Chapter 37 – Crusade's End
Kemuel stood on the bridge of the Emperor's ship as it overlooked Cadia.
"Seriously, that was the smoothest warp flight I've ever had," the Emperor said. The Emperor had been talking about their journey through the warp for the better part of the week. "Not a bump, not a hitch, just perfectly smooth. What gives? It was never that smooth when I first jumped through the warp. I remember this one time…"
Just listening to the Emperor prattle on threatened to drive Kemuel insane. Suddenly, he realized why it irked him so. The Emperor was speaking with Laura's voice. The tone was perfect, but the mannerisms were off, the infliction wrong, and the accent was strange. It was Laura, but Formerly Laura enough to drive him over the edge.
Kemuel made up his mind; he would put his name forward and volunteer for perimeter duty, just to get away from the Empress. Such a position was looked down upon as the least glorious, as it took one away from the Emperor, but Kemuel saw it as a reprieve from the constant reminder that it was not his Laura that he was guarding.
He never thought he'd miss the days of guarding Little Laura, of giving her piggy back rides. She used to love those.
"Sire," a tech priest said, "Cadia reports that the traitors are being driven off-world."
"Awesome," Formerly Laura said, suddenly abandoning whatever story she was in the middle of idly talking about. "How are we looking?"
"Our forces report that they are exhausted, but they are moving to finish the fight. The navy, while mangled, is pressing any advantage they can get in the skies."
"Great. Just need a little more of a push, and this'll all be a distant memory."
"Sire, do you think we should bolster our allies?" Kemuel asked.
"What for?" Formerly Laura asked.
"They have been fighting, non-stop, for weeks on-end," Kemuel said. "And fighting against fallen Primarchs. You have heard that they are exhausted; any boost to moral would be a great boon. I humbly suggest that you assign a few Custodes to the front. Knowing that the Emperor's guardians are at hand will let them know the Master of Mankind is watching over this battle, and they will fight harder to restore your will to the system."
"Man, you're one eloquent bodyguard," the Empress said. "You probably just want to stretch your legs, is that it?"
Kemuel could feel the eyes of his Custode brothers upon him. Being assigned to leave the Emperor's side was a necessary burden, but to want to willingly leave was tantamount to treason.
"I simply wish to help end this damned Crusade," he said.
"Is that what they're calling it nowadays?" Formerly Laura laughed. "Well, you volunteered. Find any other Custode who wants to 'stretch their legs' and get out there."
"My thanks for humoring such a selfish request," Kemuel said, bowing.
"If anyone else wants to be 'selfish' and kill some traitors, be my guest," the Emperor said.
"Sire, we are detecting warp breaches," a tech priest said. "It is the Sisters of Battle."
"How many of 'em?"
"…It appears to be all of them, lord."
The holo-tank screen shifted from displaying Cadia to the approaching fleet. Dozens of ships hung in the air, data-readings of each ship floating next to the vessel in question. All of them bore the Sisters of Battle Fleur-de-Lis.
"We are being hailed."
"On screen."
The holographic readings of the Sisters of Battle fleet disappeared. Taking their place were several women, all of them armed and armored. Only two remained in robes, and Kemuel knew them well. They were the Prioresses, both of the Convent Sanctorum and Prioris.
That meant that the several armored women were the Canoness Superiors of all six orders. The entire seniority of the Sisters of Battle was on one ship.
"Ladies," the Empress grinned. "To whom do I owe the pleasure?"
We have received…troubling reports, the Prioress Terra said. We want to verify them for ourselves.
"Well, verify away."
Forgive us, but we need to verify them in person.
Kemuel didn't like how reserved the Sisters were. They were known for being taciturn, but not like this. He scanned their faces; many were struggling with something, but he didn't know what.
"Very interesting," Formerly Laura said. "Alright, I'll bite. Need me to visit your ship?"
If it would not cause much trouble, the Prioress said.
"Quite the contrary, got a few Custodes who need to stretch their legs," the Emperor said. "Yo, Kemuel, you and your brothers are up. Sisters, I'll see you on your ship. We'll be jumping over."
The vid ended, reverting back to the hologram of Cadian space.
"Prep the teleporters, we're gonna pop on over," the Empress said. "Kemuel, you got a few brothers in mind?"
"I do, sire," he said. He nodded to his brothers, those he knew wouldn't mind parting from the Emperor's side. They had accompanied him to Dimmimar, they wouldn't mind visiting the Sisters of Battle and going to the surface of Cadia.
"Awesome. Come on, daylight's burning."
The Empress prattled as they took the service lift to the teleporter room. Kemuel slid his helmet on and dampened the audio to near-mute levels, turning the mad blabbering Master of Mankind to a simple dull background noise. What was the Imperium coming to?
They strolled to the teleporter chamber, where a waiting team of tech priests had everything prepped.
"Landing coordinates are received, we read the Sisters of Battle's locator beacon loud and clear," the tech priest said. "We are awaiting your orders."
"Then let's jump," the Emperor said.
The air split, and Kemuel was falling through a tiny fraction of the twisted warp. He had only teleported a few times many, many millennia ago, but the memory stuck with him. Back then, it was twisted and howling raw emotions and eldritch power. He had seen what appeared to be faces, but just looking at them made them vanish. For months, they only returned to him when he closed his eyes.
But this time, their quick trip through the warp was uneventful. Peaceful, even. There was still the overwhelming feeling of emotion and power, but he saw no faces, heard no voices, felt nothing pull at him. Was it because he was next to the Emperor? No, he had teleported with the Emperor before, prior to his internment to the Throne, and it had been worse.
One moment he was nowhere, the next, he was somewhere. Thunder roared as the air in the Sisters of Battle's ship had to move for them. Displaced, it caused robes to rustle and burning torches flicker.
They had landed in a docking bay, and it was filled with Sisters of Battle. Rank after rank of Sisters stood at the ready, each from a different Order, lined up almost as if on parade ground. Before them were the two Prioresses and the six Canoness Superiors. Standing behind the Superiors were the Canoness-Preceptors; he even saw Lynia standing with the leaders of the Valorous Heart. He wanted to nod to her, but his training and conditioning prevented him.
All was quiet for but a few seconds after their arrival, but seeing the Master of Mankind moved the Sisters. Nearly all of them fell to their knees, making Kemuel's heart skip a beat.
Alright, I'm gonna say this once: DON'T KNEEL, the Empress bellowed with her psykic might. The Sisters recoiled, but a few stood rooted to their spot, Lynia included. Slowly, they pulled themselves from their knees, with many Sisters helping others. Kemuel gazed out to the assembled mass of the Sisters. Many were silently crying, but from what? He hoped that it was just from seeing the Empress, and not what they might have learned.
Looking at the Prioresses, he wondered how they handled learning the Truth, both the Imperial variety as well as the origin of the Lectitio Divinitatus. That had to be what they were here for; what else could it be?
"So, ladies, what needs to be verified?" the Emperor said with a smile.
"We...we wish to know the truth about the Lectitio Divinitatus," Lynia said, speaking with fear and urgency. "We had heard what you said to the Prioress, but…but we have to hear it for ourselves."
Kemuel's hearts caught in his throat. If the entire convent of the Sisters knew, what would they do? They were fanatically loyal to the Ecclisarchy, and with them the High Lords of Terra. By wishing to reform the Imperium, Formerly Laura had done an excellent job of aggravating both parties.
"It's just as I said—"
"Is it true?" The Prioress said, cutting the Emperor off.
The Empress gazed at her. The woman stood her ground, but only just. She shook like a leaf in the wind, but she refused to yield.
"I like you," the Empress smiled. "Got some guts there. It's been way too damn long since someone cut me off."
"Is. It. True?" The woman gasped.
"Completely true."
Many of the Sisters reacted. Kemuel couldn't make out what was said, only that many voices suddenly cried out and chatter broke.
"T-then the Lectitio," Lynia stammered, "is a lie?"
"Front to back."
Kemuel was expecting a revolt among the Sisters. The Lectitio was their raison d'etre, and to have it so brutally taken away from them, he was counting on the Sisters attempting to kill them for being heretics.
But the Prioresses and Canonesses remained stoic and unmoving, and the Sisters themselves never went for their weapons.
"V-very well," the Prioress said, the color drained from her face. It was the only emotion that betrayed her serious expression. "Then…then we know what we must do. What is your will, Master of Mankind?"
"Well, we still got a bit of a fight left," the Emperor said, "and the Space Marines could use some help."
"They shall have it, in your—by your will."
Kemuel caught the near-prayer, but Formerly Laura either didn't hear it or didn't care.
"Awesome. I got some Custodes that want in on this as well. They'll be going with you. Have fun, kids! Biggie out!"
The air split as the Emperor activated his teleportation grid and vanished from the ship. Kemuel stood with his brothers, looking at the Sisters. He pulled his helmet off and gave a curt nod to Lynia.
"There was a time where the Custodes were sent on missions on behalf of the Emperor," he said. "Where we walk, all knew that the Emperor's hand was guiding us. In strategy," he hastily added for the sake of the Sisters and their destroyed faith. "Let us assist, and know that you walk with the Emperor."
"Thank you for the kind words, Custodes," the second Prioress said. "They are…comforting during these trying times."
"What are your orders?"
"There are heretics that are crying out for their death. We are going to help them," Lynia said. "Are you with us?"
"Until the stars go out," Kemuel said.
"Then let's get to work."
Icons blinked into existence on the holo-tank. Titus blinked; unless he was reading it wrong, an entire armada just warped into the system. Rubbing the weariness from his eyes, he scanned the readouts.
"Sisters of Battle?" He mumbled. He realized he hadn't slept a wink in just over a week. His gene-enhanced body was designed to all but do away with sleep, but the deep, reptilian part of his brain still ached to rest. Some things could simply not be changed.
But Sisters were good; any ally was good. Leading the Astartes forces, he was out-maneuvering the traitor Legions, but after a week of pure fighting, their ability to rapidly change tactics and adjust positions was greatly limited. Having allies in the skies meant having drop pods and assault ships, fresh troops to take the strain off their own weary forces. That meant their maneuverability was effectively restored.
Yet another knife to drive the traitor's back.
"Open a vox channel with the flagship," he ordered. The air crackled, and a holographic screen winked into existence. The face of a grizzled Sister looked back at him. Three long scars stretched across the side of her face, tearing her ear up; she had nearly lost her head at some point in the past.
"This is Captain Titus of the Ultramarines Second Company, to whom am I speaking with?"
I am Canoness-Preceptor Lynia, of the Order of the Valorous Heart, the Sister said. Titus idly wondered what vicious battle she earned those scars from. We have all six of the Militant Orders in our battle-group. We heard that Primarch Roboute Guilliman is planning the defense of the Cadian system. May I have the honor of speaking to him?
"I do not mean to deny you the honor, sister, but Guilliman is currently…unavailable," Titus stammered. "I rule in his stead."
I see. Leading a massive force must be a very pressing task.
"Thank you for being sympathetic, sister. If you have all six of the Militant Orders in your fleet, surely the Prioresses will be available."
Much like Lord Guilliman, they are currently indisposed, Lynia said. If Titus was any less tired, he might have missed the stammer in her voice. We both rule in their stead.
But he was tired, and he missed the stammer. Even with his exhaustion, Titus couldn't help but chuckle.
"Then we, the unworthy, are stuck with leading the charge."
Quite funny how power flows, Lynia smiled. Now, where are we needed?
"What is the capacity of your aerial power, sister?"
We have dozens of fliers on hand, many 'loaned' from the Inquisition. We also have drop pods.
"How many?"
In the hundreds. My sisters are ready to jump into Hel itself; say the word and our pods will blot out the sun.
"Then you will have the most difficult task I have," Titus said. "You will need to be patient."
If Lord Guilliman and the Emperor demands that we wait, then we shall wait. But surely our forces on the ground need reprieve.
"They do, but the Traitor Legions are stubborn. They yield ground, but if we do not press them the right way, we end up giving them room to breathe. That cannot happen. We must hound them, without breaking our lines or separating our troops. We must wait until they have dedicated their attack, then disrupt them. With nearly all of our forces deployed to the ground, we are limited to what we can do."
Is this where we come in? Lynia smiled. Disrupt lines, cut supplies, and be the knife in the back to end the traitors?
"I am glad to see that our Sisters are perceptive."
Let's just say that I've learned from the best, Lynia said. So, we are a combination of relief- and harassment- force, is that it?
"For the ground, yes. For the void war, we will need your ships to harry the Traitors. They seek to run back to the Eye of Terror; we cannot let them escape unscathed."
I understand. I will work with my superiors to transfer personnel from ship to ship, so we can dedicate entire fleets to troop deployment and void war.
"My thanks, sister. When will you be able to dedicate ships to void war?"
I will have ships ready within the close of the hour.
"Excellent. As for the ground forces, I am sending you coordinates; ready your chosen sisters, for they jump into the fire."
Fire is what we like, Captain, Lynia smiled. We will be ready for you.
The Canoness-Preceptor closed the channel, returning the holotable to its focus of Cadia. Titus looked at the spread of the traitor's line. They were slowly moving, retreating to their rough landing zones. They had already won, but they couldn't risk turning their victory into a Pyrrhic one.
Titus looked behind him. The genetors had placed Guilliman back into stasis, his corpse perfectly preserved. It pained him to see his Primarch so withered and wasted, but Titus saw the smile in Guilliman's lips, defiant in death.
He had wanted his sons to learn. Titus pledged himself to be an eternal student.
"Hey, greybeard."
"What is it, Helfist?"
"Is it just me, or is this a really fucking long knock-down, drag out fight?"
Aevar ducked behind a wall and took a second to wipe some splattered blood from his eyes. The lines of the traitors were stubbornly refusing to bend. They did a good job holding them at arm's length; they were building up a sizable no-man's land.
"Yea, they're just a little bit stubborn," he said.
"Good. Thought it was just me," the Rune Priest said.
Many of the berserkers had been slaughtered, but more than enough had made it back behind the lines of the Black Legion and Iron Warriors. The traitors had enough ammo to throw up a wall of steel to keep them at bay.
He ran a finger over his armor. It had deflected more than its fair share of death blows; it would need a lot of tender, loving care in his forge to return to its full glory.
"Yea, but still, it's damn good to be doing something worthwhile."
"Got a point there," the redhead grinned. He leaned from cover to take an easy shot at the traitors. "This beats any day in exile."
"Fucking Hel, still surprised you're still sucking air," a massive voice roared.
Even in the cacophony of battle, Aevar could hear the voice boom. Strolling through the rubble with hardly a care in the world was Bjorn Stormwolf, his Terminator armor dented and washed out.
"My Jarl," Aevar called. "I'm glad to see they didn't send you into the sun while I was gone. How are you, Little Bjorn?"
The Stormwolf glared at Aevar, but that only made Aevar grinned all the wider.
"Twenty years gone, and that's the first fucking thing you say?" He demanded.
"I am to please, my Jarl."
"The fucking Inquisition couldn't have killed you and made everyone's lives easier," Bjorn grumbled. "Well, maybe the traitors are up to the task. Russ is getting ready to lead a charge."
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Helfist asked.
"The Sisters, that's who."
"The Sisters of Battle are back?" Aevar asked.
"Why so surprised, Blasphemer?"
Aevar bit his tongue. He could still see the shock in the Prioress' eyes as the Empress told them that the entire Imperial Cult is a lie.
"Didn't think they'd stick their necks out for us, that's all," he mumbled. He actually thought they'd turn traitor, or at the least revolt against the Emperor for destroying their faith.
"You'd think they'd sit the Black Crusade out?"
"No, just didn't think they'd go around helping us. If Russ is leading the charge, why wait for the Sisters?"
"To maximize the rout, that's what. The traitors are trying to leave, and we're gonna stop them. And with the Ultra-Smurfs doing the planning, they know where to point them. All we have to do is wait for the sign."
"What, you mean that sign?" Vermund asked, pointing to the sky. Drop pods streaked from the heavens. In the days of battle, Aevar realized how little aerial movement there was.
"Aye, that's it," the Stormwolf growled. "Gets ya hard just lookin' at it, eh?"
"None harder," Aevar laughed, although in the back of his mind he couldn't help but think of Lynia.
The ground shook as the Sister's drop pods crashed into traitor ground. Aevar heard a mighty howl from down the line. It stirred his very blood. He stood from the cover he was in and saw Leman Russ himself raising his sword.
"For the Wolftime!" The King of Fenris bellowed.
Across the massive line of battle, all of his sons roared and charged. Wulfen sprung through the rubble of the no-man's land, the few remaining Blood Claws hot on their heels. Teams of Thunderwolf Calvary up and down the line tore through the rubble, braving the traitor's fire.
"Through the gates of Hel!" Bjorn Stormwolf bellowed, the first over the top of the wall. Aevar was a few steps behind him.
The traitors fired wildly, but many weren't shooting at the Vlka; they seemed to be turning around. It was the Sisters.
Aevar scowled. That meant that the Sisters were taking the shots themselves. He snorted. He spent too much time with the Sisters; he was too fond of them. Maybe the old bat herself would come down to get in on the murder-make.
Many Vlka fell, but they were able to cross no-man's land.
"The wolves are among you!" Helfist howled, surrounded by the glow of the heroes. He smashed the traitors like it was nothing. Katla sung like thunder, and Bjorn Stormwolf carved into an Iron Warrior.
Aevar pushed onwards, trying to get to the besieged Sisters. Too many have died, and he wouldn't have more.
The traitors reacted just as Space Marines should. The front lines drew their weapons and stared down the Rout of Fenris with grim determination.
"Death to the False Emperor!" They roared. Aevar had to admit, they had good spirit.
After butchering one man, his momentum carried him forward to the next heretic. He parried a blow and struck back, but the heretic was able to fade away at the last second. Aeavr readied himself for the counter-attack, but the heretic broke off with his unit. He blinked; since when did the heretics engage in hit-and-run tactics?
Bolt shots snapped him back to reality. The Sisters were close, and they would need all the help they could get, even if it was just another body to take a bolt.
"Helfist, let's pull our Sisters out of the fire."
Together, they cautiously pressed forwards. The heretics were unengaged now, but keeping fire on the advancing lines of the Vlka while they fell back. Grey Hunters were raked with fire, but stayed upright once Helfist cast the hero's blessing of endurance upon them.
Strangely, the heretics didn't press their advantage. They were more invested in retreating.
"Looks like they want to die another day," Aevar said, pulling Iounn from her holster to take a few shots at the retreating line.
"Pretty damn sure our sisters have something to say about that," Helfist said. "Ha! Look who it is!"
They reached the embattles Sisters' drop pods. They each landed within a few dozen meters of each other; truly great grouping. The Sisters had only been on the ground for a short few minutes, but the heretics gave them a hell of a welcoming party. A few lay dead, but many more were uninjured. And standing among them were Custodes.
"Been hanging around bodyguards too long," Aevar said. "I recognize that fighting style. That's Kemuel there."
"Heard you need help," Helfist said.
"We heard that you needed our help." Aevar couldn't help but laugh as he saw Lynia pull her helmet off.
"Damn, the universe got smaller!" He roared. "Lynia! Glad to see you here!"
He took two steps forward. Then the Canoness hauled off and hit him square in the jaw. A few Blood Claws saw it and howled at him.
"Missed you too," he said, rubbing his jaw.
"That is for Laura," Lynia snarled.
"I deserved that, didn't I?"
He let the next punch land home.
"That is for the Emperor."
"Little confused about the second one."
"You know damn well what I mean," she spat. "Because of you, we lost our greatest strength."
Aevar's shoulders slumped.
"I did, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did," Lynia spat. "And you will have Hel to pay for it. But that will be later. We still have heretics to push off this planet."
"Care if I join you?"
"The more the merrier. Blasphemer."
"If it makes you feel better, I smell the malifactorum; probably means they're summoning daemons. You like killing those, right?"
Abaddon glared at the approaching lines of the loyalists. From his vantage point at the top of the small hill, he could see the monstrous forms of Leman Russ and Corax plowing through the lines of the sacrificed, the soon-to-be-slaughtered. He was relying on the daemons to hold for a little longer, but against the fury of two savage Primarchs, the armor of the Imperial Guard and the fury of the Sisters of Battle, he doubted they would last much longer.
It would take decades to rebuild his forces. But at least there would be a next time. The Corpse Emperor may be on his feet again, but the Imperium was still doomed.
"It may not come today, but you will breathe your last," he said to the ruined world.
He turned, boarding one of the last remaining ships. Planet Killer was still in orbit, and was holding the newly arrived Sisters at bay, at least for the time. Even though it was still wounded from the siege of Dimmimar, it was a mighty vessel; it would hold for now.
The ship rose into the air, and Abaddon was already planning his next assault on the Corpse Empire.
Laura took a deep breath. She needed to concentrate, to try and force something through the thick quasi-warp. One of her earliest memories of her uncles rang in her head.
Watch the enemy, know the enemy, hate the enemy.
If she wanted to get out of this Hel, she would need to find out what kind of Hel this was. Many of the memory-scenes she had seen gave her an idea of what this was, but she would need more.
She didn't know what each scene meant, but if she could find out what it all meant, then maybe she could do something about it.
She was able to sort-of move around by following emotions, but she needed a better way to travel. So if emotions were too general, maybe thoughts would be better.
"Trickery," she said, the idea popping into her head. The whole damn world is some kind of trick. If she could find the source of the trick, she might be able to break out of it.
She pressed her hands to her ears to get some kind of reprieve from the voices, then concentrated on the feeling of pulling a prank, or being the victim of a prank.
The fog-world around her spun, changing from the viewpoint of a ship bridge to what seemed to be a massive war room.
Wisp-thin fog seemed to form some kind of floating hologram, and fog-people surrounded the table. There was one massive fog-person. And standing at the head of the table was the solid man.
Laura gasped. She had seen that face before. It was all over Dimmimar. Painted on walls, built into stained glass, chiseled into stone: it was the Emperor.
"…Cut off our forces," the fog-person said.
NO SHIT, a dozen voices rang out. They came from thin air, the same voices that were driving her insane.
Laura concentrated, trying to dispel the worst of the voices.
But if they came from nowhere, were they some kind of inner voice? Was she listening to the Emperor's inner thoughts?
"Battle reports keep rolling in," the massive man said. Could that be a Primarch? He was too large to be anything other than a Primarch. "All losses. This atrocity at Istvaan V is breaking us. And the Eastern Fringe is still racked with warp storms. We are cut off and cut apart."
The voices, the strange thoughts of the Emperor, broke through her barrier of concentration.
Damn. That was well played. You win this round, Tzeentch.
A dozen voices echoed the same thought, many less politely than others. Laura could taste the raw emotion of defeat, and of being tricked.
She didn't go back far enough. But she still might be able to learn something from this memory.
'Learn.' Laura chuckled at that. Her Aunt Lynia had long ago taught her to guard her open mind, for reason begets doubt, and doubt begets heresy.
Her thoughts drifted back to Dylena, her one true friend. She was a mutant, a half-Eldar, but Laura couldn't help but miss her.
Thinking of Dylena, her concentration broke, the deluge of inner voices fell on her. She clapped her hands over her ears, trying to re-orient herself. But the voices she kept at bay were easily in the thousands. She was drowned out, washed away. The scene folded, turning into something else. She screamed, but could only taste the strange quasi-warp that made this damned place. And the voices seemed to multiply.
The Thunderbird swooped low, depositing the Lamenters and Croan to the surface of Cadia.
"I have heard there is not much war left here," Croan said.
"It matters not, the Emperor—Empress, gave us our orders," Sergeant Invillus said. "We are to secure the planet, make sure it is safely within Imperial hands."
"Quite a turn of fate, is it not?" Croan said as he stepped over the rubble. "You have become one of the Emperor's right hands, trusted with personal orders. And we put so much work into your gear."
"You shall have our eternal gratitude," Invillus said. "But personally, I welcome such assignments. Bad things seem to happen to us, and sudden, unexplained armor failures happen with frightening regularity. I am grateful for the armor, but equally grateful to not put it to the test."
"Aevar is right; you are all a bunch of coy maidens," Croan laughed. He looked up and saw an approaching group of Salamanders. "Well met, brothers."
"It is the Dragonsword," one said.
"We have heard that Vulkan and the Great Khan have clashed here."
"Yes, but we are too late."
"I have to ask," Invillus said, "when we hear those words, we get a sinking feeling in our stomachs. Is that just some quirk of the gene-seed, or are other Astartes vulnerable to such a feeling?"
"It is not just you; I suddenly feel terrible."
"For once, I am glad it is not just us Lamenters."
The Salamanders gestured them forwards. The Lamenters cautiously advanced, sweeping the ruined street with their bolters, wary of anything. Even with their usual slow pace, Croan and his Salamander brothers outstripped the Lamenters.
He climbed a hill of rubble, and was brought to his knees.
"No," he gasped. "It cannot be."
"It is," his fellow Salamander said. Pain and sorrow were in his voice. "We wish it was not, but it is."
If wishes were fishes, we'd never go hungry, Helfist had said.
The White Scars had gathered. They were standing in what must have been a former parade ground, for the area was surprisingly open, rubble excluded. Nearly all were on their knees. The Salamanders were there, too, and either stood or had taken a knee in solidarity.
In the center of the gathering was Vulkan. He held the lifeless body of Jaghatai Khan in his arms, and was crying, screaming to the skies.
The Scars were mourning the loss of their Primarch. Many were crying uncontrollably, more were prostrating themselves before the body of their dead Primarch.
But we do go hungry, so what does that tell you?
Suddenly, all of their work of weathering the Siege of Dimmimar, and their victory over the Black Legion on Cadia, it all seemed like a horrible waste.
Croan didn't know how long he stayed there, unable to look away from the dead Primarch. It seemed like forever. But eventually, Vulkan set his brother's body down, and he stood up.
"Vulkan, please,"
"What are we to do?"
"He deserves a proper Nocturne funeral."
But the massive Primarch pushed passed his sons. His ebony skin shone wet with tears, and gave away little other emotion. He raised his hand, and his hammer flew to it. Croan saw where the hammer was pulled from; for the first time, he noticed the dead, mutilated body of Mortarion. Just the sight of the dead Khan seemed to dull the terrible smell from the daemon Primarch's body.
"Please, forgefather," his brothers begged.
Vulkan ignored them. He activated something in his hammer, the air split and lighting blinded them. Croan recognized it as a teleporter. When his vision returned, Vulkan was gone.
The hanger the Ultramarine's ship was filled to the brim.
Ultramarines and White Scars stood, some in order but more in barely organized mobs. Even the Ultramarines' ranks were in disarray, but Aevar couldn't blame them.
Sitting at the edge of the hanger, mere feet from the void shields that kept the atmosphere in, was the dead body of Roboute Guilliman. He was still in his chair, back in a stasis field. He was a shell of his former self; his once healthy glow had turned into a sick pallor, his emaciated skin was pulled taunt against his bones, and his eyes seem sunken. But he died with a smile on his face, so he must have done something right.
Next to Guilliman was the sarcophagus of Jaghatai Khan. Aevar had seen the dead Primarch only in passing; none wanted the Blasphemer to be near such a revered figure. But he could see the dead Khan's jetbike parked next to his sarcophagus. It was battered and ruined, but even in death it still seemed a mighty war machine.
Aevar was pushed far off to the side of the hanger, but could still see the Emperor. For the third time that Aevar had seen her, the Emperor was quiet as she gazed at her dead sons. The Lion, Corax and Russ himself stood by him, each silent. Corax was stoic in his silence, but Russ and Lion were openly crying.
"Dammit, Jaghatai, you dumb bastard," Russ cried. He was flanked by five Sisters of Silence. One of them offered him a reassuring hand. "You were the only other death worlder among us. Why'd you have to go and get your thread cut?"
"What happened to Roboute?" The Emperor asked, finally breaking her silence.
A team of tech priests moved forward, pushing a distraught Legato forward.
"We don't know, sire," Legato said lamely. "His Larraman's Organ suddenly decomposed. It couldn't have been necrosis related; the wound was properly cleaned, the disease eradicated, wasn't it?"
"Yes, yes it was," the Emperor mumbled. "But at the same time, it wasn't. That blade still managed to kill him." The Emperor paused. "And where's Vulkan?"
"We do not know, father," Lion said, drying his eyes. "The Salamanders reported that he had vanished, teleporting away from the planet. We do not have any means of tracking him; he is gone."
"Vulkan did seem…off," Corax said. "Flighty, nervous in crowds."
"Jaghatai said that he wasn't the same since fucking Konrad had his way with him," Leman spat. "Said the fucking Night Haunter 'put his Perpetual-ness' to the test. Probably tortured him so bad he couldn't see straight."
"No one can be tortured and remain completely sane, especially at Konrad's hands. And so another son leaves," the Empress said sadly. "Well, let's get them loaded off to their Chapters. Give them the burial they deserve."
Servitors moved by Aevar, taking the coffins to be loaded into the appropriate ship.
"And the Black Legion still managed to get away," she sighed.
"Aye, by the skin of their damned teeth," Leman spat. "I'll hunt 'em down. Still owe them one for pulling the wool over our eyes at the Alaxxes Nebula. Still fucking sore about that. Fucking Alpha Legion."
"I take it that there's nothing I can do to keep you here?" the Emperor asked.
"Damned right there's nothing you can do. My wyrd is my own, and I still have a score to settle."
"Well, once you're done, you know where you can come back to."
"Brother, do you have room for one more?" Corax asked.
"Come on, Corax, you too?" The Empress groaned.
"Like Russ, I have my own score to settle with the traitors," he said. "Istvaan still has to be repaid."
"Guess it can't be helped then," the Empress sighed. "Besides, as long as there are traitors are out there, there's still a threat against the Imperium. Chase 'em to hell, and put 'em in the ground."
"Gladly," Corax smiled.
"I'll need to get ready," Leman said. "Corax, we ride in the morrow. Get your shit packed up and take who you want to take."
"I shall await you at the threshold to the Eye," he said.
Aevar bowed as his Primarch and the Sisters approached him.
"You're one of mine," Leman said to him. "I'd like to take you; Iron Priests are always in short supply in the warp."
Aevar's hearts skipped a few beats. Him? Fighting with Russ himself?
"A-as you order," he said. Russ wanted him? Him, the Blasphemer, to accompany his Primarch, to walk among the legends? He could leave everything, even his damned name. But he would be leaving Laura.
"Leman," the Emperor yelled in a sing-song voice. "Remember our agreement…"
"Dammit all, fine," Russ groaned. "Had to give it a try. My 'mother' has plans for you. So do you best."
Russ himself could smell the disappointment roll off him.
"'Do my best?' When would one of your sons not?" Aevar said. Somehow, he was able to spit it out.
"Ha! Got that right. Come on, let's leave the Ultramarines and White Scars to their mourning."
Julas never grew accustomed to standing in front of the Grandmaster. Part of him knew he would never be used to it.
"The Emperor has been trying to eradicate the Imperial Cult," Parsef said, "but has been doing so half-heartedly. We imagine it is because of the Black Crusade."
"And now that the Crusade is all but over, then the Emperor will step up his plan of destroying the Ecclisarchy," the nameless, blond-haired Grandmaster sighed.
"Bad that we go against the Emperor, worse that the Cult fails," Parsef said, a bitter smile on his lips.
"That's the nature of the job, Inquisitor."
"I can still bitch about it."
"What are our orders?" Julas asked.
"I have been in touch with the High Lords of Terra," the Grandmaster said. "We have a plan."
"What have the High Lords come up with?"
"There is a very, very old saying, sergeant," the Grandmaster said. "'Small leaks sink great ships.' We can't have this metaphorical ship sink, so we must minimize leaks."
"What do you mean?"
"It means the Grandmaster can't tell us what the plan is," Parsef said.
"Exactly. I hope you can understand."
Julas frowned. Damned Inquisition and their damned secrecy.
"I understand that it will be…difficult to adjust to this new job," the Grandmaster said to him. "I am sorry to have such a devoted soldier drawn into our game of shadows. But we must do the unthinkable, so that the Imperium can survive."
"Then what are our orders?"
"You have easy access to the Emperor, don't you?"
"As 'easy' as any other."
"Nonsense, you have free reign to enter the Throne Room," the Grandmaster said. "We need you there, to gather intelligence."
"You mean what the Emperor's plan is now that the Crusade is over."
"That I do," he said. "It will be a difficult assignment, but you must remain there."
"Then we will be the small leak that sinks the Emperor's new 'ship,'" Julas said. He couldn't keep the disdain from his voice. It was good that he was no longer an Ultramarine; such an action would result in his name stricken from all records. In the eyes of his former Chapter, he would never have even been born. Just like Onairam.
"Come now, sergeant, we know the Cult must survive by any means necessary," the Grandmaster smiled gently, as if he was chiding a child on his outburst. "You're valuable, and we can use that value next to the Emperor."
"Very well," he sighed. "We shall accompany the Emperor back to Terra."
"That's the spirit," the Grandmaster said, brushing his blonde hair back. "Once you break through the warp, we will need you to trigger a signal. Just so we know that you are in position. It might be quite some time until you are called again. In the meantime, Parsef, do you have your full report on the Blasphemer's exile?"
"I do, Grandmaster," Parsef said. He slid a very full folder to him.
"Thank you."
"Also, I have an asset," Parsef said. "May I keep her?"
"Of course. We have plenty of assets, and this is the highest priority."
"My thanks," Parsef said, bowing. Julas felt that the Grandmaster expected him to bow. He didn't give the man the satisfaction. He turned to leave the room.
How did he ever get caught up in this? The Inquisition did good work, yes, but they could not be trusted.
Titus stood before Marneus Calgar, surrounded by the hateful eyes of the other Captains.
"You have allowed our Primarch to die," Calgar said.
"Begging your pardon, lord, but Guilliman chose his fate for himself," Titus said.
"Enough! I have seen his last recording, his last wishes." Calgar shook his head. "He wants us to throw away the rules that have governed us for millennia."
"He wants us to think for ourselves," Titus said, gentry correcting the Chapter Master.
"I said enough," Calgar spat. Titus was blessed with enough sense to remain quiet.
Calgar looked around at the gathered Captains. There were a few vacancies as the result of the Black Crusades, but each surviving one stared at Titus with various levels of hate and contempt.
"You have done a great service, helping to drive the Black Legion off," Calgar said. "But that does not absolve you of your failings. First you flout all the rules the Codex Astartes puts forward. Then you risk bringing the taint of the warp back to Macragge. And now, Guilliman dies under your watch. Return to your ship, Captain, and think of your future."
Titus bowed, and left the enclave of Captains. Calgar studied his soldiers, the men sworn to his command.
"We have all seen the video that purports to be Guilliman's last words," he said. "What are your thoughts?"
"It cannot be Guilliman," many yelled. "At the very least, he cannot be in his right mind. To forsake the Codex Astartes in such a flagrant manner? It is unlike him."
"I feel that many of us feel the same way," Calgar said. "Is that true?"
"It has to be some sick ploy by Titus."
"It must be. He is a latent traitor; leaving him in care of Guilliman was a mistake, one that Guilliman himself did not see. We have failed our father, but we may not fail the Imperium."
Calgar motioned, and a man entered the room. He was tall for a mortal man with blonde hair, and nothing to denote his rank. The only item he wore that showed any rank was the Rosarius of the Inquisition, and the customary dark robes many Inquisitors wore.
"This Grandmaster has recently contacted us about a way to remain faithful to the Imperium at large," Calgar said. "He speaks with the authority of the High Lords of Terra."
"My thanks, Calgar," the Grandmaster smiled. "I dare to assume that many of you have seen the Emperor as of late? Am I wrong to think that the Emperor is acting…out of character?"
Slowly, everyone nodded.
"The High Lords feel the same," he said. "I pride myself in being exceptionally good at my work of sniffing out corruption. And in my searches, I have found something …disturbing, to say the least. If I may?"
"If this involves the security of the Imperium, then please continue, Grandmaster," Calgar said. "After all, we were destined to build the very bedrock of the Imperium. We take any threat to its safety with the utmost care."
"Thank you, but you'll have to forgive me," the Grandmaster said. "It's just…this report has greatly upset everyone who has read it."
The Grandmaster took a few deep breaths, expertly building the tension. Calgar and the Captains, unaccustomed to the pomp and circumstances of Inquisition work, were none the wiser.
"The girl who is channeling the Emperor is a perversion. A queer creature, a clone forged by the Blasphemer to wrest control of the Emperor's power from him to use for their own twisted end."
The room broke apart as Captains shouted.
"What?"
"That cannot be! Every clone that has been created has been a monstrosity forged in Chaos!"
"Sadly, it is true," the Grandmaster sighed dramatically. "Many of the High Lords felt the same pain of treachery when this news was brought to them. I myself can hardly comprehend the magnitude of the sin."
"What is the purpose of using such an abomination?" Calgar demanded.
"I know not; it is the act of the feral Wolves," he shrugged. "But what I do know is this: the Emperor is there, but she is using him. He is powerful, more powerful than anything we had ever know; He is the Emperor, after all.
"Yet somehow, the Blasphemer was able to find a way to manipulate the Emperor's sacred power. Attempting to control the Emperor has obviously driven the creature mad, hence the ramblings this 'Empress' goes on. To make it even more troubling, this 'Empress' is seeking to end the entire Imperial Cult, to deprave worship from the entire human race.
"While I know that many Astartes are more ardent followers of their Primarch and the Codex Astartes than the Imperial Cult, anyone who claims that the Emperor is not a god, or tries to destroy the Imperial Creed, must be a fowl traitor whose life cannot be tolerated. How many times have we heard the traitor say that we 'follow the wrong god?' How many times have they cried 'death to the false Emperor?' How many times do they howl for an end to our very way of life?"
"Far too many," Calgar said.
"And that is what this creature is attempting to do. I have been on Holy Terra when the 'Empress' was awoken. I've seen, with my own two eyes, that she commands that all holy text be destroyed, has called for an end to all worship, and has denied the Emperor's divinity."
"Pardon me, Grandmaster," Calgor said, "but if you were on Terra…is it true? We have heard word that a Cardinal of the Holy Synod was killed by the Emperor's hand. That, that cannot be true, can it?"
"Sadly, it is," the Grandmaster said. "One of our trusted assets witnessed it herself. The 'Empress' had killed a High Lord of Terra in cold blood, all for remaining loyal to the Creed."
Calgar sunk back in his chair, processing the news. His fellow Captains traded dark looks.
"The Emperor kills a High Lord of Terra, all for believing what is necessary to believe. And then he tries to destroy the very fabric of the Imperium. Am I alone in thinking that is heretical, even traitorous behavior?"
The Captains muttered amongst themselves. The Grandmaster knew the Ultramarines were not as religiously devoted as some other Space Marine Chapters, but they knew traitorous behavior when they saw it.
Calgar didn't tell the Grandmaster to stop talking, so he continued.
"Now, with the Crusade over, the Blasphemer has this clone, this genetic monstrosity, in charge of the entire Imperium; everything is under his rule. It is even possible that the Abomination was able to poison Lord Guilliman, both in body and mind. It would certainly explain his rash behavior, as you have noted."
The Inquisitor had to be speaking the truth. They served the Imperium, how could they lie?
"What the High Lords propose is to simply return things to the way they were, and restore the natural balance of order with the High Lords leading the Imperium, the Imperial Cult reigning over all, the Codex Astartes being revered by all Chapters," the Grandmaster said, "and above all else, ignoring the mad ramblings of a girl gone drunk with power. May we count on you?"
"I believe I speak on behalf of every Captain here when I say we are in agreement," Calgar said. "Is there a plan to deal with this Abomination?"
"We are glad we can still count on the honor and loyalty of the Ultramarines," the Grandmaster smiled. "We have something just in mind."
Maeva took a deep breath to calm herself. She had to keep up the appearance of disinterest, to at least try to appear normal so that Geist could try and get close enough to plant the grenade. Even though they weren't at Holy Terra yet, their attempt to get Laura back began now.
Walking through the ship, she made her way to the command bridge. She smiled and nodded at the Custodes stationed at the bulkhead, and carefully ducked in. The inside of the command bridge was a huge, multi-floored design. Intricate and regal, it was royalty through and through. And damn near everyone was there.
The fucking Emperor himself was idly chattering away, reading what looked like a series of reports. Aevar was standing by him, along with Kemuel. Both were forced to answer rhetorical questions.
Croan and Legato seemed to be pouring over some weapon schematics, undoubtedly drawn by the Master of Mankind himself. She even spied Parsef and Julas standing off to the side, waiting to see Terra again. Helfist stood off to the side, taking a pull from a flask.
"Well, look who decided to join us," Helfist said, walking up to her.
"Wha', an' miss th' trip back ta Terra?" She said, putting a big smile on her face. "Kinda surprised th' High Lords let us Fenrisians back."
"Guess there are such things as miracles, aren't there?" Helfist laughed. "You've seen that assassin around? Parsef has been asking for her."
"Don't know," she shrugged. Her heart pounded in her chest; she did her best to remain aloof. "Guess it means she's doin' her job, yea?"
"Too well," Vermund snorted
"We are exiting the warp," a tech priest said. "Transitioning back to real-space."
The ship rumbled, and the shields that blocked out the immaterium out slid down. Maeva saw the small fleet popping into existence alongside them, most of the ships belonging to the Dark Angels, along with the Lamenter's single ship. Hanging in the distance was Terra itself, a small blue dot in the void.
Maeva swallowed hard. The Throne Room was down there; their attempt to save their girl was down there. She looked at the holo-table. It showed their small fleet, seven ships total. She thought it was strange how the Sky Warriors were so quick to go back to their own planets. Then again, they had just fought off the Black Crusade, and two Chapters had lost their Primarchs; they needed to see who would lead them, bury the Primarchs, and gather what strength they had left.
The ground shook. Maeva turned and nearly jumped out of her skin. It still unnerved her to be so close to a Primarch.
"Back to Terra so soon?" Lion asked, entering the bridge. "This trip was very quick."
"Damn quick," the Empress agreed. "The warp has been like that for a while now; too damn smooth. Maybe it's our lucky charm here."
Aevar looked up, as if he was called by name.
"Speaking of which, I have to see what the fuck you are!" Formerly Laura said. "Man, I can't wait. That strange glow about you has been bugging me something awful."
Terra grew larger and larger. Soon Maeva could make out the shipyard that hovered above the planet, as well as the defense fleet and orbital weapon platforms. Lights dotted the entire continent and former oceans.
"There is something strange about this," Lion said. "We should be in vox contact with the ship yard, the fleet, and defense grid."
"I'm not seeing any attempts to hail us," Aevar said.
As they drew closer to Terra, a line of ships appeared between them and the ship yard.
"This is not right," Lion said. "This is just like Caliban. It is too quiet, and the Terran fleet is in tight formation."
"Don't know much about Caliban, but something isn't right," Helfist said. "Feels wrong."
"Bring our shields up," Lion demanded.
The bridge went quiet as everyone looked at the Primarch.
"Sire?" One of the many tech priests said. "I'm detecting a faint vox signal. It is washed out, but it is coming on an emergency channel."
"Raise the void shields!" Lion shouted. "Bring our fleet to combat readiness!"
The entire bridge paused at the Lion's outburst.
"You heard the Primarch," Aevar said, breaking the spell. "Bring everything—"
"Weapons lock!" A tech priest yelled. "They are targeting us!"
Lance batteries lit up the void in brilliant flashes. Maeva thought their threads were as good as cut, but they bounced off the thick void shields of the Emperor's ship; if it were not for Lion, the shields would not have been activated in time.
"Who the fuck shot at us?" The Empress demanded.
"All ships in our fleet are under attack," the tech priest said. "Three are venting atmosphere; their shields were not up in time."
"Just like Caliban," Lion growled. "Just fucking like it. We drop out of the warp and make orbit, they shoot us out of the skies. All hands, battle stations. Terra has been occupied by the enemy."
"That is impossible," Kemuel stammered.
"It just happened!"
"Someone better shot back," the Emperor said.
"Pick your targets carefully," Lion said. "We cannot let stray shots land on Terra. I will not let it face the same fate of Caliban."
"Fucking right it better not," the Emperor said.
The ship rumbled as return fire left the ship. The Terran dockyards rolled as they absorbed shots meant for the fleet; it tore them to pieces. But even when the odd return shot passed through the dockyard, the defense fleet had their shields raised; their ships survived the salvo.
"What is the damage?" Lion asked.
"We lost three ships, one is still venting atmosphere. It will go down soon."
"Fuck," the Empress muttered. "We got sucker punched."
"Sire! We are being hailed by the captain of the commanding vessel."
"Put it on screen," the Empress said.
A man replaced the floating globe of Terra. He wore the suit of an Admiral in the Imperial Navy.
Imposter, he spat. Return control of the Emperor's power to its rightful owner, and your death shall be quick.
"Don't know if you realize it, but I am the Emperor," the Emperor said.
Lies, Abomination! You are a damned clone, and we demand your surrender.
"'You demand my surrender?' On whose authority?" The Emperor laughed. "I'm the Emperor!"
The High Lords of Terra and the Ecclesiarchy do not recognize your authority, you perversion! You are a usurper and a traitor!
"Okay, I admire your dedication to duty, but I'm off the Throne now," she said. "The High Lords are out of a job, and the Ecclesiarchy will be too, soon."
I will not let you profane the name of the Ecclesiarchy, the man said. I will blow you from the sky, traitor! Your fate is sealed!
The channel ended.
"Incoming salvo," a tech priest cried.
"All power to the void shield," Lion demanded.
The ship rocked with impacts as the lance batteries and missiles landed. Maeva grabbed a hand rail to steady herself. Many other tech priests followed suit.
"Shields weak, but holding."
"Return fire," the Emperor said. "We don't have a lot of options here."
"No, we don't," Lion said. "We are outnumbered."
"Outnumbered and outgunned, but we got options," the Emperor said. "Let's take the fight to them. Get boarding teams ready. Call the Lamenters, we'll need 'em."
"Sire, warp breach! Just behind us," the tech priest said. "It's…it's the Sisters of Battle."
"Sire," Julas said, "if the Ecclesiarchy has declared us traitors, the Sisters would be our enemy."
"How many ships?"
"Twenty-five, sire. No, more. It's mostly battle barges. It…the Sisters have brought their full fleet."
Despite the thunderous explosions that rocked the ship, the bridge went quiet.
"Well, shit," the Emperor said. "We got rocked pretty damn badly."
"We can still survive," Lion said. "We can teleport to Terra's surface, rally the defenses to re-take the Palace."
"If the Palace held back Horus during his siege, what can we do with a handful of troops?" The Emperor said. "I mean, we might as well, but fuck, we got it good."
"The Sisters are firing," the tech priest said weakly.
Maeva couldn't believe it. They were going to die over the skies of Terra.
"They are not shooting at us," Lion said, staring at the holotable.
"Shit, would you look at that," Helfist said, pointing out the window. Just as he said, the enemy ships above Terra rolled with fire as they were caught unaware by the Sisters. "The Sisters shot the bad guys!"
"The Sisters are hailing us."
"Put it on."
The holographic screen turned to a picture of Lynia, of all people.
Emperor, the enemy has taken Terra, she said.
"I can see that!"
Then we are too late, Lynia sighed. I…I am sorry, but the High Lords and the Ecclesiarchy have moved against us.
"Probably 'cus I put them out of a job," the Emperor groaned. "They rebel, all so they could rule. Just like fucking Horus. Man, what kind of fucked up priorities do they have?"
We will curse the traitors once we have re-taken Terra, Lynia said. Until then, we must return fire.
"Bring your fleet around," the Emperor said. "Make sure you don't miss. Anything goes stray, it goes into Terra."
As you order.
Maeva watched the holographic display. It showed the Sister's ships moving in on a fast burn, lined up in combat order. Lance batteries, missiles and cannon shots streaked passed them, hammering into the enemy ships. Shields flickered and failed, but many ships still stayed up. But it was good to know they had the numbers advantage.
"Got another vox burst from the surface," Aevar said. He typed madly at a logic-terminal. "The traitors are trying to jam it. It's coming from the Throne Room on the emergency channels. It's garbled real good, but let's see…Good, they're just sending us a text file. That makes it easier."
Aevar hacked away at the console, working as fast as he could.
"It says, 'sky defenses down,'" he said. "Nothing else. Looks like whoever's on the anti-air guns is either on our side or out of the picture."
"That means we got holdouts down there," Helfist said. "We need to support them."
"Agreed," the Emperor said. "Raise the Lamenters."
A fizzled holo-vid jumped on the screen. It shook with distortion.
"Yoo-hoo, anyone there?"
Apologies, Emperor, a Lamenter said, suddenly jumping on the screen. Distortion and static made it nearly impossible to hear him. We took some very bad hits.
"If the video is any indicator, you sure did," the Emperor said. "Looks like treason is all the rage in Terra, and we need to get to the Throne Room. Word is anti-air is knocked out. Are you ready to jump?"
When we say we took bad hits, we mean they destroyed our ship, the Lamenter said. Again.
"Man, bad things really do happen to you."
It is our lot in life, but we are used to it, he said. We have no control of our ship, and we are venting atmosphere. But we are still alive, and we can still fight. We will load into our drop pods and make for the surface at your order.
"You do realize we have to get close to Terra before we can safely drop, right?"
That requires the luxury of a working ship. We are short on that right now.
"Then how will you drop?"
Our ship is spinning, the Lamenter said. We will wait for it to line up with a shot at Terra, then jump.
"Ballsy; I like it. Alright then, here's the plan," the Emperor said. "The Lamenters will jump to Terra. We'll escort their pods until we get to drop height. Then we find out just what the fuck is going on at Terra. Sisters, you still on the channel?"
We are, Lynia said.
"Send a few of your Sisters down, too. We'll need their numbers. Once you drop your troops, take back the skies."
As you order.
"Get to the pods," Lion said. "Custodes, ride with the Emperor. We shall meet you on the surface."
"Get a move on, people! I want to drop in ten minutes," the Emperor said.
Custodes brushed past Maeva, securing passage for the Emperor.
"You need to stay here," Aevar said to her, switching to Juvik. "Keep an eye on Julas and Parsef. And if you can find her, keep an eye on that damn assassin of yours. They answer to the High Lords; they might turn traitor with them."
She looked at Julas and Parsef. They stood by the side, whispering amongst themselves.
"An' th' fuck can I do against a fuckin' Sky Warrior?"
"Right now, just keep tabs on them," he said. "It looks like the Emperor doesn't trust them either."
Despite all of the Custodes leaving, two stayed behind. They moved closer to Julas and Parsef, to encourage them to not move.
"Shit, looks like they're up th' creek," she said. "Yea, I'll gladly watch 'em. This don't seem like a good fight ta get inta."
"Stay on the vox. Might need you to be our eyes in the sky."
Maeva watched Julas and Parsef nervously. She could see them turning traitor, but Geist? She couldn't have known. Could she…?