Scott Horman looked out the windows of the ship he had found himself taken aboard. Perhaps "imprisoned" was not the correct word. He had been invited from his orbital sanctuary when the covenant had attacked. He had willingly boarded, and been willingly led here. He wore no shackles or chains, and had the deepest sense that he was free to leave whenever he wanted. The room he was in was pleasant enough. The walls were of some sort of gold and silver, and etched on each was a massive symbol, in the shape of an inverted horseshoe. Pleasant smells wafted throughout the room, around the shelves, filled with books, and rolled scrolls.

He glanced to his rear, and briefly examined once again the massive table in the center of the room. This particular furnishing was rather simple, as if it had been brought here for this exact purpose. It was of deep, brown wood, with no carvings or markings of any sort. A small chair sat at one end, no doubt for him, while a massive chair, far larger than any human could possibly need, sat at the other end. He sighed and turned his head back to the viewing portal that had originally garnered his attention.

Here was Conquer. His home. The world that he governed. And it was burning. The Covenant had showed up some time in the middle of the night, around three nights ago, around the time this strange craft was detected on long- range scans. They had come intent on murder, and had quickly subjugated the planet and her populace. Subjugated, but not for long he thought to himself. He knew what would come next. They would roam through the towns and cities in killing bands, murdering as their whims saw fit, leaving no survivors in their wake. The battle still raged on below, but he knew that his forces were in the midst of a losing fight.

He vaguely wondered to himself how this vessel was able to stay out of range of Covenant detection, but it made little difference. Nothing at this point could halt the Covenant onslaught. All that would be left for him to govern would be a ball of dust and ash.

The door behind him slid open, and the sounds of metal boots on metal flooring echoed throughout the chamber. He turned suddenly to see two monstrous figures in gleaming blue armor, both holding large banners. They were almost impossibly tall, at least two and a half meters in height, and were twice as wide as any normal man. Their helmets gave no indication as to any facial features, and they stood so motionless, he wondered if they were even living at all.

Several normally- proportioned humans, bristling with augmentics filed in behind them, bearing drinks and food in unfaltering, metallic arms. He stared at the offerings and found himself suddenly very hungry, as yet another figure entered the room. This figure was armor rather similarly to the other two, save for his missing helmet. His face was soft, saved for the pink, knotted scar that ran from his forehead to his throat. His dark skin, and gently sloping forehead gave way to close- cropped black hair. He wore a great, red cape, with a small sword strapped to his side. His hand rested upon its pommel as he entered the room.

He stood at the head of the table, and bellowed to the very ceiling "Presenting Primarch Guilliman!" Every knee in the room bent, and every head bowed. Scott was confused by this ritual, to say the least. However, he followed suit as well, not wishing to offend. Extremely heavy footsteps that seemed to shake the very floor soon entered the room. A gentle voice stated "Please, my dear friends, rise." Scott rose as instructed, only to find himself face-to-face with an absolutely monstrous figure. He must have been over three meters in height, and nearly twice as wide as the armored figures. He wore a simple robe, that cut over his shoulder, revealing his heavily muscled form beneath. Upon his head was a golden crown, designed to resemble olive leaves, much like the ancient Caesars of days past. His face was kind, and his features were extremely soft. He was beautiful. Rather more like an angel than a man.

He gave Scott a quick glance, seeming to size him up. "You must be this planet's governor." He said with a light smile. "I deeply apologize for calling you away from your home on such short notice. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Roboute Guilliman, Primarch of the Thirteenth Legion." He said with a short, stately bow. Scott took a deep breath. He wasn't sure it was possible, but in the presence of such a being, he seemed to have lost his voice. "Scott Horman," he finally croaked. "Planetary Governor." He reached his hand out to shake the other's. Guilliman stared at his hand, as if in curiosity, but finally accepted the gesture. He motioned for Scott to sit, and took his large seat himself, before taking a chalice of wine from one of the shambling, augmented humans.

He sipped, and remarked "We detected several large ships leaving warp space, and followed the signal here." One of the creatures, whom Scott was beginning to think were not humans, offered him a similar chalice. He sipped the sour, strongly alcoholic wine inside and shuddered. Guilliman chuckled at this, and shook his head. "You're not obliged to finish it, my friend. I understand that our libations may be a bit too strong for normal humans to palate."

Scott placed the chalice back on the table, and momentarily stared in awe at the figure before him, nearly losing his voice again. "What are you?" he blurted without thought. Guilliman seemed to chuckled again at this, before taking another sip of his wine. "I, dear friend, am a Primarch. The Emperor's handiwork made flesh and bone." Scott's eyes narrowed at this answer, and he retorted "Emperor?" "Yes," Guilliman said without hesitation. "The Emperor of Mankind. My father. The reason I am here." Another one of the creatures offered Scott a plate of what appeared to be fruit, and he took it graciously. "Old night is at an end, my friend," Guilliman continued. "The Emperor has decreed that all planets that humanity call home be brought back into the fold of his Imperium." "Old night?" Scott questioned with a hint of confusion. "Yes. The period in which humanity has been separated from its brothers and sisters."

"So, what does this have to do with us?" Scott asked, a sense of dread building within him. "I am here to bring this planet back into Imperial compliance, per the decree of my father." "What does that mean for us?" "Well," Guilliman replied "It would mean receiving Imperial protection, financial aid, should the need arise, and an end to your Xenos problem. All that you would have to do is declare the Emperor the rightful ruler of humanity, and pay a small tithe, of course."

"What would that mean for me?" Scott asked, now on the edge of panic. "Would I need to abdicate to this Emperor?" Guilliman stood and walked around the table to him, gazing thoughtfully at the volumes of books and scrolls lined along the walls. "No, my friend, nothing like that. You would simply answer to him. We would be more than willing to leave your government intact." Scott warily watched Guilliman circle him, aware that a being this monstrous could probably snap his neck with a mere flick of his wrist. "And what if I refuse?" Guilliman looked down at the floor, his face full of regret. "Then, my friend, compliance would be enforced, not given."

"You would make war on us?" Guilliman nodded sadly at this question. His head rose, meeting Scott's gaze. "If we must. But think of all the benefits a mutual alliance would bring. Think of all the things we could accomplish together." Scott turned his face away from Guilliman's gaze. "You would have access to all of the technology we have to offer. We could take you beyond these stars, and into the entirety of the galaxy." Scott looked pensive as he considered Guilliman's words. "Think of your people." Scott suddenly turned his gaze up. Images of his friends, his family, now lost to the covenant war engine flashed in his mind. He suddenly felt deep pain.

"Without us, they will return, won't they? These creatures already know where you are, and they will stop at nothing to return, and claim this planet as theirs." Scott swallowed hard. "You can help us?" Guilliman approached him, and knelt in at his feet. He placed a massive hand upon Scott's shoulder, and gazed deeply into his eyes. "I swear, on my honor as a son of the Emperor, I will defeat these aliens, and push them back into the void." Scott suddenly lost his breath at the sudden physical contact. "May- may I think about it?" Guilliman shook his head. "There is little time for diplomacy, my friend. With each passing moment, more human lives are lost. We must act quickly." Scott's eyes suddenly teared. "Alright." He said. "I will submit to your father." Guilliman nodded in satisfaction, and stood. "You won't regret this decision." He returned to his seat, and finished his wine, but he did not sit.

"I do require one more thing from you. Tell your ships to stand down, and make for the third planet. The way must be clear for our forces to make planet fall." Scott nodded, taking another dreadful sip of his wine. Guilliman turned to the dark- skinned man that had announced his arrival. "Send word to the legion. I want three companies to converge on the capital city. It must be taken if we are to expel the xenos from this world. And make ready my war plate." The man nodded and immediately left the room. He turned to one of his standard bearers next "Send word to the mechanicum that Legio Titanitca is to make planet fall within four hours. I want Mons Furiosa to make planet fall ahead of all the others. The man nodded and left the room quickly.

Scott stood and sauntered to the window once again, staring at his poor, burning planet below. Guilliman took to his side and placed his arms behind his back. "It is a beautiful world." Scott nodded. "I hope you know what you're doing." He remarked, momentarily forgetting his awe. "If my sons can't retake this world, there is no force in this galaxy that can."

The hideous sounds of flights of banshees screamed overhead, filling the sky with burning streams of plasma. Alicia turned a wary eye to them as they passed, and let out a sigh of relief after they were gone. She reached behind her and grabbed a nearby canteen. She leaned back in her rubble hiding spot, and looked to the man beside her. He stared at the canteen with hungry eyes, and licked his lips as she pressed the open top to her mouth. She handed it to him, and he drank ravenously.

"Won't be long now." She said thoughtfully. "Orbital bombardment will start soon." The man finished the water off and nodded. "But they won't glass us until their guys are out, right?" She shrugged. "Usually. But we can never tell what they'll do next." Several shots rang out across the street, prompting them both to duck. Alicia peered over the ruined wall into the next building. A few grunts were pouring inside, but no one else seemed to have noticed. "Was that third squad?" the man asked in a shaky voice.

"Yeah." She said, shaking her head. "And it doesn't sound like there's much of a fire fight over there. Poor bastards must've offed themselves." An elite loomed in the distance. Alicia picked up her assault rifle, and shouldered it. "They're coming back around here, though. Looks like they're looking for stragglers."

"What should we do?" came the man's shaky voice. "Try to make it through the building, probably. But there's no guarantee they're not on the other side too." She replied without thought. She looked down at her ravaged uniform. Her torn boots dug into the ground, wetting her socks and chilling her to the knees. It rained here earlier, but it seemed like a distant memory now. An ensuing firefight had taken out most of her squad. Herself and the man were the only ones left. She stared at him momentarily, trying to remember his name. Michael? Perhaps. She only vaguely remembered meeting him.

"You think we'll make it out of here?" he asked, breaking her train of thought. "No." she replied frankly. "The fighting is winding down. There's barely anyone who can fight left out there. They'll be looking for the civilians next." He nodded, holding tighter to his assault rifle. "You think it'll hurt?" "No. I think it'll be fast. Just make sure you go down fighting." She replied.

The aliens moved on to the next building, seeming to forget their little hiding spot. Alicia peered over the wall once again, and scanned the nearby street. The grey backdrop was deathly quiet, save for the sounds of distant gunfire. Bodies line the street, fluttering papers pinned to their chests. Names, perhaps, she thought, so their families can find them. Not that there's much left to find. The copper scent of nickel plasma mixed with the foul stink of charred flesh. It seemed to hang in the air, and stung the nostrils of all who happened to catch its scent, as if in reminder of what was to come.

She turned to the man, and tightened her helmet strap. "We need to move. No use dying in this hole." The man stood on shaky legs, and gripped his assault rifle ever tighter. Alicia did the same, and checked the chamber to ensure there was a round ready. Her ammunition counter was dangerously low, and she only had one magazine left. Gotta make them count. She thought as she stood. She pointed to another nearby basement. "There first." She said "Then we make for a further building. I'll bet anything there's someone left at the square we can link up with."

"Are you sure we'll make it that far?" he asked in a terrified voice. "No." she replied. "But it's the only choice we have, kid. We have to keep trying. At the very least, maybe we can find some water."

They both stood, and moved as one across the street, ducking behind a low-hanging wall that led to a staircase. The stench of death leaked from this hole in the foundations. There was no telling of the massacre that occurred in its black depths. Alicia averted her eyes from void.

The way was clear ahead. She pounded the man's shoulder, and pointed to the next outcropping of destroyed rock. As they moved, a flash of light cut the sky. Its wake burned brilliantly with orange flame as its bulk left the atmosphere. A sonic boom shattered the air, and it landed with a dull bang just over the horizon. A white glow shone where its trail had been. The two marines stared in awe. "Wh-what was that?" the man asked with a hint of fear. "I'm not sure." Alicia replied.

Captain Cassius Callon knelt on the floor before his brothers and the prime iterator of the legion. His cobalt-blue armor clanked against the cold, plasteel floor as the iterator approached. His brother captains stood behind him in solemn witness to this moment. Cassius always took his oaths of moment seriously, and always on Skarhelm, his personal power gladius.

Astartes typically weren't given to such acts of superstition, but it had carried him through many wars alive, and had slain many Xenos along the way. He viewed it less as a good luck charm, but rather more like one of his own battle brothers, locked at his side so long as he drew breath. The sword's pommel was presented to him, and he reached out to rest his gauntlet upon it. "Brother Callon," the iterator began, "Do you accept your part in this?" "I do," he replied. "Do you swear to conduct your legion to glory, and to defeat the enemies of Conquer, be they human or Xenos?" "I do." He replied. "Then be thou anointed in the Emperor's light, and receive his blessings" The iterator said. He approached, and attached a leaf of parchment to the Captain's right pauldron with a glob of hot, red wax. Cassius stood and took up his gladius, sheathing it at his side.

The great, metal pyramids behind them opened as would a blue flower. Its internal red glow bathed the Astartes. Drop pods. One of the Astartes' greatest weapons. They provided the element of perfect surprise, with the ability to deliver upwards of twenty Astartes quickly into the fight. The sky would soon erupt with thousands of the genetically enhanced warriors, and the firmament would come aflame with their impacts. As one, hundreds of Astartes turned to face the readying pods.

"Brothers!" the Captain called over the cohort. "Board the drop pods!" The Astartes quickly rushed to the vehicles, and grav-harnessed themselves into place. The captain boarded the nearest pod. "Gear check, brothers." He spoke over the din of the charging grav-launchers. He harnessed himself, and began checking his own gear. There was a sudden boom, and a shudder as the pod fired into space, toward the besieged planet.