and broke it in half in one efficient motion. He was consuming the purple flesh of the unknown fruit without hesitation.

The three finished their fruits and by the time they were done the jungle had become a dark landscape of countless horrors. Mortifex thought about all the variety of creatures that had been killing humans on this planet for centuries. It made him smile. He moved a lock of his dark hair out of his face before reaching for his helmet.

“Sergeant, is everything copacetic?” Xerin asked before retrieving his own helm.

Mortifex stood and looked at his two marines. If all went according to plan, the other six will be inside the spire or will arrive soon. He looked back towards the jungle covered mountain of metal. The death of the spire had turned into the rebirth of the jungle. It reminded him of so many lessons his chapter preached. For a brief moment the sounds were muffled as he secured his helmet onto his armor. The helm systems, upon contact, allowed the sounds to filter in just as they had sounded a moment ago.

“Of course,” Mortifex spoke into the vox. He didn’t see the point in explaining his own amusement to Xerin. Xerin wouldn’t find it amusing regardless of what he said.

* * * * * * * * * *

The massive Ruby Gate was wide enough for a knight titan to stride through. A skilled Thunderhawk pilot could fly the astartes transport through the gate if needed, but despite the width of the gate the overgrown entry way only had a single beaten path between the large leaves. Beyond the gate, moonlight streamed through massive gaps in the ceiling. Trees wove around the metal and moisture dripped down from the levels above them.

The trio moved cautiously through the foliage and ancient debris. Mortifex led without weapons in hand, constantly scanning for signs of more squad mates. Micus mumbled to himself right behind while Xerin followed, constantly scanning with his bolt pistol like he was engrained to do.

Tread marks, wear on trunks, and general proof of passage was easy to find but none of it suggested the armor of an astartes. Mortifex was often surprised at the amount of traffic he was seeing in the spire he thought was abandoned but then again most of the books he had read about the site were several hundred years old or older.

Moonlight began to lesson as they marched deeper into the wreckage. The broad leaves of the jungle could be seen clogging what holes remained that let in any light. A gentle reddish glow could be seen as they approached their destination.

The Ruby Terrace was the first security checkpoint after the corresponding gate and from it paths and roads led to other areas of the spire. Centuries ago city block size lifts took cargo and vehicles up and down hundreds of levels to other areas within the spire. A massive twenty story, now shattered window, let in an abundance of light into the metal graveyard. A lone panel in the window was left unbroken. The red transparent material was held in place at the top of the nonagon shaped window.

Trees and the jungle had reclaimed the entirety of the room. Mortifex held up his auspex to begin a series of scans when a static blip pierced his silent vox. A data file opened on the auspex small green screen. Red 611

Mortifex put away his auspex. He looked towards the far wall at the same moment Xerin did. Nearly all of the office numbers and symbols were destroyed or worn away but a handful still defied the test of time. Near the ceiling of the room 611 was stamped in the same ruby coloring as the others.

With a more specific target in mind they moved forward. They began to climb up the various levels to get up to the sixth level of the terrace. Mortifex understood why 611 had been picked, it was nearly impossible to reach for a human. The balcony system had torn off the wall some time ago. Xerin put away his weapons as they resorted to climbing up the wall face up from the fourth floor. Only when they reached the open door to 611 did Mortifex see the first physical signs of his marines.

A beam of red moon light was illuminating a discarded bolter shell. It stood on a long desk that must have sat twenty people. Dirt, metal, and a handful of vines crept across the desk and the line of chairs. Mortifex walked towards the desk. Micus came second and looked around the room before giving a short chuckle. Several doors were sealed behind the desk, a large hole and been torn open in the ceiling by what appeared to be a fallen generator.

Xerin was last to enter and he immediately scanned behind them to confirm they had traversed up the wall unnoticed. Mortifex reached for the shell. “Dragonfire Round,” he said.

A smooth voice responded, “I don’t carry anything else.”

Xerin spun around, bolt pistol in hand. Mortifex gave him a sidelong glance at the movement. Slowly one of the chairs turned around. Brother Tek’Ar sat in only his body glove. His larger then standard issue storm bolter lay across his lap.

“Welcome to the Spire of Glorious Jungle Rubble!” Tek’Ar said with a smile.

“Are the others,” Mortifex began.

“All here and accounted for,” Tek’Ar interrupted before he stood up. He threw the strap to his storm bolter over his head. He walked over to stand under the hole in the ceiling. He glanced up before looking back at Mortifex.

“You look disappointed Mortifex,” Tek’Ar added.

Mortifex smiled to himself at Tek’Ars candor. “I would never wish the loss of any of my squad.”

Tek’Ar grunted his disbelief. “I am still very disappointed that you stuck him with me for two years Mortifex.”

“You should never let disappointment cloud your judgment, especially when it comes as a command from your superior,” Xerin chimed in.

Tek’Ar grinned as he met the gaze of Mortifex, “I guess it could have been worse,” Tek’Ar said as he let his gaze pass from Xerin to Micus.

A slight rumble quaked through floor. The marines looked at one another before returning to look at Tek’Ar.

“We are still trying to determine what that is,” he said as he motioned to the hole. “Come on, it is time almost time for you to hear the good news.”

“You found the traitor?” Mortifex said with surprise.

“Olivero believes so,”

“HA,” Mortifex laughed as he shook his head, “how many traitors have you come across during your time together?” Tek’Ar rolled his eyes.

“I stopped counting once we reached a hundred, and we reached that milestone about a year ago.” Tek’Ar paused to think, “I think at one point he thought I was the traitor.”

Mortifex snorted. He was already dreading dealing with Olivero, or the Celestial Unicorn, as he often called himself.

“To his credit Mortifex, this one does seem much more plausible then the others,” Tek’Ar went on to add as he leapt into the air. He grabbed a beam on the edge of the hole. He quickly climbed up and within several seconds the agile astartes had disappeared into the darkness.

Mortifex motioned for Micus to follow. Xerin took a final glance out the way they had come before he too began to climb up the hole. Mortifex looked out at the broken window, the sliver of red was glowing with moonlight. A fleeting part of him was hoping the spire would collapse on them and crush them all to death.

“Who would then be around to save the Imperium?” he thought to himself. With another sigh he walked over to the hole to follow his marines. The glimpse of hope that this mission would soon be over was beginning to simmer in the back of his mind. He quickly smothered the idea.

“Hope in reality is the worst of all evils,” he recited to himself. With a leap he grasped the beam and pulled himself up. He doubted Olivero was right but maybe today would be different. “That would be a nice change,” Mortifex thought to himself.

* * * * * * * * * * *

“Warden Officer Tsabin Tsabo. Two weapons, one blade, and armor. Reset talisman. Scheduled return in eighteen hours.” Tsabin spoke as he handed each article of gear, followed lastly by his talisman, to the storage servitor in the officer’s armory. Each command appeared on a screen that covered the servitor’s mouth. An affirmative icon was added seconds later as the servitor began to process the commands.

Tsabin watched as his weapons and armor were carried away by conveyor belts into the wall behind the mounted servitor. There they would be inspected, cleaned, and locked away, fully ready for his next shift. Tsabin anxiously waited for his granted seal of release. It had been three weeks since his last eighteen hour shift break and he was very excited to be out of the barracks.

The servitor paused waiting for further commands before writing on a small seal his release form. Tsabin held his hand out as close to the seal as he could. The small metal limb etched the seal in a matter of seconds. Tsabin looked at the half face of the servitor. He wondered if the lobotomized human was toying with him or if he always took this long to write.

Perhaps he was more excited then he had been in the past, he certainly had a story to tell. The moment the servitor was done Tsabin ripped the seal from the servitor’s metal clamp and quickly moved out of the officers barracks. He had eighteen hours to see his family and didn’t want to waste any of it. The thought of telling his son about meeting an Ice Angel captain made him quicken his step. It was rare for Tsabin to have much to tell his son because the White were rarely woken and it had been months since they had had to do any transfers.

His six years aboard the Alabaster Reflection had been thankfully full of routine guard duty and patrols. He had been in twentynine war zones and not once did he have to fire his weapon at an enemy.

The Ice Angels on the other hand, they scared him. How the Emperor’s finest could ever devolve to mindless killing machines still disturbed him, perhaps it was the price they paid for being demi-gods. What could have driven them to have an entire ship created to imprison them? While every other ship had its own defense force to protect the ship from invaders, the Reflection had a force just to contain the marines within. It was a unique responsibility and one he couldn’t talk to anyone about. Even his son didn’t know what he truly did on board the ship. Tsabin chuckled as he thought of his decisions that led him here.

The mandatory PDF tour turned to an extension with a pay raise once he transferred to the Alabaster Reflection. What they didn’t mention was that it may turn to a life tour or a possible memory wipe depending on how he handled his duties. It was a simple decision at the time but now….. now he has a son.

“Officer!” a kid shouted.

Children and adults alike snapped to attention. Tsabin had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t realized he was right outside the institute. Around him were men, women, and children, many of which were standing at attention. Tsabin smiled briefly at the sight of the smallest kids trying to imitate the larger boys. The hard look of command iced over Tsabins face as he put his arms behind his back to inspect the five and six year olds that surrounded him.

“Dress up that line!” he commanded. Several boys looked around to see if they were at fault before snapping back to attention. “YOU!” he pointed at one of the larger boys who was dressed up in a homemade commissariat uniform. Quickly he stepped up to him to look down at the child. The outfit was a simple dress uniform with attached red and gold paper. An excessive number of fake medals covered his left side from his breast to his naval.

“Commissar. You have an important role; can you tell me what you told the class about your position?” The boy tried not to make eye contact before blurting out, “Commissars enforce discipline and devotion to the Emperor of Mankind!”

The boy looked up at Tsabin. He gave a curt nod and a slight grin. Tsabin looked at the row of children. All of them were out of their typical attire and wore their created outfits.

He questioned children dressed as a naval colonel and an astropath as he slowly walked the line. Tsabin quickly recalled the campaign hey must have been studying. Parents, members of the institutional ecclesiarch, and ship crew slowed down to watch the show as they exited the double doors from the school.

“YOU!” Tsabin shouted as he caught one of the children looking away. The boy dropped his baton. Tsabin looked down at the boy and was about to ask him a question when he heard a chuckle coming from his right.

The last two children in the row wore foam space marine helmets on their heads. They had armor made of dishes and plastic tubing. Tsabin recognized the art work on one of them. Tsabin didn’t know which one had chuckled but he side stepped over to the pair.

Tsabin studied the two outfits. He began with a loud grunt, “Gravilack the Conqueror and Varriaxxi the Gold, I do not recall those two hero’s laughing as they fought back the enemies of the Emperor.”

“Standard Mark V tactical armor does not allow sound to travel outside of the enclosed helmet unless the wearer requests it but this one is not up to its required battle standard.” The child that wore the Varriaxxi outfit stated, “I fully believe Varriaxxi the Gold spent a great deal of time laughing while wearing his.”

The statement perplexed Tsabin for a moment but he smiled at his son’s question, “and why would the hero of the Sha’Ha Nebula and first sergeant of the Gold Squad, spend time laughing?”

Tsabin caught a glance from Mother Clairece Dejin Pepin Voyreaux. She narrowed her eyes and gave him a suspicious glare, as she always did.

“Wouldn’t you if you were an unstoppable xenos killing chosen one of the Emperor?” the child responded.

The Warden Officer looked at the faces of the adults and other children as he evaluated the question. He was soon nodding his head, “Yes, I think I would.” Tsabin lied. He looked down the row one last time. “Dismissed.”

Children and adults began to leave the institute in every direction. Many of them gave him signs of respect in the form of salutes and bows. Tsabin’s reclusive position was held in high esteem by the crew, one of the few perks of the job he savored and even more amusing that none of them knew what he truly did.

Tsabin knelt before his son who jumped at him with arms wide.

“I missed you Gravilax, “Tsabin whispered.

His son leaned away and looked at his chest, “I missed you too father.” His tone wasn’t what Tsabin was expecting. He grabbed his sons foam helmet and took it off.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

Gravilax took his hand and they started walking. After a few minutes his son spoke again. “I wasn’t accepted into the accelerated program,” his five year old son said while trying to keep his emotion in check.

The accelerated program is for the gifted children within the Ice Angel fleet. Those that excel in the program are taken to the academy on Shattermantle, the Vliawatha’ven. Countless officers, commanders, and even marines had come out of that academy. It was the dream of all of the children on board to be accepted into its ranks.

Tsabin sighed as he felt his son’s hand shaking with sadness and pent up grief. Tsabin stopped walking and pulled his son to the side of the ornate hallway they were in. Art work of heroes and triumph decorated the hall. He knelt down and gave his son another hug. His eighteen hour shift break was not shaping up to what he had planned but it did not matter. He was with his son.

* * * * * * * * * * *

A deep somber bell tone rang three times in Razzik’s chamber. He issued a final deep breath before opening his eyes. He was fully alert within seconds despite having had several hours of deep sleep. He couldn’t recall the last time he had slept so well.

Razzik listened to the ship and concentrated on the vibrations. He knew they were still traveling through the warp. That fact alone made it even stranger to him that he felt so refreshed. He silently thanked the Emperor before standing up from his bed.

Next to one of his weapon racks sat a waist high column. Razzik tapped one of the three runes on its top. A warm wafer popped out next to the rune. He grabbed the steaming brick of nutrition and began to consume it while taping the second rune.

Behind the column built into the wall were four panels of varying sizes. At the press of the second rune they opened to reveal the severed heads of criminals and the dishonored. The first head began to speak giving its report of the ships status. The second began shortly there after with messages specifically for Razzik. The third had nothing to report while the fourth finished with a psalm to the Emperor.

Captain Razzik began to warm up his body for his morning exercises before he caught a glimpse at his desk. On top of the hand carved desk sat a book that Razzik didn’t remember putting there. The black metal bound book sat in the center of Razzik’s desk, it was one of the books from the Eldar museum. For the briefest moment Razzik thought he witnessed the wired design glow but he immediately dismissed the thought.

Razzik stared at the book and recalled giving it to one of the serfs that handled archives for the chapter. Razzik scanned the room once again to see if anything else was altered. When he was confident it wasn’t, he sat at the desk looking down at the book. He vividly remembered handing over all of the items they had confiscated from their short trip through the torturous labyrinth. He did allow several of the weapons to be kept by his brethren but all of the books and trinkets were turned in, at least he had thought.

He flipped through the flexible metal pages. Every page was a different series of raised runes that appeared to be woven from the same wire. He began to think of having Philosir look at it when the door chime rang.

He shut the book and carried it with him to his door. The icon of Tech marine Philosir shined on his side of the door. “How convenient,” he thought to himself as he finished the last bite of his caloric brick.

The sturdy door swung open and Philosir titled his head in respect.

“Captain,” his monotone voice greeted.

“Tech marine Philosir,” Razzik responded.

“Here is your report of the items Nefas has sent to us. I think you’ll find it most interesting.” Philosir handed over a data crystal.

Razzik took the crystal while handing Philosir the metal bound book. The tech marine passed the book from his hand into the clamp of a servo arm. He didn’t seem to notice the book as it dangled from the claw at his side.

“Tell me what you think of that book when you have some time Philosir,” Razzik began as he motioned to let Philosir in. The tech marine took only several steps before waiting in Razzik’s foyer. Captain Razzik sat in one of the highback thrones and looked towards several others but Philosir remained standing. Razzik then placed the crystal in one of the arm rests. An image floated in front of him containing the information on the crystal, images and an inventory of the items Nefas had shipped over.

The list of items was a mix between outdated cannons, priceless relics, and weapon designs unfamiliar to Razzik. The inventory was impressive but when he reached the image section he paused.

“Philosir, were there any Munitorium reports amongst the shipments?” Razzik asked, suddenly disturbed by the list.

“None that were intact, Captain. I tried to recalibrate the reports and even trace through the shipment logs but all of it had been corrupted and rendered useless.” Philosir blandly responded.

“I don’t think we need to data mine the logs to determine where some of these were going.” Razzik sighed.

“I would concur, Captain. Using the images alone you can see that many of these weapons are destined for other chapters,” the tech marine stated as he slid the images to a pair of combi-weapons with white U’s on them.

Razzik let the images lazily slide between the chair and the armored tech marine. He shook his head as he saw the iconography from multiple chapters adorning some of the weapons. When the images stopped, Razzik sat back in his throne.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment internally debating on what should be done.

Philosir emitted a short gurgle of static, which Razzik had learned was the equivalent of the tech marine clearing his throat.

“Forty two percent of the weapons can easily be associated with other loyal chapters. The remaining fifty eight percent do not have clear allegiance to any one.” The tech marine paused. “I believe their machine spirits yearn to be let loose,” his monotone voice flatly added.

For a moment Razzik stared at the wizened tech marine before allowing a smile to break his stern façade. “Very well Philosir, make sure we can appease the machine spirits of the weapons. I want them in the hands of my company before we arrive. I will send you an updated squad inventory tomorrow. The weapons destined for other chapters shall be kept in their crates until we can send them to their rightful owners.”

Razzik stood up and stepped over to a pitcher of water that sat upon a shelf behind his chair. He poured himself a glass before turning back to look at Philosir. The tech marine’s optical units quietly twitched and monitored his entire surroundings. A head nod from Razzik ended the conversation. Philosir walked past Razziks throne, opened the door with one of his servo arms, and departed the room.

Squad breakdowns and weapon lists flooded his thoughts. He wanted each unit to have access to the new weapons if they proved to be needed. In the back of his mind he felt that Nefas wouldn’t have sent them otherwise. He headed to his desk, completely focused on determining proper distribution of the weapons, unaware that the metal bound book was resting on the seat of his throne.

* * * * * * * * *

Chapter 5

The dark ship was a nightmare of screams and carefully orchestrated pain. Savra padded through the halls to a section of the ship she rarely visited. The haemonculi fleshshops were a deranged area that fully disgusted her. They however served a vital role in the life of the drukahri. They could rebuild and regenerate nearly any wound, some of them were said to bring back the dead as long as a piece of the decedent could be located. The process was time consuming and said to be incredibly painful, but then again, pain through death was said to be the most exquisite of sensations.

Savra silently passed open doors with screaming victims that fed the regeneration process. She ignored them all as she thought about her victim.

A twisted trio of masked women barred her way into her final destination. Her lipped curled at the thought of stopping. A dark part of her demanded she continued to move, her body yearned to dance and slash. She plotted the quickest way to kill them all before stopping only feet away from them with more effort than she appreciated. The spiral door behind them was closed, denying her passage more so then the women. Muffled screams and other delightful sounds murmured around them all.

She studied the twisted trio, annoyed that they had not addressed her yet. They each had multiple sets of arms, arranged in different places then one another. Venom coated daggers were held in every hand. Savra could smell the potent concoction of pain serums and combat drugs that each vile woman carried.

Slowly she eyed them all. With each change of view her desire to watch them die a screaming horrible death increased.

With a hiss, the door slide open, each spiral sliding back into the frame. The center woman tilted her head and stepped aside after a voice floated through. “Do come in my dear,” the velvety voice was deep and sweet.

A few steps later and Savra was in the room, the door slid closed behind her. She was in the lounge area of the flesh shop, but she was alone. She stalked through the room and into another hall, she had only been here twice before but she knew exactly where to go. A few turns later, past several more twisted abominations, each larger than the previous and she was in a private room in the back of the flesh shop.

Ithilv the Artisan stood over his latest victim. Savra looked at the wounded creature and marveled at the damage done, yet the creature still breathed. She didn’t understand how it still lived but it whimpered and gave off waives of agony that made her palms sweat. The suffering of the creature was one like she had not experienced in a long time. She opened her mouth and took a deep breathe; she swooned at the intense pleasure it caused her. She was astounded at the power, in mere seconds even she felt invigorated. She didn’t want it to stop.

Ithilv took a side glance at her and smiled before stepping on a petal under the table. The flat slab sank and slide into a panel into the wall before being sealed behind glass.

“He is one of my favorites. Stubborn, defiant, and very resilient, his kind has proven to be very,” he paused, “profitable.” Ithilv smiled. His teeth were white, except for a silver canine. The four armed haemonculus was an ancient being that wore a backpack grafted directly into his back. Vials and smaller appendages sprouted from it to aid him with anything he may need. Countless blades and devices hung from chains around his waist. He wore a long cloaked that was a deep teal.

For a moment Savra began to like Ithilv but then she caught herself. This was the exact reason why she never came here. He was one of the best at his craft but would just as quickly turn her into one of his next victims as he would aid her with any request.

His gangly form rumbled as he witnessed her firm up her stance and force the pleasure aside.

“I see you aren’t here to visit with me,” he pouted. He stepped aside and pulled a lever built into the wall. Quietly Ithilv shuffled out of the room as a glowing hexagon shaped panel floated down from the ceiling. On it was the naked form of a male.

His body glistened with sweat; his hair was matted from the moisture. The heavy scent of the man sent shivers of a different kind of pleasure across Savra. She stepped over to the panel. She moved a dark lock of hair off of his face. His eyes snapped open before he snarled. He took a heavy breathe before pushing himself up.

Savra studied the lithe male. His body was once again perfect. All of his broken bones and shattered organs had been repaired. She placed a delicate hand on his shoulder. The corded muscle seemed even stronger then before. He stared at her through hateful eyes. She delighted at the sight.

“Hello my sweet,” she whispered as she drew a finger down his chest.

“Don’t touch me wych,” he snapped as he began to look past her towards the departing Ithilv.

She removed her finger and her smile returned. She leaned forward as if to kiss him, but she paused. “We have some catching up to do,” she said as she bit her lip. Seeing him full of pent of anger excited her. She had been so bored while he was away.

“I am not in the mood,” he spat as she pushed her aside. He slid off the panel and steadied himself, he hadn’t walked in several months. He narrowed his eyes and through sheer will walked out of the room by himself.

She danced after him, “you are still weak my darling, come join me so I can help you recover.” She stopped in front of him.

“How are you going to help me regain the respect,” he stopped mid sentence and clenched his teeth while trying to collect his thoughts behind the tide of anger.


“tsk tsk,” she grinned, “getting kicked to death by a giant robot isn’t that bad.”

His nostrils flared at the words. She laughed. He stormed off, his naked hate fueled body still dripping from the warm coffin he had spent months recovering in.

Once again Savra danced after him. She could tell it was going to be a great day.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The launch counter was clearly visible to everyone in the hanger but it seemed meaningless to those inside. The crews went about their business prepping a handful of shuttles without an iota of haste. Servitors went about their tasks checking temperatures and docking clamps, loading a variety of equipment and every other job that needed to be done.

Inushi stood alone near the force field that kept them from being sucked into space. The lazy activity in the room bothered him. He was reading for action. He was ready to do whatever needed to be done. Then again, no one had told him what was going to happen. A lone message was all he received from Nefas.

“Hanger three, no armor, no weapons, 0800”

Inushi expected to see the Clishmacleaver dancing about but they were nowhere to be seen. The Benevolent Aberration had exited the warp and was now approaching a planet. He had no idea what planet it was, no one had told him that either. He couldn’t see any other ships in space around them, no vanguard or support ships were visible to his naked eye, but he assumed they were near.

The planet was very green with large bodies of water, from space it looked like nearly every other hospitable planet. There were no distinguishing markings or landmarks that he could ascertain from space, “just another rock covered in humanity on the edge of peril.”

The words of Aquilum brought a slight smile to his face before Inushi glanced up at the mission counter. He turned around toward the pair of forward docked ships. Between them he saw a new group. A gathering of grey coated humans. They wore identical uniforms and carried M35 M-Galaxy Pattern Lasguns. Inushi walked towards the group. The twenty men and women stood in a circle around a sprawling machine on a tracked unit. A trio of armed servitors were mounted on top of the contraption. A pair of tech priests stood beside it, a strong smell of oil and lubricant billowed from the group.

There was a small gap in the circle at the end closest to Inushi. Next to the gap one of the ladies turned and looked at him. It was Widow, as the Clishmacleaver called her. She motioned to stand next to her. Inushi quickened his step to take his position. He dwarfed her small muscular frame. She wore gloves over her metal hands, her hair was jet black, her face had block patterns painted on. The rest of the unit matched.

Inushi slowly drew his gaze around the squad. They had all completely reworked their hair, faces, attire, and even some of their bionics to assume the identity of a seemingly new unit, only the large dark skinned man still stood out amongst the squad.

Widow took a step forward into the circle. She bowed her head and gave a short prayer to the Emperor, she then stepped back into the circle before addressing Inushi directly.

“Nefas has requested you join us for this next mission. Until we return, you will follow my orders and do exactly what I say. Your mission is to assist the reclamation of two of our associates, Mithril and Onyx. They have the information we need to complete the rest of the mission.”

A simple head nod was all Inushi gave before Widow turned back to her unit. One of the other members stepped out of the circle towards the machine in the center. It took Inushi several seconds to determine which member it was. The physical alteration and make up was superb, he hardly recognized K’tla.

She waived some incense before activating several runes on the machine. The Tech Priests then took over, pulling levers and moving switches. It began to hum. When it reached its peak tone each member stepped towards the cart and pulled out a long cord. They retreated back to their position in the circle. Each member inserted the cords into various places on their bodies. Widow in her arm, K’tla in her neck, several others connected through their faces, fingers, thighs, chest, or stomach.

Once they were all attached, Widow closed her eyes. New runes lit up on the machine. Others all followed suit.

“Partial memory wipe, process name change, identity alteration in,” blips sounded off from Widow and the Priests at the same time.

When the last pip went off each person reacted in a different way, some shook, some screamed, some laughed, some sang. It was a bizarre scene to be had in the middle of a hanger in between ships. Inushi watched each of them in turn as they went through this process.

When the last of them stopped, the machine powered down to a different setting. A blurt of binary code spat from the machine. One of the Tech Priests, whose mouth had been replaced by a scroll printer, vomited forth a short piece of parchment. The other Priest carefully tore it before reading it aloud. “BUILDINGS!” He shouted.

“Tower.”
“Morgue.”
“Castle.”
“Warehouse.”
“Library.”

Each member in turn, quickly named a building. As they took their turns, they opened their eyes and removed the cords. When it came all the way around, the woman previously known as the Widow, said “Spire”. While in her trance she removed the cord from her inner elbow. The cord retreated back into the machine. Several blinks later and the cloud of mental abuse had dissipated. She turned her head to regard Inushi.

“Your new name is Garden.” She stared at him. Her accent had changed. Her eyes were a different color. Inushi looked on, astounded and concerned.

Mental alterations and hypno therapy were common practices across the Imperium, but voluntary mind wipes? He decided right there, he should tread lightly around this group. They were most likely more dangerous then he first anticipated.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Bastion, Morgue, Foundry, Manor, and Temple worked on Inushi for the first 47 minutes of flight. Inushi was given a simple dark red robe to wear. In the time it took for him to put it over his head, the five members around him had each grabbed other pieces of equipment. They used the time in zero gravity to their advantage as a tall power pack, a pair of servo arms, a servitor, a heavy bolter, and a body harness were all attached and worn by Inushi.

When the servitor that was now attached to his pack, was woken, the man named Temple flipped the dark red hood over Inushi’s face. The red cloth was a sort of plastic weave that made no noise as it moved but felt very cool to the touch.

Inushi’s right arm was inside a heavy bolter casing. He had very limited motion or use of the arm while it was attached to the weapon, he could merely point it and pull the internal trigger. His left arm was one of the only portions of his body without mechanical braces or attachments. He was already exploring what he had access to before Temple spoke.

“Hold still Garden, I am still adjusting your visual display,” he plainly stated. The fabric hanging over Inushi’s face began to glow before pixels began to appear on the mesh weave. The pixilation improved very rapidly before he found himself looking forward as if the fabric was not there at all. The visual display was astonishing. Only when he turned his head was he able to tell the fabric was still draped over his face. The movement slightly warped his sight as if he were looking through glass at an odd angle. He watched Foundry and Manor reclaim their seats while he examined the limitations of his display.

The whir and sounds of charging equipment dominated the interior of the valkyrie as the servitor ran through some processes while Temple adjusted settings on Inushi’s heavy bolter and power pack. The pack had its own pair of arms, one with a compact melta weapon, the other a simple maniple. The arms moved around and tested their own reach and movement while Temple continued to tinker with the settings. Bastion and Morgue finished up their part before floating back to their seats to strap themselves back in.

Inushi continued to study the display fabric and get used to the new visual effects. When the forty seventh minute arrived Temple pushed away. He gave Inushi a look up and down before reaching to the heavy bolter. He flipped out a small display panel, ammo counters, heat levels, belt feed health, and gyro systems were all displayed. Beneath the display, Temple pointed to a well hidden triangular button. He pressed it and a second panel opened. It was closer to Inushi’s face and had three buttons on it, a shield, an engine, and a broken tool.

“Your guise has a built in refractor shield. The first button will activate it. It will drastically drain the power in the suit while activated. You’ll have no more than thirty seconds of use before it will deactivate and the system will become inert. You may be strong enough to move without power but I would not advise draining it down to that point.”

Temple closed the panel and took his seat. He strapped himself back in to the harness.

“Entering atmosphere,” the pilot said over the internal vox built into the hood.

Inushi looked over his shoulder to what he believed to be his seat but when he noticed the bulk that was now attached to him he knew that wasn’t an option.

“Garden, you and Nelson are riding in the hook position,” Morgue said. The large dark skinned man was one of the few members that went through their transformation with minimal alterations, as if they knew he wouldn’t change enough so they didn’t bother to put forth the effort.

“You named the servitor Nelson?” Inushi asked while taking his first steps towards the end of the transport. Some part of the suit he now wore was anchoring him to the floor, either through a gravity pulse or a magnetic pull, it was slight, but very useful in this instance.

He didn’t hear any response to his question but as he neared the end of the transport a few steps later he turned to reach the hook release, he lowered his heavy bolter. He began to pivot in order to reach the release on the right wall with his left hand. Before his hand had finished crossing his body the small metal maniple arm of the servitor stretched out and elongated. It pressed the necessary button to release the hook system.

Inushi stopped his hand from moving further. The hooks lowered and the maniple arm attached them to the back pack. The small arm was slow and purposeful but it completed the process without any commands from him. Inushi held his position, slightly perplexed at his new found symbiotic relationship. The magnetic systems on his suit lessened as the hook mounts pulled him up.

The ship began to vibrate moments later. They were entering the atmosphere. Inushi stared at the door. The five members of the Clishmacleaver that sat behind him were running final checks on weapons and other pieces of equipment. The sounds were distant and harder to hear as the roar of reentry shook the ship. Inushi hung by the hooks, shaking slightly and dangling in the center of the hold, closest to the door.

Nothing had been mentioned about mission parameters or targets. He felt as if a lot was being kept from him, even the vaguest of mission goals still had prep work. Inushi closed his eyes and listened. He visualized the men and women of the unit as they stood before in the hanger. He saw their weapons and uniforms in his minds eye.

Standard issue galaxy pattern lasguns were carried by the majority of the unit. Three were adjusted for longer range, typical sniping pattern. Two of the unit carried needle pistols the rest carried Flash IV auto pistols. Morgue carried the only special weapon, a Clovis pattern plasmagun.

Med packs, vox units, and a pair of vox amplifiers, were the extent of extra equipment. Nothing out of the ordinary.

The ships rumbling lessened and changed pitch. They were speeding up and changing their trajectory. A slight bank made Inushi dangle to the left.

He fell back into his mental exercise. He went further; he had no clues from the weapons or equipment, maybe the uniforms. Gray slacks, standard coat, brown sash, black boots, gray cloth hat, and basic imperial eagle iconography. Two company insignias were the only other marking, the 9th with a book and the 12th with a gavel.

Inushi had no idea what planet they could be from, but judging by the basic attire and low company numbers he would guess a temperate climate agri-world, low enlistment figures would yield fewer companies over the years. Images of previous battles and the enlisted men he had seen scrolled through his mind. He felt more confident with his decision the longer he thought about it.

If only he knew what the disguises were for. Are they infiltrating the planet in which the uniforms match or simply as an unknown force? It certainly didn’t feel like they were approaching as an Inquisitorial force. He always imagined a lot more ceremony and over the top theatrics, nothing like he was witnessing now.

They were still speeding through the air but they were quickly dropping altitude. The view before him was an endless horizon of white buildings with verdant gardens speckling the cityscape. They were spread out with yards and parks, purple paved streets, and statues of all shapes and sizes. Mag-trams hung from suspended lines above the buildings speeding towards unknown destinations.

“Garden, we move in thirty. Stay close,” the crisp voice of Bastion stated through the plastic mesh covering his face. It gave off a faint light in the direction in which Bastion was sitting. “and remember, you’re our servitor, not a marine. Act appropriately.” Bastion added. Deep in Inushi’s mind, he heard comments that Aquilum would have said to Bastion.

* * * * * * * * * *

The ship slowed and hovered several meters off the ground. Garden exhaled and let his eyes widen. He entered his battle trance moments before the harness clicked and he fell. It took 2.7 seconds for him to reach the ground. In those 2.7 seconds he had ascertained the position of every person on the busy street corner, the speed and trajectory of the moving vehicles, and the entry ways to every building within sight. He braced for a hard landing that never occured.

The suit that had been strapped onto him in zero gravity gave a minute propulsion boost which slowed his fall milliseconds before impact. Garden’s feet touched the ground as if he was wearing nothing, then the full weight of the suit pressed down on him as the boost ceased.

The full weight was similar to a dead suit of power armor. It slowed his reactions considerably, almost as if he was moving underwater. Garden stood up to his full height and inhaled. He aimed his heavy bolter at the nearest civilian on the street. She dropped her drink and satchel. Her mouth opened and her eyes grew wide. She froze.

Garden heard the arrival of Bastion and the other four.

Manor stepped in front of Garden, glared at the woman before turning away. He surveyed the area with a blank face before looking to Garden. The woman grabbed her bag and spat a word that must be a local curse.

Manor flashed a serious of hand gestures that Garden didn’t understand. The five men broke into a jog. Garden fell in line behind them, thankful he had a veil over his face. The first few steps were much more difficult then he anticipated but as he felt his momentum build, the heavy suit seemed to compensate and it became easier to keep up with his unencumbered squad mates.

To his surprise, no one paid any attention to them. An occasional child or onlooker would point to Garden but they ignored the five well armed men jogging down the sidewalk. The activity level around them did increase as they ran. People were fleeing and quickly running past them.

They approached a busier intersection when a vehicle with yellow flashing lights sped past. It was an armored vehicle with slit windows and a large covered rear end. It reminded Garden of a Taurox. When the squad approached the corner, the uniforms they were wearing suddenly made sense.

The fourth building on the block was a five story building that sat just off the road behind a small courtyard. A delivery lane was on the left side of the building while the right side had only a small alley. In front of the building were a handful of similarly built vehicles with flashing lights. Two dozen armed men were standing and hiding behind the vehicles, weapons were drawn and all pointing at the building. They wore nearly identical uniforms to the Clishmacleaver around him.

Garden took in the scene. Windows had been shot out, the front door had been bashed in. Two bodies in civilian garb lay by the front door.

“IT’S about bloody time!” an officer shouted as he ran away from the side of one of the vehicles towards Garden and his unit.

“Where’s your Ox?” he asked as he stood close to the corner building out of sight from surrounded building.

Temple was the first to speak, “out of sight. What’s the situation?”

The officer looked shocked before looking angry, “did you not hear the reports?”

Temple stepped forward to get into the officers face, “Of course I did, but I want to hear it from you Arbite,” Temple paused as he looked at his uniform, “McClowski.” Temple spat. His accent was a perfect match to McClowski’s.

McClowski leaned back and took a short breathe before surveying the squad and then glancing at Garden.

“There are at least 30 of the gangers in there, they are well armed, but more importantly Korwin has been spotted amongst them. He single handedly took out the first breacher team. We’ll need more men before we can attempt another assault,” McClowski quickly explained.

“Let us handle it,” Temple stated while stepping past McClowski. Morgue, Bastion, and Foundry followed.

“What are the four of you going to do?” McClowski scoffed.

Temple looked back but ignored the question, “have your men ready to handle anything that comes out other then us.”

Garden moved to follow the others when it dawned on him. They were missing one of their members. Where was Manor?

Temple moved up to the corner of the third building and gave a quick peak before pointing to Garden. “Nelson you’re on point,” he said. “Hostility level 10. Aim to kill.”

Garden stepped past the others and flipped one of the panels on the heavy bolter. Without slowing he stepped around the corner and marched towards the front door. Morgue and Bastion were right behind him in his shadow. Temple and Foundry crowded right behind them.

Before he had even reached the courtyard he caught movement in the windows above the broken double door. Garden started firing his heavy bolter before he had even acquired the target. The heavy caliber weapon shattered mortar and broke masonry as he tracked it across the front of the building. The first bullet to hit its mark exploded the head of a human peeking inside. Garden heard las fire from his squad mates behind him as other men who tried to peak outside met a slightly less gruesome death. A grenade dropped out of a side window. In the time Garden saw it dropping from the window, he flipped out the second panel on the heavy bolter and activated his refractor shield.

The grenade hit the ground before him and the shrapnel exploded outward in every direction. The shield sent the pieces sailing away. Garden heard the power of his suit ramping up to maintain the shield. He quickly deactivated the shield as he got closer to the door.

Firing continued from the other Arbites hiding by the vehicles as Garden and the Clishmacleaver stepped into the building. Garden’s massive frame filled the door way forcing him to hunch through the entryway. Once inside he took several steps before pausing to listen. He heard the waning gun fight from outside. He heard the four men behind him spread out to swiftly move into side rooms.

Garden looked up the stairwell. He felt the presence of the men above him hiding in silence. He watched the first of them pop their head out. The man met the gaze of Garden before ducking back. All around him others reached over with guns blazing. Garden flipped the refractor shield on while pulling the trigger on the heavy bolter. He didn’t blink or make a sound as he moved from the target to target. He ignored the explosions erupting on his refractor shield or around his feet. He stood like a robed statue defying the hail of weapons fire.

When his targets were eliminated he stopped firing. He continued to look up. He flipped the shield off. Morgue and Temple came out on opposite sides of the first floor down the hall way from where he stood. Bastion and Foundry were right behind them. Temple pointed up as he stepped over the rubble that had fallen around Garden. Garden moved.

He kicked aside the heavy bolter shell casings that now littered the entryway. He stomped up the stairs and noticed how much power he had drained. He strained to move the heavy suit as the power returned to a normal level and his system recharged.

On each floor he stayed by the stairs while the others cleared the floor. Garden continued monitoring the floors above. When they finally reached the fifth floor he heard the rapid rapport of twin auto pistols. It was coming from behind the double doors before him.

The sounds of bodies hitting the floor followed along with the several short grunts of pain.

Morgue stepped in front of Garden and swung the doors open. Temple and Foundry moved quickly in with guns raised. Inside the dimly lit room was a well barricade area surrounded by bodies. Racks of weapons, ammo, syringes, inhalers, and all manor of paperwork lined the walls of the room that dominated the fifth floor of the building. A lone man sat on a chair with smoking pistols in his hands casually he took a breath and smacked his lips. It was the same man he had seen when they had first entered the building.

“Truly perfect timing mates,” he stated as he stood up from the chair.

Temple stepped forward and removed his right glove and rolled up his sleeve. The man put away his pistols and did the same.

The two men grasped forearms to forearms. They held the embrace for several moments while Garden eyed the man up and down. He was lightly tattooed with images of the Emperor, cherubs, and angelic warriors. He was well armed with a variety of pistols. He wore a dark red trench coat that was slick with blood splatter. His eyes were flickering while they held one another.

When the two men stepped away from one another the man gave a short nod before looking to Garden. He blinked several times before speaking.

“Hello Garden, I’m Mithril.”

Garden didn’t speak. He merely gave enough of a nod to move the veil.

“Shall we,” he began when a body moved not far away.

“Korwin, you traitor,” the wounded woman spat while he raised a revolver and pointed it at Mithril.

In the time Garden had adjusted his heavy bolter, Mithril had pulled out a pistol and fired at the revolver. It knocked the gun out of the wounded woman's hand.

Mithril held the pistol out before him as he stepped over to the dying woman. She began to weep. “Why would you,” she whimpered as she lay her head down, unable to finish her sentence.

“Easily my love,” Mithril paused, “for the Emperor.”

He holstered his weapon and knelt before the woman. He moved some of her damp hair out of her face before shaking his head.

“No time to lose,” he added as quickly departed the room. The others followed. Garden took another moment to take in the full scene of the room. Mithril must have killed everyone in the room moments before they arrived.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Quickly the Clishmacleaver moved back through the building. When they were on the second floor, Foundry tossed a grenade in a side room. After it went off he fired his lasgun several times into the ceiling.

Garden continued to follow them, amazed at the lack of communication they had between one another. He began to wonder if he was being left out of some sort of unseen chatter. He began to hear shouts from outside once more. When the group neared the first floor they moved towards the rear of the building instead of out the way they had come in. Temple and Morgue ran forward to a barred door. The two men raised their weapons and crept the last few feet to listen.

Foundry and Bastion moved up behind them while Mithril slowed down. He held out a hand to stop Garden. Garden looked down at the man before back to the men at the end of the hall. Bastion raised up his weapon while tapping Morgue on the shoulder.

Morgue, the largest of the men, moved up to the metal bar that had been jammed across the doors. He slid his lasgun over his back so he could freely use both of his hands. He grasped the bar and looked back over his shoulder. Temple knelt close to him, ready to push open one of the doors.

A simple grunt and Morgue lifted the heavy metal bar. Temple pushed through the door with Foundry and Bastion right behind them. They stepped outside with weapons up and firing the moment they exited the dark confines of the building.

Mithril turned and regarded Garden once again.

Firing continued for a few more seconds outside. Garden hesitated to move out but instead he turned to look down at Mithril. The tattooed ganger had a cocky smile and a wiry glare.

“You do not seem like the others,” Garden said through the veil.

“I was about to say the same about you,” Mithril retorted.

The sounds of a revved engine echoed through the open door.

Mithril motioned to step outside just as the doors swung back open. In the alleyway was an Arbite Utility Vehicle idling loudly. The other men were already embarking in the back. Garden stepped outside and paused as he looked down the alley. Bodies were strewn about the shadowed area, several had been run over by the rumbling vehicle, and all of them were dead Arbites. The shots had all been clean and through their heads.

Garden used his one available hand to pull himself up into the larger cargo area of the gray wheeled truck. The vehicle sank under the weight of having a servitor covered space marine in the back compartment. Mithril leapt in behind him and shut the door.

He slapped the wall of the compartment and they started to move with a jolt.

Bastion, Morgue, Temple, and Foundry sat on one side of the vehicle. Garden was hunched over near the rear. It was clearly not built for anything with his bulk. Mithril squeezed past him as a door near the front of the compartment slid open.

Garden could see Manor at the wheel of the vehicle through the open door. Mithril peaked inside the front compartment and grabbed a hold of something. Seconds later Mithril pulled the body of a dead Arbite from the front compartment back into the cargo area. He began to strip off his own clothes while Bastion began to undress the corpse.

“Who brought the wipe-away?” Mithril asked to the room as the vehicle bounced around a rough corner. The speed of the vehicle quickly increased.

Morgue pulled out a folded clothe and a spray bottle. Both were handed to Temple. By this time Mithril had taken off his pants, trench coat, and collared shirt. He took several short breathes and gave Temple a nod. Temple flipped two switches on the spray bottle before blasting Mithril with it. Mithril stiffened up and stifled a scream through clenched teeth.

Garden watched as the spray burnt off the tattoos on Mithril’s neck, arms, leg, chin, and chest. The smell of scorched skin filled the room. His breathing slowed down as the process slowed down. Temple flipped another switch, shook the can, and sprayed again. This time it was in short bursts. When he was done he handed Mithril the cloth.

In slow swipes he wiped away burnt skin to reveal hairless, perfectly rejuvenated, tattoo free skin.

The vehicle took a hard bounce and another turn. Everyone, except Garden, grabbed onto something to prevent from being tossed about.

Once back on track Mithril put on the Arbite uniform, he put back on several of his pistols under the coat before grabbing a lasgun that was strapped to the wall of the cargo area right behind the driver’s area.

Mithril regarded himself before looking at the others. He adjusted his outfit with several minor changes before taking his seat. He gave a long sigh before looking over to Garden.

“Ready to go to the Capital,” Mithril asked with another wiry smile.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“Tibbs. Load up Piper 8, we’re leaving tonight,” Mithril said.

Garden watched the exchange from the rear of the truck. He was hunched over and filling the rear of the vehicle. He had watched the exchange between the men before him. Mithril gave directions to Manor to reach some sort of train yard.

“NO, do not contact the others. I don’t have time to argue with you Tibbs. Put the military gear in the cargo hold and get it ready to move. When I get there I want that Tram ready to go,” Mithril paused. “Then load it by yourself. Get Eisley and Syphon to help you, I am sure they’re wandering around pretending to guard the place, I….” he paused again.

The pause went on for quite some time before Mithril quietly spoke while pointing to no one. “If Piper is not ready to go when I drive onto that yard in sixty seven minutes, I will be last thing you’ll see tonight,” Mithril said before pressing a button on his ear piece.

He sighed and leaned back, “it doesn’t matter how many times I infiltrate drug cartels or smuggling rings. It’s always the same thing on every planet.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You can’t find good help.”

Mithril continued to shake his head periodically as he thought to himself. Nearly ten minutes went by before Temple and Bastion looked up at the same time. They looked at Mithril before looking at one another.

“Mithril, are you not receiving transmissions from Alpha or Beta team?” Temple asked.

Mithril seemed to think to himself before responding, “Negative. I am only picking up yours.” He paused and looked to distance. I had received a bullet wound several years ago through the neck, it must have damaged one of the receivers.”

Morgue spoke up next, “They just uploaded Onyx. Nefas should be sending out a command update soon.”

Mithril gave a short nod, “It will be good to see Onyx and everyone again. It has been too long.”

The vehicle went silent as each thought about that statement. Garden took the opportunity to speak up, “when did you last see Onyx?”

The recently rescued man looked at the veiled astartes turning back to his thoughts, “I have been stationed here seven years. I haven’t seen Onyx in five. She spent her time switching masks and exploring the prominent political powers and defense command, while I explored the drug cartels that helped make a name for this planet.” Mithril waived a hand while shaking his head again.

“Everyone thinks this planet is a wonderful green garden world with a vast scholarly system that helps educate our next wave of,” he shook his head again and closed his mouth. “It’s all a façade. The books have been cooked, the stats are all lies. Millions come here to go to the Universities and Training programs, yet no one has ever actually left this world and gained any substantial rank in the military or in any other useful departmento, unless you count the vast network of smugglers that make more credits then the rest of the planet does selling its crops.”

Garden watched the words bounce of blank faces from the others. He got the impression their recent mind wipe got them all in the mood for efficient military roles, they seemed to have lost most of their personalities.

“Oh well, there are lots of problems here but at least we are about to fix one of them.” Mithril said while bringing his wiry smile back.

“Do you know who the traitor is?” Garden quickly added.

Mithril looked at Garden once again, his smiled continued. “No, not at all, it wasn’t anyone of power within the drug rings” he seemed to chuckle to himself.

Morgue spoke next, “Onyx does and we’re going to kill him.” He leaned forward to Mithril. “Nefas has sent his update. Green 9.”

Mithril raised his eyebrows to sharp peeks and smiled his largest smile yet, “Oh yes, that’ll do it!”

* * * * * * * *

Piper 8 was a luxury magtram. It glided through the air making little noise despite traveling at very high speeds and being as large as a hotel. Garden looked out the rear balcony window at the moon lit horizon. No one had told him how fast they were traveling but judging by the speed in which land marks came and went it must have been several hundred miles per hour. They were hovering at about eighty feet off the ground. Every so often they passed through gargantuan rings that guided the tram from one place to another. After leaving the city, the traffic had greatly reduced leaving them to speed up and silently fly past fields of crops and gentle rolling hills.

Garden looked up into the sky looking for constellations that he recognized. He had a good idea where he was in comparison to the galactic core. The sky was empty of clouds so it was easy to find what he was looking for. Slowly a row of red lights blinked in unison for as far as he could see on the horizon. Earlier in the trip he had seen giant windmills stretched out in long lines, each one had a slowly blinking light on top. He took a final look up before turning in from the balcony caboose. A walk way was several stories above the garage he entered in. Their ox was still cooling off in the rear of the compartment by one of the eight double doors that flanked the compartment. Three chimeras and a riot modified Leman Russ sat in one row while the next row had a collection of off road vehicles, race cars, and motortrikes strapped down to the floor. It was an interesting mix of armored and pleasure rides. Below him by one of the doors sat a pile of bodies. Mithril had killed all of them the moment he had gotten out of their Ox. Garden had heard the last of them plead for his life before Mithril shot him through the eye.

The astartes passed through the expansive room before coming to the first pair of storage rooms. Earlier Morgue had gone through and found some food to make for everyone. The large dark skinned man was a gifted cook, especially given the fact that he had never used any of these ingredients before.

Garden continued through the tram passing luxury bathrooms, a collection of hot tubs, several floors of bed rooms and a room with a massive double sided screen that hovered above a dance floor.

Next he passed a second kitchen and another collection of storage rooms. One of the rooms Mithril had open up earlier still sat open. It was full of drugs, weapons, and ammunition. Garden was surprised at how much fire power was stowed within the tram. Several minutes passed before Garden came across the first of his squad mates. Bastion, Morgue, and Foundry were asleep on oversized recliners. Temple was in the next room charging and adjusting the suit that Garden had on for most of the day.

At the thought of the servitor suit he stretched his genetically altered frame. It felt good to be out of that restrictive suit. He understood its uses but still preferred to be free of its confines. A Mantis Warrior preferred the silent quick ambush style of combat, not the blunt armored tactic the suit forced him to utilize.

A distant laugh echoed down the tram. Manor and Mithril were up front on the bridge. Garden continued his patrol like a gentle breeze, casually passing through without ever being noticed. Before he reached the open door to the bridge he listened to the conversation. Mithril was telling Manor stories about his time on this world. He described the makeup of the drug cartels and how he infiltrated the system. He laughed as he talked about some of the activities he had gotten away with.

Manor grunted at some of Mithril’s jokes but more often than not kept silent as Mithril continued to entertain. Slowly Garden entered the bridge. Mithril was sitting at the captain’s chair with his feet up on a control panel. Manor was sitting nearby, still armed and wearing his Arbite uniform.

“Ah Garden, welcome back to the bridge,” Mithril welcomed with open arms from his seated position.

Garden looked around at the room and the magnificent view the bridge had. The tram did not have any forward lights on at the time. Red lines highlighted the rings that they were flying through. He watched the view and studied the visual display. The rings themselves were not emitting any light. The windshield was highlighting the rings along with other landmarks and nearby objects as they passed. Garden wandered around the room. The pair of men watched in silence. In front of the captains control panel was a tiered shelf with three rows of disembodied heads, each was wired into the tram itself. The heads were underneath a glass panel and were all forward facing. Garden could easily see how they were wired into the tram and he also noticed how they seemed to share some facial features. Mithril gave another chuckle before swinging his feet around the captain’s chair.

“This particular tram is owned by the most powerful drug cartel on the planet. They may arguable be the most powerful family in the system when it comes to illegal trafficking.” He waved his hands as he stopped his thought. “Any ways, every one of those heads is one of the family members, or was, I should say, a member of the family. If you disobey or angered the family,” he pointed to the heads in the display, “you’d end up here, still serving, but not voluntarily.”

Mithril stood by Garden and admired the heads on display. “It was surprisingly good motivation for the rest of the family.” He smiled to Garden before stepping past him to a tray of fruits and nuts. He grabbed a handful of purple oblong fruits. He tossed one into his mouth.

A blinking panel on one of the wall monitors grabbed his attention. He lightly trotted over to it. He laughed again before shutting the panel down.

“Speaking of the family, they just sent me a very nasty message,” he laughed as he went back to the captain’s chair.

Garden looked at him before looking back at Manor. “When will we arrive at the Capital?”

“In due time Garden. We have to get to the other side of the world first. Then we have to abandon ship before we get to close. Meet up with the others and finish our mission. Soon after that we should be off this planet.”

“Which planet are we on?” Garden asked.

“Citrone Primaris, one of the most efficient feeder worlds in the Imperium. Clean air, advanced bio-labs, countless universities, endless farm land, a lot of laborers,” Mithril looked at the small fruits in his hand, “and a xenos created traitor trying to corrupt the orbital defenses so everyone can be captured, tortured, and killed.”

He popped another fruit into his mouth and smiled. Purple juice stained his previously white teeth.

* * * * * * * * * *

The magtram line followed a rocky shoreline far into the southern hemisphere. The fertile ground on Citrone Primaris was so valuable that cities of any size were built only in places where the land wasn’t suitable for growing. The southern capital of the planet was tucked away on the southern pole surrounded by violent rock cliffs, space ports, and vast factory complexes. The tallest building was a stunning ivory tower that glimmered in the morning light. Other buildings huddled around it as if hoping its shimmering aura would warm up their metal bones.

The line was slowly joined by other lines. Soon the traffic corridor Piper 8 was on was congested with other trams, each of various size and purpose. Garden watched from the bridge as smaller trams linked up with the larger trams in order to conserve space within the line. Each one was giving off destination signifiers that the windshield of Piper 8 illuminated for everyone to see. Factory labels, shipping yards, or other city names popped up on top of the various floating ships.

Garden wondered what destination his ship was giving off when Morgue chimed in, his deep voice filling the bridge.

“There they are,” he tapped several buttons in the arm rest of the captain’s chair before standing up. “It is time to leave Garden.”

The dark skinned warrior was wearing his Arbite uniform but had changed some of the patches on his sleeves. There was now a sinister looking marsupial snarling on his left bicep. Garden followed behind him with Nelson once again on his back. The suit felt more comfortable then it did the day before. He wondered if Temple had made some adjustments to how the shoulder harness attached to his back and waist.

The two of them walked down Piper 8 to the garage section near the caboose. The others were gathered by an orange trike, each silently keeping to themselves. Mithril stood by a panel on the wall watching a small monitor.

Garden and Morgue took one of the lifts down to the garage floor. As they crossed the expansive room the garage door slowly opened. Frigid wind whipped through the room as flecks of snow tumbled and melted on the metal floor and walls. All of the men covered their heads with dark gray masks.

Outside of the tram was a much smaller, more agile tram. It was all gray with a red seven painted on the side. The badge of a sinister marsupial snarled on its short wings. Garden watched a turret on its top, shoot towards them. A blunt nosed magnet slammed onto Piper 8 on the panel right next to the open garage door. A long chain pulled taut as the other ship reeled itself next to the Piper. In seconds the other vessel was lined up with theirs and very close. A side door opened across from them as a wall panel lowered down to connect the two moving vehicles. It was thirty feet long with a wire guard rail on each side.

The members of the Clishmacleaver attached clips onto one of the wires and immediately began to walk across the bridge. Morgue tugged on a clip that Garden was unaware he had attached to him. Morgue slapped it onto the wire and motioned Garden to move out onto the bridge. The wind was numbingly cold. Without hesitating he began to walk across the bridge. Above him was another tram. Below him was icy water battering against a cliff edge. His squad mates were quickly moving down the bridge to get into the other vehicle.

In long powerful strides Garden crossed the bridge. He ducked down to fit through the open hatch of the smaller vessel. Morgue was right behind him. The bridge lifted and the chain recoiled. Garden felt the tram adjust its course as he grabbed onto a ceiling handle to avoid falling over. He didn’t seem to be getting any assistance from his servitor hunchback.

The room was bathed in red light and the warm glow of monitors. The room smelled of strong chemicals, grease, and incense. There were a dozen people in the room. All of them wore masks to keep their faces warm. Garden couldn’t tell who any of them were except for Morgue. He did notice there was a female in the group but he didn’t know which one of the Clishmacleaver she was.

The man closest to him pulled off his mask, it was Mithril. He leaned over to Garden, “last time I was in one of these I was being taken to a maximum security prison known as the Waterbench.” He looked up at Garden wide eyed, “thankfully we never got there.”

“Drug cartels don’t take kindly to having their department heads being captured,” he added absentmindedly before looking out into space.

“Temple, we could use your assistance with some prep work,” an unidentified man said.

Garden watched as a man on his other side walked across the room into a rear cargo area. He crossed paths with a woman Garden didn’t recognize. She had a stern look as if she owned the place. She crossed the room like a ship breaking ice.

She stopped only a few steps away from Mithril and Garden. With speed Garden hadn’t seen in a human before she punched Mithril in face. Mithril fell backwards and crashed against the wall of the tram. He groaned from the floor. The woman eyed him with disgust.

Her nostrils flared and she pointed at him with three fingers. She gave a look to Mithril that made Garden want to cycle up his heavy bolter. Her look alone was colder then the frigid wind that had battered them on the bridge.

“I know you are responsible Mithril,” she quivered. “I don’t know how you did it, but I know it was you that killed my family.”

Mithril rubbed his jaw, he met her gaze with one of his own before sighing and looking away.

“You deviated from the plan Onyx,” he quietly added.

She started shaking her head and opened her mouth to speak.

“Didn’t you?” Mithril sternly interjected.

“No! I, I, I… I adjusted the plan and felt it would better fit my cover….” She stammered and looked at the floor.

Mithril slowly stood up. By this time all of the others were shoulder to shoulder around the pair and Garden. They watched in cold silence at the exchange.

Mithril reached out and placed a hand on Onyx’s shoulder. “We’re almost out. We have been here too long. Our covers have begun to corrupt who we are.”

She slowly looked up at him, her hateful look washed away by eyes of agreement.

“Who are we?” he asked her.

“No one.”

“Who will we be?”

“Any one.”

“What do we protect?”

“The light of the Emperor.”

“How do we protect it?”

“By cleaving the darkness.”

“What are we?”

“The Clishmacleaver.”

She responded and firmed her form. The words gave her strength and visibly gave her purpose. Garden watched with distant curiosity. The pair and the group was astounding to him and yet, he felt a hint of discomfort. They have killed nearly everyone they’ve dealt with so far. They wipe their own memories to protect the cause. Garden was beginning to wonder if his own life was in jeopardy.

* * * * * * * * * * *

“Here they are,” a helmed man said to the quiet room. “Pulling it up on all screens,” he added a moment later.

The banks of monitors that surround the room flipped to a live feed. The front end of a red ship can be seen and two space marines are exiting the open hatch. They are both wearing burnt red armor with dark green trim. Oaths and honors dangle across their chests. Both are wearing long red cloaks, the iconography of a white and black turtle can be seen on their shoulder and knee pads. A woman’s voice excitedly speaks to the viewers.

“Live from cloud level eighty seven, the two astartes from the Marines Chrysemys Chapter have just landed and have exited their craft,” her voice is a mix of fear and excitement. “ they….” She pauses and takes a deep breath before collecting herself. The two marines are seen standing before a security detail and several dignitaries. The two marines tower over all of them. The woman begins to speak again, “the Astartes are meeting with their security escorts, Governor Sann’Jin, and Governor Hemko.”

The image never shows the speaking woman but she must be within thirty feet of the marines. No other people are on the platform except for other guards.

“This is a truly momentous occasion; never in our history has an astartes set foot on our land. To be here now, to see..” she continued to ramble on. Garden tuned her out and watched the marines. The one that seemed to be in the lead slowly removed his helmet. One of the dignitaries spoke words of welcome as Jaska gave him a slight head bow in response.

“Why isn’t Nefas taking the lead,” Garden ask to himself out loud.

“Oh that’s simple,” Mithril said from nearby.

Garden waited for him to continue before looking his direction. Mithril looked from the monitor back to Garden. “Nefas is busy working his mental games. Jaska is going over the cover story.” Mithril looked back to the monitors, “Jaska is quite good at this, despite being a bit overly full of himself. Actually, that may be why he is good at this. Hmmm.” Mithril was soon lost in thought.

Several of the monitors switched to blue prints and traffic reports. “Primus and Secondus, drop off in three minutes.”

Garden ceased watching the monitors as the Clishmacleaver began to take positions and prime weapons. It was a silent system of double checks and rearranging. Garden quickly realized that every member of the Clishmacleaver was preparing to depart, including Mithril. Six tracked servitors rolled out from an open rear compartment each the size of a rapier platform. Large black unmarked crates were on the beds of each tracked unit.

Garden looked around for Mithril when Onyx walked up to him. Her eyes were like distant stars, shining sparkles amidst endless blackness. In the span of a breadth her entire demeanor changed, she gave him a smile and motioned for him to move to a forward compartment.

“Please, come with me. We need to modify your armor slightly before we deploy.” She led him to another room, the door slid shut behind them. She was the only member not dressed in the same uniform. She wore a long gown with a high neck piece; jewels adorned her neck and upper sleeves. In the room Temple stood waiting. He had a dataslate and a tray of tools nearby. He immediately stood behind Garden and began adjusting the servitor torso.

Onyx stared at Garden. After a few moments of silence she stepped closer to Garden. The top of her head barely reached the bottom of his chest. She placed a hand on his chest and with her other hand lifted the veil over his face while on the tips of her toes. She examined his face and Garden examined her.

This close to one another he could see traces of cybernetic enhancements under her skin. She looked perfect to a normal person but to the heightened senses of a space marine, it was obvious she was heavily modified. The skin was too perfect, her hair didn’t smell human, even her pheromones weren’t natural. As if in response to his gaze, he noticed she began to smell sweet and flowery.

His left eyebrow raised the slightest in response. Her smile faded and she let down his veil to once again cover his face.

“What were you thinking about Garden?” She purred and turned around to a window slit.

“The mission,” Garden lied.

She grunted in disapproval.

“Finished,” Temple stated. He stepped around Garden and set down his slate.

“Good,” Onyx spun back towards the entrance. When the door slid open, it revealed a cargo hold that was empty. Bright light was pouring in from both sides of the ship through open doors. Frigid air was whistling through the compartment before their ship began to move. The doors slid shut on their own accord.

Onyx sat in front of the banks of monitors, she pulled up some messages on one of the screens. Temple sat next to her.

Garden went back to watching, paying close attention to the blueprints and floor plans of what he assumed was the main tower he had seen before. When Onyx noticed his intrigue the monitors switched back to the news feed.

The camera was following the two marines now. The woman was still talking, unseen from the camera’s view.

The closest monitor to Gardens face suddenly switched to the view of a vast manor perched on the side of a cliff. In the blink of an eye he had memorized the image. He studied it for any piece of strategic value. Exits, defensible positions, landing areas, anything he could use if he had to battle on or around it.

“That is our target Garden,” a woman’s voice added.

Garden looked past Onyx to Spire who had just entered the room. The woman wore a guard outfit just like the others. A standard issue autogun was on her back.

“While the others are handling the traitors, we are recovering proof. You will be guarding Onyx. She will be continuing with her cover in order to get us in and will only be lightly armed.” Spire rattled off.

“Do you understand?” She asked.

The question startled Garden. He was offended by the question, of course he understood. He was a space marine.

She raised an eyebrow while waiting for a response.

“Of course,” Garden quickly added.

Spire walked past Garden into the rear compartment. He watched her pass through the large doorway. On the other side he saw another tracked servitor. The black case that sat on its tracks was open and glowing. Garden couldn’t decipher what it was before the door closed.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The flat roof of the manor held a collection of landing pads, vehicle entrances, and data arrays. The elevated spine of the building, sat perpendicular to the cliff face, and was dominated by a long garden. Tables, chairs, and relaxing fire pits filled the small spaces where plants did not. The walls and roof around the garden were clear, but no lights hung from within the hall. The warm glow from the fire pits cast long shadows between the knee high flower boxes and taller fruit trees.

The end of the hall furthest from the cliff face was open to the outdoors yet none of the cold or snow reached the half circle area. Snow floated into some sort field before turning to water and sliding down the side of the invisible barrier.

Onyx and Garden had passed through a set of clear doors before stepping out into a beautiful selection of night blooms and violet shrooms. Plush seats surrounded a wide black box containing blue flames. A bar was off to one side while a shelf of books was off to the other.

Garden stood motionless by the set of doors. He and Onyx were the only members of their group to enter the manor. Spire and the others stayed on their tram. Onyx was twenty five yards away relaxing on one of the plush chairs. A tall stately man sat across from her.

There were seventeen other men and women in the area, but they were either guards or servants. Garden already knew the order in which he would kill each one of them.

For several minutes the room had been mostly silent, only the movement of the servants or the pouring of drinks would pierce the low shuffle of flowers in the breeze. Onyx and the man, Kelvik of House Jevnibaum, were both staring out towards the metropolis that dominated their view.

The manor of House Jevnibaum was on a cliff overlooking a sea of deep blue water and ever shifting ice. After their cliff was a shallow valley of barren rock before the towers of the south pole metropolis began their sky domination. In the center of it all was the ivory skyscraper Garden had seen earlier. That was the building that Nefas and Jaska were in, along with the rest of the Clishmacleaver.

“Madame please, tell me again why you have come to visit our humble manor while the rest of the governing body is meeting with our unexpected guests of honor?” Kelvik smoothly questioned. His voice was deep and his words precise. Garden did not like him.

Onyx took another sip of her tea, it smelled of flowers with a hint of sweetness. “I understand your entire family is there, yet you have stayed behind Kelvik. That seems very odd to me and slightly concerning. I wanted to confirm that everything within House Jevnibaum was still meeting the high ethical standards our people know them to be.” She responded with a smile and head tilt in his direction.

“It is family policy that one member always remain within the manor. I have seen space marines before so I felt that I,” he said before Onyx interrupted.


“Surely the leader of the house would have left someone of lower status to watch over your holdings?”

He gave her a slight glare before ignoring her question, “Speaking of lower status, why didn’t you send one of your own to visit me? If anyone in your house should be there within the tower, it certainly would be you. Given what happened to your family. Do you have something to hide from these marines or the people, my lady?” Kelvik said while staring back up at the tall tower, glowing in the dark afternoon sky.

She smiled and joined him in looking up at the city and collection of towers. Garden wondered how long this would go on. He revisited the small handful of code words she had given him before reviewing the order in which he would slay everyone in the area, should he need to.

“You know my lady, I have found the story of your house to be very intriguing. Over the decades your family has done very little. You have been quietly managing your small fields rarely ever speaking up, then only a handful of years ago you arrive on the scene, seemly taking over the family, and now your grasp on the political scene is quite impressive. How does a woman such as you do so without outside help?” Kelvik finished his question with a raised eyebrow before he gulped down the rest of his steaming beverage.

Onyx smiled again before speaking, “outside help, that…… that is an interesting thought. How does a family go from mediocrity to a position of power? Many have asked that about House Jevnibaum. I being one of them. Your legal holdings have not changed but we all know your underground holdings have. Where exactly did you get the idea for some of these drugs you started selling so long ago?”

Kelvik laughed, “I do not know what you are talking about” he lied.

“The chemicals and combinations are very bizarre, some of the ingredients weren’t even found on this planet until your family started making them, yet the drugs were effective and masterfully created, as if you had been making them forever and just now wanted to share with the world.” She paused. “Did you know that your drugs share a lot of qualities with some combat drugs used by a xenos race?”

The tall man had narrowed his eyes at her but showed no other emotions. His lips moved and he hesitated before slowly standing up. He looked down at her from across the fire pit.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lied again. He quickly walked over to the bar, ignoring the servants with premade drinks.

“We both know that is not the case, but I am much more interested in your real plan Kelvik.” She took another drink and sat back in her chair. She looked completely relaxed as she spoke again, “when does the raid begin?”

Kelvik froze up before grinning and relaxing, Onyx wasn’t watching at the time. A servant was next to him holding a tray of empty cups and drink accoutrements. He poured two cups of steaming hot tea. He added the appropriate amount of sugar. He carried over the two warm dishes. He handed one to Onyx and knelt beside her. He was only inches away.

“I have no idea what you are speaking about Madame, “he said as honestly as he could, “but if something like that were to occur, there wouldn’t be anything anyone could do about it.” He grinned and took a swig of his drink before standing up and circling back around the fire pit.

She stood up after him and chuckled, “Kelvik you may be right.” She set down her cup and saucer on the small stand next to her chair. “But let me tell you what I would do to try and prevent such a disaster. First, I would move the control of the orbital defenses to another station. Next, I would bring in an extra fleet of warships to protect our defenses. Lastly, I would kill every single one of your traitorous family and I’d send this filthy manor into the frozen waters below this cliff.” She sneered while looking around at the garden and the people within it.

Garden cracked a smile beneath his veil.

Kelvik snorted.

“I don’t see how anyone could subtly move control of the orbital defenses and why would you ruin such a lovely manor that we have had for so long and my family…… my family is very large and spread all over the world. It would be terribly futile trying to kill them all.”

She looked back to him and raised a finger. “Typically you are right. Your family is all over the world working on your schemes and deals. Currently however, they are ALL right there.” She pointed to the ivory tower and watched his gaze move to the building. “except you of course.” She pivoted back away from the view and paused to look right at Garden.

“Tell me Kelvik, do you know how many people live on this world?” She asked while stepping over to a flower box. Hundreds of blooms filled it of all shades of blues. She found the largest one, grabbed it by its base and roughly yanked it out. She tossed it to him as dirt fell from its tattered roots. He caught it with his free hand without taking his eyes off of her.

“Not nearly as many as the roughly two hundred and forty seven thousand that are in that tower right now,” she added while slapping her hands together. She took a deep breath as he stared at her, his blank look barely hiding his busy mind.

“You would never……” he began when the first explosions went off.

Kelvik watched in horror and amazement as the largest building on the planet burst into vertical flames of pure blackness. The speed in which the building was scorched was mind bending. Garden had never seen any weapon like it. The flames moved straight up in a controlled ordered fashion. They did not leap towards other buildings; they did not move horizontally, they simply went up consuming all matter in their path. The flames shot out into the atmosphere as nearby buildings wavered against the force. When the blackness dissipated, the typical orange and red replaced it. The structure fire was complete and total, not a single yard of the building was left unscorched.

“have you noticed yet how the rest of the garden still looks marvelous?” Onyx said with open arms at the still perfect blue flowers arranged before her.

“You crazy woman! What have you done!?!” Kelvik quaked.

She raised another finger to make him pause, “that reminds me; let me introduce you to my Garden.”

A fraction of a second later heavy bolter rounds tore through the room, each one expertly impacting a guard or servant. None had moved before meeting their death, only Kelvik and Onyx remained alive.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

In the distance Garden could hear muffled sounds of weapons fire. He had assumed Spire and the remaining Clishmacleaver were sweeping the manor. Onyx had not said anything or given any indication that she wanted to leave the garden area so he stood quietly by the entrance watching, and listening.

Onyx sat in one of the recliners drinking her tea and admiring the scene. The blackened tower was a skeleton of deteriorating matter. The wind seemed to be stripping it of any remaining integrity and despite the swarm of emergency vehicles and clouds of blinking lights, Garden could not image anything surviving.

Kelvik paced the room, his face was an ever shifting pattern of emotions. He would show signs of despair as he looked at the tower. Anger would swell up through his body when he looked at Onyx. Dread would shadow his face when he glanced at Garden. Garden, on multiple occasions, thought he would have to shoot Kelvik, but each time Kelvik would stop himself.

Eventually Onyx finished her tea and stood up.

“Before we continue Kelvik, I must say, this tea is truly one of the best I have ever experienced.”

Kelvik looked perplexed, “thank you?” he cautiously responded.

Onyx looked off to the distance before taking a deep breath and returning to the moment. “Now Kelvik, I have to ask an important question and I want you to be completely honest with me,” she hesitated to gather her thoughts, “where is the token?”

He narrowed his eyes and tiled his head, “the what?”

“You most likely call it something else, but it is typically a small item that you must be holding in order to communicate with your xenos master.” Onyx continued. Garden saw a hint of understanding cross Kelviks face before his entire body tensed up.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” he began while Onyx rolled her eyes.

“By the Emperor how cross do you think I am?” She shook her head. “Kelvik, I will only ask this once. Where is it?”

Garden was standing well behind her when she said it but he could tell by Kelviks body language that she was giving him the same stare he had seen her give Mithril earlier. Kelvik, however, did not give in.

“I do not know what you are talking about,” he responded through narrowed eyes.

Onyx smacked her lips in response then chuckled, “very well.” She turned to the small bar area.

“I am having more tea then. My associates will get what they need from you soon enough.” She smiled and hummed to herself as she poured another cup.

Kelvik looked around as his mind raced. Garden continued his vigilant watch as a trio of vessels crested a nearby mountain and began their descent to the House of Jevnibaum.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The arrival of Nefas was just as Garden always imagined any one from the Inquisition would arrive. It was sudden, without any announcement or greetings, and within minutes someone was dead.

Garden had watched from the corner as Nefas walked directly up to Kelvik, grabbed his head in both hands and mentally extracted what he needed from Kelvik. The anguish that Kelvik expressed was not only heard but felt. Moments before his brain liquefied, waves of emotion seemed to pulse outward from the screaming man. A strong stench from the vile liquid and the burnt flesh filled the room, easily over powering the smells of flowers and tea. When the body finally tumbled to the floor, Nefas marveled at the exotic garden around him as if he just realized he was in it.

When Nefas turned, he regarded Garden for the first time in what seemed like years.

“Inushi, please remove your veil. Your guise will no longer be needed.” He hissed.

Inushi could not help but notice the energy in his voice. There was a small smile hidden in the corners of his pale face. Nefas seemed elated, almost….. excited, in a dark sickly sort of way.

Inushi always wondered what Nefas would be like with any other expression other then the dour demeanor he typically had, but sensing this change in Nefas only made Inushi feel………uncomfortable.

* * * * * *

Inushi, Nefas, Jaska, and a handful of Clishmacleaver traveled through the Manor of House Jevnibaum. On several occasions Inushi saw other members handling other tasks within the manor, the chatter that he had grasped while passing by was that this building was going to share a similar fate to that of the tower.

Eventually the party arrived in another vast gaudy chamber full of plush couches, jeweled chandeliers and all manner of gold encrusted finery. Book shelves lined the walls and small stages sat between couches. Gold poles ran up to the ceiling from each of the stages. In the center of the room was a twenty foot tall statue of the Emperor. His cloak was over one shoulder. His eyes looked out into the distance, his hand rested on the hilt of a sheathed sword.

It was marvelously crafted and amazingly intricate. Inushi was taken back by the beauty of the statue. It was not at all what he had expected, yet he did not know what to expect. The Clishmacleaver spread out through the room. Jaska kept close to Inushi as the two of them stopped in the center isle of the room ten feet away from the statue. Nefas walked up to the black marbled plinth that the statue stood on. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Minutes passed before Nefas spoke but when he did the commands were sharp and precise. Secret levers were pulled and hidden buttons pressed throughout the room. The process would have taken one person easily ten minutes, under the command of Nefas with a room of soldier elite, it took seconds.

Finally Nefas stepped forward to a compartment that opened within the plinth. The bulk of Nefas, in his red armor, kept Inushi from seeing what lay inside but slowly he pulled out a human skull.

He lifted an eyebrow before dropping it to the floor. The fragile item cracked into several pieces.

He then reached back inside to retrieve a tarnished yellow box. Nefas held the item carefully in both hands close to his face. He gingerly inspected the item before setting it on the top of the plinth between the Emperors feet. Inushi could see countless runes on the surface of the box that varied in size and color. None of them looked familiar to him.

Nefas removed his gauntlets before holding it once again. He spread his fingers out across the box before turning to Jaska, “prepare yourself.”

“We will not be surprised again,” Jaska vowed. He removed his plasma pistol from its holster and aimed it in the general direction of the box.

Inushi felt lost, but inclined to do the same. He did not have the veil on but he was still carrying Nelson on his shoulders and a heavy bolter on his arm. He cycled up the weapon. Around the room, others did the same.

Nefas applied pressure in a certain order over the runes while rotating the box. When he was done he placed it back on the plinth and stood back.

The runes glowed, the room dimmed, Inushi felt as if he was moving but none of his senses agreed with him. Suddenly the feelings stopped and there was a clap as if someone had snapped there fingers very loudly. The snap lingered much longer that a single sound ever should.

The statue and the adjacent furniture were now being overlapped by another image, almost like a hologram. Inushi struggled to understand what he was seeing but his vision was seeing both the room he was standing in, and another one. When he concentrated on the statue it would come into focus but when he concentrated on the new items they would become just as clear as the room around him.

In the few seconds he took to understand the system he sorted out that they were looking at a room with a window overlooking a vast display of space vessels, all of Eldar design. Inushi tingled at the sight; he felt his body begin to respond, but he prevented any combat drugs or extra stimuli to enter his system until he learned more.

He concentrated on the ships, attempting to obtain as much information as possible when a voice spoke through the image.

“You stupid monkeigh! How dare you,” he paused as a new figure entered into the scene.

The tall male Eldar wore a mask of some woven material. His chest was covered with a light armor that looked similar to leather. His arms were bare except for some bracelets and tattoos that writhed beneath his skin. A pair of hilts crested his shoulders while a single pistol sat low on his left hip. The Eldar began to chuckle as he stood in the center of the display.

He nodded his head and sighed while trying to control his anger, “so we meet again Nefas Sinnafen. You are truly beginning to aggravate me.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“Your scheme has once again failed Scuvven,” Nefas spoke after a moment of silence.

The masked xenos raised a finger,”correction, a small part of my scheme has failed. You see, my dimwitted adversary, after you ruined my last plan I learned a valuable lesson. I believe your people call it a, back up plan.” His voice rose slightly, Inushi could hear the smile in his voice. “For being a young race of xenophobic idiots, you do have at least some worthwhile thoughts.”

Nefas narrowed his eyes and kept his mouth shut. Inushi could feel the hair on his neck begin to rise. Psychic energy was building within the room. He took a moment to examine Nefas before returning his attention to the xenos.

“Scuvven, I know your mirror ship lurks nearby. Open it up and I’ll give you some more worthwhile thoughts,” Nefas paused while his hands begin to glow with red energy, “in person.”

Scuvven gave a light hearted chuckle, his eyes narrowed in his mask, suddenly he turned to look at someone Inushi couldn’t see. “Activate the Ceaseless End. Send word to my mirror ship.” He looked back to Nefas. “The one above Mortimon Secondus. I believe that is what you call it.”

The red energy emanating from Nefas ebbed for a moment. Mortimon Secondus was the planet Razzik and the 10th company were sent too. They had no fleet support. Inushi silently prayed for the Ice Angels on that doomed planet.

“You know Nefas, you are more then welcome to join us. Most of the fun will be over by the time you get there, but I would greatly enjoy meeting you in person.” He sneered.

Behind him in the well lit cavern full of vessels, blackness began to spread around a glowing jewel. It looked as though oil was creating a sheet of nothingness.

“Oh and Nefas, if you see that traitorous cousin of mine, tell her her time is coming. She has caused more than enough trouble.” The double image of the other room began to wrinkle at the edges and shrink. Scuvven chortled, “not that she has done you any good either.”

Seconds before the image was done shrinking, a shout from Scuvven boomed, “Sound the horns, LET THE RAID BEGIN!”

With a snap the image was gone and the box shut itself.

* * * * * * * * * *

A flurry of hissed commands and a torrent of activity quickly followed the end of their conversation. Within minutes Nefas and his entire entourage were on ships heading back out into space. Word had been sent, the fleet was already moving to jump into the warp. In his mind Inushi could already see the black Ice Angel vessels breaking formation to begin their voyage to aid their captain.

Once they were out of the atmosphere Temple and Manor began to take apart the servitor and weapon system that had been attached to him. The three of them were in a separate compartment within the valkyrie directly behind the cockpit. With a slow hiss the doors from the cargo hold opened. Nefas stepped in and waited for the doors to slide shut. Temple and Manor were just removing the heavy bolter when Nefas moved to stand face to face with Inushi. The red eyes of the marine were piercing. His gaunt face was blank except for a slight hint of annoyance.

Inushi studied Nefas closely. In just a short amount of time his opinion had changed about Nefas. He disliked the marine but he had a new found respect. Many of the previous decisions made by the Inquisitor were beginning to fall into place, yet Inushi still had a few lingering questions.

“Leave us,” Nefas hissed.

Temple and Manor set down their tools just before they were about to remove Nelson from Inushi’s shoulders. Nefas sighed and with it the weight of duty was almost visible upon his armored shoulders. For another minute they stared at one another after the two Clishmacleaver had left.

“What are your thoughts on my minions, Inushi?” Nefas eventually asked.

“Efficient, brutal, perfect for what you need them to do,” Inushi responded while thinking about all the people they killed in the process.
Nefas cocked his head, “you do not approve?”
“It is not the kind of fighting a Mantis Warrior is bred for,” Inushi added.

“Ah,” Nefas studied Inushi again, “what is on your mind Inushi?”

“How long have you been chasing Scuvven?” Inushi began without hesitation.

“Seventeen years,” Nefas responded.
“How many times have you stopped him?”
“Twice,”

Inushi paused to consider his next question, “Who is this cousin he spoke of?”

Nefas raised one eye brow, “an Eldar that despises him more than I do. She has been feeding me information nearly this entire time. Without her, none of this would have been stopped.”

Inushi suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable. Dealing with a xenos in that manner was against nearly every fiber of his being. That is breaking one of the codes of the Imperium. Inushi suddenly stopped himself from dwelling on it when a more pertinent thought came into his head.

“Why the sudden candor Nefas?”

A small smile appeared on the Inquisitors white lips, almost as if he was proud of Inushi for realizing the magnitude of his situation.

“Because I have to kill you Inushi.” Nefas added.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Because I have to kill you Inushi.”

Time slowed to a crawl as Inushi felt the weight of the words.

“Because I have to kill you Inushi.” The phrase echoed in his mind. What could he do? What could he say?

“Because I have to kill you Inushi.” It echoed again. How was he going to do it? Could he stop Nefas in time?

That was when he felt a cold barrel at the back of his head. Nelson. The servitor had a small arm that carried a melta pistol. The slight touch from the weapon sent a shiver through Inushi’s spine, he had been carrying the means to his own demise almost the entire time. How could he have been so blind?

The cold barrel tip began to warm up when Nefas raised an eyebrow, “Unless you join me,” he hissed.

Inushi’s mind reeled at the thought, how could he join Nefas? Working for the Inquisition in any way was something he had never even considered. The possibility wasn’t even something he believed was possible given his chapters history. Then again, what would he have to do to become an agent? What had Jaska and the others given up to work for the Inquisition?

More importantly, what kind of people had they become? In a split second he saw all of the destruction they had caused and thought about all of the people that had died. Inushi tightened his jaw and stood tall before Nefas.

“You fight without honor, using deception and lies. You can not even trust your own soldiers with their own memories. I have seen you use questionable technology and now I learn you have been bartering with xenos.” Inushi narrowed his gaze. ”You have truly strayed far from the Emperor’s light Nefas.” He slowly shook his head, “I want nothing to do you with and your men, and if that means death.”

Inushi leaned his head back onto the now steaming pistol. His skin began to boil as hair burned away. “So be it,” he spat through gritted teeth.

The red eyes of Nefas stared back at him in silence. The smell of burnt flesh and hair began to linger, yet Inushi didn’t move.

“Why can’t you see what I am trying to do here? We saved an entire planet from an invasion that would have captured a planets worth of humans for that xenos filth and you think I am the dishonorable one?” Nefas flashed anger in his eyes, his red eyes bore into Inushi. There was a tone in Nefas’ voice that Inushi had never heard before, as quickly as he noticed it Nefas huffed. “You will never understand what it takes,” he trailed off. A glazed look over took his gaunt features.

“How will any one understand when everything you do is shrouded and hidden?” Inushi retorted.

“No one will and no one can, some knowledge is too dangerous.” Nefas hissed absentmindedly.

Inushi slowly shook his head, “Emperor have mercy on your soul Inquisitor Captain,” he added.

Nefas refocused his attention to Inushi before he slowly stepped forward and grabbed Inushi’s head in both hands. His red eyes stared deep into Inushi’s and narrowed. In his last seconds Inushi felt pity for Nefas.

“Good bye Inushi,” was the last thing he heard.


* * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 6

Mortifex shook his head repeatedly before slamming his fist into the makeshift table. The other marines instantly stopped their arguing while the echo of the impact ricocheted around the room and down the hall. Slowly Mortifex sat back on the metal beam he was using as a seat. He closed his eyes and took a moment to collect himself.

While his eyes were shut he realized how much he preferred traveling in silence with Micus and Xerin. When Mortifex opened his eyes he exhaled and looked at each of his marines in turn.

To his left was Xerin, the perfect line trooper. He never questioned any one of higher rank. He was excellent with his shield and power sword. He was the kind of warrior he was honored to fight beside. Mortifex could trust him with his life but he had no desire to spend any more time with the laugh less marine of the Ouroboros Chapter. He could not understand how any marine could be so literal when it came to commands and rules.

Next to Xerin lounged the technological master of the squad, Bonamire. The Salvage Angel was always tinkering with something and his skill with his plasmagun was astounding, too bad his lax attitude and lack of respect frustrated Mortifex to no end.

Off in the shadows with his head down was Micus. The mentally unhinged marine was slowly bobbing his head while chanting an unknown prayer. Mortifex had never seen or heard of a marine with any sort of mental affliction. Nefas never told him how he got it, but Mortifex never asked. He truly was not sure he wanted to know what had happened to the marine or why he had not been locked up along time ago.

On the other side of the table, flipping his combat blade absentmindedly through the air was Tek’Ar. The scout of the squad was the only one that seemed to understand Mortifex on any social level. Tek’Ar was known to keep information to himself unless explicitly asked. He knew him to be reliable and incredible at what he does, too bad he disregarded most of the creeds that Mortifex held so dear and typically followed his own commands over any Mortifex ever issued.

Standing right behind Tek’Ar was Saddicus, their apothecary. Priest, was the term he called himself, but Mortifex preferred apothecary. The yellow armored Lamenter had to be one of the dourest marines in the entire Empire of Mankind. Mortifex often wondered if Saddicus was banished from the Lamenter chapter for taking their name sake too far. His high pitched voice did not aid to the fact that he was incredibly annoying.

The blue and white armored marine adjacent to Saddicus was Deklyn. The hairy marine was from the Storm Warden Chapter. They clearly did not have any servitors or serfs that helped with hygiene. The filthy stinky marine could strangle orks with his odor. It was something that Mortifex still did not understand. He could also not understand how an astartes could be overweight. Deklyn had an appetite that would cause small cities to go hungry if they chose to feed him instead of the populous.

Mortifex mentally shook his thoughts of annoyance when he met the gaze of his last squad mate. Directly to his right, leaning on the damaged table, stood a stern looking marine in gleaming armor. Olivero of the Twin Sabres chapter had many, many names. In fact Mortifex was not sure he had even heard all of the names that he claimed to have. Typically he referred to himself as the Celestial Unicorn. According to Olivero, it was an esteemed position within his chapter. If any one asked Mortifex, it meant that he was an incredibly outspoken nitwit. That being said, no one wields blades better than him. Olivero had on multiple occasions defeated the rest of the squad single handedly, as long as no ranged weapons were involved. Come to think of it Mortifex had seen Olivero fire his wrist mounted bolt pistol on only a few occasions in the all the years they have spent arguing with one another.

“Emperor save me, I do not like any of you!” Mortifex thought to himself. A plummeting piece of space debris crashing into this spire and killing them would not be a bad thing right now, he briefly envisioned.

“Olivero,” he pointed at the marine that was on the edge of speaking, “stay quiet for a moment while I recap what I have just heard.” Mortifex took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts.

Mortifex continued to point to Olivero, “You believe, without a doubt, that the traitor is a human that is surprising everyone in a local tournament of sport.” He then pointed to Bonamire, “You believe that the traitor has to lie within the local Mechanicum.” Morifex rolled his eyes at that thought.

“Saddicus, you think we are all wasting our time per usual, and Tek’Ar, you think that there is something awry in deep in the bowls of this Spire.”

Mortifex held his arms out wide, “We have spent two years on this planet searching for clues and scouring every major city, and and and….. We Have Nothing!”

Olivero, at this point, could not keep to himself any longer. “How dare you speak down to the Celestial Unicorn and push aside His wisdom?! You shall know the taste of my blades before the night is through.”

Six sets of eyes rolled at the empty threat from Olivero before the room began to fill with arguments and chatter. Mortifex sat back and sighed. He wanted nothing more than to be away from this planet and these marines.

* * * * * * * * *

The arguing continued while Mortifex thought to himself. He watched the dynamics between the marines and paid attention to what each of them seemed to believe in. He listened to what they said while developing the next steps of their mission. When the arguments began to circle back to where they started he raised a hand to silence them. To his surprise, they all obeyed.

Mortifex momentarily stared at the back of his gauntlet, it was filthy. He shook away the thought.

“We clearly need more information before we decide who needs to be the target of the Emperors Wrath.” Mortifex began. “Our next satellite check in is in four days. In four days I will be sending a message to Nefas to pick us up off of this rock, which means we are completing this mission this week.” Mortifex glared around the room as his words built up momentum. “Tek’Ar, Xerin, and Deklyn, you will split up and explore the underground levels of the spire. If there are things hiding, I want to know about it. Bonamire, if you believe the mechanicum are involved with this, get a closer look at the nearest cult in the mountain ridge and prove it. We have a speeder that you can take to get there faster. Olivero, Saddicus, and I will infiltrate the local tournament to learn more about this competitor.” Finally Mortifex turned to Micus, the unhinged marine didn’t need supervision but Mortifex had kept him active for a long time, he needed to meditate for a few days to reorient himself. The tree incident was a reminder of what the marine was capable of. “Micus, we will leave you here to get some rest and alone time.” Before any questions or complaints could be voiced Mortifex turned to Bonamire, “any chance of the locals or mechanicum could catch any vox chatter if we opened a line?”

Bonamire shook his head, “we are out of range from the Mechanicum unless we used our boosted lines. The locals have varying degrees of tech there is still a lot of machines from the better days of the knight households on the planet, but I doubt they have the knowledge to utilize it. I believe we have little to fear from them catching or even deciphering our occasional communications.”

“Excellent, vox line Kappa Beta Nine. Six hour check ins. We either find our suspect, or we missed him somewhere else on the planet.” Mortifex took one more look around the room. He could tell they were anxious to get moving. “Emperor guide us all.”

Marines stood up while gear was stowed. Helmets were locked into place and weapons were put back together and holstered. Mortifex watched the quiet activity. For a moment he had the bizarre sensation of their mission coming to an end, and then his pessimism returned. “We have been here for two years and have nothing. Maybe the lead Nefas had, was false and all of this was just a waste of our time.” He thought to himself as he watched his squad.

One by one they got up and began to march out. Olivero and Saddicus waited near the exit for Mortifex, only Bonamire was left in the room. The Salvage Angel was reattaching his unique lightning claw, instead of the typical four bladed versions; it had a wide lone blade that came out of the powered fist. It crackled with energy as the power connections met. The blade extended to its full length before he retracted it as far as he could. Once completed Bonamire gingerly picked up his sacred plasma gun and attached to his back over his right shoulder.

Mortifex stood up the same moment that Bonamire did. They both paused. “What makes you think there could be a traitor amongst the mechanicum?”

“The cults on this planet are mostly automated systems with only a handful of cognitive functioning members. It is feasible that a tech minded person or team could take out only a handful of individuals and then have an entire mechanicum facility at their disposal. It would not be easy but our enemy is cunning. The various cults typically do not communicate with one another as long as the output of servitors doesn’t slow.” Bonamire explained.

“Why the cult in this region then?” Mortifex asked.

“This cult is the only one that has changed,” Bonamire smiled as he put on his helmet. “The local population has expressed their outrage at the mechanicums raiding, which is not part of their original agreement.”

“It is not unusual for the Red Robes to take drastic measures to meet quotas,” Mortifex retorted.

“True, but they have never fallen below the quotas, they have broken planetary laws and begun to capture locals outside of their own jurisdiction for seemingly no reason,” Bonamire began to walk towards the exit.

Mortifex could understand the logic but it still didn’t seem likely that a xenos created being could take over a mechanicum facility. He shook his head as Bonamire walked away.

Saddicus and Olivero waited nearby and before Mortifex could enjoy the silence Olivero spoke. Mortifex rolled his eyes before the words reached him.

“Have no fear brother, the Celestial Unicorn does not need proof. He knows who the traitor is.” Olivero said dramatically with unnecessary hand gestures.

Mortifex stared at the orange and red quartered marine and sighed very loudly. He opened his mouth to speak then shook his head and walked out of the room, “how could the Emperor permit marines like Olivero to exist?” He thought to himself.

* * * * * * * *

The candle lit tent was full of gifts, flowers, and trinkets. The last clan dignitary had departed just moments ago. A calm silence had finally returned to the multi-chamber tent. Distant sounds of parties and celebrations occasional wafted in.

In the large center room, a figure sat facing the entryway. Adorned in ceremonial armor with bright oranges and teal, the figure waited patiently. Weapons were racked behind the figure. The ceremonial armor had a black helmet with a reflective black metal plate that covered the figures face. A demonic visage covered the rest of the helm. Ribbons dangled from the two rows of horns that crested the helm. Braids and other meticulous rope work hung from the figures armored shoulders.

In one of the side rooms sat the figures Bushini, or squire depending on what clan you came from. The Bushini waited until any signal was given to speak, or too act. Patience was something he had been improving upon, but all of the excitement of being at the Games and seeing all of the other contestants had worried him. He knew he should not fear but this contest was more than anything he had seen thus far.

How was his Sahmree going to survive? How was his master going to defeat the clan champions without any other alliance support?

He began to stand up when his master casually looked at him. His Sahmree motioned towards the tent entrance. The Bushini quickly got up and walked over to the entrance. Waiting on the other side was someone he was shocked to see. Gorehzingus the Champion of Clan Batterhorn filled the tent entrance. He was not in his ceremonial armor or even wearing his clan colors, he came wearing the gray of the working class or neutral parties.

“Your exalted champion, I am Kaihiro, please enter and…” the Bushini began.

“Please,” he raised a hand, “your pleasantries are appreciated and noted but my time is short.” He stepped into the tent and closed it behind him. Kaihiro stepped back several steps and almost tripped over some out of place gifts. Gorehzingus was one of the largest humans he had seen and his demeanor demanded respect. Some would refer to him as an Ogryn but that term was a derogatory term. The unnaturally large man did not move like a beast of burden but like a well trained predator. The Bushini smiled at the clever comparison and swore that he would tell his Sahmree about it after Gorehzingus had left.

Gorehzingus took two long strides and stood over the still seated armored figure. With a well practiced motion he sat cross legged. Once properly seated, he bowed forward. His face almost touched the tent floor. The armored figure then reciprocated. An armored glove motioned to the Bushini.

Within seconds a set of tea was placed between them. Gorehzingus shook his head. “I do not mean any disrespect Reticence, but it is not easy for me to escape my own clan’s holdings to come and meet with you.”

Kaihiro mentally smiled at the name his master had acquired. Reticence, Silence, Faceless One, and many others had been given during his master’s quick ascension up the ranks in order to be allowed into the Games.

Reticence straightened up and seemed to relax at the same time.

“Eighteen clan champions and you, the first ever clanless to make it into the Games, will be in that sacred grove tomorrow. You are aware of the rules and the process. I am required to strike down all who do not swear before me. If I do not then it is a sign of weakness.”

Reticence did not move or make a sound. Gorehzingus continued.

“I know who will be joining me and who I will need to fight. You on the other hand,” he quizzically pointed,” are an unknown. I have not seen any other clan present gifts to you. I have not heard of any alliances and from what I can gather, you do not have any holdings or supporters. If that is the case then you would have to cut down all eighteen clan champions tomorrow.”

He let that linger. Kaihiro took a deep breath. He knew what his Sahmree must do but when it was spoken out loud it sounded impossible.

“I have seen you master every challenge given. I have seen vids of your duals. You fight with honor and I do not doubt your capabilities as a warrior but if you did cut down all eighteen champions, you would be given the keys and ruling authority over all the clans, clans that would be without their champions. This is what concerns me. I do not know what you fight for.” He paused and waited as steam rose from the tea before him. It curled around his nose like a pet demanding attention. “Please tell me before we meet again on the battlefield.”

Kaihiro stepped forward as he has many times before, “My master fights for the people of this planet and for the Emperor.”

Gorehzingus sighed and leaned back. He shook his head, disappointed with the canned response. “If you will continue your silence then may I ask one favor from you?”

Reticence slowly nodded.

“The Champions that are swearing to me are wise men with exceptional skills in combat and in diplomacy. After I deal with the others, if we must fight I would like it to be simply between you and I. The others will not interfere. If you defeat me, they will follow you.”

Kaihiro watched his master for a sign, after a moment Reticence gave the slightest nod in acquiescence.

Gorehzingus stood up, his towering figure looked as if he could crush Reticence with only the slightest effort. He looked down upon the still seated armored figure.

“I must say Reticence; you are causing quite the up roar. You are nothing like the Games have ever seen. No one knows where you came from. No one knows what your agenda is. No one knows what you will do if you were to win. I think that is the biggest problem. That fear of the unknown.”

Gorehzingus turned to leave, he took two steps and stopped. He lowered his head, “My mind tells me that I must strike you down tomorrow. My gut tells me that I must strike you down tomorrow. However my heart,” he turned back to look at the armored figure one last time. “my heart tells me that you and I will need one another and that I think………. that scares me most of all.”

With that the sixteen foot tall champion left the tent. Kaihiro secured the tent entrance so that no others could enter. He then returned and stood before his Sahmree.

Slowly the armored figure began to take off the blank faced demonic helmet. An atmospheric hiss escaped when the helmet seals unlocked. Kaihiro took the helmet from his master.

“Thank you Kai,” she said.

Kaihiro bowed as he took her helmet and began to process of taking off the rest of her armor pieces. For several minutes he carefully took off a piece and gingerly placed it in its specific spot within the tent. He lit a candle next to each piece. He spoke a specific chant with each one.

He could not help but notice that she was watching him intently. When he returned to take one of the last pieces he met her gaze briefly. Her thin eyes were a jungle green.

“What are your thoughts on Gore?” She asked Kaihiro.

He thought for a moment as he undid several clasps and straps. “I think his intentions are good and his actions are honorable.” He said after a moment of hesitation. Her questions typically turned into lessons and he concentrated on every one of the few words she spoke.

She stared off into the distance, “I agree.”

“Will you still kill him tomorrow then?” he asked shyly.

Reticence continued to stare, “I must have those keys and I will stop at nothing to get them. If that means I must kill him, then I must kill him.” A small smile brushed her lips. “Kai, you have been with me ever since I began this journey. You are now six years old and I could not have asked for a better Bushini. Tomorrow will be the end of our journey. I hope you are prepared for any outcome.”

Kaihiro looked down and dwelled on her words. He was honored with her words yet he felt confused.

“What will happen to me when you win the keys?” He whispered.

She quietly stood up and walked over to him. She was thin and agile. Her skin was alabaster, only the occasional metal contact point broke her skin. She was just over five feet tall and he was already taller then her despite being so young.

“Kai, you must choose your own destiny. Once I have the keys things will become complicated, but if you choose, you will always have a place by my side.” She said while holding his shoulders and looking into his eyes.

He beamed with the idea of being elevated along with her to higher status. He bowed his head quickly while he smiled, “I could never leave your side while you still need me Sahmree.”

She smiled and kissed the top of his head. “Rest Kai, tomorrow will be a day we shall never forget.”

* * * * * * * * * *

The ship violently shook one last time. Klaxons were blaring and red light continued to bathe the bridge. Razzik watched with frustrated concern. He looked at several members of the bridge staff and then a monitor. The count down zeroed out and the ship quickly broke warp back into real space. The last day of travel had been turbulent. Every hour they closed on their destination it seemed to worsen, he wondered if they were still on course.

The main view port was covered by the warp shields and systems were shutting down as others were coming online. The scanners were sending out signals, the engines were coming online. Shield generators were switching from warp to real space. Nearly every one of the ships systems were being rebooted or turned on, all simultaneously. It was a nervous time to be sitting blind while everything came online.

“Captain Razzik, we successfully translated out of the warp. Our Navigator has failed to explain why the currents were so aggressive. Scanners will give us our precise whereabouts in moments.” Captain Pith calmly stated as he reviewed the bank of monitors in front of his throne.

“Can we open the warp shields?” Razzik asked. He shifted his helmet from under his right arm to his left.

“We can, but it is ill advised until the Alabaster Reflection has all of its systems up and functioning.” The elderly man said.

Razzik gave a side glance to the ships captain. Captain Pith had commanded the ship for hundreds of years. He was known for always succeeding in his missions and his chest of accolades was proof.

“Captain, we are receiving a transmission.” A servitor stated. Pith leaned forward, the cables coming from his back pulled taught.

The communications officer spoke next, “There are several. None are complete. They are all Mechanicum in origin.”

Monitors began to clear up as information began to stream.

“Emperors Throne! All ahead. Get me those shields!” Captain Pith shouted. His fingers twitched and the room suddenly erupted into motion. “Helmsmen, get me to sector twenty seven. Defense fire pattern Omicron Delta as soon as the system allows it.”

Razzik looked at the monitors but still did not have a good concept of what was happening. Pith could see everything before the monitors explained the situation. When icons showed up and their location was revealed, Razzik narrowed his eyes.

“Captain,” Pith said as he gave Razzik a stern look “get to the drop decks.”

“Incoming lance fire!” the Starboard deck chief shouted.
“Incoming scatter missiles,” the Port side deck chief echoed.

Just then the main view monitor lit up for everyone to see. The moon over Mortimon Secondus dominated the view port, with the planet right behind it. Smooth angled ships were all around them. Razzik did not need to wait for the icons to show up to know they were of Eldar design. In the distance Razzik could see broken weapons platforms and lifeless Imperial craft. They had arrived too close and they were too late.

“Get to pod decks Captain.” Pith said again, “If the Emperor wills it, I’ll get your company onto the surface before we follow as a debris cloud.” Pith said before shouting further commands.

Razzik had already put on his helmet and was marching off the deck.

“Matten, find me this Mortifex and get me drop coordinates. Hodge, alert all naval security.” At this point Pith was a whirlwind of commands both spoken and not. He paused just for a moment to review the number of incoming ships and their trajectories. There were all around him. They had arrived in the middle of a xenos fleet. The enemy had already begun to fire. The first rounds would hit before their shields were even online. He knew the outcome before his ship had even taken damage.

Pith flipped open a panel on his throne. The last time it had been open was when the throne was installed.

“Warden Officer Tsabo, get all personal into the upper vault immediately. By the Emperor’s Grace I will get you on the planet right behind 10th Company.” Pith listened to Tsabo’s response before reviewing the updated list of incoming ships. “Tsabo, I do not have time to argue, we are already dead! My only goal now is to get as many as I can onto the surface of that planet. Separating the vault is the best option. Now go!” Pith primed the switch in his throne. Clamps and inner workings began to thunder in the distance. The Alabaster Reflection was going to drop its cargo one last time.

The first defense weapons battery came online. The rumble of distant protective fire was like a tickle on the back of his arms. He smiled as he began to hear the defiant growl of the ships spirit. He shivered in agreement. “We will get them there,” he growled back.

* * * * * * *

The darkness was all encompassing. It pressed down on him from all sides. To many it would seem unnerving but to Tek’Ar, it was comforting. He knelt on a beam waiting. The sound was faint yet sharp. He had slowed his breathing down and entered a meditative trance, even his twin hearts had slowed to a crawl.

Snip

He focused on the sound. Amplified it in his head and waited for the echoes to die down. He opened his eyes and began to retrace the sound through the collection of stone, metal, and ancient halls.

Once satisfied he had his next bearing he moved out. Tek’Ar silently lowered himself onto the scaffolding beneath him. For hours now he had descended into the bowels of the broken spire. He understood standard spire design and was aware that it could easily reach down to the planets core. There had to be something going on in the dark depths. The hum of power lines was his first clue. The occasional spire quake was another. Now this new sound intrigued him.

Tek’Ar had been one of the first marines to arrive; his preliminary exploring had given him invaluable information. Briefly he thought about Xerin and Deklyn. He had directed them to search other areas of interest. Xerin argued about a systematic approach while Deklyn simply nodded his head and took Tek’Ar’s advice. Mortifex never thought anything of Deklyn but Tek’Ar was fascinated by him, outside of Micus, little was known of Deklyn other then his chapter and specialty. He had many terrible social habits but Tek’Ar new there was something mysterious about him. For that reason alone, Tek’Ar liked him.

Carefully and quietly he padded down the hall to another opening. A service ladder led up to another floor while a broken platform ended over a shallow pit of rubble. He looked down through the metal mesh floor, the dark vision his armor granted him allowed him to see the rubble strewn path. Across from the broken platform was another hall and the other half of the platform he could probably worm his way through the rubble and debris to the other side.

Suddenly without warning the screech of metal on metal screamed through the hall. Across from the broken platform a light beamed downwards. A metal box haphazardly fell and screeched to a halt.

Tek’Ar was hidden behind a broken beam and rubble before the box opened. With one eye peaking around the corner of the beam, he peered down the hall. The elevator opened and more light poured into the dark area.

Deklyn and Xerin stepped out with bolt pistols drawn. Xerin moved left and Deklyn right. After a moment of scanning Xerin motioned to follow and Deklyn fell right behind. Tek’Ar shook his head. He watched them leave and then decided to follow them. He had no idea how they found a working anything down here but his options of moving forward were now the same as his squad mates. He decided to follow in silence to see how alert the other two were.

The two did not go far before they stood behind a crooked door, sometime ago the frame had bent and put immense pressure on the solid metal slab. Tek’Ar was as close as he could get when the sound came again.

Snip

Deklyn and Xerin heard it as well. They both paused instantly as the sound echoed past them. Xerin was the first to move. He scanned the door and the surrounding area. Deklyn turned around to watch their rear and to Tek’Ar’s surprise. Their gazes met. The short barrel of a bolt pistol was already pointing at him. Deklyn gave off no sign of surprise, instead he waited before slowly lowering his gray pistol.

Tek’Ar padded around the corner. Deklyn stood motionless. The two stared at one another. Deklyn was bigger in every aspect and even without looking at the medals and honor badges, Tek’Ar knew that Deklyn was a veteran marine. He seemed uncaring and always thinking of something other then the moment. Tek’Ar was familiar with that gaze and wondered what sort of terrible deeds Deklyn had witnessed.

The sound of liquid splattering softly took their attentions. Deklyn turned and Tek’Ar stepped next to him. Xerin was examining the ceiling. He did not react to the newest sound.

“Deklyn we should be able to move this beam and then push the door enough for us to pass,” Xerin whispered before he looked back down to see Tek’Ar stepping within striking distance.

They exchanged a dissatisfied look. “I take it you did not find anything of use?” Xerin began.

“I disagree,” Tek’Ar responded, “I found Deklyn.”

A disappointed look was his only response before Xerin jumped straight up into the air to grab a broken beam. He pulled his armored form into the rafters of the room. After several minutes of positioning he got to a metal beam that was propping up several other pieces.

“Be ready to open the door,” Xerin added.

Deklyn and Tek’Ar stepped up the door and prepared themselves to push it ajar.

A grunt was all the warning they had. Beams moved, rubble shifted, walls tilted.

Deklyn slammed into the door and Tek’Ar stepped through.

Bright light blinded them both.

Tek’Ar stepped forward and rolled right, up into a kneeling position. His drum fed storm bolter was drawn and scanning. Deklyn slowly entered behind him. Rubble was falling from the ceiling behind them. Xerin dropped from the rafters and darted in when the shifting metal and ancient debris tumbled down into the hall behind them. In a matter of seconds the rafters had begun to collapse. The entire pathway behind them was soon impassible.

The three marines looked around the vast chamber they had stumbled into.

Banks of lights filled the room with warm amber sunlight. Rows of fruit trees lined the vaulted room in both directions. A thirty foot tall tripedal servitor slowly trod between the two nearest trees. A long shear trimmed the nearest tree.

Snip

The sound echoed through the still room. The servitor then watered the tree with an underarm water cannon. Tek’Ar watched as the servitor turned to regard the marines. It paused as if to ponder what to do. The small human head tilted and gave them a perplexing look. It shivered and blurted a binary response before returning to its task.

“Apparently we were not deemed to be a weed,” Tek’Ar remarked.

Xerin gave him a venomous look. He turned as if to say something when Deklyn stepped between them, he pointed with his pistol to a banner hanging from the ceiling at the far end of the room.

“I don’t recognize it,” Tek’Ar.

Xerin lowered his weapon and shook his head, “did you not implant any of the information about this mission?”

Tek’Ar shook his head at the thought.

“Did you read anything about this mission?” Xerin spat.

“No. None of it. I would rather not be implanted with possible false information, why would we trust anything Nefas gave us?”

A look of disappointment crossed Xerin’s face. “That is the banner of Clan Oshiashi, one of the founding clans of the Mortimon System. If this is one of their holdings then this ancient vault would be thousands of years old.”

“How is that helpful?” Tek’Ar shrugged.

Xerin stormed off towards the arch under the banner. The amount of disgust coming from Xerin made Tek’Ar smile.

Deklyn followed and Tek’Ar marched beside him. “Is that helpful?” He leaned next to Deklyn as they moved.

The deep voice of Deklyn spoke, “perhaps. Oshiashi was one of the eight clans that founded the system. They were here when the Spires were built and before the mechanicum took over. Legend has it that each original clan had a large warrior knight cast that protected the system. If we could find a knight, that would prove to be useful.”

A simple grunting approval was Tek’Ar’s response.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Warden Officer Tsabo urged the next group of people into the vault. Another impact knocked many of them to their feet. Chaplain Gonatzu stood in the doorway, his presence alone kept the people from panicking.

At each entrance a space marine or two monitored the progress. When the command was given the doors would close and the next phase of the process would begin. Tsabin Tsabo knew his son was on board but he also knew they would have to shut the doors well before everyone else could make it inside.

He watched as Gonatzu swept his glance over to him.

“Warden Officer,” he boomed.

Tsabin hurried over. Standing next to Gonatzu was another Warden Officer and Lieutenant Jillex, the highest ranking guard on the ship. “Yes Chaplain,” Tsabin said with a bowed head.

“We are closing the vault, see that your men are prepared for immediate deployment upon landing,” Gonatzu commanded.

“but there are still more coming Chaplain.” Tsabin began as he looked at the people still trying to run to the vault. Crew and civilians were still hurrying towards the vault and armed soldiers waited by the door.

Gonatzu looked down at him. His red eye lens made him regret he had spoken.

Suddenly the room shook with another impact. Tsabin and every human around him fell over or grabbed a wall for support. Gonatzu was still standing when the distant wall began to peel back with a horrible screech. Instantly the void began to claim victims. Tsabin was pulled with irresistible force before Gonatzu grabbed him by the arm. The other officers along with Jillex were swept away screaming into the void. People around them flew towards the gaping hole in the far wall. The other marines grabbed whoever they could.

Two steps to the door panel and Gonatzu was at the controls. A split second later and the door slammed shut.

“Void breach at main entrance. Seal all others and get everyone strapped in for drop. We must be prepared to launch.” He commanded.

Gonatzu then looked down at Tsabin again. The room around them was now nearly empty of people, only a few soldiers and crew had managed to grab onto anything before the door had shut.

“Go see to your men Lieutenant,” Gonatzu said.

Tsabin turned then paused. The vision of his screaming superior officer was already a distant thought. He was now the highest ranking guard on the ship. He looked back to Gonatzu when he opened his vox line to all guard staff. “This is Tsabin Tsabo, we just lost Lieutenant Jillex and several others, I am now in command.”

Lieutenant Tsabin looked around at the soldiers, his soldiers. He took a deep breath and gave his first command as Lieutenant. “Seal the vault, get everyone strapped in. Prepare for immediate deployment when we land,” he took a deep breath. “Warden Officers, give me a head count of both crew and armed staff,” he commanded.

The skull faced chaplain nodded his approval before walking past.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The ship rumbled as it took another round of fire. Captain Pith was absorbing information and subconsciously organizing all of it into levels of importance. The outer levels of his ship had been torn apart. The skillful level of piloting of his crew was the only reason the engines were still firing and moving them forward but it was not about dodging fire. It was all about controlling the damage.

Captain Pith felt a hint of concern as his ship plowed on. He understood his skills but he was a realistic man, they were not trying to destroy them and he knew it shortly after they began to move. The enemy was faster and more maneuverable, even the boosted engines of the Alabaster Reflection did not compare to eldar raiders.

“Thirty seven seconds to next impact,”
“Captain, I have a response from the squad planet side!”
“We just voided levels fifty eight through sixty three, starboard side.”
“Aft Delta gun batteries are down.”
“Engine seven is losing power.”
“Captain, shields are too damaged to begin recharge.”

Crew members continued to shout but Captain Pith did not hear them. He understood their words in digital form through his mental interface; some habits were hard to stop. He did not mind the chaos around him. It provided a nice background noise.

“Coordinates ensign!” He spoke as he sent a mental request to plot landing patterns for the pods and the Vault.

“Seventeen seconds to impact,” a servitor added.

Coordinates arrived and he grimaced at the distance he still needed to cover around the globe below them. A thought then pierced his grim visage.

“Helmsman, upon impact begin barrel roll, adjust to aft side nine degrees, downward four point three.”

“Five seconds,” the servitor continued.

The room shook, Captain Pith monitored their progress as they began their roll.

With a mental thought the engines flickered and shut down, emergency lights flooded the bridge.

“Captain, our engines have died. The core is coming offline. I do not know why but….”

“Calm yourself my friend, I deactivated the engines. It is time for the prey to prepare one final strike,” Captain Pith said as he noticed the immediate adjustment in weapons fire. The Eldar ships were closing in, but these were a darker kind of Eldar. The Drukhari, were raiders, murders, and slavers. He watched as smaller craft were being launched. Pith smiled and allowed himself a chuckle.

“Captain Razzik, we will launch everything in four minutes. The vault will be right behind you,” Pith leaned back in his chair and allowed himself to take a deep breath.

“The sages will sing praises of your skill Captain Pith. I will chisel your name in the Ice myself,” Razzik spoke.

Pith looked up at the closing ships. The dark space around them was crawling with them, like a carpet of insects waiting on the edges of the light. As far as his scanners could see, dark eldar vessels hovered above the planet. The invasion had yet to reach the planets surface. They had arrived at the peak of the invasion.

“Razzik, can you do one more thing for me?” Pith added as he activated charges around the ship and finished up the deployment pattern.

“What is that you wish, Captain Pith?” The space marine captain questioned.

“I fully expect my name, my full name, chiseled in the ice. I also expect you to save my crew,” Pith paused, “but most importantly Razzik, do not let the vault fall into enemy hands.”

“Of course Captain Pith,” Razzik responded at the last request with a hint of confusion.

A private line suddenly breached Razzik’s HUD, “you do not understand Razzik, the vault holds much more than the White within its frozen chambers, and it is more important than the curse your chapter wishes to hide.” Pith quickly spoke.

Hearing a non-astartes speak of their flaw caught Razzik off guard. “What could be more important than that?” Razzik responded.

“You must believe me Razzik, DO NOT let the enemy take the vault, destroy it if you must.”

“Thirty seconds until we reach the drop coordinates Captain,” one of the bridge staff added.
“Incoming boarding parties, two minutes out.” Another added.

Pith shut down the private line as Razzik started to speak, he addressed his crew one last time. “Crew of the Alabaster Reflection! I could have not asked for a better crew. You should all be proud of the missions we have completed and remember the accolades that fill the halls of this ship. They are there because of each of you.” He took a deep breathe,” I only ask one final thing, “ with a flick of a finger every drop pod launched and all of the 10th company ships flew out of the hangers speeding towards the planet as fast as possible. “when you stand before the Emperor, you look him in the eyes and you tell him what ship you were on. You tell him how we lived and how we died! Fighting till the end and doing our duty.” He could feel the pride swell in the crew around him. He felt the ancient spirit of the ship shiver with anticipation for what was to come. “And when the time comes, I will be there by your side and we will ride the afterlife in a ship of gold.”

Pith closed his eyes one last time and gave his final command.

As the ship was being surrounded by boarding vessels the ship rippled with explosions that sent a shockwave into space tearing through xenos ships and filling the space with destruction and death. In the cover of the explosion, the heart of the ship shot towards the planet. Guidance systems controlled the Vaults decent as a fortress fell from the sky.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The center of the arena was a serene well kept grassy knoll. Several small trees were dropping white blossoms. A small brook gurgled through the arena. It was as if the arena was built around the perfect concept of natural calm. Small birds tweeted in the trees and flowers were open towards the bright blue sky.

Under a crooked tree sat two individuals, Reticence and Gorehzingas. Behind the larger of the two sat seven other clan champions. Scattered around the arena, lay the bodies of ten other clan champions slowly bleeding onto the pure white grasses.

Between the two champions were their Bushini, each was creating their own ideal versions of tea, they would then be shared with one another, per tradition. The sound of tea being poured into cups could be heard throughout the arena despite eighty thousand people watching from the crowded stands.

When the Bushini were finished, they placed their teas on wooden trays, knelt down, and touched their heads to the ground. With their heads bowed, they then backed away and left the arena via gates on opposite ends.

Gorehzingus picked up his bowl of tea in both hands. He closely examined the bowl. It had a scene of ships landing and joyous celebration between brothers. As he turned the bowl he saw the two such brothers fighting in bitter struggle on the other side.

The tea was one he had never smelled before. It was a subtle white tea with a hint of fruits yet it was not clear, cream had been added to give it a milky swirl. When he was completed he looked up at the Silent One.

Before she grasped the bowl in front of her she slowly unhooked her helm and removed it. A barely contained gasp followed by intense whispers, ran laps around the arena when they saw she was a woman.

The Judicator, high in the stands, gently tapped his septum. It echoed through the arena and by the third tap silence had returned.

She mimicked Gorehzingus and examined the bowl of Clan Batterhorn. Victories and images of successful campaigns rimmed the bowl. She took a deep breath of the strong broth. She looked up at Gorehzingus and as one they both drank the entire contents of their bowls.

As the creamy liquid dissipated from the bowl Gorehzingus held he saw an icon on the bottom of his bowl. The shock of the image made him choke on the liquid.

Seeing the giant clan champion cough startled the champions behind him. They all stood with weapons drawn. “Poison!” One of them shouted.

The arena exploded in raucous anger before Gorehzingus held up a hand.

Everyone paused before he had several smaller coughs, clearing his throat.

Reticence did not move or seem in the least bit concerned.

“Please be calm. Everyone! There is no poison. I was merely surprised at the amazing tea in which I have just imbibed,” he smoothly stated.

The sound of people sitting back down and weapons being sheathed quickly followed as the masses settled back down.

“It appeals to me that you did so enjoy my tea, it was difficult to find the necessary components,” the Silent One finally spoke. Her voice was full of confidence and authority yet, it was quiet. Gorehzingus realized how similar it was to her tea.

“I meant no disrespect by my manners, but there is a standard within your bowl that I have not seen in,” he paused to take a deep breath. The scent of the tea filled his lungs. He felt refreshed by its aroma. “I have not seen it except in story books when I was a child.” He looked down into the bowl to see a horned bird with its talons wrapped around a planet.

“Which story book would that have been?” She asked while her thin jungle green eyes studied his response.

Gorehzingus gingerly placed the bowl back on its tray. “All of us have heard the stories of how this planet was founded 10,000 years ago.” He looked around at the enthralled stands before continuing. “The Great Eight Clans of the Mortimon system, Moz, Oscillix, Roundem, Tig’nagu, Issum, Mhumrif, Oshiashi, and Neva. You have the image of the Great Ashi within your bowl. Where did you find it?”

She carefully set the Batterhorn bowl back on its tray before she addressed Gorehzingas. “I found it right where my father left it,” she reached for her helmet.

Gorehzingas narrowed his eyes, “and who was your father?”

“Xan Oshiashi, First of the White Mist, defender of the TriSpire and Governor of Mortimon Secondus,” she stated before she placed her helmet on her head.

The Clan Champion of Batterhorn shook his head and laughed. “That is not possible. He lived eight thousand years ago and died when the greenskins first invaded our system.”

Reticence slowly stood up. Her armored form was not even close to being as tall as the sitting giant before her.

She looked up at him once more before addressing the crowd for the first time. “My name is Xanshi Oshiashi, second born of the White Mist and Clan Champion of the Oshiashi. I fought beside my father when the greenskins invaded. I skewered their warlord with my chainfist.” She hesitated before taking on a forlorn look. “I have been asleep for seven thousand years and have now awoken to find my planet in disarray. My Spires tumbled into ruin. And my people,” she waved at the crowd. “My people are nothing like I remember,” she examined Gorehzingus once again. “I have returned to take back my families rightful claim and defend Mortimon Secondus against the oncoming threat.”

“That is truly a marvelous tale Xanshi, or whoever you are, but there is no threat. Our planet has been at peace for hundreds of years. There has not been a call to arms during any of our life times. The Red Robes of the Machines protect us now,” Gorehzingus exclaimed.

“Then why,” Xanshi began as the people of the crowd began to shout and point.

Up in the sky dozens of objects were rapidly falling in a scattered formation. Ships flew amidst them and behind them all was a massive castle plummeting through the air. The ships flew outwards while the drop pods crashed down into the city around them. One pod plummeted right into the arena crushing a thousand year old tree not twenty yards away from the champions.

Before the debris had even settled to the ground ten black armored space marines stood in a circle around the pod, purple weapons pointed at the crowd. One shield wielding marine stepped forward towards the champions. The ornate black and blue shield had a skull in its center and his right hand was an oversized white fist crackling with power.

“Citizens! My name is Razzik, Captain of the 10th company of the Ice Angel Chapter. Mortimon Secondus is under assault by a xenos force that has come to capture us all. It is time to seek shelter and prepare for war. Who here is in charge!?” He shouted for all to hear.

Xanshi gave a side glance to Gorehzingus who grimly looked back at her.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The energy level in the arena had drastically changed. The peaceful anticipation had turned into anxious fear. Calls were being made and messages were being sent out. In the center of it all, stood Captain Razzik and the Clan Champions. The Judicator and other members of leadership were having heated debates high up in the stands.

Mortifex stayed hidden with Olivero and Saddicus. They were in the arena in a sub level, watching from a ground level window.

“Nefas had to have sent them. It is too unlikely that they would have arrived on their own,” Mortifex mused out loud. He was closest to the window examining the Ice Angels and the further conversations.

“Perhaps the Emperor wishes to punish them as well. He sent them here to join us in a miserable death,” Saddicus spat in his high pitched tone.

Mortifex ignored the remark from behind him. “Had Nefas sent them we would have received some warning or message,” an idea sparked his thoughts. “We should check in with,” he began as he turned around. He froze mid motion, “oh no. Where is he?”

“CAPTAIN RAZZIK!” a shout echoed from outside. Mortifex was already running towards the door.

In the center of the arena the crowd turned to see the brightly colored form of Olivero confidently walking onto the white grasses in the arena. Sabers were casually held in his hands.

Razzik looked at the champions and the same look of confusion covered their faces.

“Sergeant Mortifex, I presume,” Razzik began.

“You presume incorrectly, the one that stands before you, you may address as the Celestial Unicorn.” Olivero continued his march across the field.

Razzik opened his mouth to speak again but Olivero cut him off, “be wary Captain Razzik, that woman before you is a traitor to this planet, her lies are already tainting the air around us. She is the cause of the woes on this planet and I have been sent to dispatch her.”

The black helm of Captain Razzik turned to her and his white powerfist raised in her direction. The clicking of ammo feeds echoed through the suddenly silent arena.

“HALT!” another voice boomed.

Sergeant Mortifex came running into the arena.

Looks from the Ice Angels and every one in the arena passed between all of the new comers.

“I am Sergeant Mortifex, please lower your weapon Captain,”
“but she IS the traitor,” Olivero stomped.
“Explain yourselves! We have no time for these distractions,” Razzik shouted in annoyance.
“She is a xenos mutated vile woman,”Olivero began.
“Shut your idiotic mouth,” Mortifex commanded.
“How dare you?!” Oliver stepped back stunned by the words as if he had been slapped by a truck.

“Captain, I apologize but I assume you know why we are here. She is one of our suspects we are investigating but nothing has been confirmed.” Mortifex smoothly added.

Xanshi was taken back by the sudden turn of events. The champions were even more suspicious of her now and the arrival of the mythical space marines certainly changed everything.

Captain Razzik turned back to Xanshi and one again raised the white fist, the four barrels on the back of his hand were glaring at her ready to spit destruction. “Explain yourself, NOW!”

The power behind his words was sudden and impressive. Xanshi somehow managed to stay calm. She looked up at Captain Razzik, “I can argue who I am too all of you, but something tells me now would not be the time. Let me show you. If we all head to the remains of the TriSpire, we can hide in my family’s catacombs deep beneath it.”

“Those are a myth,” Gorehzingus rolled his eyes. “Countless have tried to find them and none have ever returned from the depths of that shattered pit.”

“It is well hidden and still vast. The entire cities population could survive there for quite some time. We must hurry though if we need to get everyone there.”

The clan champions began to shout about staying protected within the city and how she is a liar. Gorehzingus remained quite. Razzik kept his weapon leveled with her before he spoke. His tone silenced those around him.

“Mortifex, I do not have enough information to ascertain the truth or lies behind what she speaks. I leave this decision up to you.” Razzik spoke.

“Let me send her to the Emperor. Let HIM decide,” Olivero said while sliding his two blades against one another.

“Xanshi, I have trouble believing your claims thus far. Before I pass judgment, tell me why you joined these games. How will winning this aid you in protecting the people? There must have been alternatives involving less subterfuge,” Mortifex questioned while stepping between her and Olivero.

She looked down for a moment before looking up to where the Judicator and the planets governing body sat. She pointed to them. “The winner is allowed to adorn his armor with the Mortimon Brooch. I need it,”

Up in the stands, next to the Judicator, on a pedestal, sat the brilliant jaded Brooch.

“What could that piece of jewelry be needed for, it is merely a ceremonial piece?” Gorehzingus remarked while pointing to a replica one that he wore.

“The original one will allow me to wake up my knights and possibly the others across the planet if any others remain,” Xanshi said while continuing to stare up at the distant jewels.

For a moment Razzik lowered his weapon, “Clarify what you mean by a knight?”

Xanshi turned back to him and looked up at his black helmet.

Sudden vox static distracted Mortifex. It was the voice of Tek’Ar, “you won’t believe what we found down here.”

* * * * * * * * *

The ceremonial hall was lined with lights and countless wall sconces but only a handful were on. The dim light illuminated the arching support beams and flying buttresses. The floor had a main walkway down the center, lined with green tiles. Side paths led to statues that were set deep within the dark marble walls. Banners stood around the room. Ancient gothic script was written on the cloth and etched into golden floor tiles. Several sculptures of metal and rock depicted scenes of walking machines defeating monsters and xenos alike. Smaller stone statues, twenty feet tall, stood in groups of four in set distances around the room. The art was amazing and the room was pristine. There was no dust, no dirt, even the banners looked as if they had been laundered and rehung.

In the center of it all was a sixty foot statue of a mechanical knight fighting a winged two headed bird demon. The knight held up the creature with a chainfist that was buried into the birds chest. Its other arm was firing into the birds two heads. Swarming over the knight were bizarre creatures that were spitting fire from oddly position heads and arms that ended in mouths.

“She is what? Did you say a company of Ice Angels? Never mind all of that, you said that planet is being invaded?” Tek’Ar questioned in quick succession. The Discordant Chapter marine sat on a stone block that lined the main pathway. Behind him was a gangly metal statue with shoulder mounted heavy stubbers, a collection of lengthy tentacle arms, and a pair of pincers that looked like the beaks on the Imperial Eagle. The statue was poised to strike an unseen enemy with claws and tentacles alike.

Deklyn watched Tek’Ar for a moment before wandering off. Xerin was standing tall as always. His posture was the complete opposite of the lounging Tek’Ar.

“Okay, we will locate.” Tek’Ar added before he stood up. “Omicron Eighty Eight,” he mumbled. “Apparently the only thing sentient in this compound is a tech priest.”

Xerin systematically looked around the room before speaking up, “I suggest we split up.”

“I agree,” Tek’Ar began, “I’ll head back and look through the eastern chambers. Xerin, check the western chambers. Deklyn, full sweep of this one?” He asked, as the Storm Warden wandered back and stood before Tek’Ar.

The deep voice of Deklyn boomed. “No need,” the heavy set marine said as he slowly pointed to the gangly statue behind Tek’Ar.

At the motion the statue burst into action. The tentacles twitched, the claws snapped, and the whole thing moved with surprising speed. It came to attention and looked down at the three of them. The machine did not have a head but an octagon shaped sensor array mounted on its thin shoulders.

Xerin looked over his shoulder at the twenty foot tall machine that could have easily snapped him in half a moment ago. He grunted and noticed the designation across its chest. Omicron Eighty Eight was etched in a gold recess in a small font, unlike the other statues it was sparsely decorated.

“Greetings,” a female’s voice came from the machine,”please follow me.” The machine turned and marched off with long strides. The marines glanced at one another before jogging after it.

The three of them ran behind the machine as it quietly stepped through the cavernous halls. After nearly fifteen minutes of silent running, they reached an intersection between seven different paths. The center of the room was a circular pit. Seven beams lined the pit and reach up to the ceiling. Omicron’s upper torso spun around with surprising speed.

“Before we continue on I believe you have questions we however do not have the time for further chat so I will forfeit information to create a mutual relationship as I already know more about you then you know about me.” The female machine rapidly stated.

“Deklyn, Tek’Ar, and Xerin, we must increase power to the catacombs, activate the lifts, and organize the arrival of refugees from the local populace. The most efficient method to do so will involve us splitting up. Will you comply?” She added while a series of clicks and whirrs echoed from her upper torso.

Deklyn nodded his head in approval. Tek’Ar tilted his head in fascination. Xerin held a defensive stance unflinching at the machine.

One final click from the machine and the torso opened up to reveal a person within, or what remained of a person. A black robed woman propelled herself out of the machine. Her upper torso was attached to a grav engine that allowed her to hover well above their heads. Her bronze face mask was angelic yet her helmet was a demonic visage that appeared to be consuming the angelic face. Countless wires and appendages dangled from the back of her helmet while her robe covered the rest of her body.

“I surmise your silence as an affirmation of my prior question. Deklyn and Xerin, my field repair unit will carry you to the bottom levels to increase power output to needed levels. Tek’Ar I will need you to open the needed power conduits.” She pointed to one of the hallways. “I have already accessed your vox channel. I will give you further commands once you arrive at your destinations.”

Deklyn stepped forward and the larger machine picked him up with several metal tentacles.

“Come on Xerin,” he motioned.

Reluctantly Xerin stepped forwards, but he kept his shield and weapon out. He was picked up in a similar fashion. No further words were spoken before the long legged machine used all of its remaining appendages to scale the side of the pit and descend into its unlit depths.

The hum of an antigrav engine increased and the tech priest began to quickly rise up to the ceiling.

Tek’Ar watched her depart and listened to the methodical clanks from the descending machine that carried his squad mates. He looked over to his designated hall way and sighed.

“Given that you can hear us and we are in transit, can you explain what this place is and why its here?” Tek’Ar asked as he began to jog down his hall.

“I can, but I will not. I do not see the need to divulge that information,” the feminine voice retorted.

Tek’Ar thought for a moment before responding, “It would make me feel better if I knew a little more about our situation.”

“We are about to be invaded by a xenos force of the eldar variety. The local populace is being sent here for shelter. You will aid me, per your superior officer’s command, and then you will go to the surface to assist in the defense of the entrances. The requested information will not add any strategic value therefore it will not be dispensed as it would only lead to further questions.” Omicron rattled off.

Tek’Ar shook his head at the response before closing his end of the vox line, “why does no one care about my feelings?”

* * * * * * * * * *

The dense jungle was even thicker near the entrance to the Mechanicum lair. Doors and gates were scattered along the sheer rock face at various levels. Platforms were higher up along the ridge. The scale of the facility was impossible to determine but judging the distance between gates and platforms it must fill the wide mountain and the neighboring rock faces.

The main gate was a monstrous four panel door of black and silver. Flanking it were smaller gates that were overgrown by vegetation and lack of use. Only the massive quad panel gate was cleared of vines and underbrush. Within the center panel a pair of smaller doors was open. Red light bathed the creatures that marched out in parallel lines.

Outside the gate stood rows of servitors in groups of ten. Every minute or so another group would exit and form up next to a previous one. They were servitors created from the local population, much larger then the typical servitors. One or more weapons were attached to their bodies usually replacing an arm or mounted over their shoulders.

Bonamire studied them through his enhanced optics that he had plugged into his helmet. He hid in dense foliage completely motionless at the base of a tree. A gnarled root was covering a boulder that was as tall as he was. Between the trunk and the top of the boulder in the slight depression rested the optical unit. Ten feet away he waited.

Dark clouds were cresting the mountain as more servitors departed the building. Finally a tech priest strode out. He was hunched over and easily the smallest figure there. A trio of hovering servitors quickly followed. The trio were created by using the upper torso’s of children. Their arms had been replaced with wicked maniples or bolters. They twitched and moved suddenly as if floating still was against their programming. They looked around and scanned, jutted and contorted.

In front of the storm came a squadron of ships along with smaller escorts. Bonamire expected immediate action by the Mechanicum but they continued their vigil. The dark eldar ships were sleek and slender transports. The escorts were jet bikes that looked hardly more then engines attached to a bladed seat.

The lead vessel spun around and hovered near the ground. A handful of scantily clad women leapt off of the sides of the vessel right before black armored warriors stepped off. Their large blades were held with both hands.

Following behind them all was a figure that must have been their commander. Trophies and artfully crafted blades adorned his simple armor.

The tech priest moved forward and bowed before the dark eldar. The motion disgusted Bonamire. He had found the traitor and he had been right but witnessing it first hand disturbed him to no end. He wanted nothing more then to take out the priest after demanding an explanation. The hair on his neck stood up as his ire grew. He found himself breathing heavier and shaking his head. The single bladed lightning claw purred in response, the weapons ancient spirit was impatient and ached to be used.

The calculating side of his conscious finally reasserted itself. He was here for reconnaissance. He needed to report back his findings. A needless death would accomplish nothing but give the enemy the upper hand. He reached up to recoil the wire on his optical unit when he paused.

Something was wrong.

In a single swift motion he slashed right while his blade erupted with purple energy. A crackle of dissipating energy followed the sharp retort of his blade deflecting another blade. Before the motion had ended he dove forward onto his chest away from the tree. He didn’t need to see the enemy to know it was there.

He launched himself up with his arms while his legs pumped. His optical unit, that was still resting on the rock, flew off the rock through the air as the wire recoiled that connected it to his helmet. The unit picked up a glimpse of an armored upright serpent standing next to his previous position.

Within seconds Bonamire was barreling through undergrowth and vines. He opened his vox line and received nothing but overwhelming feedback. He was being jammed.

He had to get to his speeder and away from the mechanicum. He had too warn the others.

* * * * * * * * *

I do love the sections with Micus... but I am bias

Knightley!

I can't tell you how many times I tried to go back, edit, and finish up book two. What keeps stopping me is the level of issues I uncovered in my own writing. My original outline didn't have the detail needed in the end. I am not sure I have the motivation to fix it or even rewrite it, but I did want to say that I have appreciated you guy and your support. It has been a year since I last posted in here but during that time I have found myself playing more and more Age of Sigmar. When I do get around to writing again, I think I will create some fiction in that space.

In my head dakkadakka has always been a big 40k site. Would any of you read Age of Sigmar fiction if it was here?

It was a great journey Ice. No shame in moving on.

I'd read it because you wrote it, but I don't have any connection to it.

Agreed I read it because its your writing, not because its 40k