Nothing But a List of Names to Mark his Ascension

Chapter 49: Traitor Revealed

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


An hour after the thunderhawks returned to the Retribution, Aramus met with Martellus and Orion. Rather than meet in his workshop, or a tactical room, the three spoke in the depths of the ship's reclusiam, where no marine would tread.

"Here you are Techmarine," said Aramus. He handed Martellus the encryption machine, allowing the Techmarine to examine the brutalized mechanism.

"This will take some time to fix," said Martellus.

"It would be better to complete it before we arrive at Aurelia," said Orion. He was deep in thought. They were so close to discovering the traitor.

"I agree," said Martellus. "While a battle onboard a craft travelling through the Warp is not advisable, we must not allow the traitor to escape."

Then the fourth member of the conversation spoke, his voice coming through the group's vox.

"Yes, but we cannot delay. Gabriel may already be in combat with Eliphas. We must aid him with all haste."

Captain Thule's voice was very different over the vox. It lacked the booming enhancer mounted on his dreadnought and returned a semblance of humanity to his voice. It was quiet and wet, gurgling at times and mechanically dry at others. It did not sound like the voice of a human, and Aramus wished that his normal voice was as loud and bombastic as the one his dreadnought projected. Aramus understood the gravity of the situation. Thule spent most of his time sleeping. For him to speak to them over the vox, rather than in the dreadnought, must have caused him intense pain. However, the Captain must have realized how important the talk was. He would not risk their discovery, no matter how hideous the pain was.

"Very well," said Martellus, turning to leave the Reclusiam. "I will do my best to repair this. I will vox you immediately when it is done."

"Tell no one else of this," said Orion.

"We cannot allow the traitor to know about this meeting," said Thule. "Remain vigilant, and hold your tongue on these matters."

"As you wish," said Martellus. Then he was gone. Aramus and Orion lingered for a short while.

"When we find the traitor, what do we do?" asked Orion. "I have ideas of my own, but I would like to hear your plan Commander."

Aramus smiled. "Simple. When Martellus tells us who the traitor is, we quietly alert the other Sergeants. Then, we will have a tactical meeting concerning the traitor. Then, at a predetermined signal, we subdue, question, and then execute him."

"I see," said Orion. "Would the traitor not expect to be uncovered at such a meeting?"

Aramus rubbed his chin and said, "Perhaps it should not be a meeting about the traitor."

"I agree," said Thule. "It should concern the Black Legion's movements."

"Then that will be it," said Aramus. "Until then, may the Emperor be with you."

Without another word, Aramus left the room, with Orion following a few minutes later to not make it immediately obvious that they were talking. Until the time when the traitor would be revealed, the three went about their business to maintain an air of ignorance. Everything relied on the cancer in their ranks remaining unaware of the closing vice.


Diomedes met with Gelden in the early morning, in his office on Calderis. After the 4th Company had launched their raid, the camp had been in an uproar. Diomedes was unsure of what to do. Nine members of his Honor Guard had been revealed as traitors and killed. There was no reason to doubt what Aramus had said. Loren, the only Honor Guard survivor of the battle, had been shot by Galan for refusing to fire at the 4th Company.

However, this truth left Diomedes above a vast pit of despair. Galan was not a friend, but he had always been a close advisor. Now Diomedes wondered how much of Galan's advice had led him astray. He did not know when Galan had fallen to Chaos. He had known every member of the Honor Guard for over a century. When had Chaos taken them?

"Captain, may I come in?" Following the voice, there was a knock on the door.

"Yes," said Diomedes. The door opened and Gelden stepped inside, fully armored.

For a while, no one said anything. Then Diomedes said, "How is Loren?"

"Badly wounded," replied Gelden. "He regained consciousness last night though, and swore to kill Galan in a variety of brutal fashions. He calmed considerably after we told him that Galan was dead."

"I trust he confirmed Aramus' story?" asked Diomedes. The Honor Guard Captain rested his face in his bare hands. He was tired, and the fatigue showed. Diomedes' scarred visage was paler than usual and his eyes held none of the fury that they usually did.

"Loren swears that Galan ordered the Honor Guard to open fire on the 4th Company," said Gelden.

"And Galan himself vouched for the purity of Roland and Haphaestion," said Diomedes with a nod. "I believe that in the end, he told the truth. Galan was not always evil."

"You see now incidents where he could have led you astray?"

"Yes," said Diomedes. "On Akeron, Galan led a patrol with Ikaros and Mateus. They discovered a village in the mountainous regions. Later he reported to me evidence of xenos influence. On his recommendation, we destroyed the village, killing all within. I do not know whether this was truth or lie, but I am wary now."

"If I may speak freely," said Gelden.

A bit of sharpness returned to Diomedes' eyes as he looked up at the 5th Captain. After a moment, he spoke in a firm tone. "Do so."

"Captain, I fear that it was your pride that blinded you to Galan's treachery."

Diomedes stared up at Gelden. Anger filled him, but he suppressed it. He had told Gelden to speak freely, and he did. "You think that I am ignorant?"

"No," said Gelden. "However, I do believe that you place an undue amount of trust in your own decision making. You would rather press on that admit a lie. Rather, you wish to believe your own lie."

Diomedes stood in a flash. "Are you questioning my capacity to command?" he yelled. A vein bulged at his temple, and he slammed his hand on the desk. "I am Captain of the Honor Guard! I served as Captain of the 1st Company for two centuries! What have you done, Gelden of the 5th? You followed Boreale to dishonor and defeat on Kaurava! You, Captain, are much more suited to following than leading!"

Gelden shrank back slightly at Diomedes' outburst. It was true that he doubted his own leadership. Kaurava had seen half of his Company die due to a foolish strategy, yet Gelden did nothing. Ever since then, he had remained wary of his decisions, and those of his Commanders.

"Captain, I believe you cannot see the faults in those that you place your trust in," said Gelden. "I did not know Galan well, but the fact that you can now recognize suspicious events with clarity shows that you had your doubts at the time."

Diomedes did not respond. His pride was indeed too great. He would never admit that he had been too blind to see corruption so close.

Gelden stood still, waiting for Diomedes to say something. When he did not, the 5th Captain spoke again. "What will we do?" he said. "You have told me before you will not disobey the Chapter Master's orders, but will you allow Thule and Angelos to die in vain?"

"Angelos violates Chapter Master Kyras' orders by fighting," said Diomedes. "I will not help a renegade."

"What of Ulkair then?" asked Gelden. "I do not understand the significance of the name, but rumor has spread around the men."

Diomedes' head snapped up and he stared at Gelden. "Ulkair was a daemon sealed a thousand years ago by Chapter Master Moriah," he said.

"Why would Galan mention such a thing?"

"I know not," replied Diomedes. "However, the implications are there. If the daemon inside Galan was a pawn of Ulkair, then the Black Legion could seek to release Moriah's seal. That possibility cannot be ignored."

"Then you will fight?" asked Gelden. He smiled. If Diomedes took the Scientia Est Potentia to Aurelia, the battle would surely turn to the Blood Ravens' favor.

"No," said Diomedes. Gelden instantly deflated, disappointed by the Captain's response. "However," continued Diomedes. "Our Chapter Master ordered me to recover Angelos and Thule for the Ferrox Rift Crusade. I was also ordered to refrain from doing battle with the Black Legion. You are not bound by either of those orders."

Gelden nodded. "I see."

"Yes," said Diomedes. "I cannot deny that the Black Legion is a grave threat. They must be dealt with. However, my honor will not permit me to disobey a direct order. Therefore, you will do battle, and I will recover Angelos and Thule. Both our wishes will then be satisfied."

"I am glad you have come to a decision," said Gelden.

"I do not like it, even if it serves both of our purposes," said Diomedes. "Adhering to the letter of an order but violating the spirit is dishonorable still. For necessity's sake, it shall be done."

Then Diomedes stood, with renewed vigor on his face. "We leave tomorrow. Prepare your Company for departure."


"Move up," said Kippler. He and Verisson, the 11th Company marksman, advanced side by side up the wide avenue.

"Any contact?" asked Alek over the vox. Merrick and the others were trailing about half a mile behind Kippler and Verisson. Stealth was paramount. A squad of guardsmen, no matter how well trained, could easily be overwhelmed by numbers.

"A few isolated cultists," said Kippler. "We've had little trouble taking them out. Holding position."

The sun was just beginning to rise. The Daredevils were moving towards the southwest, towards taller buildings in the distance. Out to the far west, the sounds of battle could be heard. Castille and the rest of the regiment were already in fierce combat.

In a few minutes, Merrick and the others reached Kippler's position. The squad moved off the road, going to ground on the right sidewalk next to a line of small shops, all abandoned now. Corpses were everywhere, decayed remains of civilians killed by the invaders.

"What do you think?" asked Hurst. "Kippler, what's the best position?"

Kippler slung his rifle and pulled out a map. "We need to travel another ten miles or so to reach the Administratum building. Once we're in the area, we can find a taller building. As for now, this one looks good."

He pointed to a square on the map. "What is it?" asked Merrick.

"It's a hub for the Hive's electrics on this level," said Kippler. "It's mostly abandoned, but the maintenance levels stretch almost to the roof of the Hive."

"Is that it?" asked Remer, pointing to a structure in the distance. They could see a thin obelisk reaching up towards the ceiling. Its outside was surrounded with wires and scaffolding.

"Yes," said Kippler. "The building itself is out of sight." He pointed at the map again, showing the sprawling complex, of which the obelisk was only part of. "See, it stretches about half a mile to the northeast. Basically, all that area is just valves, wires, and meters. Some things that need to be checked every once in a while."

"You think we can sneak in there undetected?" asked Hurst.

"Absolutely," said Kippler. "If the enemy is focused on defeating Castille's force, a few hundred would easily make it there."

"Alright then," let's move up," said Merrick. In the distance, the sounds of combat were becoming louder.


"Mortal scum!" hissed Crowley. He stepped through his summoned flame. All around him, cultists died. The force of the Imperial Guard was overwhelming. With only a scant handful of Chaos Space Marines, Crowley's force had to rely on Vandis troops and the even less trained cult forces.

"Hold them here!" he shouted. Crowley extended his hand, and reality split in front of him. Out of the chasms, warpfire consumed the street. Still, the Guard advanced on. Through the acrid smoke came chimera transports, with Leman Russ battle tanks lumbering behind. The sound of their cannons had become a death knell for many Chaos Marines in the past days.

A pulse of energy passed Crowley's left side. The lascannon shot struck the lead chimera, blowing off the turret. Seconds later, the men inside piled out. They wore dark green armor. The usual foe, thought Crowley. He pointed his bedlam staff at them, and the air shook. The vibrations hit the guardsmen in seconds. As one, they exploded into hot blood. Behind them, the ruined chimera cracked under the pressure of the air.

"Pathetic," said Crowley. With a yell, the cultists charged. Many were armed with little more than clubs. They were fanatics, naked and insane. Still, they did their part. Scattered among the cultists were the Black Legionnaires. They fought individually. Their numbers had run too low to be effective as squads.

Two battle tanks approached. They kept their profiles to a minimum, using the smoke and wrecked vehicles ahead of them to cover their advance. Crowley pulled back, allowing the cultists to charge ahead and die. Even with his sorcery he was no match for two tanks. Another lascannon shot fired. The beam of energy struck the front of one of the Leman Russ tanks. However, the shot was ineffective. The front armor was scarred, but the tank was undeterred.

Crowley looked back. The Chaos Marine with the lascannon was relocating. Inside of a building, he was moving towards the ground floor when both Leman Russ tanks fired their cannon. Immediately, Crowley's autosenses shut off their audio function to save his ears. Then the earth rumbled as the building collapsed.

Then Crowley saw the infantry pushing up. Dozens of guardsmen with a variety of uniforms. Above, Valkyrie gunships dropped off black armored men, naval armsmen. The forces of Chaos were not only outgunned, they were rapidly becoming outnumbered.

The cultists continued to charge, and were mowed down in the hundreds. Over the vox, Crowley quickly ordered the remaining Black Legionnaires to pull back. The eight Astartes immediately withdrew, making for a defensive emplacement two hundred yards back. There, behind rockcrete barriers lined with razor wire, Vandis Guard heavy weapons teams locked and loaded their support weapons.

Vandis troops rallied around them, dropping into craters formed my mortar barrages. All in all, four hundred of Vandis' men held the road. Then from the ruins of the building destroyed by the tanks, a Legionnaire burst out of the rubble. As he approached, Crowley saw that he carried a ruined lascannon with him. His weapon was destroyed, but his power armor had remained intact.

"I thought you had died," said Crowley.

"To just two tanks?" replied the marine. "Foolish."

He leapt over the rockcrete barricade and stormed over to a Vandis weapon emplacement. The men manning the autocannon shrank back as he approached.

"Move," he ordered, grabbing the barrel of the weapon.

"But, my lord-" began one of the heretics, before his head was crushed under the Legionnaire's boot.

"No back talk," said the Astartes. He lifted up the autocannon with ease, and attached the ammo box to his armor, letting the ammo belt hang between. "More ammo," he ordered. Immediately, the heretics gave him three full boxes of ammunition, which he attached to his belt.

Crowley turned back to the battle before them. The Cultists were being annihilated. Guard infantry was pushing up in even greater numbers. At his side, the marine with the autocannon began firing. Simultaneously, all the Vandis emplacements opened up on the Imperial Guard. Both of the lead Leman Russ tanks were destroyed in seconds. Even their heavy armor had not stopped the barrage of missiles and lascannon shots. The infantry took cover behind the burning vehicles, firing weakly in response.

"Yes! YES!" shouted Crowley. "Come to me, Imperial Guard! Let my figure be the last thing you see!"

He did not know how long the Black Legion would be able to hold them there. The Black Legion would not retreat quickly though. They would make the Imperial Guard suffer for every step.


The Litany of Fury had rested in orbit over Aurelia for three days. After Araghast's defeat, Captain Angelos and the 3rd Company had traveled straight to Aurelia with all haste. Their objective had been to crush the Black Legion utterly. That goal had been stalled.

Aurelia had changed since they last beheld it. The northern continent had fragmented in the weeks that the Blood Ravens had been gone. Through some unholy force, great pieces of earth now floated in the lower atmosphere, suspended in the air. Scans detected heavy Black Legion presence on one of the larger chunks, an area that held ruins of an ancient Blood Raven monastery. Getting to it would be difficult. Many of the smaller chunks were bristling with defenses. Thunderhawks would have to fly through miles of anti-air fire, and drop pods would send Astartes into battlefields with no possibility of fire support.

"We have a list of targets for you Captain," said Sergeant Corallis. He walked up to Angelos' command lectern on the bridge and handed him the data slate he carried with him.

It took Angelos only a few seconds to skim the memo. He looked up at Corallis. "How many of these do you think we can simply bombard?"

"I would say that half of the enemy positions can be neutralized from orbit. Another group of indeterminate number can be eliminated through close air strikes by means of thunderhawk gunships. There are only a few that will require Astartes on the ground."

"I see you have named them yourself," said Angelos.

"Yes," replied Corallis with a nod. "I believe that Strongholds A through C represent the key points of enemy defense."

Angelos put down the dataslate. "Tell me then, what would you suggest to deal with them?"

"Strongpoint A used to be an area of mountain range. It is craggy, and in many places unstable. Foot soldiers would be useless for the most part. In fact, I would not trust the ground to hold under Astartes feet. From what we can tell, it is manned by Vandis troops with captured artillery. I would suggest Land Speeders be dispatched to deal with them, Typhoon pattern preferably."

"I see," said Angelos. "I will look over the maps and take that into consideration."

"As for B," said Corallis, "we know this area well. Commander Aramus and the 4th Company assaulted this area when they responded to the false distress signal. The Black Legion has heavily fortified the weather station, and while I have a few strategies, it is best to ask those who have already fought there."

"And the last?" asked Angelos.

Corallis frowned. "Stronghold C is by far the hardest. I am not sure what it used to be, but it is now a veritable fortress of rock and ice. Perhaps sorcery was used to transform the environment. Regardless, it will take the most effort to take. I suggest the entire 3rd Company focus on clearing C, with major bombardments to open the attack."

"Very well," said Angelos. "I will make my own additions to your suggestions."

"As you wish Captain," said Corallis. With that, he turned and marched off of the bridge. Angelos took the dataslate and handed it to an intelligence officer. Within minutes, the bridge's targeting display was showing the list of targets marked by Sergeant Corallis.

"Gunnery officers, take your time to look over these charts," said Angelos. "Please take Sergeant Corallis' recommendations into account when planning fire patterns. You may begin bombarding when ready."


"Fire in three, two, one, mark."

Kippler fired a single shot from his long-las. Half a second later, Verisson fired his, and the two Vandis heretics watching the road fell with burnt holes in their foreheads.

"Road secure," said Kippler into his vox. They had moved fast in the past few hours. Their objective, the electrics hub was only six miles away. Enemy activity was becoming scarcer and scarcer. Remer, not taking the opportunity to make dumb jokes, was sure that the advancing groups to the west were drawing them off. Merrick and the others had to agree.

"This is Captain Uther," said a voice over Alek's vox caster, "the rest of the group is moving up, hold that position and wait for our arrival. In other news, I've gotten word from Captain Banastre. The rest of the regiment is eliminating all resistance in their path."

"Copy that," said Merrick. He wasn't a big fan of Banastre, the 1st Company Captain of the 85th Vendoland. The man was too conventional, and tended to follow his own opinions without listening to anyone else. He was essentially Castille 2.0.

The squad moved into one of the nearby buildings to lay low. It was three stories tall with a flat roof, and Kippler immediately went to the top to make a lookout position. After a few minutes, he spotted a group moving on the road to the south.

"Sergeant-Major, we've got contact," he said into his microbead. "They look like cult troops that wandered off or something."

"Numbers?" asked Merrick.

"Seventy, maybe more," said Kippler.

"Copy that," said Merrick. "Let them get close, then we'll open fire. We need to ice them all."

Kippler watched the host approach. They walked without any formation or tactical sense. The weapons they carried were a mix of blades and crude firearms, with nothing to match the hellguns that the Daredevils carried. Still, a sword could kill, and the odds were nearly ten to one.

"Alright Kip," said Merrick. "I've got the guys prepared. Fire when ready."

Kippler breathed in deeply, and when he exhaled he put a single shot into the chest of a heretic carrying a light machine gun. As soon as the shot hit, the rest of the Daredevils exiting the building, firing their weapons on full auto. Remer and Vornas unloaded three frag grenades each, killing more than half of the traitors in one fell swoop. The rest were caught between the urge to charge, and the panic that told them to flee. It was the delay that cost them their lives. In the next twenty seconds, accurate fire from the rest of their squad cut down their numbers to less than two dozen. At that point, fear took them, but it was too late. Not a single cultist was able to withdraw.

"Well done," said Hurst. "Keep those eyes open Private Kippler. If another group comes, we need to know."

"Understood sir," replied Kippler. He quickly reloaded his long-las and double checked the sight calibration. Better safe than sorry.


Aramus opened his eyes and climbed from the cot in his chambers. What he had planned to be a short rest had turned into a long slumber. He was unsure of how long he had been asleep. Quickly, he washed and dressed himself and jogged to the bridge. As he entered, a tactical officer met him.

"My Lord," said the officer, a man of fifty to sixty terran years. "We exited the Warp a few hours ago. I was about to send a runner to get you. Normally you come as soon as we enter the Materium."

"So soon?" asked Aramus.

"I agree," said the officer. "It is strange, but the Lord Navigator reported that the Warp was with us."

"Praise the Emperor," mumbled Aramus, staring off into the realspace beyond the bridge. Below them hung the ice white orb of Aurelia. They were already in orbit.

"Yes, My Lord, this was His blessing."

Aramus nodded and looked down at the officer again. "Did I receive any vox messages while I was gone?"

The officer smiled, "No Commander. The ship has been very quiet."

Aramus sighed. He did not know whether that silence was good or bad. After a moment, he turned on his heel and returned to his quarters. He then grabbed his private vox, and made a call to Martellus.

"Techmarine, is it done?" he asked.

"Nearly so Commander," replied Martellus. "I am troubleshooting with the logic engine now. We should have it in a few hours or so."

"Well done," he said before returning the vox to its mount. He summoned the servitors to dress him for battle. They would deploy to Aurelia soon, and it was best to be prepared. As they filed into the room, he looked over his armor. Beaten, scarred, it had done its purpose well over the past few months. Like him, it had been battered and cracked, but it always rose again.

Half an hour later, he returned to the bridge. As soon as he entered, the communications officer said, "Captain Angelos is requesting to speak with you."

Aramus inclined his head in acknowledgement and said, "Put him on the screen."

After a few seconds, Captain Angelos' face flickered onto the viewscreen, armored as well, with his usual stern expression.

"Well met Commander," he said. "The Litany of Fury has already begun preliminary bombardments."

"That is good," replied Aramus. "I will have the Retribution shift its orbit to provide support as well."

"There is no need," said Angelos. "We are hours away from beginning our assault. Once the Black Legion's forward positions are dealt with, we can assault their main base."

"Do you know their objectives?" asked Aramus.

"I do not," said Angelos, "but I have been told there is an inordinate amount of Warp energy radiating from the larger islands in this area. The continent is breaking apart, and pieces are now floating in the atmosphere. This will be a truly alien battlefield."

"We must be wary then," said Aramus.

"Indeed," said Angelos then his tone changed. The stoic Captain disappeared and Angelos' paternal side surfaced. "I also wish to speak with you on another matter, one that Captain Thule has brought up."

"And that is?"

"He wishes to step down as Captain of the 4th Company," said Angelos. "He told me that he no longer has to capacity to react quickly to threats. Since you have been the acting Captain for some time, he has asked me to make it official."

Aramus' eyes widened. "You mean to say that I am Captain?"

"You may either take the title now, or when the battle is done," said Angelos, "But yes, you will be the 4th Captain of the Blood Ravens."

"I am honored," said Aramus. He still could not believe it. As proud as he was, he was always content to be the Commander under Thule's watch. "After we clear the outposts I will accept the title. I will go into our final battle as Captain Aramus."

"As you wish," said Captain Angelos. "Congratulations on you-"

Angelos stopped in midsentence as Aramus spun around. "What is it Commander?" he asked.

"Gunfire," replied the Aramus. "I must go."

Without further ado, he cut off the call. The bridge was silent. "I was not hearing things was I?" Aramus asked the bridge crew.

"No my Lord," replied one of the serfs. "We heard it as well. Two bolt rounds."

Then Aramus heard more gunshots echoing through the ship. There were a few at first, then dozens more.

Immediately Aramus opened up his vox. "All squads report in!" he shouted.

"Cyrus here, investigating gunshots."

"Mercutio here. I am unarmed, regrouping with my squad as we speak."

"This is Orion. The Reclusiam has been pillaged. Two chapter serfs are dead. Gunshots to the head took both of them. The reliquary is a mess. The traitor has stolen something from the armory."

"Martellus here, all secure at the workshops."

"Augustine reporting, dozens of dead serfs near the crew quarters. The blood is fresh."

"This is Thaddeus! I am in pursuit!"

"Thaddeus?" Aramus was nearly yelling into his vox. "Who is it?"

"I cannot see!" replied Thaddeus. "He has the lead on me."

"Where are you?" asked Cyrus.

"He is headed for the engineering decks!" said Thaddeus.

"Rally and pursue!" Aramus drew his power sword and charged into the depths of the ship.


Martellus returned to his desk in the workshop. There was no reason to leave when all of his Brothers were on the move. He grabbed the encryption box again and began working on the internal mechanisms once more. Despite the fact that its true purpose was now useless, it may shed light on other things. Who knows what other messages it could decode.

The door of the workshop opened with a hiss, and a figure stepped up to Martellus' desk. The room went silent. Adepts all around paused in their work to watch. Martellus looked up at the Astartes that stood before him, then at the glinting weapon in his hand. The Techmarine's eyes passed to the marine's belt, where two weapons were strapped, stolen from the armory.

"You lied," said Martellus, slowly. "You have betrayed us all."

"What did you expect?" said the Traitor. "That I would simply give myself up?"

"I expected that you of all people would have honor." There was no anger in the Techmarine's voice, just disappointment.

Martellus looked down at the desk. His bolter lay in front of him, just an arm's reach away. The safety was on, but the magazine was in place and a round was in the chamber. His enemy's weapon was already drawn, and it could not miss at this range. He ran the scenario through his head, allowing his internal cogitator to calculate his chances. Every response that came back saw him killed before he could get a shot off.

"Honor is not what I need," said the Traitor. "Right now, it is power."

"Your talk shames you," said Martellus. "Your treason has shown weakness that I thought you did not possess. What sort of power could be worth betraying your Chapter and Emperor?"

The traitor looked down at him, and the scar on the right side of his face twitched as he scowled. "The power to save you all, whether you like it or not."

"I will pass on that," said Martellus.

His hand shot out, grabbing the grip of his bolter. He raised it, pointing it at the face of the man before him. Before he could pull the trigger, something punched through his chest, knocking him back as blood sprayed over the desk. The gun fired twice as his hand spasmed, and the chair below him fell away. The last thing he saw before the dark took him was the Traitor slaughtering the adepts around him.


Aramus and the others burst into the Mechanicus workshops a few minutes later, following the sound of gunfire. Bodies were everywhere. The blood of the adepts pooled in the grooves of the floor. Harkon immediately ran to Martellus, whose body was shaking.

"He is still alive!" shouted the Apothecary. Harkon quickly tried to stop the bleeding, injecting coagulants into Martellus' bloodstream.

Avitus stepped forward, moving further into the workshop. "The traitor fled to the drop pod bay it seems."

"Look," said Lyon. He walked up to a cogitator next to Martellus' desk. The screen held a report of machine usage over the past few days. "This readout says that a drop pod has been launched. The traitor has left the ship!"

"He flees our wrath," said Cyrus. "However, this is a crime that we will not forget."

Augustine and Aramus did not say anything. Their eyes were fixed on Martellus. He had but a single wound, a great injury in his chest that punctured the armor and traveled straight out his back. Protruding from the wound was a single edged blade, with a hand and a half grip and four pronged cross-guard.

Augustine furrowed his brow in rage, and hissed a single word.

"Thaddeus."