The Setii system buried deep within Imperial space was home to seven orbiting planets. Of the seven daughters of Setii, three were inhabited. Setii I, a lush, jungle planet where the cries of animals resounded, and the great green tress stretched forever into the sky. Where the air was ever filled with clouds of biting, stinging insects, and where one never had to look far, to discover life. Setii II, a frozen wasteland of a world, originally colonized in order to mine it for the rare metals hiding deep beneath the surface, now cities dotted it here and there, for the wealth of Setii II had drawn many to those icy, desolate plains. Finally, there was Setii III, the first of the worlds to be colonized. Here, great spires and buildings rose into the sky, and the Hivecities belched their pollution into the once abundant forests, lakes and rivers of Setii III. That is not to say, however, that there was no life anywhere else in the system. For though only three planets were colonized, life existed elsewhere.

On the fourth planet of the system – a harsh, desert world with no natural resources that had not been extracted centuries ago – there was life of a kind.

The desert world of Haruma had once been just as vibrant as it's sisters, before the change, as it's oceans dried up and it's landmass became nothing but hot, blasted sands. When the Imperium had found it, they mined it until Haruma held nothing more of value, then left it to it's eternal heat. For centuries, Haruma had been a place of death for the citizens of the system. But there were buildings, constructed during the height of the mining. Strange, skeletal cities, half-born, now little more than sand blew through their deserted streets. Nothing lived on Haruma now. Or so, the Imperium thought.

A figure stood, looking out into the dead wastes of Haruma. He was tall, almost freakishly big and muscular. His head was bald of hair, and it shone in the dying light of the crimson sunset. He was clothed in loose fabric. Made to keep him as cool as possible in the heat of the desert, but even he was feeling the touch of the sun. As he looked into the red light, he thought. He thought about all that he had been through, all he had sacrificed. It had been a long and often difficult road to where he stood now. He had paid in blood, sweat and tears, but he didn't complain – not then and not now. What path was worth walking if the way as too easy? No, he would continue on his chosen route. Take anything that it could throw at him, and laugh it off, that was just how he was. But he could see that his own path was at last drawing to a close, the final plays were being made even now, the last few pieces moving into place.

He felt pride bubbling up inside him even as he reviewed his plan. It was perfect, flawless, a thousand years in the making; it allowed for no mistakes, no slip-ups. If everything went as he predicted – and it would – it would all come off without a hitch. If there was even one tiny mistake, the entire thing could blow up in their faces. Hence his own presence on this out of the way planet. He would allow no mistakes, no incompetence would hold them back, not this time. That left only a few true variables, and the biggest of them was a simple one, yet upon that one hinged the success or failure of their plan. Would they come?

If they did indeed come here, to his dry planet, then everything would be in order and the plan could proceed. If they didn't, well, they had a back-up plan.

Yes, thought the massive man as he bathed in the dying rays of the sun, things were working out exactly as he had foreseen. How could it be otherwise? He smirked, as the light faded and darkness rolled in to take it's place. They would come, then, they would die.

There was no one around him – the rest of the cult were busy setting up the complex controls that they would need to find the ancient artefact that had drawn them here.

" For the Emperor." He said sardonically, his eye alight with a dark fire.

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At the same time, half-way across the galaxy, a powerful ship sped through the dark void of space. Star-light glittered against it's hull, revealing a battered, dented armour. Several gaping wounds had been torn recently, but they were already starting to close as the serfs tried to patch the strike-cruiser together again.

The Emperor's Blade had been in the Chapter for as long as anyone could remember. Painted in the bright red and golds and silvers of the Lost Warriors Chapter, it had seen more action than most of the marines themselves. Chapter Master Draks himself had once said that the ship was older than him. The Blade was truly an ancient ship, and it was a good one. Technology long since lost to humanity lived on in this champion of a bygone era. While it may have been wounded in it's last battle, it was also victorious. The 3rd Company had totally crushed the heretics, though they had taken losses.

Space Marine Chaplain Illu looked out over the assembled heads of his brother-marines. They were in strict formation, bowed in prayer to the Emperor. They wore their armour as tradition demanded and it caught and reflected the light. He was leading them, his voice strong and sure, reminding them of their duty to the Emperor, and to humanity. He told them again of how their Chapter had come to be founded, of how they had gotten their unique name. He reminded them of why it was their duty to watch over every single Imperial citizen. It was the duty handed down to them by their Chapter Masters, it was what had brought them together in the first place.

An entire Chapter devoted to making the lives of all the citizens of the Imperium just a little bit better. He knew in his heart with a fierce pride that no other Chapter could claim to be so devoted. Oh, the Ultramarines were good, he would give them that. They did their best to help people, but even to them the mission would always come first. To the Lost Warriors, there was no more important mission than the safety of the Imperium's billions of lives. That was what made them different, that was what made then unique.

It also, ironically enough, brought them to the attentions of the Inquisition multiple times. As the prayer continued, Illu noted that his body seemed to have finished healing. During the last savage battle, the Lost Warriors had been forced to board the Chaos battleship, there they had encountered there very opposites, creatures who's existence mocked them, degenerate monsters, mockeries of what they once had been. Chaos Marines. Illu had killed their leader himself, his blessed arcanum smashing apart tainted armour and ploughing through dark corrupted flesh and sending the twisted soul of the abomination to met his dark Gods. Illu prayed they welcomed him as they welcomed the people he had killed in their name. He had been wounded in the fight, and had only now recovered. As the only Chaplain on hand that had survived the boarding, he found himself leading his brothers thus.

Soon, they had finished their opening prayers, his steady voice guiding them, laden with experience. Now the room fell silent, row upon row of brother-marines looking up at him, he could feel their gaze through his skull-like helmet. He was aware that he did not exactly fit the standard image of a Chaplain. His armour was not the customary black that signified the Chaplain's position, rather it was red. A single shoulder-pad had been coloured gold to show his veteran status. His plasma-pistol was holstered at his side – for what Astartes would ever go unarmed? And his blessed arcanum was as ever by his side.

His voice rang out clear and loud through the hushed silence that had descended upon the temple.

" Brothers, we have fought a pitched battle." He said, speaking solemnly, " It was hard, the traitors were loath to relinquish even the smallest gain, we paid in blood for every footstep. But in the end, the Emperor's light triumphed as we knew it would."

His steady gaze swept the floor, noting the wounds on his brothers, some of them looked like they should be recovering still, but they had come here. He felt the warm pride beating in his twin hearts. These were his brothers, brothers in arms and brothers in soul.

" I was proud," he continued. " To fight beside you all. The Emperor was with us this day, and the traitors cast down!" He raised his arms, " beaten against the rocks, and thrown to the Emperor's mercy. As we all know, He has no mercy for traitors."

Illu felt a sadness well up within him as he he thought of all those who had fallen in the battle. This fight had taken a very heavy toll on the company, some of the Emperor's best and brightest had been cut down in a frenzy of blood and death. Illu knew very well that this was the lot of the Adeptus Astartes-- they had been designed to fight, to be the ultimate warriors. It was hardly surprising that they died in battle. Still, to have so many commanders and captains cut down – it almost seemed that the traitors had been trying to kill the leaders. If they had, it hadn't worked. Illu could still recall their flagship – gross and mutated, living flesh infused into the metal walls, daemons merged into the controls – burning as fire from the strike-cruiser tore into it's side. The loyalist marines having done as much damage as they could and escaped. Yes they had done the Emperor's work. Illu knew that the galaxy was now a much safer place.

He put his emotions into his work, channelling them into the speech as he continued: " But there is no victory without a price. No war without losses. Many brave men laid down their lives to bring His justice down on the traitors. Their sacrifice was for the good of all. We should glory in their demise, for it means they now walk with the fallen, and we shall meet them again in the final battle. Yet, that does not mean we should not mourn their loss. We would be less than the scum we fight, if the deaths of our brothers meant so little. No, I trust that I am not alone in saying that I am proud to be the brother of these men."

He bowed his head, knowing that the others would do the same. This was a timeless ritual of the Chapter. It had been conducted since their founding, and Illu would not allow the fallen to be dishonoured by not conducting it as soon as he was able.

Slowly, he spoke the names of the fallen. Syllables intoned with a almost religious faith. He had no list of the dead – he didn't need one. It was shocking just how many men he had known that had died on the Chaos-corrupted ship. Illu knew that they had fallen serving the Emperor. He was grateful that they had done their duty to the end – he had not been lying when he said he was proud to be their brother.

Having spoken the last of the names, he raised his head, " Thus do we send them on their final trip. They are with the Emperor now, forever to stand in defence of mankind. Just as they have given their lives for the good of all, I know that each and everyone gathered here will do the same when their time comes. That this time will come is something we all know. We are Astartes! We do not die of old age, we do not get sick. Not for us, the deathbed of silk and finery. No, we die in a blaze of glory. Death in battle, that is our way. It will come for us all, one day even I shall fall in the fight. But until then, brothers, let us pray."

This said, he lead them in the final prayer for the day and ended the sermon. His brothers stood and left, ready to go about their duties.

Illu stepped down, the servos in his armour whined, but he didn't notice – he was used to it. As he looked across the rapidly emptying room, he saw that one marine was still kneeling, still praying.

Illu recognised him as Brother Tye – a Veteran Sergeant who had been in the Chapter longer than Illu himself. Tye was something of an anomaly. His golden shoulder-pad gleamed in the light, and he didn't look up -- though doubtless his auto-senses alerted him to Illu's approach. Illu wondered what to say. Of all the Sergeants who's squads had taken losses, Tye was by far the worst off. His entire squad had been caught in an ambush with only the marine himself surviving. Illu remembered Tye as a good-natured man who valued the safety of his squad above most else, the grief was showing even through his armoured form.

" I failed them." Tye said simply, without turning his head or otherwise acknowledging the Chaplain's presence. " They trusted me to lead them and I failed. Their deaths are on my hands."

Illu silently nodded to himself. Yes, he had seen this kind of thing before. When an authority figure survived a alone or with only a few of the people he had lead, he started to question whether it was his fault, should he have been faster? Smarter? Could he have saved the day? It was a mental condition that affected many Space Marines.

Normal people assumed that the Adeptus Astartes were somehow immune to the wide verity of mental conditions that were caused by a life-time of combat. The truth was of course slightly different – it was true that the Astartes was not as vulnerable to such things as, say an Imperial Guardsmen but that was not to say they were immune to it all together. That was why it was a duty of the Chaplains to ensure the health of their brothers – spiritually, psychically and mentally. Most marines would be be able to open up far more easily to a Chaplain than anyone else. Illu had dealt with this kind of thing before.

" You feel." He said slowly, " Inadequate, that their death was your fault. Surely you should have seen it coming, the ambush had to have some signs, some small clue that would have warned you away. As sergeant, your duty was to warn them and by failing that – and then, failing to lead them clear of the battle – you doomed them."

Tye seemed to shrink, then he turned slowly. Illu was struck by how graceful his brother-marine was. Tye was not like any other marine Illu had ever met. His form was compact and muscular, small for a marine, he made up for his size with his strange fighting style. He struck like a ghost, when fighting with his power-sword, he made rapid blows before fading away. Making a mockery of an opponent's attempts to hit him. He specialized in quick movements, and was at his best in the centre of the battle. Illu recalled the few times that the Chapter had fought as one, Tye and his squad had been one of the few able to keep up with the 1st Company as they rampaged through the Chaotic instillation. It was rumoured that the Gene-seed implanted in the sergeant had been subject to a minor mutation. And, Illu had to admit that it would fit with the way his brother's body seemed optimised for speed rather than a sustained assault.

" I can tell you right now." Said Illu without changing his tone, " That what you are thinking is false. You did not fail – there is no shame in being outmatched, only if you let it consume you, do you give into dishonour. I know what it was like – I was there as well, brother. Chaos touch is corrosive not only to the soul. The entire ship was against us. Everything from the Machine Spirit to the floor we stood on would have killed us if it could. Is it any surprise, in that case, that we were ambushed so easily? Any signs were hidden, any clues obscured. It was not your fault that you fell into that trap."

Tye didn't seem consoled by Illu's reasoning, " Even if that is the case, Chaplain, what about during the attack itself? I led them to their deaths!"

" Can you think of anything that you could have done – with the resources you had at your disposal at the time that could have saved them? Sergeant, I know what happened. A single squad of Astartes cut of from the rest of the assault and assailed by heretics, traitors and worse. It was a testament to the skill you drilled into them that they lasted so long, and only by your experience did you yourself survive long enough for us to find you."

" We failed." Said Tye miserably, " We were cut off and destroyed, we failed. As the sergeant, I should have done better, I should have been able to save us."

Illu looked down at the man, he could not say that he had known Tye personally. They had talked but they were not truly friends. Illu was a Chaplain, and though his duty was to safe-guard his flock, his destiny was always to be removed from it. The others must always see him as something else, as an avatar of the Emperor and the Primarch, not as a man just like any other. Only then would be inspire the faith that was needed, the total trust of the Chapter. Still, he knew what to say.

" You didn't fail."

Tye looked up at him, gazing at his skull-like helmet, " What?"

Illu spoke with absolute confidence, as he knew that every word was correct and true. " The duty of the Astartes is to protect the Imperium. We were created to fight against all odds no matter how overwhelming. In this, your squad did not fail. Wave after wave of enemies rushed into them, firing bolter, or lasgun or worse. They did not break, not even as they died, one by one. Not a single member of that squad dishonoured themselves. They brought death to many of those who attacked them, and in the end, when they died, it was surrounded by a pile of bodies. The twisted forms of the traitors bleeding at their feet. The did their duty to the end, sergeant, I say you should be proud of them. They died with glory, they did not halt, did not stumble. For every wound they took, they gave back threefold. The duty of an Astartes is to fight the impossible – and a Lost Warrior especially must strive to overcome all odds. In this, your men succeeded. Tell me, sergeant, what would you have done had we not come to save you?"

Tye answer was immediate, coming from instinct rather than thought. -- a sergeant who had to think about that question wasn't worthy to be a Lost Warrior at all.

" I would have died with them, I would have killed until I had nothing left in my bolter and my power-sword was shattered. Then I would have fought on with my bare hands."

Illu nodded, clearly showing approval so that Tye could see. " In that case, sergeant, I submit that your men did not fail, and nether did you. You did what was expected, and even when the end looked to be in sight, you did not run. Your men died, but you will see them again. In the final battle, when all of the pure wage war on the forces of Chaos, you will see them. What will you tell them, sergeant? That you went on to lead a glorious career as an Astartes, fighting the Emperor's enemies on a thousand worlds before selling your life dearly to the Ruinous Powers. Or that you gave up, and ended your life a pathetic wreck of a broken man. Not worthy to bear the name Astartes. Chose well sergeant. Because these are your only options.

Tye, who had listened to Illu intently stood up. Somewhat unsteadily, " I..I will have to think about this. Thank you, Chaplain."

That done, he exited the temple without a backwards glance, his foot-steps echoed as Illu watched him go. Tye was a legend in the Chapter, the only man ever to turn down a place in the illustrious 1st Company. Illu hoped that he would pull himself together – Chapter Master Draks had grand plans for Tye. If only the marine knew. Illu suspected that Draks was grooming Tye as a replacement.

" That was quite was a speech." Came a voice from behind him.

Illu had to resist the urge to spin around, whipping out his plasma-pistol. Judging by the way they had been able to sneak up on him and the voice, there was only one person that would ever talk to him like that. Sure enough, turning around he found himself facing the hulking form of Librarian Iranos.

Iranos was that most rare of things in Illu's book. A friend and brother who would fight with him to the end. Illu vaguely recalled that they had come from the same planet prior to their training and even known each other before joining the Chapter. Really in that case, it was no surprise that they had become friends during their training. Even after so many years, that friendship had never dimmed. Illu nodded, " I must say that I expected something along those lines from him. The very fact that he lost his entire squad. Not something a man likes to face on his own."

Illu noted that Iranos had come wearing Terminator armour – the Librarian had been gifted the sacred armour after saving the life of Chapter Master Draks on some snowball of a world. It had been decorated differently than the 1st Company. The massive form of the Librarian seemed to take up more space than anyone else Illu had ever seen.

" Terrible." Agreed Iranos, " I hear they were one of our better squads?"

" The Chapter Master compared them to the 1st Company." Confirmed Illu, " he will not be happy to hear of their loss."

Iranos nodded sadly, " We are too few of good men lately."

Illu reflected that it was true. The 1st Company had suffered truly hideous losses against a force of what the Inquisition termed ''Necrons'' that set themselves up on the planet of Duos. Battling traitors and worse, the Terminator armoured warriors had to fight their way through the tunnels to the planet's core itself. In the meantime, more than half of the Chapter was engaged in a bitter struggle to keep the Chaos Marines off their backs. It had been a bloody day. Illu knew. His own shoulder had been stripped almost to the bone, and he would have died there and then had Iranos not stepped in the way.

" It is the way of war." Said the Chaplain philosophically, " It is what we are made for. Now, was there a reason you came to find me or did you just find my sermon so riveting you had to congratulate me on my speech-making?"

" Ha." Snorted Iranos, " What you call speech-making, the rest of us call psychological warfare. But you do have a point. I came here to find you because we have received a new message from the Chapter Master. According to the Astropath, the system of Setii has need of our aid.

Illu raised an eyebrow behind his armoured helmet, " Oh? And why are you telling me this? Wouldn't such an order fall to Brother-Captain Dunasis? He was the one put in charge of this mission, I believe."

Iranos nodded, " Since you are the last Chaplain alive, he seeks your permission to go. He believes that we may face a moral threat."

Ah, that would do it. Dunasis was wondering if a single Chaplain would be up to the task of facing whatever they found on Setii. Iranos continued, outlining the situation as far as they could tell.

" It appears that a Chaos-Cult has taken root on one of the nearby planets. It is a wasteland, and would be easily taken care of by the PDF or the Imperial Guard. Save for two things. Firstly, there are rumours of Chaos Marines, secondly, the few scouts that were sent to the planet report back that the leader of the cultists is searching for a relic of some kind. Apparently, the crest on it matches the Chapter's.

Illu felt a sudden dizziness as he realized what this meant. " You mean, we've found it?"

Iranos shrugged, " It appears so, though of course there is always room for error. The Chapter Master says we are the closest to the system, and we should have more than enough Astartes to crush the cultists. Even allowing for the losses we have taken so far."

" He trusts us to recover the relic?" Asked Illu. If this was true, it would be.. it would be one of the finest moments in the history of the Chapter. Illu ewould expect a mission of such import to draw the attention of the 1st Company, not them! And yet, they were being tasked with this. He felt a sudden urge not to let Draks down.

" Forget that question. He would not have asked us if he didn't trust us. Tell the brother-Captain that I am in full agreement that we go."

Iranos nodded, a grin slowly spreading over his features, " Then, we go, Chaplain?"

Illu nodded, " We go, Librarian, and Emperor help anyone who stands in our way."

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Night-time on Haruma was a freezing. Temperatures had been known to fall beyond survivable for a human. Even a Space Marine would have had difficulty surviving on his own here.

Luckily, Maraco was not just a Space Marine, not any more at any rate. Chaos, in all it's glory had come over him. He could still remember what it had been like to serve the Corpse-Emperor, foolish, honour-bound, weak. Those days were long over, he knew. His body had known the touch of Chaos and now, now he would never be cold again.

He grinned, showing rows of teeth. They were able to puncture flesh and bone, he knew because he had tried. Yes, the Imperium was weak. Once it had been great – Maraco was forced to admit that. During the whole Great Crusade, it could have become something worth while. But that time was over and done, the Imperium was nothing but a shrivelled shadow of it's former self, struggling to hold onto power, even as it saw it's demise coming closer and closer.

It would be Chaos, Maraco knew, Chaos would ultimately consume the Imperium. Only the will of the Emperor held them back, and he of all people knew that not even the Emperor would last forever. Upon that fateful day, when the gates were opened, all of Chaos would pour through. It would be the finest Black Crusade yet seen. It would be the final one, for what but the Imperium could stand against Chaos?

Yes, Maraco looked forwards to that day. But he also knew that he could not just sit by and wait – he would have to earn the right to be there. To this extent, he worked towards the fall of the false-Emperor. He knew that his brothers did the same, even the Astartes were not immune. More and more were seeing the truth – that the Imperium was a lie, and that Chaos was the only true path for those who sought power.

He looked to the sky. Naturally, there was virtually no light-pollution on Haruma. With his enhanced senses, he could pick out every star, every light, a comet trailed through the sky, burning brightly but it would soon be no more. That was the Imperium, he thought. It burned brightly now, but soon it would exhaust itself, and then Chaos in all it's glory would move in. Like a great freezing tide, they would crush anything left.

Why where they here? He wondered. Why on this forsaken little system? It was a waste, in his opinion. They were searching for some kind of relic, and that was all that Lord Yurus said. Wouldn't this job be better accomplished by the cultists that were already here? Didn't they already have perfectly faithful humans to do the work for them. No reason to call in the Chaos Marines. Yet, Yurus had done just that. It made no sense, at all. And all the blood-shed that they were missing? Maraco longed to feel the kick of the bolter as it ripped through flesh, to cleave through the skin of an enemy. It was unnatural, he felt, to be away from the killing for so long. Yet Yurus had been very clear. There was to be no leaving the planet, and no killing of the cultists. They were needed for the next stage in his plan.

Maraco longed to kill again, but he was not foolish enough to defy Yurus. Yurus was blessed of Chaos. A warrior allied to the God of Change. His plans were legion, and very complex. It was he that had put together their small warband, he that had led them to this remote planet. If Maraco was inclined to trust anyone in this universe, it would be Yurus.

He laughed to himself. Trust. It was a weak emotion, and it had seen the death of billions over the countless centuries. The first thing a Chaos Marine learned was to disregard trust. Former alliances and friendships meant nothing.

Well, he found himself grinning, the fools would be here soon enough, and then there would be killing aplenty.

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A little one-shot I threw together. Mostly to make sure I could do proper Space Marine characters and not just cardboard cut-outs. Review if you liked it, if you didn't review and tell me way.