Hello! Thank you for returning to my story. I greatly appreciate your interest.
Now, to answer some questions:
HK Target Shooter: Of course, who but Astartes would make up the Deathwatch?
Species Unknown: Yes, the story starts towards the end of ME1, and shall continue until the end of ME3.
Also, does anyone know who the Anon is who posted the FIVE articles in my reviews section? While they are interesting, just want to know...why? I meean, I've seen the exact same article about the Imperium in another stories reviews. Does this person have such little faith in us authors he/she/it/they feel the need to post this stuff?
Anyway, on to the story!
Chapter 2
Marthas Devinir is one of the most radical Inquisitors I have ever met. His actions are reckless, dangerous, and often just a hair shy of being outright Heretical. However, I cannot deny that he get's results; and often with a lesser loss of human life and resources than many inquisitors both more devout and decades his senior. Loath as I am to admit it, he is effective, and from what I have observed completely devoted to the Imperium, and is of little risk of going rogue. I recommend that he be watched, but it is my personal opinion that Devinir should be retained by the Inquisition.
-Inquisitor Weryn Salov of the Ordo Hereticus
Year 2183, SSV Normandy, in orbit of the planet Virmire
"Well, it certainly looks better than most of the planets we've visited in the last couple months. I'd probably vacation here; yknow, if it weren't for the insane genocidal ex-Specter and his army of Geth, husks, and Krogan who've taken up residence. Stuff like that can really turn off tourists."
Despite the still present (but diminished) knot of apprehension settled in Jane's stomach, she couldn't help but smile at Joker's running commentary of the situation at hand. She stood beside the pilot's chair in the cockpit of the Normandy in her upgraded N7 armor, looking out at the lush, tropical world where their quarry had gone to ground.
Jane's mind unexpectedly ran over the time she had known Joker, and how her opinions on him had changed over time. Though initially she had found the pilot to be rude, unprofessional, and generally annoying, his sarcastic humor and dark optimism, in addition to his incredible skills as a pilot, had grown on her in the months they'd spent in this mission, and now she could not imagine the Normandy without him.
Hell, I couldn't imagine this ship without any of the crew. We're more than shipmates, than team members at this point-we're family.
And that fact made the idea of losing them all the worse to Shepard. She'd lost one family to crime back on earth-she didn't know if she could survive losing another.
Choose, a soft voice whispered in the back of her mind.
Oh shut up. She thought, and spoke to Joker. "What are the scans showing about Saren's base?"
"Well, first off it's huge. Way too big to have been built recently, so we know that he's been planning this for quite a while." Joker said, his voice all business now. "It's got a pretty intensive AA array that covers the whole base and a good deal of airspace around it. We won't be able to get the Normandy anywhere near it until those guns are down."
Shepard nodded. That was an issue, but not an insurmountable one. They had the Mako for situations like this, after all. "What about the STG team? Do we know where they are?"
"Yup." Joker said, keying up a map of the area around Saren's base and causing an area just south of the main compound, but still well within the defensive lines, to light up. "This is where I've picked up the salarian's signals from. They areinside the AA coverage of this gun here," he pointed to a newly highlighted spot on the map, "so we, and by we I mean you, will have to get to that gun via the Mako before I can land. Then you can meet us at the salarian camp."
"Of course, it would be that difficult." Jane muttered to herself. "Can we at least tell them that we're coming? Maybe they could hit some of these defenses from behind, make our jobs a little easier."
"Sorry commander, but I've tried to contact them already. Something down there is jamming the broadband signals. If I could find their specific team-signal, I could get them a message, but STG com signals are very hard to pin down. If you get down there, we should be able to brute-force past the jamming into your far more familiar com signals, but contacting the salarians is a no-go."
"Well, I guess we have a bit of work to do then." Just then her coms buzzed, and Kaiden's familiar, gravelly voice came through.
"Shepard, everyone's geared up and waiting in the hold. We can go whenever you need."
"Thanks Kaiden, I'll be down shortly. Tell Garrus to get the Mako ready for deployment."
"Aye Commander, Alenko out."
Jane looked back at Joker, "Get us down to the drop sight, and then maintain a safe distance until we deal with those guns." Jane said, turning to leave the cockpit.
"Got it Commander. Good luck." he replied as the pilot turned back to his controls.
Shepard walked briskly through the CIC, nodding as she passed navigator Presley, and headed down the stairs to the crew deck, and probably the most hated part of the ship.
The elevator.
With a sigh of resignation, Jane climbed into the elevator and hit the control to bring her to the cargo hold.
As the metal box began its glacial decent, Shepard's mind began to wander. She thought again to her barely remembered dream, and the sense of unease that lingered even almost two hours later. She had a bad feeling about this upcoming mission, and there was nothing specific she could do to assuage her fears.
All I can do is lead to the best of my ability, and do my damndest to ensure every member if this crew makes it home.
As the thought passed through her mind, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.
Jane was mildly dumbstruck. That felt like no time at all.
She shook herself from her surprise and walked out into the hold. The rest of her team were already gathered, armed and armored for the mission at hand.
The group turned as the elevator opened, greeting her with expressions ranging from determined to confident to outright amused (Wrex was always up for a good fight).
Shepard surveyed her squad for a moment, then walked over to her locker and grabbed her last few pieces of gear; her Specter-grade sniper rifle and pistol, which had names consisting of random letters and numbers, five disk-like grenades, and her helmet. She attached her weapons and explosives to the mag-plates on her armor and tucked her helmet under her arm. She turned to her team, her friends, and spoke.
"Alright everyone, this is it. This is the closest that we have ever been to Saren and whatever he is doing in that facility down there; and frankly I don't care. All I care about is stopping this psycho, so let's just get down there and kick his ass."
Wrex let out a bellowing laugh. "Spoken like a true battlemaster, Shepard! So, what's the plan?"
Everyone looked at her expectantly, and Jane didn't miss a beat. "The compound, and the STG camp, is currently protected by Anti-Aircraft guns. Me, Liara, and Garrus will take the Mako and knock out one of those guns, opening up a hole for the Normandy to come through and drop the rest of you off."
Garrus looked at Wrex and flashed a toothy grin (which is the only kind of grin a turian can flash) and said, "Well then, guess you're going to have to wait to try out that shiny new shotgun of yours, eh Wrex?"
The krogan chuckled and pulled out the aforementioned weapon, a modified M-100 Claymore heavy shotgun. He stroked the bulky weapon and grinned back at the turian, saying "We can try it out now if you want birdbrain."
Liara let out an exasperated sigh "Boys, can you please knock it off. This is kind of an important mission, and I think the time for jokes has passed."
Both aliens were silent for a moment, and then nodded their compliance. Liara nodded in approval then turned without a further word and strode towards the Mako. Jane chuckled at the motherly attitude the 'young' asari seemed to take on around their more rowdy teammates. She suddenly had a mental image of Liara in a stereotypical housewife outfit, complete with apron, scolding a pair of krogan and turian boys who were fighting over a toy.
Whoa, calm down Jane. Where did that come from?
She shook of the image and began to walk towards the Mako, waving for Garrus to come along. The turian moved to follow, but a three-fingered hand grabbed his arm and halted his movement.
Garrus turned to Tali, his face a mix of surprise and curiosity as to why he had been halted. Both were silent for a moment, then Tali squeezed the turian's arm ever so slightly and quietly said, "Be safe, Garrus."
Garrus' face went all the way too surprised for a moment, before softening ever so slightly as understanding reached his dense turian brain, and a small smile broke across his face.
"I'll do my best Tali. After all, I think we'll need to have a bit of a conversation after this mission is over. Hard to talk when you're dead."
Though Shepard could not see her face, Tali's body language showed that she had a massive smile on as Garrus gently pulled away and climbed into the Mako.
As the vehicle's door closed, the turian turned to see Jane grinning wolfishly at him, and Liara sporting an amused smile.
"What?" he asked confused.
"Sure took your sweet time with that, Garrus." Shepard said, amusement rich in her voice.
"Indeed. I was beginning to wonder if you would ever notice how infatuated Tali is with you."
"Come on, it couldn't have been that long." Garrus said skeptically.
Shepard activated her Omni-tool and pulled up a running timer, which she now stopped and consulted. "It has been two months, six days, eight hours, twenty-five minutes and four seconds since I first noticed Tali making advances towards you, give or take a day or two." She grinned again at Garrus. "So, what was that you were saying the other day about how perceptive you were?"
Garrus let out a heavy sigh and rested his head in his claws hands. "Commander, with all due respect," he said, exasperated and embarrassed, "shut the hell up."
...
M. 40, Y 313, Segmentum Tempestus, Unnamed System
In the darkness of space on the edge of a nameless, useless system within the Imperium of Mankind, a small fleet of ships silently glide through the void.
The fleet consisted of only six ships; five escort-weight vessels, and a single cruiser-weight ship.
The escorts showed a good mixture of the mainline vessels seen in many imperial fleets; there were two firestorm-class lance frigates which flew in escort with the cruiser. The other vessels were a single Sword-class frigate which led two Claymore-class corvettes. This group flew ahead of the cruiser, ready to intervene with any threats that may appear, like a trio of guard dogs pulling ahead of their master.
The cruiser was a variant of the popular Dauntless-class light cruiser, known by the few who could recognize the rare pattern as an Indomitable-class light cruiser/exploratory vessel, an ancient, little used class of starship that now only saw service in the fleets of rogue traders and inquisitors.
Indomitable-class vessels were designed in the dark age of technology to act as the forward line of mankind's explorations into the stars. They ranged far ahead of the main colonization and military fleets, scouting out star systems and reporting back their findings. These vessels were designed to go for long stretches without resupply or reinforcement, and so had several key internal and external differences to the Dauntless-class vessels they were modeled after.
The Indomitable class added an extra five hundred meters to the four-point-five kilometer length of the Dauntless, bringing it up to a (roughly) even five kilometers. It was also somewhat wider, eight hundred meters at the widest point.
Besides the size increase, Indomitables were, to the untrained eye, indistinguishable to its smaller cousin. However, there were distinct differences.
For starters, the engines were slightly bigger than a scaled-up Dauntless would have, granting the larger ship increased speed compared even to the legendarily fast light cruiser. These engines allowed the vessel to mount the trademark armored prow that many imperial vessels had, providing extra forward protection and allowing for the ramming of enemy ships.
In regard to armament, the vessel had only two torpedo tubes compared to the four a Dauntless would have. The vessel also had a lance battery mounted under and behind the prow, however, which was a versatility that a Dauntless does not have. They must choose between either one weapon system or the other; the Indomitable' lances are also more powerful than most light cruiser's weapons, more akin to a cruiser's lances in power. In addition, the Indomitable mounts four dorsal laser-based weapons batteries, as opposed to the Dauntless' two.
Behind the bridge, one would also see a heavily upgraded communications and scanning array, which could reliably transmit and receive data from a great distance.
The ship also had a small hangar bay set towards the rear of the vessel, large enough to hold several landing craft, such as Aquila Landers or the hangar's current occupant, a Thunderhawk gunship.
However, the exterior differences paled in comparison to the massive difference in internal structure.
One such change was the inclusion of massive storage hangars throughout the ship which were used to hold the provisions and supplies for the crew on long survey missions. These storage areas were able to be included due to the automation of many of the ship's functions which would normally be conducted my hundreds of human crewmen, from maintaining the engines to changing cooling cells for the lance batteries to loading torpedoes. These systems allow the ship to function with a far smaller crew than a ship of its size would normally need; a mere thirty thousand, compared to the sixty-five to seventy thousand crew members a light cruiser would normally need.
These same systems had been installed on the other ships of the fleet, and as such the total crew of all six ships was under half what it would normally be.
Now, all of these observations would, of course, only be possible if one could see the ships, which the captains seemed to want to avoid. All six ships had pitch-black armor plating, and the exposed steel of the ships were allowed to accumulate a layer of grime and dust which dulled the shine of the metal. In addition, unlike most void ships, vessels of the fleet ran only the bare minimum of external lights, keeping most of the exterior of the ships in darkness.
The only exceptions to both these rules were the names of the vessels, and the large faction marker that each ship proudly displayed just behind their prows.
Built into the armor behind the prows of each ship was a large capital I made of gleaming steel, with a marble skull set into the center.
Above these markers were the names of the ship, written in shining silver paint, which had been chipped and scuffed by the harshness of the void and the terms of their services.
The Firestorms were the Black Revenge and White Execution, sister-vessels that had fought together for over four centuries. The Sword class was the named the Guardian of Faith, which had once single-handedly defended an Ecclesiarchy Space-Temple from a small fleet of Orkish raiders. Its Claymore companions were the Watchful Gaze and the Steady Hand, which had stood guard over Cadia during the 11th black crusade.
And the Indomitable, flagship of the fleet, was His Silent Blade, the personal vessel of Lord Inquisitor Marthas Devinir. This vessel, recovered from the scrap yards of Saturn, had been used by agents of the Inquisition since the late 37th millennium, passed down from mentor to apprentice to continue the holy work of the Inquisition.
These ships, old and battle worn all, were not in this empty system for no reason.
Today, they were hunting; and after almost two years of tracking and chasing, they had finally closed with their prey.
…
Knockknockknock.
A sharp rapping on the door of his quarters roused Inquisitor Marthas from his slumber. Almost instantly he was wide awake, senses on high alert, wary for any potential danger.
On reflex, his hand snapped to the snub-nosed auto pistol in a holster welded to the underside of his bed, his hand settling easily into the familiar, worn grip.
A moment passed, and Marthas relaxed as he remembered where he was; in his bedchamber on the Silent Blade. He sat up in his bed and stretched his arms, shaking his shoulders to wring out the few kinks he had developed in his short rest.
He grimaced as he felt something pop around his shoulder blade, and then chuckled a little to himself.
At my age, I should be ecstatic that all I have to deal with are stiff joints and the odd pop. Thank the Emperor for Juvinant.
Knockknockknock.
Again, someone rapped on his door, this time a little bit more forcefully. Marthas got out of his well built but simple bed and walked quickly to the door.
He hit the control panel next to the door and it slid open to reveal a young bridge-officer, Lieutenant...Albus, he believed, standing nervously in the hall, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
The man started as the door slid open, and then quickly gave a salute to the inquisitor.
"My lord! I apologize for disturbing you, but Captain Dracov wished to inform you that we shall be arriving at the target shortly, and wishes to have you present on the bridge."
Marthas' face remained blank while the thirty-something man delivered his message, but inside he was quite amused by the nervousness of the officer. Albus was hiding it quite well, but to the trained eyes of the Inquisitor, his trembling legs and sweat on his brow were a dead giveaway.
Incredible he thought suppressing a smile. Despite having next to no interactions with me and the fact that I have never harmed a member of my crew, the simple title of Inquisitor is enough to make him fear me.
But then, that is how it should be, his thoughts continued, and then the corner of his mouth did rise ever so slightly.
"At ease Lieutenant. Thank you for the summons; tell the Captain I shall be there shortly."
The man nodded, his posture relaxing slightly as he bowed. "Of course, my lord." he said, and quickly made his exit, walking down the hall towards the bridge.
Marthas permitted himself a small chuckle, the turned back into his quarters, shutting the door behind him.
It did not take the Inquisitor long to get ready. He had slept in his normal clothing, a white dress shirt under a grey vest and black dress pants. His footwear, practical leather combat boots, had been left on, and his rosarius was still on its chain around his neck. It took Marthas less than two minutes to arm himself, attaching the holster for his sidearm, an ancient Volkite Serpenta, to the right side of his belt, and his Master-Crafted force sword Brightest Day to his left. He then grabbed the signature piece of his wardrobe, a black trench coat with muted gold lining, and put it on before heading towards the bridge.
He passed a few other crewmembers on the way, each of them giving a small bow and a "my lord" as he passed. Marthas acknowledged their greetings with small nods, but did not halt his purposeful pace until he stepped through the doors into the bridge.
The bridge of His Silent Blade was much like the bridge of any Imperial starship, shaped in a wide half-circle with several large armorglass viewports set into the front wall, which at the moment were covered by retractable armor plates in preparation for their impending warp jump.
There were a dozen control stations set around the room to monitor and control the various systems of the ship, including weapons, helm, engineering, auspex, and vox.
Unusual from most imperial bridges, all the stations were manned by humans; there was not a servitor in sight.
In fact, if you looked across the entire ship, indeed the entire fleet, you would find an almost disturbing lack of servitors. The only places you had any certainty of finding the lobotomized drones were the lifter-servitors in the cargo holds and hangars, or hardwired into many of the automated systems that made the low crew count possible.
This was mainly because the Inquisitor had an intense dislike of Servitors, and had forbidden their use on his ships except in the aforementioned sections, due to their necessity there.
In addition to the lack of servitors, the crew of the ships of Devinir's fleet consisted almost entirely of either ex-imperial guardsmen and PDF veterans or the descendants of volunteers from worlds he or one of his predecessors had rescued in years past. They lacked the usual armies of kidnapped citizens-turned-slaves who worked the worst jobs on an Imperial vessel, as those jobs were automated on his ships, and Marthas despised the practice in any case.
But I digress.
Directly to the right of the door was a spiral staircase which wound up into the ceiling and the Navigator's station. The stairs were guarded by a pair of veteran former Cadian Shock Troopers, and if one were to go up the stairs, they would find a small room with a locked adamantium door, guarded by two Inquisitorial Stormtroopers.
These guards duty was twofold; to protect the Navigator, and the bridge, from enemy boarders, and to eliminate the Navigator should they be possessed by a Neverborn.
These familiar sights were taken in passing as the bridge doors slid open for the Inquisitor.
Every head in the room turned as the door opened, and most quickly went back to looking at their various screens. Two, however, did not.
The first was Captain Dracov. The old captain's face was set in a calm, determined expression, the faint wrinkles around the man's eyes relaxed.
This was just another mission like any other to him, and he had every faith in his ship and his fellow captains. His violet eyes, a memento of his birth-world of Cadia, met the green eyes of Marthas for a moment, and the pair exchanged a silent greeting before he turned back to observing his bridge crew, the lights glinting faintly of his bronze-colored skin.
The second person was his apprentice, Interrogator Bethany Quiriam.
The young woman was garbed in a similar manner to her master, wearing a dark grey trench coat with a dark red lining. Unlike Marthas, she wore a suit of black Carapace armor over tan combat fatigues, causing her cost to swing open at the front, bearing the silver I of the Inquisition on her chest plate. One could also see that, like her mentor, she was armed, in this case with a hotshot laspistol and a modified power maul, a reminder of her days as a member of the Adeptus Arbites.
Bethany certainly looked good considering her previous and current profession. She had an attractive, teardrop-shaped face with a small nose, sharp chin, and thin lips; her skin was unmarred save for a small hook-shaped scar on her left cheek.
Her eyes were a warm brown color, which was at odds with the cold look that she usually gave with them. Her hair was a similar color, and worn in a short braid that fell down the back of her neck.
The woman nodded in greeting as her mentor entered. Marthas spared her a small smile as he moved to stand between the two.
The three stood for a moment in silence, letting the moment sink in, how close they were to finishing this chase once and for all.
Then Marthas broke the silence, all business. He looked at Dracov, his face pure detached professionalism. "Captain, do we have the coordinates for our jump?"
Dracov nodded. "Yes, my lord. The other vessels have been given their coordinates and are ready to proceed on your order."
"Good. Interrogator," he said, turning to Bethany. "Are kill-teams Osiris and Lothbrok ready for their portion of the mission?"
"Sergeant Osiris voxed me confirmation shortly before your arrival, and Squad Lothbrok is waiting in the teleportarium for your signal."
"Good." Marthas paused, the unexpectedly said "Which members of my Retinue do you think should accompany us into the enemy vessel?"
Bethany was surprised for a moment, but recovered quickly.
"My recommendation would be to leave operatives Lix and Mic behind and bring the twins."
"Why?"
Bethany knew now that this was a small test for her, and replied without pause.
"A sniper such as Mic would be greatly hampered by the close confines of a starship, and would be of negligible use. Lix specializes in infiltration, but while she could be useful if she snuck away and struck the enemy from an unexpected quarter, she would be completely separated from any support, and if she were caught by a group of enemies, it is unlikely she would be able to fight her way free alone."
"The twins are far more suited for such combat, being close-quarters specialists, and their...unique abilities will allow us to deal with unexpected obstacles."
Marthas nodded in approval and gave her a small smile. "Excellent assessment, Bethany. I agree completely; have the twins head to the hangar."
Bethany felt a small flush of mischievous glee as she responded, "They are already there, master, on my order."
This Inquisitor simply regarded her with a raised eyebrow as Dracov let out a hearty laugh. "It appears you have underestimated your pupil, my lord."
"Indeed." Marthas said, amused. Then he returned to seriousness. "It seems that all is ready then. Captain, begin preparations for warp transition."
"Eye-eye." Dracov said, then strode to the center of the bridge and the gold-plated chair that sat there. The old captain easily settled into his command throne and attached a cluster of wires to a data-port set into the base of his skull. He closes his eyes and seems to concentrate.
After a few moments, Dracov tensed up, and then relaxed. "Connection established my lord. Connecting to the other captains now." he said.
A small hatch set before the command throne opens up, and a holo-table emerges from the floor. It powered up and soon a small holographic representation of the fleet was suspended above the table.
One after another, a holographic image of the other ship's captains appeared above their ships as Dracov connected them to the system.
The first, as always, was Captain Yerral Sacco of the Guardian of Faith.
"The Guardian is ready to jump, milord. Just give us the word." Yerral said, his voice giving just a hint of the drawl he had worked for years to be rid of.
Next were captains Isabella and Victoria Partia, the sister captains of the Black Revenge and the White Execution.
"Black is ready, standing by." Said the posh voice of Isabella.
"White is ready, awaiting orders." Said the slightly younger, but still aristocratic sounding Victoria.
Lastly was the captain of the Watchful Gaze, Rolbert Turin, and shortly after the captain of the Steady Hand, the young Felicia Viron.
"My gaze is turned outwards, ready for battle." Said the gruff voice of captain Rolbert.
"We are prepared and ready to jump, my lord." Said the quiet, yet confident Felicia.
Dracov looked expectantly at the Inquisitor, who looked up towards the ceiling as he opened up a vox line to the navigator's station.
"My lady, shall we proceed?"
"The heretics are in my vision, like a black sore upon the great sea. Let us purge them." A sharp, accented voice replied, filled with anger towards their quarry.
Marthas looked back to Dracov.
"We are ready. Take us in."
Dracov nodded, and then spoke, his voice booming out of the speakers set into the ceiling of the bridge, and throughout the entirety of the Silent Blade, "All hands, begin preparations for warp transition. Repeat, prepare for warp transition."
Marthas half heard similar commands coming from his other captains, as he was already thinking about the battle to come.
It had been two years since the Dark Apostle Werod Gerakas had stolen the Derixan Scroll from the hive-world Feros. Two years of hunting, of conflicts and treachery, casualties and horrors, but now they had him. This was it.
They would kill this bastard, or die trying.
"It is time to end this." He whispered to himself.
Beside him, Bethany's face was like stone, grim determination set into her hardened features, her hand clenched around the handle of her power maul. "Agreed my lord." She hissed.
…
In the darkness of space, six ships silently slid through the void.
Suddenly, six rifts, tears in the fabric of reality, swirling vortexes of every colour in the universe appeared before the prows of these vessels.
One after another, the vessels approached the rents and were grasped by tentacles of raw warp energy and pulled into the madness of the immaterium, on wrought to a conflict long brewing, and a destiny few had foreseen.
A/N: This was less than what I wanted to put in the chapter, but it was reaching my usual chapter word limit,, so I decided to just put it up.
Thanks again for reading, following and favouriting. Reviews, both good and bad, are always appreciated.
Until the next instalment,
Imperator senatus et populi Romani Dinosaurs!