Nothing But a List of Names to Mark his Ascension

Chapter 48: Puppets of Flesh

Note: I do not own Warhammer 40,000 or Dawn of War, I am simply writing a different perspective to the events portrayed.


"Captain Diomedes, we've detected a ship exit the Warp in system."

Diomedes looked up from his desk. In front of him was a data slate containing the logistical information of the Honor Guard and 5th Company. Preparing to join a Crusade was an arduous task and Diomedes was not one to leave it to a subordinate.

"Do you have its identification?" asked the Captain of the Honor Guard.

Galan shook his head. "The size and model of the craft is uncertain. It is lurking out behind the moon. Interference is quite heavy. It could be Angelos."

Diomedes' eyes thinned. "What is the status of our defenses?"

"The southeastern approach is thin enough to make a chokepoint, as is the village. We should be able to handle it. However, we have only installed 16% of our motion detectors in the west."

"Galan," said Diomedes. "I moved our headquarters away from Argus at your request. You said that Angelos knew the city too well. Now you tell me that he, or even the Black Legion, is at our doorstep and we are unprepared?"

"Yes," said Galan simply.

Diomedes nodded, satisfied by the blunt truth. "Show me everything."


Martellus activated the holomap. As the device sputtered to life, its green glow reflected off the faces of the marines that surrounded it.

"Here you can see where Diomedes has created his base," said the Techmarine. "It was not hard to tap into their communications. When this is said and done, I will have a talk with the techmarines of the 5th Company. Their security rituals have become lax."

"Well done," said Cyrus. "This saves us the trouble of searching for him. Tell us what you've found."

Martellus pressed a few keys on the map, and the slowly circling orb of Calderis magnified to show a small section of the planet's surface. It was north of Argus, hidden in the more mountainous regions of Calderis. The landscape was still desert, but rock was just as prevalent as sand.

"As you can see," said Martellus. "There are only a few ways into this village. It is backed into this valley, and his base is built into the rock face at the back. The most direct route is from the southeast. Approaching from there leads us through open ground with loosely placed rocks and shrubs, much like the main approach to Argus."

"It looks like there are some buildings there," said Cyrus, "Yet it is not considered part of the village. Explanation?"

"This town was once hit by a massive sandstorm. The structures on the southeastern approach were taken by the storm. Many of them are filled with debris or have been overtaken by the sand flow."

"Any word on defenses?" asked Avitus.

Martellus nodded. "This area will most likely be guarded by Astartes. There is not much ground to cover, and there are plenty of chokepoints. I will continue to analyze the comm traffic."

Aramus looked at the map. The southeastern approach was in the deep valley. It was easy to see how it had been overtaken by the desert. Further north, the land sloped up towards Diomedes' headquarters. It would be a difficult infiltration from that area.

"You can see here," said Martellus, "that the rest of the village is protected from the sandstorms. Between the southeast section and the village proper is this massive stone protrusion, weathered by millennia of sand and wind. Records show the village holds about two thousand."

The village lined the wall of the valley like an animal taking cover from a storm. Aramus looked at it with a smile. "That is a lot of ground to defend," he said. "The villagers will not understand the difference between Honor Guard and the 4th Company. Thaddeus and I will move in from that direction."

"What if you are spotted by an Honor Guard member?" asked Cyrus.

"I will not be," said Aramus simply. He had a look of confusion on his face, as though the thought was stupid.

"That leaves the east/northeast," said Martellus. "It has a few advantages. Namely, there is no open ground between the approach and Diomedes' base. You could practically walk through the front door."

Everybody held their breath. Of course there was a downside. Without changing his tone, Martellus continued. "Unfortunately, the area is made of crags of razor sharp rocks and the sandstorms are powerful enough to rip the skin from bone. It's a labyrinth up there, dozens of paths, but also dozens of places to hide."

"Sounds like my scouts and I will work well there," said Cyrus.

"As for the rest of you," said Martellus, "I have a few ideas."


"No contact," said Kippler, "not for a few miles."

Captain Uther nodded slowly. His face was wracked with pain. At his side, Connor and a medic were reapplying the bandages on his left arm. Merrick couldn't stand to look at the old wraps, stained with dark blood and pus. The wound still leaked fluid, and even painkillers hadn't lessened the stress on the Captain.

"Good job Kippler," said Uther. "Merrick, I want your squad to move up ahead of the main group. As we near the main square, we need to pick out a tall building."

Uther let that sink in, and then said, "Kippler, what's your maximum range?"

"For a shot?" replied the marksman, "A mile, maybe a mile and a half. If I have more prep time I could get that distance up to two."

"You don't have to deal with drop with that long-las right?" asked Merrick.

"No," he said with a shake of the head, "but dissipation in still a problem. If I can spend time to analyze the wind currents, I can determine proper calibration for the weapon. It's not point and click Sergeant Major."

"Never said it was, Kip," said Merrick.

Commissar Connor finished wrapping the bandage around Uther's arm and allowed the medic to finish his work. She quickly wiped her hands on her greatcoat and turned to the group.

"This is good news," she said. "If the enemy is distracted by General Castille and the other forces, we could get close without being detected. Then when the assault begins we'll be able to catch the psyker by surprise."

"If that's what the Emperor wills," said Merrick. "Keep your eye open Kippler. We need to find him before he wrecks Castille's detachment."

"Yeah," said Uther. "Preventing him from attacking is our primary concern."

Then Alek raised the vox to his ear, marking down notes hurriedly on the pad he kept at his side. After a few minutes, he put it down and returned to the conversation. As soon as the vox had beeped, the others had stopped their talking and now they awaited what he had to say.

"Good news Captain," he said with a giddy smile. "The armored elements of the 34th have breached level 74. They've regrouped with Castille's infantry and are pressing towards the Administratum building. They've faced heavy resistance, but the armor is carrying the day."

"Praise the Throne," said Hurst. "It's good the Enemy doesn't have any vehicles of their own."

Merrick scowled. "There are plenty of ways to stop a tank."

"There are," said Alek, "But the infantry support is holding back hostile AT. They're moving slow, but they're making progress at least. That's not all though. The 22nd Mobile Artillery regiment has finally made headway into Legis. They're moving as fast as they can, and should reach level 74 by tomorrow."

"Artillery support eh?" said Vornas. "I don't mind the big guns."

From a bit off, Gren laughed. "I don't mind 'em as long as they're pointed away from me."

"In any case," said Alek, "I'll have their vox codes soon. Then we'll be able to call down artillery strikes."

"Finally some combined arms," said Hurst. "Once the psyker is dead we can even achieve air superiority."

Merrick smiled. There was dark glee in his eyes. "Time to lay the hurt on them."

Uther nodded, and Merrick's squad stood to leave. They strapped on their gear and ensured their weapons were fully charged.

"Sergeant Major," said Gren, "Do you mind if we join in?"

Merrick looked at Hurst, who nodded in return. The thin faced Sergeant said, "A few extra men wouldn't hurt."

"Great," said Gren. "On your feet Flinn."

The younger man stood with a tired look on his face. He had never seen such intense combat before, and it was starting to fatigue him. Still, he followed his elder.

As the squad prepared to leave, they were met by another man. He toted a long-las like Kippler, though his seemed newer unlike Kippler's battlefield-scavenged weapon. The man's face was pale and lightly freckled. It held a dark determination, and his eyes shifted back and forth.

"Sergeant Major, I'm Corporal Edmund Verisson from the 11th Company," he said. "Captain Canne thought you guys might need some more sniper support so he sent me."

Kippler immediately reached out and shook his hand. "Good to have you," he said, more enthusiastic than usual. "We'll take point."

Then, in defiance to his previous affability, he turned and began to walk further into the Hive. When Verisson gave Remer a confused look, the grenadier just shrugged and followed Kippler.

Connor watched them go. She sat at Uther's side as the medic finished up. "Think they'll be ok?"

"They'll be fine," said the Captain. He forced a smile to his face and used his good arm to brush the dark hair from his eyes. Long weeks of fighting hadn't allowed for haircuts.

"There aren't even ten of them," said Connor.

"They're the Daredevils," said Uther. "They wouldn't die so easily. I think death passes them by. He probably doesn't want to frak with those guys."

Connor laughed. It was a small, sweet sound that Uther hadn't heard in a long time. Such things were a luxury on the battlefield. She smiled and said, "I don't envy the one that has to drag Remer kicking and screaming into the afterlife."

"Neither do I," said Uther, "hopefully that isn't any time soon."


"Captain Diomedes, we have determined that the ship that exited the Warp was the Retribution."

Diomedes nodded at Captain Gelden. "Aramus," he said. "Why would he return here?"

The Honor Guard Captain took his council outside of his main headquarters. In front of the rock face that held his command bunker was a wide area for maintenance of vehicles and ranges for shooting and live fire drills. While currently being used by the Honor Guard, it was the villagers that had originally built it. The Calderans were a hardy folk, and used weapons as well as any guardsman.

"I can think of a few reasons," said Galan. The Apothecary was helmeted, and his right hand gripped a chainsword. "Angelos has turned him on us as an owner may sic a dog."

"No doubt," said Loren. The massive Blood Raven stood behind Galan. His relic blade hung over his back as usual. His lips spread in a predatory grin. "Let them come," he said. "I will tear them to shreds if you order it so."

Diomedes raised a hand. "What do we know of their plans?" he asked.

"Not much," said Gelden. "We do not know their objectives, their numbers, or their plan of attack."

"We should expect an attack at nightfall I think," said Diomedes.

"No," replied Gelden, "A sandstorm is coming soon. Aramus would never fail to take advantage of such a thing."

Diomedes nodded after a moment. "You know him best," he said.

Then Gelden raised a hand to his ear and listened as one of his Company spoke to him. "Captain Diomedes, enemy drop pods are on their way towards our position. Eight detected. Wait, now confirmed that fifteen drop pods are falling. More on their way."

Diomedes swallowed heavily. "Pull patrols back and entrench your positions Brothers. We cannot afford to be surrounded. Gelden, focus your forces in the village. Keep any enemies out of our main base. Apothecary, give me a few of your marines to hold our headquarters, and use the rest to secure the maintenance area."

Gelden nodded and ran off to join his Company. Already the drop pods were visible in the sky, streaking down at breakneck speeds. As he left, Galan rallied the Honor Guard over the vox. As the men gathered, he said "Roland and Haphaestion will stay with Captain Diomedes in the Headquarters. He needs to remain in control of the situation from the command chambers. Everyone else, we hold this position."

As Diomedes returned to the bunker, Galan and the rest of the Honor Guard took up positions around the entrance. There were multiple hardened defenses around the stairs descending into the bunker. They would be well protected.


Cyrus smiled. His squad was position above Diomedes' base, looking down on The Honor Guard in cover. Hours before, they had infiltrated via land speeder from miles to the north. The badlands had slowed them, but not so much that they could not reach their position in time.

"Keep quiet scouts," he said. "Our objective is to observe and mark targets. Remember, we do not know who is traitor or loyal, so we are only to divert attention. Lethal force is absolutely forbidden."

His scouts silently nodded their affirmation. Satisfied, Cyrus removed the infrared target marker from the pouch on his belt and attached it to his rifle. Raising the weapon to his shoulder, he slowly marked positions for drop pods to land. None of the ones in the first wave were manned. In fact, the majority of his brothers had already deployed. Only two drop pods held any marines at all. In seconds the first would land. As the red missiles dropped closer and closer, the winds began to pick up. The sandstorm was moving in, a hurricane of dark red sand that would reduce visibility to nearly nothing.

Loren watched as the drop pods came closer and closer. Gelden was wrong. There must have been a dozen or more of them coming down. The majority were headed towards the village, with only four or five coming down towards the Honor Guard.

Then the drop pods hit. Within seconds, the sandstorm had hit the village in full. Obscuring dust struck the Honor Guard positions, forcing them to look away as the first wave drop pod ramps lowered. Then their positions were under heavy fire. The drop pods' internal storm bolters and missile launchers began firing in every direction. Bolt rounds exploded against plasteel and rockcrete, tearing chunks from the top of Diomedes' bunker.

Loren dropped deeper into cover as the shots landed all around them. He looked up for a split second. The drop pods were empty. Save for the automated weapons, nothing else was coming out of the pods.

"Keep in cover, Honor Guard," ordered Galan. "Wait it out."


On the south side of the village, a single drop pod among the multitudes disgorged Thaddeus and Aramus. Without pausing to look around, the two marines sprinted north, rushing into the village.

All around them, the drop pods sprayed bolt rounds and missiles. The intent was not to cause casualties. In fact, the motion trackers on the drop pods had been programed specifically to avoid hitting moving targets. While the 5th Company dove for cover, Aramus and Thaddeus ran by without fear. To the 5th Company, they were just a few marines trying to reach cover.

With little effort, the pair passed up two of the three checkpoints that the 5th Company had set up. The third however, would not be so easy a task. Fewer drop pods had landed in that area and the marines guarding it were more aware of movement. Rather than try to rush it head on like the previous two, Thaddeus and Aramus drifted to the left, following the advice of Martellus over the vox.

"This way," said Aramus. They headed further left, towards the steep drop off near the next house. The village was at its thinnest point. A bad step would send them tumbling hundreds of feet.

"What will happen to the civilians?" asked Thaddeus. He had not objected to the plan at first, but now his subdued compassion was breaking through.

"They will be fine I think," said Aramus. "There are only a few missile launchers among the drop pods. Explosive damage should be minimal."

"That was a clever ruse," said a voice behind them. "You nearly made it through all three checkpoints."


Diomedes looked at the tactical display in front of him. Drop pods were everywhere, and his marines were pinned down at every position. Worse, no one had any idea of the enemy's true numbers or objective.

He picked up the vox horn laying on the table next to him and demanded a status report. "Captain, Apothecary, casualties? Where is the enemy?"

"Captain Gelden here, zero casualties, no sign on enemy forces. The drop pods are empty."

"Apothecary Galan reporting. Zero casualties, no hostiles in sight."

"Understood," replied Diomedes. "If enemy forces are sighted, do not fire unless fired upon. This is some strategy, though I do not understand their objective."


Galan nodded to himself at Captain Diomedes' orders. "As you wish Captain, we will use restraint."

The gunfire around them was beginning to die down. Some of the drop pods had completely blown through their ammo, while others still fired away. The maintenance area was a mess. The ground was pockmarked with pits from where bolt rounds had detonated, interspersed with larger craters where missiles had struck. Sand and smoke obscured everything, creating a vision of a rusted metallic hell.

A thunderous boom was heard about twenty yards from the Honor Guard defenses. Another drop pod had landed. As it opened, Galan saw a flash of movement inside. Astartes were exiting the pod. There were three, armed with chainswords and bolt pistols and wearing jump packs.

"On me," said Galan as he leapt from cover. "Surround the scum!"

The Honor Guard gave a cheer and followed. In their midst, Loren was confused. He had never questioned his purpose before. It was unbecoming of a member of the Honor Guard. Now was different however. Galan was pursuing when Diomedes requested caution.

"Come to us Brothers!" shouted Brother Ikaros. Despite the taunting, the three marines simply ran, and no fire was exchanged between the groups. The assault squad used their jump packs sparingly, keeping ahead of the Honor Guard with short spurts.

The Assault Squad ran southeast. In one jump they cleared the sloping bank of sand, descending into the ruins of the village overtaken by the desert. The storm was fiercer here. Nothing existed to block the sand-filled wind, but the Assault Squad continued on regardless. With the Honor Guard in hot pursuit, the squad ran further into the abandoned section of the town, passing caved in buildings and boulders eroded by the fierce wind.

Suddenly the squad activated their jump packs, leaping into the distance. Their quarry gone, the Honor Guard halted. Then, a vox enhanced voice pierced the howling winds.

"Galan, you and your Honor Guard are surrounded. Do not make any sudden movements, and we will not resort to violence."

Loren looked around and realized that the voice was right. To the left, a Devastator squad was taking cover in an abandoned house. Ahead was a dreadnought, and scattered all around were tactical marines. He thought about reaching up to his relic blade, but realized something. If the others had wanted to kill them, they would never have announced their presence. He would wait to see where the situation led them.


Aramus and Thaddeus turned to face the voice. Leaning against the house the just passed was Captain Gelden. He stared at the two with a crossed arms and a small smile, then pushed himself off the wall and walked towards them.

"Captain," said Aramus quietly. The happiness on his face melted away after a moment however, and his hand hung above the hilt of his power sword. Behind him, Thaddeus was lowering himself into a fighting stance.

Then they were surrounded. A half a dozen marines came from both the north and south, pointing bolters at the pair.

"Peace," said Gelden. "My marines are only here to ensure an amiable discussion."

Aramus remained silent, so Gelden continued. "Why have you come here? To kill Diomedes?"

"If he has fallen, yes," said Aramus.

"To Chaos?" scoffed Gelden. "He would never. I do not trust his company however. The Honor Guard has been suspicious of late. They are a secluded lot, and such solitude never breeds good intent."

"It may be as you fear," said Aramus. "Weeks ago, the 4th Company boarded the Judgment of Carrion. We used the Hulk's logic engine to decipher coded messages from a traitor in our ranks."

Gelden looked past Aramus at Thaddeus, who nodded slowly. Then the Captain said, "Go on."

"The traitor implicated Galan, and called him 'daemonhost'. Worse, we found the corpses on Honor Guard brothers on board, yet they are still listed in the Chapter register."

"That is disconcerting," said Gelden. "Galan has orders to only fire when fired upon, though if what you say is true, I doubt he will follow those orders."

"Thank you Captain," said Aramus.

"You have not yet told me why you came," said Gelden with a smile. "Skulking like this is not like you Aramus. Since I have confirmed that Diomedes is not fallen, what will you do?"

"We are to distract Diomedes while a comrade of ours steals the Honor Guard vox codes," said Thaddeus.

"Cyrus I presume?" said Gelden. "He will have little trouble, save for finding the codes. They do not exist. The Honor Guard uses an encryption mechanism that attaches to their vox casters. You should tell him if you have any hope of finding whatever it is you seek."

Aramus' eyes widened and he quickly nodded at Thaddeus. Seconds later, the Assault Sergeant voxed Cyrus to inform him.

"Come with me," said Gelden. "The checkpoint is open to you."

Aramus and Thaddeus followed the Captain, and were in turn followed by Gelden's bodyguard.

"We did not see you Commander," said one of the 5th Company marines.

"Aye," said another. "The sandstorm fouled our auspexes."

As they walked through the checkpoint, a small emplacement of stone and sandbags, Gelden said, "By the way, I allowed Martellus to intercept our communications. If he ever becomes overly proud, tell him so."

Aramus laughed. Perhaps he had underestimated his old Captain. They walked on for a few minutes, occasionally passing other 5th Company marines who gave the sign of the Aquila in respect to Aramus. Then Gelden stopped. Ahead was an upward sloping hill of dark stone that melded into a ramp of rockcrete.

"You must go on alone now," said Gelden. "And remember, anyone else you encounter will be a foe."

"Thank you Captain," said Aramus. "I will not forget this."

"You were the greatest of the 5th Company Aramus," said Gelden. "You have my trust. Go on now. Destroy the traitors in our ranks. For the Emperor."

"Yes, and the Great Father," replied Aramus. Then, to the east there was gunfire. One shot at first, followed by others. Then a second volley began. A battle had started, one that no true Blood Raven had wished for.


Cyrus watched the Honor Guard run off, chasing Augustine's squad. Now was his chance. He placed his rifle next to him and uncoiled the rappelling cord from his belt.

"Scouts, stay here and watch for enemy movement. You are absolutely forbidden from firing, even when shot at. We must have the moral high ground in this."

His squad grunted in acknowledgment as Cyrus punched one of the cord's supports into the cliff face. Seconds later, he was gone, lowing himself to the bottom of the hundred foot long drop.

Landing on the plasteel ground of the maintenance area, he quickly stepped into the shadows. There were few guards however. Even the entrance to Diomedes' base was unguarded save for a single Chapter serf at a hardened emplacement ten yards from the door. The man was too occupied listening to the gunfire to see Cyrus slip by, and in seconds, the scout sergeant was inside the bunker.

"Vox room," he muttered to himself. As Thaddeus had informed him, the codes were not a string of numbers to find on a discarded sheet of paper, but a machine. In any case, the vox room could not be far under the earth. Too deep and the signals would be broken up. At the first corner, Cyrus took a left, moving on even ground through the dim halls dug straight from the red stone.

It took him only a few minutes to find the room. As he suspected, it was close to the surface, protected but still close enough to transmit. A single chapter serf sat at a table at the other end of the small room, looking over transcripts from conversations. Scattered around the room were half empty crates of paper and disassembled vox units.

Silently, Cyrus crept up to the serf and slowly removed his combat knife from his belt.

He gently placed the cold metal against the man's neck and said, "Where is the Honor Guard encryption unit?"

The man nearly fell out of his seat at the cold touch, and sat still for a moment, working his jaw. Then he reached out and grabbed a small black box, no more than a foot long and half wide. Its outside had a mess of wires attached with ports for linking to helmet vox. Looking at it again, Cyrus noticed heavy structural damages. Somebody had deliberately beaten on it, and he could see locations where a knife had been taken to it. Through a hole he could see that some of the insides had been torn apart.

"Is this the only one?" asked Cyrus.

"Y-yes," stuttered the man. "Sec-security purposes."

"Why is it damaged?" Cyrus said, steel in his voice.

"I'm not sure," said the serf. Courage was returning to his voice. "Captain Diomedes found it like that this morning. It was set to undergo repairs, but the damage was extensive. It could take days."

"Very well," said Cyrus. He took the knife and put it back into his sheath, then exited as quietly as he entered. By the time the serf turned around, he was alone.


Loren was tense. His hand was raised, hovering above his shoulder. However, he knew that if he so much as touched the hilt of his sword he would be killed within seconds. So he waited and watched as Galan stepped forward.

"Is that you Tarkus?" he asked. "Well met."

"You have much to answer for, Galan," said Tarkus, not acknowledging the greeting.

Loren furrowed his brow. What did Tarkus mean? Then Galan said, "Ah, I suppose you uncovered that message from our mutual friend. That was a foolish misstep, on both your parts. But I suppose that is a pattern of sorts among Blood Ravens."

Then over the helmet vox, Galan said, "Prepare to fire."

All around Loren, the Honor Guard was flipping safeties off their weapons. They were acting slowly, masking the movements behind others.

Loren stepped up to Galan. "Are you out of your mind?" he said.

Over the vox again, Galan said, "Prepare to fire."

The Honor Guard's hands hung over their weapons. They could draw them and begin shooting in less than a second. Loren would not let that come to pass however. They had orders. Worse, if even one shot was fired they would all be killed. He reached up for his sword, and with his other hand he pulled Galan around by the shoulder. He did not expect to be looking down the barrel of Galan's bolt pistol. The last thing he saw out of his right eye was the muzzle flash.


Augustine's eyes widened as Apothecary Galan shot down one of his own. Then the Honor Guard began firing on them. Bolt rounds fell around the 4th Company's positions, but no one was hit. Less than half a second later, Tarkus gave the order.

"Fire," he said. It was not a shout, just a short utterance. As one, the 4th Company opened up on the Honor Guard. Avitus was first to fire. Three heavy bolters began firing in unison, spraying the Honor Guard marines that were in the open. Linus fired a frag missile, and the shrapnel blew ones of the men to pieces. The mangled chunks of flesh and ceramite flew in every direction, breaking down to ash when they came to a rest on the rocky ground.

Immediately the Honor Guard tried to break out of their position. Four attempted to charge further south, where they were met with the implacable form of Captain Thule. His assault cannon roared, and in seconds two of the Astartes were reduced to a multitude of steaming limbs. One of the marines lost his arm to a slug, but in seconds the wound regenerated, armor and all.

"THEY HAVE FALLEN!" boomed Thule. "CHAOS MAGIC POWERS THEM! PURGE!"

He grabbed up with one with the regenerating arm and squeezed until the marine was little more than a hunk of oozing meat. Then he set him on fire. The last fled right into a krak missile from Linus. Nothing remained.

Augustine fired his bolt pistol alongside Alaris and Lloyd. They held the middle ground with Tarkus, where most of the traitors were charging. One of Augsutine's shots took a traitor in the chest, and the man fell in a burst of blood. Seconds later he was on his feet. The wound was not fatal.

"Augustine!" he shouted as he jumped over the cover separating them. "Time to die!"

"Bonaparte!" replied Augustine. A power sword stabbed toward his face and Augustine pulled back just in time to avoid it. He felt the heat welling up within him, and immediately noticed something odd. He could see the aura's of his brothers and of Galan, though the Apothecary's was subdued. Bonaparte and the other Honor Guard members were invisible. They were cold, dead.

To the right, Alaris stepped past Bonaparte's guard and jammed his chainsword through the marine's throat. Bonaparte gurgled as dark blood sprayed from the wound, but he did not fall. Then he was engulfed in flame. Librarian Orion moved past Augustine, pointing his staff at the traitor.

"Burn them Brothers!" he advised. "The righteous flame is the bane of all those who serve the Ruinous Powers!"

As he spoke, Augustine added his own heat to the inferno. Bonaparte tried to move, but the unholy energy that gave him life ended its flow. His body disintegrated into little more than black ash. After Bonaparte died, Augustine realized something. These things were not true Space Marines. Yes, they had the bodies and the minds, but these things were just mockeries of actual Astartes. They had none of the real experience, their tactics and memories did not give them the smooth efficiency that the 4th Company held. They were fakes. The sound of more gunfire pulled him from his thoughts, and he returned to the front line.

The numbers of the Honor Guard were dwindling. With only ten Astartes total, they were now down to half strength. Worse, they were still stuck in the open, trapped in a deadly crossfire. Codicier Orion launched orbs of fire into the open, immolating one of the marines. Another tried to charge, only to be shot by Tarkus' plasma gun and then torn apart by close range shots from Lyon. Galan and the final marine attempted to pull back to a house, but the apothecary was separated from the other by suppressing fire. He could only watch as the last Honor Guard member was lit on fire by Orion, then shot to pieces.


Galan was the only one left. He stood, ready to charge, but before the 4th Company could fire he was hit by a white blur.

"Galan!" screamed Harkon as he knocked the pistol from his mentor's grip. Galan countered with his chainsword, swinging in precise strokes. The path of the swings prevented dodging, forcing Harkon to backpedal. If it was not for Nikephoros, he would have been cornered and killed. The Pale Marine tackled Galan, throwing the chainsword from his grip. The apothecary stumbled, but managed to keep his footing.

Nikephoros struggled with all of his might, but he had underestimated Galan's strength. He no longer doubted that the Apothecary was a daemonhost. Galan gripped Nikephoros' arms and wrenched them back, pulling them away from his throat. The ceramite vambraces cracked under the pressure of Galan's grip.

"You cannot best me in a contest of strength brother," said Galan. He released Nikephoros' right arm, then launched his now free hand forward to punch him in the face. Just before his arm, hit, Nikephoros got his own punch in, barely a tap to the chest.

Galan's fist deformed Nikephoros' helmet as it hit. The eyepiece shattered under the blow and the vox grille dented inward. Nikephoros fell back and then slowly climbed to his feet before taking off his helmet.

"Are we through?" asked Galan. The politeness in his speech was turning to mockery.

"Yes," said Nikephoros, wiping clotted blood from his split lip. "Augustine is not the only one that can plan."

Galan cocked his head as Nikephoros smiled, and then looked down at his chest. There, where Nikephoros had punched him, was an activated krak grenade. He looked back up at the Pale Marine in realization.

"I see," he said, just before the grenade went off.

In an instant, Galan's body imploded on itself. The lower torso was crushed, as were the legs and his right arm. Yet, despite the horrific injury, he still lived. Whatever unholy thing had given him his strength was now slowing his death. Galan clung to life, coughing weakly to himself.

Slowly, Tarkus approached, keeping his plasma gun trained on the ruined torso.

"Galan," he said quietly.

The dying man coughed heavily, then spoke. "He has left me," he said. As the words left his mouth, blood flowed freely from his wounds. His white armor had been wholly stained.

"He?"

"Kankieros, the daemon. . ." Galan sounded different. Through the pain, elation was evident in his voice.

"Thank you," he said. His breaths were weak. His body struggled to live on despite the wounds. Quickly, Tarkus knelt at his side.

"What happened to the Honor Guard?" he asked quickly. "How did you become like this?"

"The Voice of Ulkair claimed them," he said, his voice becoming delirious. "It was like a horrible dream. My body acted. . . did horrible things. I could only watch."

"What were became of the Honor Guard?"

Galan's voice dropped. "Died on the hulk. . . turned to puppets of flesh, mockeries of life."

"Is Diomedes fallen?" Avitus said quickly.

"Pure. He and the others are untainted," Galan said.

"Who did this to you?" asked Harkon. His helmet was off, and for the first time since the mission began, it seemed that his anger had broken.

Galan convulsed, and then grabbed Tarkus' gorget. "K-k," he coughed. Blood ran freely from his mouth and nose.

Tarkus looked down at Galan with a frown. "Who did this?" asked Tarkus, but no response came. Life had abandoned Galan.

"He was trying to speak," said Lyon.

"He was," replied Orion, "but it seems Galan will take his final secret to the grave with him."

Then Harkon spoke with astonishment in his voice. "Brothers, he still lives!"

He was not talking about Galan, but the Honor Guard member with the relic blade, shot in the head by Galan. Loren was still breathing. The bolt round had never detonated. At such close range, it had torn out his right eye and exited near the temple. Only a miracle had kept his brain matter in his head. Carefully, Harkon wrapped the wound.

Then there was a great crack. Behind them marines stood five terminators. They were not Tanthius' squad, but those of Sergeant Akileus, a member of Diomedes' expedition. Then from above, they heard a voice.

"You murderous, treasonous scum!" hissed Captain Diomedes. He walked down the sand bank towards the marines. In his right hand was his power axe, and on his left, his lightning claw glinted. "You are honorless," he said. "The lot of you."

"Open your eyes," said Aramus. Diomedes spun around as the Commander and Thaddeus stepped out of the shadows behind him. "We fight to protect the subsector while you hide. You would abandon these worlds to the Black Legion!"

"Yes," said Harkon, "and you take council with heretics like Galan and the other members of the Honor Guard."

"Do not lecture me!" shouted Diomedes. "I follow the orders of Chapter Master Kyras! You are the only heretics I see here!"

"Did Galan tell you of his time on the Judgment of Carrion?" asked Tarkus. "How a daemon was bound to his flesh, or how the Honor Guard was replaced by things that only look like men? What of Ulkair? Did he mention that?"

Diomedes stopped walking down the bank as a chill took him. He slowly turned to Tarkus. "Ulkair," he said, shuddering as he spoke. "Where did you hear that name?"

"From Galan," said Tarkus.

Diomedes was quiet for a long while. Finally he spoke in a softer tone than before. "The Black Legion is massing on Aurelia for some sort of ritual. You will find your final battle there."

"Come with us Diomedes," said Aramus. "Redeem the Honor Guard in battle."

After a moment Diomedes replied. "I cannot disobey orders. Go from here, lest I change my mind."

Aramus nodded, and in silence the rest of the 4th Company pulled back. As they returned to the extraction point, Martellus voxed Aramus.

"I have retrieved Cyrus," he said. "The vox encryption device was highly damaged. It will take some time to repair."

"Galan has been dealt with," replied Aramus, "but he has only left us with more questions. Regardless, we must deal with the Black Legion first. Send an astropathic message to Captain Angelos immediately. We go to Aurelia."


Ariston no longer knew whether it was a day or night cycle. Time did not matter aboard the Monument of Sin. What he did know was that it was time for his escape. Hours before, he had felt the lurch of a Warp exit. They were in the Materium, and a planet could not be far off.

Quickly, he ran through the halls. While he had never memorized the layout of the ship, he had learned a lot about its makeup in the time since he had escaped. He knew the ship responded to willpower, but how was a mystery.

Over his tunic he had fashioned crude armor. He had spent what he reckoned was a day in the boiler rooms below. Discarded sheet metal was turned into a breastplate, greaves, and vambraces. In his right hand was a jagged piece of metal, made for short thrusts and little else. It would do in an emergency, but he needed a bolter more than anything.

Though he was ready to fight his way out, Ariston met no resistance. The only sound besides the hum of the material engines of the ship was his own footsteps. And although he did not understand the layout of the ship, it was not long before he found a hanger. Though the red light permeated the hanger as it did all the halls and rooms of the ship, the high ceiling above was cloaked in black. No light could pierce the darkness above, no matter how bright. Chains hung out of the unknown above, holding the smaller craft in their berths like chained animals.

As he entered, Ariston noted a damaged fighter, a hell-talon. Before his very eyes, the chains around the needle-like fighter tightened, and the wounded vessel was pulled into the darkness above. Whether it was sent to be repaired or destroyed, Ariston did not know.

Quickly, the scout sergeant ran to one of the fighters, passing the line of hell-talons by. He had no use for a servitor piloted craft. After a moment of searching, he found an Arvus Lighter, recently captured he guessed. The Aquila had been hastily daubed over with the red eye of Horus. Ariston immediately began working at the chains, loosening them as best as he could. There were four holding the Lighter in place, and it took him almost ten minutes to get the first off.

Suddenly, the hair on his neck stood on end, and he slowly turned around. From his perch on top of the ship, he could see the length and breadth of the hanger. Back towards the entrance, mere feet from where he had walked, stood a black clad man with a shimmering cloak around his shoulders. His face was blackened, though by burns or mutation it was impossible to tell.

"You have noticed me," said the man. "Finally."

He stepped forward, and Ariston could see that his hands were empty. "You did not think we would let you escape, did you?" he continued. "Lord Eliphas greatly desires your presence at the end. You will play a key role, Ariston of the 4th Company."

Ariston dropped down from his perch and picked up his improvised blade. He was cautious. Something about this man oozed lethality.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I am named Zephus," replied the man as he drew a needle from the pouch at his thigh. "Though you may recognize my title. In full I am called Zephus-Hassan, one of the last of my order."

There were few in the Loyalist chapters who would understand what those words meant. Perhaps Diomedes knew, perhaps Angelos. Regardless, the impact was lost on Ariston. All the scout could see was a rapidly growing threat, and his pulse quickened with every step Zephus-Hassan took.

Ariston saw his opening when the black clad Astartes placed a silver mask on his face. In a second, Ariston had closed the distance, thrusting his blade towards Zephus-Hassan's throat for a quick kill. With ease, his target slipped to the right, cleanly dodging the blow. A fist raced in, crumpling the hastily constructed armor on Ariston's chest. Before he could pull back, Zephus-Hassan's other fist struck his back. Ice took Ariston's legs and arms, and breathing became incredibly difficult. Holding Ariston up by an arm, Zephus-Hassan removed another needle from his pouch and thrust it through the back of Ariston's skull. Suddenly moving his limbs became impossible.

"I have paralyzed you," Zephus-Hassan said. His voice had no anger in it. He spoke like a doctor applying treatment. "We cannot have you running again."

Ariston tried to speak, but keeping his consciousness required enough concentration. His vision dimmed and after a few more seconds, Ariston blacked out.


Author's note: Lots of thanks to LD 1449 for editing. We're getting very close to the climax of the Chaos Rising arc. I hope you people are enjoying it so far. If any of you ask "You promised lots of people dying? Why are lots of people still alive?" I can only chuckle to myself. Drop a review if you feel like it or send a PM.