Instruments of War

by Gravityhorse

The only thing that matters is the survival of the Human race.

1. Chapter 1

The Instruments of War

[Author's Note:]

So as many of you may be aware, I have another story on this website that I promised to have updated several months ago. I lost those files and it has been a long time of rewriting it, rest assured the story is not dead. Meanwhile, I became really inspired to write a new story of my own reflecting many of the recent Mass Effect / Warhammer 40k stories I've read recently.

I'm a really big fan of The Mission Stays the Same, The Eternal Lord, and But Are We Truly Lost, and I encourage you to check out those fanfics as well. Know that while I will update this on my time, I live off reviews, so please write a comment with ideas or things you'd like to see in the future.

I don't know two things about the lore of Warhammer and getting it wrong is heresy, but I got a friend on call and I'm constantly looking things up. I love everything about this universe and for the longest time have been reading crossovers with Mass Effect, my all time favorite franchise to date. I bought all three games and DLC for my PS3, Steam and Origin. I've fallen in love with Commander Shepard every time I start a new campaign, and most of all I love the stories.

The Mass Effect trilogy told a story I could never put down. Warhammer 40k tells a story I will never comprehend, but I'm making my way through the universe and have started picking up the books. I am currently slowly getting through the Forges of Mars. As I read these crossovers I decided to make one of my own, with a strong focus on both the heart of the Imperial Guard, and the complexities of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

I loved The Mission Stays the Same, and have been in talks with its author regarding future concepts and ideas, any comparisons between the two have been done with permission. There won't be many, trust me I'm making this as an original story as I can, but some plotlines may intersect that I was especially fond of. Yes I'm aware her name is also Victoria in The Mission Stays the Same, I had gotten through about ten thousand words before I realized it. I just really like the name.

Writing The Instruments of War was been thrilling, and so far I've enjoyed every second of it. I may not be the best writer, and my writing may be a slow burn, but let me tell you I've absolutely loved writing this thing. Making my characters and telling their stories, that's what love to do. I have no idea where this is going or where it's going to end, but I wake up in the morning with a smile on my face when I start typing. This is the result.

As a warning for future chapters, there is no schedule. There may be two updates in a week. There may be one update a year. Know that I have a plotline that runs all the way through ME3, but if at any point I don't feel like writing anymore, I won't.

As of now the story stands at 60,000 words, and this took about two months to complete. If ever I feel done with writing this story, I will post it, so if there isn't a "I'm done" message, the story goes on.

For plot related reasons and others that will make sense down the line, some events happen out of order of the original game. And if you think for a second I'm letting Legion get a grand total of two missions due to the crew getting melted otherwise, that I consider to be heresy.

I'm starting with an obligatory "How our characters got here" chapter. Rest assured I will be releasing the first "real" chapter immediately after this one. While there is plenty of backstory and exposition within this chapter, as well as an introduction to the major characters, the story truly begins on chapter 2. I hope to write an entertaining story for all of you. Been reading a ton of these crossovers lately, so here is my own. Also, ME2, because come on. It's the best. Femshep because she's fun to write. Please enjoy.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

It is the 41st Millennium. For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor of Mankind has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the master of mankind by the will of the gods and master of a million worlds by the might of His inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the vast Imperium of Man for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day so that He may never truly die.

Yet even in His deathless state, the Emperor continues His eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the Warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's will. Vast armies give battle in His name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst His soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defense forces, the ever-vigilant Inquisition and the Tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat to humanity from aliens, heretics, mutants - and far, far worse.

To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruelest and most bloody regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be relearned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

"Who said it? Which one of you Throne-damned pissants is getting thrown out of the Gellar Field?"

Nobody moved a muscle, save for a single guardsman snapping to an aquila salute, his silver eyes sharpened in defiance of the glares that lowered unto him.

"That would be me Sir."

The sergeant's head spun on a dime, the whirring cybernetics of his eye scanning the barracks for the Emperor forsaken soul whom spoken up.

"Are you trying to bullshit me Corporal?" his gravel voice spilled out in barely held contempt. Suddenly a guardsman to the left matched his teammate's salute, his voice carrying above the crowd.

"Sir! Corporal Coda was demoralizing the regiment and was therefore subjected to a standardized application of force along his lower abdominal region, Sir." He quickly spoke up.

The Sergeant grimaced, his face moving inches before the regimented gaze of the Corporal's underling. "Out-fucking-standing trooper. I want you to poison Coda's next meal. Now drop and lick the tau shit off his boots. I will not tolerate the striking of a superior officer any more than I will tolerate the grox shit stain that is your insubordinate ass which the Emperor has damned me to babysit!"

With a swift motion the gleam of metal revealed itself from the senior Guardsman's jacket, a metal arm socking the trooper in the gut. As he fell to his knees, his breath escaping him, the CO smiled and crouched to face him.

"Consider that a standardized application of force, pissant."

Stepping over the back of the soldier that was now pressing his face into the ground by the Sergeant's worn boots, the venerable man grabbed Corporal Coda by the collar and held him to the wall, exposing the augmetics of his mutilated hand.

"Now Corporal, would you kindly explain to me why I'm looking at a bright and lively piece of man meat?"

"You find the warp lonely Sir?" the guardsman pinned to the wall replied, to the restrained snickers of the regiment.

"Wrong again, Guardsman." he spat, "It means your shit excuse for a meat shield needs to learn how to lead before something far uglier than me teaches you." He said with a noticeable drop in his tone. Looking down at the trooper still at ground level he snarled. "While you're down there, why don't you give me about fifty pushups, Emperor knows you need it." He turned his attention back to the corporal in his grasp, "This is how you administer punishment." He professed, before socking Coda square in the gut with his glistening metallic hand, far harder than the light pat he'd administered to the previous Guardsman.

Coda doubled over, air wheezing out his lungs as a deep purple bruise spread across his chest. He looked up towards the sergeant, meeting his steel eye. Raising to his full height, he reached out a hand, and pulled it into a perfect aquila salute. "Thank you Sir."

Satisfied, Sergeant Fowler turned to address the platoon. "Gentlemen, I understand our task is daunting, our enemy invisible and ever present. At any moment the Gellar field could drop, just like any other warp jump performed by the Imperium, and at any moment every human life on this ship could be extinguished. And yet, here we live. We live and breathe and fight and die by the Emperor's will, either on the other side of this damned dimension, or forever beside His glory in the immortal conquest. The ruinous powers hold no dominion over the forces of man, for we stand with the Emperor, and His light is eternal." His voice softened to a whisper, a quick prayer uttered under his breath, before his cybernetic eye snapped back to focus on the guard.

"And never forget, pissants..." he said, eyeing Coda once more, "…It can always get worse."

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Perilous storms of circling miasma, a visage of death and pain incomprehensibly Red.

The Captain swirled the wine in his chalice, taking only the briefest moment of his attention from the vetriglass viewport before him. The Gellar field active, many called him mad for daring to witness. To look past the veil. The splendor of his office, for all its opulence and memoirs, was mundane in comparison. No, it was truly incomparable. Incomparable to the plumes and waves battling for dominance just on the other side. To the Warp.

So much Red.

He'd been swirling the glass in his hand for about thirty minutes now, alone with his thoughts, not daring to drink.

The Captain peered around his office, once such lavish furnishings now seeming so dulled and bleak in perspective. The golden ornaments adorning Him bore the aquila and depictions of Holy Terra, an ever present reminder of the Woelight's eternal mission through the stars. Wood, a novelty amongst his fellow captains, carved in ornate patterns made up the chair upon which he sat and the desk of which he sat at.

Placing the cup upon, he reread the frantically scribbled ink on the parchment before him. The servitor attending to Lady Klare could barely come across as coherent in her last moments of consciousness, before she succumbed to her ravings.

He still couldn't believe, couldn't accept, what was written in front of his eyes. It spit in the face of everything he knew. Everything he'd struggled for in his service to the Imperium, everything he'd sacrificed. Every life under his command that'd been lost, willingly or otherwise. But nothing changed the facts. Perhaps everything he'd sacrificed had been for this. Maybe this was his remuneration, his great blessing by the Emperor.

He took one last look as the only comprehendible line of writing before the servitor promptly ceased its function.

MAYDAY! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SOMEONE ANSWER ME, PLEASE! THE COLONY SHIP IS UNDER ATTACK, WE DON'T KNOW WHERE WE ARE! THIS IS CAPTAIN MCCORMIC OF THE COLONY SHIP HAEVUS, WE'RE UNDER ATTACK BY UNKNOWN ALIEN THREAT, THEY'RE TRYING TO TAKE THE SHIP! ANYBODY!

Written in perfect high gothic and clearly not using any of the common vernacular. It was possible. The likelihood was so, so incomprehensibly infinitesimal, but despite going through every feasible way it couldn't be possible, he knew the chance was there. It was possible. He finally downed the contents of the cup.

There were plenty of reports of ships exiting the warp months after their intended arrival, no one in the galaxy fully understood how the damned place worked. But the light of the Emperor guided them all. Perhaps this was truly the work of the God Emperor, blessing a glimmer of hope in mankind's darkest days. He recalled an unconfirmed report of a ship registered under the name Holcomb, whose captain claimed had departed nearly 900 years ago. Him and all of his command staff were summarily executed for impersonating imperial officers. Records were later found of a ship named the Holcomb departing in 082.M41.

And now…

Now Captain Yarnell couldn't help but quietly laugh to himself. Perhaps the old bastard had been telling the truth after all. But this… even several hundred years was one thing, but this…

And with the Hadex Anomaly so close by…

"Irate Observation. The Woelight maintains its originally intended course. This is unacceptable."

He sighed into his empty cup "You cannot expect me to simply drop our operation because an unsecured, unverified transcript managed to get to my desk without melting our astropath."

"Unacceptable." Repeated the jarring synthesized voice coming from a vox fused to the 'speaker's throat. The clicking of mechanical legs grew louder until the spidery appendages could be seen in his peripheral vision, barely making out the deep crimson robes that adorned them, even as they turned to face him.

He stared, undaunted, as the myriad cybernetic eyes under the adept's hood fixed themselves onto his own, studying him.

"Recitation. The implications of this discovery supersedes all prior directives."

The captain stood from his seat, a pointed scowl on his face. "I fully comprehend the implications, Magos, which is why I encourage you to consult with the Mechanicus Lords of Mars to authorize such an exploratory fleet."

"Negative." The machine cultist curtly replied, "Regrettable that further authorization is unobtainable. Astropath is inoperable, communications inoperable, line of contact with Fabricator General severed. Under circumstances, the highest voice of the Cult Mechanics speaks with me, the Omnissiah speaks with my voice. The Woelight sings for the voice of its ancestor. You are ordered to divert course in light of this information."

"Do not presume to command me, adept." The captain tersely replied. "We are already far too close to the Hadex than I'd like. This detour of yours puts everyone in this ship in danger, ignoring the sacrifices we'd already be making by abandoning our current charge. You've read the transcript. There are a million possibilities as to its origins. It may have even been sent thousands of years ago, and the Hadex is the reason we're receiving it now. Would you truly be willing to risk the lives of this entire crew to engage an unknown enemy, of unknown strength, for what's overwhelmingly likely a destroyed STC aboard a derelict or destroyed ship, all of this under the preceding assumption that this isn't a single massive trap?"

In one swift motion the Mechanicus Lord raised a laspistol welded to a mechadendrite to the captain's head, his stare unwavering.

"I'd be willing to risk you."

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

"I've found a pilot I think you might like. I hear he's one of the best…" the synthesized voice of the cadent businessman spoke in confident anticipation. A plume of digital smoke flickered from the lips of the holographic display, a cigarette held in satisfied measure.

"Someone you can trust."

The unshakable green eyes of Victoria Shepard narrowed as the hologram deactivated itself, a final smirk etching itself in her mind, the metallic blue stare fizzling away. Contemplating the reliability of her new employer, she turned her mead at the sound of slow and persistent footsteps behind her.

"Hey Commander."

Her jaw dropped. Standing, standing before her was the face of the last man she ever remembered. The man she saved. The man who saved her. Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moraeu.

Dozens of thoughts raced through her head, first and foremost thanking the powers that be that he'd made it off the wreckage of the Normandy. Remembering hurt her head slightly, but it did not stop the memories flooding back.

So glad he's alive, how did he get here, how is he walking!?

"Just like old times huh?"

Victoria could only stifle a laugh.

She continued to stare at the back of his head as they walked together passed the hiss of metal doors.

"I can't believe it's you Joker…"

"Look who's talking, I saw you get spaced!"

After all that had happened, they'd hit it off as though it were only yesterday. Two years. Two years in the cold dark grave. She was still trying to wrap her head around that. And yet here stood, waltzed effectively, her pilot, acting like it was just another day after Citadel bureaucracy and fighting a bunch of Geth. After talking long enough, however, she noticed something concerning. Jeff constantly avoided direct eye contact with her for prolonged periods of time, even if there was no inflection in his voice to hint towards discomfort. It was her job to read people. It hurt her to think about, and more so how well he hid it.

He shouldn't feel guilty about losing the Normandy.

Instead she matched the casual cadence of his voice, upbeat and prepared to tackle whatever Cerberus threw them at.

"I got lucky, with a lot of strings attached. How'd you get here?"

Joker slowed his pace considerably, his eyes downtrodden as she came up beside him.

"It all fell apart without you Commander. Everything you stirred up the Council just wanted it gone." He said with barely held disdain. Victoria could clearly see the pain in his eyes.

"The team was broken up, records sealed, and I was grounded. The Alliance took away the only thing that mattered to me, hell yeah I joined Cerberus."

She felt a little surprised, Joker knew in detail the debriefings of all the missions they'd previously run together fighting Cerberus. He knew exactly what they were capable of.

"You really trust the Illusive Man?"

Joker smirked with a sideways glance and a shrug of his shoulders.

"I don't trust anyone that makes more than I do. But they aren't all bad. Saved your life. Let me fly…" he said, the pace of his breath quickening, his eyes focused towards the viewport he'd stopped behind.

"…and there's this."

She stared out the window. Through the darkness and obscurity of the room below, she could barely make out a vague outline that caught her heart in her chest.

"They only told me last night."

One light. A single spotlight bathed the room on the other side, and her eyes slowly widened. Another light. One after the other, the lights in the corridor flicked on down the line, each revealing one more length of silver metal, one more smooth reflection. One more memory.

It was beautiful. It was powerful. It was home.

Joker smiled, sharing her mind.

"It's good to be home, huh Commander?"

In the back of her mind Victoria worried the Illusive Man was listening to their every word. As influential as he was, and as much of an investment they paid to bring her back to life, she doubted she'd have a semblance of privacy for some time to come. But right now, in this moment with Jeff, Commander Shepard didn't care.

Victoria almost shed a tear, though of course she'd never dare to show it. Staring at the bold and proud SR2 emblazoned on the port side of the wing, it all came back to her. She was Shepard. Commander Shepard. Hero of Humanity, Savior of the Citadel. While she breathed the Reapers would fear her. With a conviction and determination the galaxy hadn't seen in nearly two years, Victoria Shepard smiled.

"I guess we'll have to give her a name."

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

"Magos Soelok, you will be tried and executed for mutiny and your skitarii disarmed and apprehended, to be quarantined for the remaining duration of this voyage."

"Unacceptable. You will alter course."

"I will not. If you claim to speak with the voice of the Omnissiah, then I speak with the voice of our God-Emperor, and I will not throw away the lives of his stalwart defenders for your blatant fanaticism."

A moment passed, before the Magos lowered and removed his weapon from the captain's head. Slowly, and with a voice far softer than the captain thought possible for the mechanical beings, Soelok's vox synthesizer cracked to life.

"…We must. You know we must. This is beyond the quest for knowledge, or the Mechanicus itself. This could change the face of the Imperium. To be so close, in the moment we near the system, is too cosmically coincidental to be left to chance. This is a blessing from the Omnissiah. Surely you have felt it?" he said, almost hopeful if the captain could believe it.

He shook his head reluctantly. "It is precisely that coincidence that troubles me. A discovery of this magnitude at such an opportune time and place is far too convenient. What you say may be true, that this is a gift truly sent by the God Emperor, and if so would make this the most critical endeavor of the millennium. But we must consider Magos… even if what you say is true, even if everything she saw was true, we are talking about a force that overwhelmed a ship designed in the pinnacle of mankind's greatness, one that we could not possibly hope to overcome. What you are asking for, what this would demand, would likely cost the lives of nearly every man and woman on this ship, including our own. We may never return to the Imperium again."

The Magos stood in… contemplation? It was hard to discern their otherwise emotionless postures. Finally, the vox cracked to life once again. "Conjecture. Captain, it is with my understanding that every man and woman on this ship will die in service to the Emperor regardless. They are honorable, and they are relentless. The conviction of their will is indominable. If they understood the circumstances of this discovery, you may very well find yourself with another mutiny on your hands." He said with some pause.

Was he… did a member of the Adeptus Mechanicus just make a joke? He never thought he'd see the day. Or perhaps he was being completely serious. Tallus Soelock was incredibly young for a Magos. Young and ambitious. Far further had his body been amputated and replaced in one way or another than most adepts his age. Yarnell wouldn't put it past him to engage in this endeavor purely for the credit of the discovery within the higher echelons of the Cult Mechanicus. Nevertheless, the possibilities…

Despite his warranted objections, the captain sighed in defeat.

"Give… give the order to change course." He resigned, but with fresh and fervent resolve.

"It has already been done."

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

"What the fuck is this Fowler?"

The heavily augmented man sneered as he lay back in his chair.

"That would be 'What the fuck is this, Sergeant?', Corporal Coda." Returning his glowering stare, the guardsman stood before his senior officer in contempt. "You know just as well as I do that we have no say in where the captain of this ship takes us. You have something relevant to bitch about, take it up with him."

Coda scowled. He knew the Sergeant was mocking him. Merely making the trip to the captain's quarters would be hours of walking through endless corridors, with the laughable assumption of being allowed in his presence, never mind taking up a moment of his time. To suggest a change of course would be to sign a summary execution order, his discarded corpse lost forever to the cold depths of the void.

"This is madness and you know it, he is-"

"THE CAPTAIN IS DOING, what he feels is best. Utter another treasonous word and I swear by the Emperor I will remove you here and now." Fowler cut harshly. "You may be my second, Marcus, but do not expect clemency from me. You know your duties. Do not waste our time."

Coda tightened his fist, letting out a slow breath. "We're abandoning them. They'll be slaughtered without us."

Fowler took a deep swig from the recaf on his desk. "Yes. Yes we are, and likely yes they will. You know that, I know that, and you can be Emperor damned sure the Captain knows that. Which can only mean that whatever caught his attention so badly must be worth the lives we're sacrificing."

"THEY ARE MEN!" the Corporal shouted, losing his composure. "This isn't a fucking numbers game Fowler, we are throwing away the lives of countless righteous men and women to the hands of filthy fucking xenos!"

There was a palpable silence between the two, Sergeant Fowler removing a cigar from his desk drawer and taking a long drawl. He breathed out slowly, a long clear line escaping his chapped lips.

"Then we better fucking make it count Corporal."

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

"She seems to be taking this surprisingly well, all things considered." Miranda said to an otherwise empty room, the pale blue light of the hologram her only company. Said hologram stared at her with equally blue prosthetic eyes, taking a long drawl from the cigar between his fingers.

"A sense of familiarity is all it takes in situations like these."

Miranda cracked a rare smile. "You say that like these situations are common to you. What we've done hasn't been seen by humanity in over two thousand years."

The cybernetic eyes focused on her in respectful admiration. "A testament to our cause."

Miranda crossed her arms, putting her weight on one heel. "Regardless, Shepard's been dead for nearly two years. Even if we did everything right I'd be surprised to see minimal psychological damage, especially considering the trauma she's experienced. I recommend keeping her on a periodical psyche evaluation."

He took another long drag from his cigarette. "Granted. If you think it's best, it certainly can't hurt. You're still the leader of Project Lazarus, however I'd prefer you not do so behind her back. We need Shepard fully committed to this. We need her to trust you at least for the near future if this investment is going to succeed. Recruiting Flight Lieutenant Moreau has already proved invaluable in keeping Shepard in our court, as well as assuaging her misgivings about Cerberus as a whole. I plan to replicate this feat with Dr. Karin Chakwas, who is currently in talks with one of our operatives in her field."

Miranda nodded in assurance, her eyes downcast. "For the moment, at least. She excelled in every aptitude test within the Lazarus facility during her escape. Despite everything, her skills are as sharp as ever. She'll come around, but her past with some of our more isolated cells will take time to overcome. Given the existent dossiers I expect we'll be headed to Omega soon. I can't think of a better place in the galaxy to get the infamous Victoria Shepard to work with us more amicably."

The Illusive Man continued to stare at the hologram, a small smirk marking his face. "Confidence is your strongest suit Miranda. Shepard will come to understand you, and understand us in time, and with understanding fosters trust. I am under no misconceptions that the relationships she'll build during this mission will make her both dependent and dependable, as she always has been. Shepard's leadership has always been her greatest weapon. It is also our greatest asset in earning her loyalty. I trust you will do your very best in Shepard's service, but never forget that it may in fact be your reliance on her that earns her respect."

Miranda didn't respond right away, surely mulling over his words. "Understood. If there's nothing else I'll forward the remaining dossiers to-"

"Actually there is something else." He said, breathing out another plume of smoke in a rare moment of cutting Miranda off. "Something that just came through while you and I've been conversing, and something I believe we can take full advantage of given we seize the opportunity."

Noting Miranda's raised eyebrow, he continued. "One of our blacksites studying alternative applications for mass effect technology had gone dark for several weeks, until now. We just received a ping from the automated emergency channel. Preliminary reports indicate the facility's VI is still operational, however heavily damaged by unknown means, and by far more concerning is the lack of life signs onboard the station. Within a facility of over five hundred, I'm only reading three survivors."

Miranda tightened her eyes in a solemn grimace before resolve won out. "So, you want to destroy the facility and wipe the Vi?"

"No, I don't." he countered definitively, "I want all assets recovered, including the VI, most especially the three surviving scientists and their research. Their work, whatever's left of it, cannot be allowed to expire. I want Shepard running point on the operation."

Miranda's apprehension was readily apparent. "Sir, bringing Shepard to one of our more… independent projects so soon after recruitment will only further strain our reputation in her eyes."

"On the contrary Dr. Lawson." he replied confidently, "We'll be stopping a potentially rogue and dangerous splinter cell. In her eyes that will validate our accountability as an organization, and prove just how far we're willing to go to stop threats to mankind, no matter where they come from."

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

"Well there's something you don't see every day."

Julius gripped his lasrifle with renewed vigor as the precise mechanical march of the legion echoed around him. Each in perfect lockstep, creating waves of rolling thunder reverberating through the immense walls. Each guardsman gave them a wide berth, few too comfortable interacting with the otherwise alien beings, many needing to be reminded that they were still in fact human. Skitarii.

Suddenly the massive voxphones lining the walls cracked to life, a jarring blare of static filling the grand hall. Many guardsmen covered their ears, while the Skitarii legions bowed their heads in solidarity. It was then that Julius realized that what they were hearing was in fact the Adeptus Mechanicus lingua technis, holy binary.

While his unwavering fealty to the Emperor made Julius feel that some of the Mechanics' teachings and beliefs bordered on heresy, they claimed to serve the same god under a different name. Somehow, he doubted if what they worshiped could be considered human at all. He knew the imperium would fall without them, but nevertheless, they were disconcerting at the least.

Suddenly the noise of their prayers ceased, and amongst the silence came the hiss of hydraulics. In the center of the room which easily held the majority of the guardsmen onboard, a platform arose that could easily be seen by all, despite the figure atop it being relatively miniscule in perspective. However, it didn't take Fowler's eye to discern the red robes and barely concealed metal adorning him.

Huh.

Julius was a simple man, conscripted from a farming village on Rychos, along with a few squads in the guard aboard the Woelight. He drank, he smoked, he may or may not owe a few lho sticks to Florian but he'd swear by the Emperor he'd cheated that last game. Now he stood with his platoon alongside the others, before the larger than life Magos, and suddenly his problems seemed that much smaller.

"Someone has a big opinion of himself…"

A few snickers fell amongst the guard, but Julius contemplated. Members of the Adeptus Mechanicus were often regarded as arrogant and conceited, though in truth this came from a true conviction in their own superiority. True, it was arrogance all the same, but instead of the usual character grandstanding the Mechanicus believed in objective, tangible superiority, which their mechanical apparati verified. He glanced toward Sergeant Fowler. Despotic as he was, Julius found a respect for the man, as well as the cybernetics he'd adorned over his long years in service to the guard.

He smiled slightly to himself in memory of working for his mother, one farmhand of many. One would expect such a rural environment to find affection in its residents, but time had only fostered in Julius a bitter resentment. While he certainly didn't plan on joining the Astra Militarum, and as disconcerting as the panic on his fellow conscript's faces were, Julius found himself appreciating the drastic change in scenery.

The machines fascinated him, and above them stood the Mechanicus, Lords of every weapon, vehicle and piece of farming equipment he'd ever used. He knew the adepts weren't particularly popular with the guard, but Julius actually found them rather tragic instead, their passions and joy so inhibited by their technology that none could appreciate the gifts they possessed.

Not for the first time he wondered if in another life he'd have joined the Mechanicus, but looking down at his biological hand, flexing it, he shook his head. Such was not his destiny nor his place, for he belonged at the Emperor's side, and when he died he would proudly join the immortal conquest. Shaking himself from his grandiose daydreams, the speaker began to converse in synthesized low gothic.

"Valliant guardsmen of the Imperium, the immovable bulwark of mankind, you have been chosen by the Emperor in his desperation for a massive undertaking that will forever change the course of human history."

"Oh this should be good…" someone in the regiment rolled their eyes.

"We are recovering a dark age colony ship."

Muttering and vague shouts were heard through the crowds, a miasma of confusion and acrimony directed towards the tech priest.

"Within this ancient vessel holds the key to reunifying every lost colony in the galaxy, with technology superior to the greatest of forgeworlds, armaments capable of eradicating the xenos threat. We, the Woelight, will bring the stars to heel under the might of mankind."

You could hear a lho stick drop.

"…Bullshit."

"Corporal?"

"Absolutely impossible. Typical fucking Magos. Sacrificed millions of human lives for what I guarantee is an Emperor damned piece of rusted garbage. You have got to be kidding me. All this for a fucking tech priest's oiled dream."

Marcus intentionally ignored the tightening fists of Sergeant Fowler, whose face was quickly turning a few shades redder.

"You must be made aware that we are nearing dangerously close the Hadex Anomaly, and potentially facing an unknown xenos threat. Your captain demands only the best, time is of the essence. We are unable to detect the fluctuations of the Hadex, and as such it is imperative that we recover the artifact as quickly as possible. I will personally be directing the ground forces."

With that a rumble of murmurs rolled through the crowd. "Well I'll be damned…" "What do you know? Metal man still has a pair."

"Upon locating the colony ship within the Oloraistos system, each battalion will be escorting my skitarii as we make our advance towards the hull. From there I will lead a detachment to the command bridge. We will secure the ship, we will secure the fully intact STC, and we shall return to the Imperium as heroes and saviors of Mankind. For the Emperor!"

No one knew how to react for a moment. Then Julius raised his lasrifle.
"For the Emperor!"

And another member of the guard, "For the Emperor!"

"For the Emperor!"

"FOR THE EMPEROR!"

"FOR THE EMPEROR"

"FOR THE EMPEROR!"

Coda sighed into his chest.

"For the Emperor."

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Marcus Coda's rage could no longer be contained.

"Emperor damn you, you rotten fucking tin man!" he screamed in anger. Fowler's grip on his throat only tightened.

"I thought I could trust you with this, boy, despite your callowness. But you're no better than the shredded sack of guts you replaced. You don't got what it takes to lead. The men who stand beside you, they look up to you, admire you. Yet you feel nothing but contempt. You disgrace the Emperor, and as of this moment, you have officially been relegated to my personal squad. Command of the 224th's second platoon will fall to Corporal Julius. Consider yourself dismissed." He said, releasing his grasp.

Coda fell to the floor, rubbing his throat, glaring at the Sergeant. "Mark my words Fowler. I will have your fucking heart for this…" he spat, "It's just about the only thing human left in you."

"You still don't get it do you?" Fowler sighed breathlessly, looking down at the soldier beneath him. "You're done. Finished. The only reason you still hold breath is because the Magos conveniently has a nice little suicide mission in this operation's detail." Coda's eyes widened, but Fowler shook his head. "I volunteered. It was going to be me and my personal fireteam while you lead the 2nd in a nice cozy containment run. You just had to hurt moral…" he pulled a cigar out his jacket pocket and lit it, taking a long drawl before putting it out on Coda's leg. He didn't offer the satisfaction of a reaction. "And now, now I'm volunteering you. Unless of course you'd prefer a lasbolt to the skull right now, in which case I'll happily oblige."

His hand rested on the sidearm at his hip, flexing his mechanical fingers in anticipation. Their eyes locked in dead silence, to which Coda wordlessly stood up, meeting his level gaze. Fowler sneered. "Pity. Hoped you'd at least put up a fight so I'd have a decent reason to put you down."

Coda scoffed. "This isn't about us. This isn't even about the Imperium. This is about you and a personal vendetta you never got over. I just don't happen to fit into your elongated deathwish. Guess I'm not so easy to kill."

To his surprise the Sergeant actually laughed at that. "Oh, you'd like to think so wouldn't you. You, Corporal, are in fact very easy to kill. No wife. No children. No one to care if you come home in a cast or a casket. You better hope whatever kills you on this run kills you quickly, because I like to take my time." his cybernetic eye scrutinizing the unwavering guardsman heavily. "Though from what I hear death by psyker is a slow and painful one as your brain melts out your eyes."

At last letting his emotions get the better of him, Coda took a step back. "What are you talking about?"

Finally gaining the upper hand, a cruel smirk grew of Fowler's scarred face. "Didn't I mention? Our little suicide squad is lugging the astropath through whatever hellscape the skitarii carve in front of us. Magos wouldn't dare risk his precious metal men being so close to her. But don't you worry darling, I'll hold your hand the whole time if you're scared."

Marcus was beginning to taste the morning's rations in his mouth.

"See you in Bay 13"

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Corporal Coda stood, holding his lasrifle in solidarity, as he dazed at the Valkyrie dropship prepped for his arrival. Wonderful.

Making eye contact with Sergeant Fowler he made his way to the fireteam, each giving him a cursory glance before returning to their idle behaviors. Marcus considered introducing himself before all four stood at attention, staring beyond him. He turned around to see the Magos, Soelok he learned his name was, leading his personal platoon of skitarii elite and his tech priest lieutenants. If he was being honest, Marcus always considered the mutilated cybernetic soldiers hard to look at, but their leader was something else entirely. Where some skitarii held blades and lasguns, the Magos had them fused to his fucking skin. If he could even call it skin anymore. At this point it was almost completely metal. He wasn't sure how much he would see underneath the crimson robes, but from Coda's perspective, he was observing something far more machine than the Woelight.

Trailing behind them were two skitarii, each carrying one end of a large capsule of some kind, and it was only when they passed him did Coda realize it was a containment case. For her.

He swallowed uncomfortably at the thought of handling such a dangerous speci-person, but the alternative was Fowler, and he knew which one he'd pick any day. He needed to remind himself, she was sanctioned, and far more importantly, she was unconscious. Why on Holy Terra the Magos insisted on her presence during this mission was still a mystery to him, but somehow he doubted the Mechanicus adept would disclose such information.

Which is why he was beginning to panic as the Magos scuttled towards him.

His expression betrayed no emotion as he felt the shimmering green 'eyes' of the tech priest scanning him. The familiar crack of the voxphone came from his voicebox.

"Gratification. Guardsmen, your bravery and dedication to the Emperor in his time of need is above admirable. I am honored to be amongst his fearless defenders. The Emperor protects."

"The Emperor protects." He heard in chorus from behind him, Fowler's fireteam clearly having interacted with the Magos in some occasion in the past.

"The Emperor protects." Coda responded quickly, not wishing to incur the ire of either superior, and more importantly now wishing not to disrespect the name of the God Emperor.

"Affirmation. My Skitarii will protect us as we make our way to the core of the ship, presuming it is intact. Should we confirm its location, additional Valkyries will be dispensed, allowing for the full might of the regiment to support us. I will need to sooth the Haevus, no doubt the trauma of losing her crew will make recovering her and her STC difficult, nevertheless we will prevail. Guardsmen, we will make history, and the Imperium will remember your names for eons."

None of the imperials spoke, but the Magos cocked his head to the side, as if listening to an unheard voice. "Preparations are complete, and we will be dropping out of warp within a standard hour. Guardsmen, if you'll excuse me." He said, heading back towards the shuttle.

"You're pretty weird for a tech priest." Coda commented absentmindedly, before realizing what he'd said, and subsequently feeling Fowler's metal hand smack the rear of his battered helmet.

What neither of them expected were the synthesized laughter, genuine laughter, emanating from the Magos.

"Indeed."

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Still mulling over the fact that he'd actually said that, Coda inspected his lasgun for the fifth time that day as he fruitlessly tried to avoid the gaze of either the Adept or the Sergeant, the latter being more difficult as Fowler refused to sit anywhere besides next to him. The last week had slogged by as the Woelight made its way through realspace, personally he blamed the way the Hadex had been acting, but nevertheless the Magos was apparently ecstatic to find the Haevus' radiological signature on the desolate planet below. Again, Coda found his behavior rather strange for a tech priest, even more so due to the sheer extent of Tallus's augmentations. Emotion was something almost shunned in the Mechanicus, and while Tallus certainly wasn't the most affectionate individual, he had an odd tendency of indulging in rather human sentiments. However, Soelok's eccentricities were currently the least of his worries. What concerned Coda now was the utter lack of hostile presence within the system. There had been nothing. No starships or warpstorms of any kind. Whatever took down the Haevus was likely still down there with it. And he'd be ready for it.

To his left was a heavier man of darker skin, known affectionately as Boomer, who stroked his melta with slightly more tenderness than Coda found comfortable. The skitarii didn't seem to mind though, and considering they believed weapons to have souls of their own, Coda decided it couldn't be too heretical in the eyes of their twisted machine cult. His breath smelt of amasec, and while Marcus certainly had nothing against drunks, he'd rather not his life depend on one. Across was the remainder of the fireteam, a rifleman who called himself Saito and a marksman sleeping beside his longlas who the other three only called Legless. The mute obviously still had his legs, and when Coda attempted to make small talk to inquire about it, all three gave him a deathglare with the obvious translation being don't ask.

So he sat in silence, bored out of his mind, when suddenly all the overhead lights flicked on and all skitarii stood at attention. Legless woke up in an instant, his hand on his sidearm, his eyes scanning the walls of the dropship and the faces adorning it. Saito put a hand on his forearm, and that seemed to calm him down, though his restless agitation was still readily apparent. The smell of oil and lit incense clouded the interior of the Valkyrie, the skitarii bowing their heads as more static garbled prayers of lingua technis flooded the corridor. Coda winced slightly, not wanting to show disrespect to the soldiers by covering his ears, but wondering whether they'd even care. Then again, there was the chance they would care very much, and he would therefor watch his own headless body slump to the floor before realizing the gravity of his mistake. So for the moment, he bared with it, until Soelok's synthetic voice could be heard. "Soldiers, warriors, defenders of mankind, the Machine God and his deliverance in the Omnissiah, in the name of our Emperor, on this day we define history."

He felt the shuttle begin to move.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

By the dozens the Valkyries descended on the planet below, like arrows fired onto its unexpecting surface. The ground shook with the weight of the guard as one after the other the ramps were descended and the thunder of the march rolled across the barren plains. For only a moment Coda stood in wonderment. It was true after all.

Spanning nearly twice as long as the battleship Woelight, the Haevus was a glorious sight to behold. The legions of the Mechanicus were deep in worship, while the horde of the guard stood in reverence and awe. It was nearly an hour before the order was given to advance, as the tech priest basked in ritual and ceremony while the guard established defensive lines. As of yet, nothing had come to attack them, but in no way was anyone cautious. Least of all Coda, who praying repeatedly to the God Emperor above, held Lady Klare in his arms. She was light and almost dainty, betraying the immense psychic potential she possessed, and the living weapon he carried.

No one made any motion to approach him, least of all the fireteam, who maintained a tight square surrounding him at three-meter intervals. When the call finally came, he hoisted her up, Fowler and Boomer taking point with Saito and Legless flanking him. And the armies marched. In the distance to the far side he could make our now Corporal Julius taking point of the 224th's second platoon, and while he felt a ping of anger towards himself in his chest, he held no resentment. Julius was a fine soldier, if a bit idealistic at times. Over the time they'd known each other they had developed a strong bond. A camaraderie born of three survived firefights, each more miraculous than the last, his prior mission earning him a promotion. One he'd squandered with his relentless bickering with the Sergeant they both despised. Nevertheless, he was their superior officer, and he'd pushed his luck too far. So now he looked towards his friend commanding the regiment with pride.

Which is why he promptly fell to his knees seeing the bright green beam connect to him, his face disintegrated.

"NECRONS!"

There was nothing but utter chaos, every guardsman in the 224th scrambling for defensive positions, hailing lasfire across the line as several dozen beams returned to barrage their positions.

"CORPORAL!" Fowler screamed as the four hunkered down behind a large boulder.

"Guardsman! Quickly! Bring her here!" Tallus shouted at the highest volume his voxphones could cast. Shaking himself out of his stupor, he grabbed Lady Klare and rushed her over to the makeshift barricade, though in his mind he knew that such a structure would do nothing against Necron beam weaponry.

Tallus muttered to himself, his mind racing. "Very strange…"

As the legions of skitarii applied suppressing fire, Legless took the opportunity to peek just around the corner with his longlas, taking one potshot after the other at the unfeeling skulled visages lining the Haevus.

Magos Soelok was ranting to himself. "A tombworld. The improbability. Defies logic."

Coda rolled his eyes at the muttering Magos, preparing to lay Lady Klare down and pull out his lasrifle, when the unthinkable happened.

The skitarii were… advancing.

As the number of energy beams hammering their ramparts noticeably waned, many skitarii soldiers took forward positions, and while the cold necrodermis phased away after sustaining damage, none came to replace it. Barricades and vox phones pumping out prayers were being established along the battle lines, and against all possible belief, the guard was winning, handily. Two large skitarii troops shambled their way to Coda's position, carrying a large device he immediacy recognized as a master vox caster. Magos Soelok instantly broke our of his stupor, and upon interfacing with the machine, broadcast to all channels.

"CHARGE!"

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

The run was long, and filled with lasfire, but by the grace of the God Emperor they were making their advance. The necron warriors surged forth, but the sheer numbers of the militarum and the lethal precision of the skitarii brought them to a grinding halt, and slowly but steadily they were being pushed back.

None of which currently mattered to Coda, as his current primary objective was survival.

Lucky him that he and the fireteam led the Emperor damned charge. The only thing between him and atomization were an unconscious psyker, a drunk with a melta, a cyborg liable to kill him anyway, and several hundred skitarii warriors. Never was he so fucking thankful to work alongside the Mechanicus. Despite what he thought about their abominable waste of their humanity, he could not deny just how damned effective they were at killing things. Not that you could necessarily kill the necrons mind you, not on the battlefield at least, but they still fell to sustained lasfire and the legion had plenty to give.

Behind him were Legless and Saito, who was clutching a nick on his arm. Even the smallest scrape by a necron beam weapon caused massive cell death around the wound, so armed with only a laspistol Saito pressed forward. And between them ran, crawled more like, the Magos. After what felt like hours they were within 100 meters of the Haevus, the scope of the ship so great and massive he almost forgot that his life was in mortal jeopardy. But the Imperial horde advanced, and with each passing moment their victory felt ever more assured.

The necrons were commanderless, with only the most simple tactless warriors rising to face them. Granted, a blind mace could still crush a swift child, and the weapons of the necrons shredded the guard. But it was not enough. The guard marched. The skitarii marched. Coda had a steady jog as he carried Lady Klare. And finally, unbelievably, the thrum of beam discharge ceased. Victory, in the name of the God Emperor.

The 224th cheered.

Corporal Coda caught his breath, as the skitarii and their tech priest masters fell silent. Slowly, Tallus approached the vast hull of the apotheotic vessel, placing a reverent hand aboard her frame, bowing his head in mourning. Slowly, the other tech priests of the Woelight and their skitarii subordinates did the same. Prayers were long and heartfelt, the members of the Mechanicus displaying far more emotion than most of the guard had ever witnessed in veneration to the ancestor ship.

Tallus slowly lowered his hand, the mechanical static slowly quieting. "Lamentation. She is in such pain. She has lost so much. She does not know where she is. She weeps." he said, annunciating each word with deference.

"Well… We killed the necrons, right? Avenged her crew, if only slightly." Boomer said with some veiled hope.

Tallus shook his head. "Confutation. The necrons did not disable this ship."

The silence was tangible, Fowler's mechanical eye trying to read the Mechanicus Lord. "What the hell do you mean by that."

"It's quite simple, really." Tallus replied dejectedly. "It was far too easy. There is not a single necron starship within this system, the Woelight remains unassailed. Merely dozens of necron vassals roam this planet, not thousands. Conclusion. This tombworld was awoken by the crash of the Haevus. Effect, not cause.

"…Meaning whatever mad bastards did this are still out there somewhere."

"Correct." Sloelok nodded solemnly, "I do not know what has assailed her, her voice is broken, splintered. I will request she grant us passage, but we must be swift. Furthermore I do not know what we will discover inside, but considering the invaders did not repel the necron forces, there is an 87.33 percent chance they have instead fortified themselves further within the confines of the ship. More pressingly, the Hadex remains radically unstable. We are operating within an unknown time window, the STC must be recovered before the Hadex expands to this system. Warp storms and time dilations will render our operation futile."

"Assuming it doesn't kill us outright." Coda sighed, his eyes meeting the glares by the fireteam. "Okay but can somebody else carry the witch because my arms are starting to cramp."

With a series of eye rolls Fowler and his men rearmed themselves, preparing to face the unknown threat inside.

"So no then?"

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Cautiously, they made their way around corners and through corridors, Soelok and his skitarii in deep reverence with each passing step. The halls were silent, their walls untarnished. Pristine in every sense of the word. Breathing was slow and shallow, as if the slightest sound would disrupt the sanctity of this hallowed place. Lasrifles raised to attention, the skitarii sweeping the halls with immeasurable precision, Legless's index finger resting beside the trigger.

As the adepts communed with the ancient machine spirit, the Magos jerked his head, silently ushering the forces in a new direction. He made his way towards a wall mounted cogitator, three of his many wiry apparati interfacing with the venerable machine. His many eyes danced with information, connecting directly to the ship's fractured mind, soothing her in the divine reverence of holy binary. Beside him a panel hissed with hydraulic initiation, causing many in the guard to jump at the abrupt sound and movement, but the other tech priests and skitarii remained motionless. Slowly, the wires retreated into Soelok, who placed a humbled hand upon her console.

"Rest, divine mother. Sleep, and dream of the void."

Power waned from the device, until finally the hum of power coursing through it came to an echoing silence. If he didn't know better he'd expect the adepts to weep. But of course, grief was a human emotion, and they were too good for those. It was imperfect. Coda wanted to scowl. In a strange way, this display of relative inference sickened him. They bowed in respect, not in anguish. He would never pretend to care about the machines the same way the fanatical tech priests did, but he felt devotion in all the same way. And had he been in a position at all like that, Coda knew he would weep. And he'd be glad for it.

Moving to the exposed access panel, Magos Soelok uttered a quick prayer before removing it, thick wires and circuitry lining the walls. Past were thousands of hydraulic pipes running the length of the floor, Coda could not see the end, though if he had to guess it likely ran at least a kilometer.

"The Omnissiah has truly blessed us, for our Lady Haevus has enlightened the path. We must tread carefully. Even the asylum of these passageways will announce our course to the enemy."

Through the tunnels they pressed, none daring to make a sound, Marcus finding is incredibly surprising how quiet the mechanical men could be when they wanted to. He knew the skitarii held infiltrators in their ranks, but even the spindly skittering of Soleock's legs went eerily unheard. Within the dark and damp confines of the vessel, the soft bronze hue of the myriad pipes, Saito and Legless glanced at each other. One step after the other, passed the bolts and conduits.

The sound of ricocheting metal snapped all eyes on Corporal Coda, many taking a breath they hadn't realized they'd been holding. Every gun immediately took defensive positions, scanning the walls the echos ponding through the undisturbed hallways. Listening for any semblance of a response, the moment slowly died, rifles being lowered hesitantly. Looking down over Klare's waist he saw the loose wire he'd accidently kicked, nudging it with his foot to the side of the wall. Fowler sighed holding his face in his hand.

"Mind your footing Corporal. You are standing on holy ground." He whispered.

Coda narrowed his eyes, muttering under his breath. "Be easier if I could see my feet…"

Soelok raised his head. "It appears we are free for moderate communication. I am not detecting any enemy presence in response to the Corporal's inadequacy."

He deadpanned. "Glad I can be of service." He said, readjusting his grip. For the first time since the shuttles landed Coda took a long hard look at the psyker's face. Whitened skin and hair from her years exposed to the warp made her appear already dead in his arms, a sentiment he did not take lightly. At any moment, she may awaken, her unrestrained warp connection killing them all. Or the Hadex could choose to expand, killing them all. Or the necrons could return, killing them all. Or the unseen enemy could emerge, killing th- you know what maybe Fowler was right, he was being needlessly pessimistic. Each of those things were true, of course, and if they transpired he would likely die before even recognizing that he was in danger. But if that were the case, there was no use dwelling on it. Trust in the Emperor, and he shall deliver. The Emperor protects. He pressed forward with the squad, taking a few steps towards the tech priests leading the unit.

"So, when exactly is she supposed to wake up?"

Soelok turned to face him, yet his appendages did not cease their movement. "With the Machine God smiling upon us, Corporal, preferably when we reach the bridge"

…You gotta be fucking joking me.

Coda sighed. "And how long will it take to get us there? This ship is massive, we're moving-"

"Mortals should learn to keep silent in the presence of their betters." A female tech priest chided, Coda baulking at the remark. To his semi surprise, so did Fowler.

"Arrogance is a very unbecoming trait Paevola" Tallus admonished. "The guardsman is risking his life to serve the Omnissiah. You will grant him the respect he deserves."

This tech priest, Paevola snorted, which to the militarum sounded like a mechanical whine.

"Somehow his incessant nitpickings have managed to overcome my neurovault emotional suppressants. I suppose I should congratulate you on that. A flaw I will rectify upon our return to the Imperium."

"…Glad I could… help?" Coda asked, looking around, getting an equally confused stare from the guard.

"You aid us only in keeping our forces from harm, your opinions are not required."

All right, don't like you.

"But they will be addressed." Soelok abruptly countered. "To answer you, guardsman, by my estimation we will arrive within combat operational distance to the bridge in approximately seven hours twenty-six minutes."

As Coda gawked Paevola rolled her still human eyes. "Why do you engage in such illogical and unproductive conversation?"

Tallus turned to face her, annunciating with his hands. "Because, dear Paevola, it is our duty and privilege as messengers of the Machine God to spread the word of knowledge to all the ignorant of mankind. Even sharing such slivers of understanding gain his favor, and we must thank the Omnissiah for simple blessings."

He continued to see Paevola's deadpan unamused stare.

"Because I find his expression gratifying."

Paevola scoffed. "I will never understand how you became a Magos."

"One that outranks you." Soelok replied casually, continuing forward.

Looking over to the despondent Corporal, Boomer chuckled. "Aye, don't worry mate. I'll take her off yer hands for a little while."

For the first time since landing on this planet, Corporal Coda smiled.

"You sure? Not all of us have mechanical arms…" he jeered, Paevola refusing to entertain his remarks.

In the hours that passed, Coda found the lasrifle in his hands a cold comfort. For three hours Boomer carried the witch, Coda sneaking him a glance every few moments. When the guard stopped to eat some rations, much to Paevola's contempt, Fowler took after bearing the astropath, not a word escaping his lips for the next two hours. Finally, Coda felt her in his arms again, still struck by how undisturbed she appeared. Had it not been for the whiteness of her skin, her hair, he would guess she was just another imperial citizen. A daughter of an esteemed Imperial family, possibly a Planetary Governor. A child.

"Contact." Soelok muttered, the four guardsmen surrounding him springing to attention, but the Mechanicus agents seemed almost curious. "Look." He pointed to an opening between two of the pipes along the wall.

What they witnessed next was beyond anything Coda had expected. A massive storage chamber, in size and scale that he could not well conceive. Lining the walls and the thousands of ceiling spanning shelves systematically erected throughout the grand hall were machines. Millions of machines. Vaguely humanoid wardroids, the likes of which none amongst the Imperialists had ever seen before. Coda found his words dying in his throat.

"What the hell are those? Necrons?"

"Why would Necrons be transported on a colony ship?"

"Certainly not like any Necron I've read about."

"The Necrons weren't awake in the Great Crusade, idiot."

"Maybe an automized security force? To keep developing colonies safe?"

The guardsmen argued amongst themselves, while the members of the Mechanicus simply stared in growing anxiety. Coda's silver eyes fixated on their design, their numbers. The wheels and cogs turning in his mind.

"Maybe we should wake them up."

The entire party turned to look at him with rampant disbelief. Had be not been holding the astropath he felt sure the one known as Paevola would have shot him dead on the spot.

"They're obviously of human design if this ship was carrying so many. If they act as the Haevus's security force it explains why they lost control of the ship. If we use them to our advantage they may just do our job for us, and carve a path straight through our enemies to the bridge."

The guardsmen looked at each other in reluctant contemplation, while the tech priests looked like they wanted to send what remained of him to the invaders as a welcome present.

All speculation and calculation ceased with the simple, calm expression.

"No."

All eyes turned towards Magos Soelok, who stared at the ground in deference.

"I think not. It it within our best interest not to disturb them."

Feeling brave, Coda asked one simple word. "Why?"

Tallus remained uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. "We cannot trust them. We are moving on."

Without another word the skitarii and adepts continued fourth, with the guardsmen reluctantly trailing behind. Coda's resolve remained unwavering. "So we can't trust the death machines designed by the pinnacle of mankind's greatness but we can trust her? The psyker witch liable to kill us all? Why in the Emperor's name have we even brought her here!?"

Paevola spun on a dime, raising a laspistol to his face. "I will not allow your blighted tongue to desecrate this holy place!" before suddenly feeling the cold metal of a laspistol on her own head. Turning, she faced the indifferent Magos Soelok, his mechadendrite inches from her vulnerable skull.

What followed was a series of static pulses and vox chatter, both adepts eventually lowering their sidearms. Paevola glared at the Corporal, but said nothing, and silently marched forward.

Ceding point to his lieutenant, Tallus walked alongside Coda, the clicking of his legs becoming naturalized after all this time. He swallowed, not sure how to address the Magos directly. "You, uh… thank you. Lord Magos. If I may, what did you say to her?"

Tallus did not turn to look, but Coda knew he had his attention. "I simply reminded Sub-Domina Paevola that the average auditorily perceptible round of a nonsupressed laspistol remains at 472.84 meters over open terrain, and given the composition and angles of the structures surrounding us, I suspect it could reverberate much farther." He said with a hint of… amusement? This tech priest just kept getting stranger.

"Assurement. Corporal, it is with my understanding that our overall operational effectiveness will improve if I were to dissuade your ailing doubts regarding the circumstances of our mission. It would not be incorrect to say that the fate of the imperium itself rests upon our shoulders." He spoke slowly, finally taking the time to look Coda in the eye, his myriad green optical lenses somehow appearing less foreboding than they once were. "It was the Lady Klare who discerned our original communication with the captain of this ship, the coordinates of the system, and the gravity of exactly what had graced our presence in realspace. However, based on the contents of the report, logic would dictate that the message was sent by the captain of the Haevus himself, and not the shipboard astropath."

Observing Coda's obvious incomprehension, he continued. "This implies one of two things. Either the astropaths of the ancient past functioned radically differently to our own, which is highly likely, or the Captain of the Lady Haevus was the astropath, of which seems the most likely. If the captain of the Haevus was truly a psyker, them our operation has become far more difficult, and the Lady Klare's presence even more vital. A psyker from an age before the Emperor would have no means of defense against the perils of the warp today. It is miraculous he survived long enough to send the message out at all, and I strongly suspect that connecting to the warp to send it may have been the last thing the good captain ever did. With such little information, we are at a loss on several fronts. A psyker such as Lady Klare may be the only ones capable of accessing the STC aboard command bridge. Or in the event of the captain's death, access may only be granted to the proceeding hierarchy of the crew. But these are only some of our concerns." He said with a low voice, his full attention now turned towards Marcus.

"She is also our last possibility of survival should the Hadex expand to consume this system."

Coda's eyes shifted nervously towards the unconscious girl still laying unmoving in his arms.

"Explanation. In the event of a Hadex expansion, which could happen at any moment, the warpstorms will devastate this planet. Time will cease to be, it may play forwards or backwards, or stop entirely as the Hadex ring maintains. The immaterium will rage across its surface, though it would only be a moment in their present until it recedes, and the world released from its grasp. It may be decades or millennia before the Hadex subsides enough for time to resume. But an intact STC is worth it. It is worth any price. It is worth remaining frozen in time for another 40,000 years if it means returning mankind to its once former glory. We must succeed. We will succeed. There can be no chances taken. The Omnissiah watches over us Corporal. The Emperor protects."

Guardsman Corporal Marcus Valorus Dimazzi Stael Coda swallowed.

"The Emperor protects."

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

"By the throne…"

After hours of trekking through the pipes and veins of the venerable starship, Soelok finally announced they had reached their destination. Or rather, as close as they could achieve before returning to the confines of the ship's corridors. The tech priests with their heads bowed in prayer, Fowler giving a quiet praise to the Emperor, Tallus opened the panel back inside the ship.

What they saw were horrors beyond description or comprehension.

The viscera dripped from the ceiling in large beads of blood and shit. Corporal Coda and the rest of the guard gagged on the thick fumes as they slogged through discarded entrails. Any semblance of recognizable bodies were mangled beyond belief, their deranged bloodshot eyes displaying every slice of pain they felt in their final moments.

Coda actually considered equipping a rebreather as they made their way through the soaked hallways, but his hands were occupied, and he dare not breathe a word in this haunted place.

The priests were in constant prayer, though they spoke in only lingua technis, and at such a whisper one could be forgiven for believing it only to be the background of the ship itself. Any sanctity this place once held had been desecrated beyond belief, and had he the capability Coda would be clutching the aquila pendant he carried in his cargo pocket.

The tone had changed completely. Where once they had cowered, crawling through the ducts and scaffolds like rats, a blazing hatred now empowered the guard. With lasguns raised and ready they stood besides the zealous skitarii, primed to shred the enemies of mankind wherever they reared their ugly heads. No xenos nor warpspawn could stand before the light of the Emperor, for his radiance was unfathomable, his rage eternal, and he would have his revenge. Blood paid for blood spilt, delivered through the vessels of his inexhaustible armies.

So would be the fate of the pair of unsuspecting xenos at the turn of the corner, recognition barely registering in their eyes before they were turned to cauterized holes, hundreds of lasbolts reducing their bodies to charred meat lumps that joined the gore piles surrounding them.00

As the whine of the capacitors waned, rumbling could be heard throughout the ship, Magos Soelok growing ecstatic as they made their relentless advance through the corridors. "Absolutely wonderful data. Aeldari. We never should have been able to have taken the Eldar by surprise, their senses and processing speed should have certified our position long before we approached them. Their minds are addled, their reaction time slowed. Almost certainly derived from their proximity to the Hadex, likely exhibiting piracy in this sector for at least several decades for such prevalent complications. Meaning-!" he shouted as the acquired lasrifle in his hands shredded an Aeldari pirate while his sutured mechadendrite decapitated another, "-we can outmaneuver them."

"Great! Now how the fuck do we kill them!?" Fowler screamed, the Eldar falling easily enough to lasfire yet never seeming to suffer a dent in their numbers nor their aggression. The tight corridors did wonders for creating killzone bottlenecks, of which the lethal precision of the skitarii and the unrelenting tenacity of the guard took full advantage. Suddenly Boomer stepped passed him, slinging his melta forward, and held the trigger. The putrid nauseating stench of crackling Eldar almost drowned out their deafening screams.

Each guardsman and admech holding a weapon gripped it focused at the ready as the cries began to die. Seeing no immediate reinforcements, the squad and fireteam took a moment to breath, calibrate and reload.

"Well that worked."

The Sergeant rolled his eye and glanced at Coda, still happy to be alive. "And we really appreciated your help Corporal."

"Oh don't even fucking start with me Fowler, you wanna hold the body?" Marcus replied, holding her out in invitation to take her. Fowler only breathed deeply and made his way down the next corridor with the rest of the boarding party.

Thought so.

They made their way to a large door, opening to a grand hallway. Massive ornate pillars erected through the hall supported the incalculable exquisitry of the architecture within. Under different circumstances Marcus may have appreciated the flawless engineering design and ethereal artwork, but at the moment he was simply thankful the room was clear of Eldar. While the Imperial's vigilance never wavered, they crossed the room cautiously, Magos Soelok staring down the massive egress on the far side of the room.

"There." He said, the voice on his voxphone cracking. "The fate of the Imperium… rests behind those doors."

Considering whether he should say the words that came to mind, Coda reluctantly spoke up. "Lord Magos. I dare not take away from your moment of victory, but even if the STC is in that room… there's no guarantee it survived the crash. It may still prove an invaluable boon to the Imperium, but it may not be what you're looking for."

The Magos was silent for several moments, before finally sighing, which to Coda sounded a bit like the Valkyrie's ramp being lowered. "I know Guardsman. In truth, even now our operational success probability has climbed to 9.83 percent."

At that, Coda actually laughed in spite of himself. "You couldn't have told us that on the Woelight?"

The tech priest looked at him with placating 'eyes'. "Before landing on the surface of this planet, our operational success probability was 0.27 percent. Logic would dictate your fireteam's operational effectiveness would decrease drastically if exposed to this information."

"Logic would be correct." Saito muttered, but kept to himself. Soelok turned to address the boarding party.

"The next few minutes may very well be the most important of your lives. I will attempt to interface with the command console and contact the great Lady Haevus. We must prepare for the eventuality that such a forced attempt at intrusion will not go unnoticed, and we cannot return by the means of which we came. Without the elements of stealth or surprise, the Aeldari would overwhelm us inside the tunnels. Once I have acquired the STC, I will use the Haevus's communications system to signal a Valkyrie to rendezvous with us on the roof of the bridge. No matter what happens, no matter what horrors you witness nor what becomes of you or your crewmates, the STC must be returned to the imperium intact. No other directives apply."

The party glanced at each other, everyone trying to find some hint of hesitation in any of them, and finding none. Not even in Coda.

"Lord Magos, if I may." Marcus began, "We still have a pack of breaching charges. If we know they're coming, why not use them on the pillars in this room? Bring the whole ceiling down on the-"

"Blasphemy!" Paevola shouted, her bright blue eyes glaring at Coda. "You will not desecrate the sanctity of the Lady Haevus-"

"Sub Domina, engage your emotional suppressants at once." Soelok chided. "You only lower yourself when engaging in illogical altercation."

Paevola sneered, "From the very beginning he has inhibited our operational effectiveness. There is no logical justification to allow him to remain alive to impede us further."

"Directive. As your Lord Magos I am ordering you to diverge this method of reasoning."

"Enough!" Paevola shouted before reaching for her laspistol. "I will not allow him to defile this holy sanctuary or endanger this mission any longer!"

"Sub Domina, withdraw your weapon immediately." Tallus commanded with an iron voice.

The incensed tech priest glared at Soelok, "Why do you continue defending him? The drukari already know our position. One mo-AAAUGHHH"

Dropping from one of the many pillars closest to the unsuspecting victims, the patient Eldar licked his lips as he leapt towards the angry one, the screamy one, the unfocused one. As he clung to her back, thrusting his blade deep beside her neck and down into her chest, he reveled in her screams even as the lasbolt pierced through his skull.

Legless had barely lowered his rifle before Paevola doubled over, yanking the black blade out of her shoulder. As she looked up, the guardsmen and even a few tech priests recoiled in horror. Her eyes were yellowed and bloodshot, the veins along her remaining biological body darkened and spreading. She coughed, a slew of black bile leaking though her voxphone, before Tallus Soelok grabbed her laspistol, and shot her in the head.

Nobody moved save for the skitarii previously under Paevola's command. No longer linked to her noosphere, they shuddered erratically as the remaining tech priests desperately synchronized their neurovaults to the warriors cybernetics.

"What… the fuck… just happened?" Saito stammered, to which Magos Soelok picked up the discarded Aeldari blade, scanning it meticulously.

"Assessment. Lethal xenos toxin." He said, laying Paevola down, closing her eyes, and resting the blade on her chest with her arms folded across it. "Highly caustic. Exponentially painful. Engineered so. Do not let it touch you. Could only grant her this small mercy." He slowly backed away from her body.

"Corporal Coda, please prepare the breaching charges."

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

The hunger unrelenting, the pain insatiable. The warband leapt through the tunnels their prey had crossed, so tricksy and smart were they. It would not save them.

So many out there, in the wilds, the Mon'Keigh legions so ripe for the tasting. Their anguish would be savored in Her. The dullards hadn't given a good fight, they screamed like any Mon'Keigh but none had cried in the retribution of the corpselord zealots. Soon they would come, soon they would savor manflesh.

Soon they would feed.

Running and clawing and scraping and tearing forward, he could smell the oil of the metal men. Grimey, whiny, wretched filth. They feel nothing. Agony, no. Rage, no. Pleasure, no. Pain. He would bring them pain. They spat in her eye. He would teach them fear.

Bursting through the panel which the Mon'Keigh had passed, the warband bolted through the hallways, climbing over each other if only to have the first chance to engage. Blood and bile coated them as they shoved each other into the viscera, their bloodlust everlasting and insatiable.

It did not take long to reach their quarry, these Mon'Keigh were so stupid. They left their tracks and smells to follow. He bit his tongue for the sweet relieving taste, invigorating him for the slaughter to come. That's it! He saw her. Lazy Mon'Keigh taking a rest. She would be the first. Cackling on the blood dripping from his lips, he brought his sword down on her chest. Metal. No matter. He sunk his teeth into her neck as he felt the warband climbing over him, stabbing and clawing the dumb Mon'Keigh. He felt a blade pierce through his chest to get to her, his euphoria obliterating the pain. He savored the flavor, relished the fear in her… still… closed… eyes…

They never heard the beeping.

They only heard the fall.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

"Breaching charges detonated!"

Coda yelled above the constant barrage of lasfire, Magos Soelok speaking in unintelligible bursts of lingua technis in a near meditative state of disassociation. All around him was someone firing something at someone else. He thanked the Emperor above these Eldar were too stupid and savage to use their foul xenos weaponry, instead rushing them down with blades and claws like rabid animals. The bridge extended like a long hall with a walkway in the center of it, bisecting two descending staircases which Coda could only imagine connected to the rest of the ship. The good news was that by detonating the adjacent room to the command deck, the xenos could only attack them from head on. The bad news was that there were so many fucking xenos. If Soelok's security violations didn't tell the xenos where they were, the breaching charges definitely did. The walls were almost entirely viewports, and from his position Coda could almost make out the encamped legion of the 224th on the surface below. No doubt they could see the lightshow from their cozy little trenches taking pot shots at the single digit necron warriors that advanced on them. He smirked as he downed another fifteen or so Aeldari with automatic fire.

"You know, now would be a REALLY good time for that girl to wake up!"

Not that he particularly cared if anyone listened to him, though he was beginning to admire the iconic glare that Fowler shot him every time he opened his mouth. At the moment, Lady Klare rested on the hard floor beside the Magos, it seemed callous at first but the alternative was not having an additional lasrifle to face the horde. At long last, Marcus personally laid waste to the filthy fucking xenos who had desecrated this ship. Slaughtered its crew. Butchered them.

This was holy retribution.

Technically these humans did not know of the Emperor's light, and technically that made them heretics. But such a distinction seemed so trivial now. He'd seen what the Eldar had done to these people. No matter which way the ecclesiarchy tried to swing it these were humans suffering under the oppression of xenos. They would be avenged.

"HOW'S IT COMING SOELOK!?"

The Magos of course did not answer him, as he was deep in conversation with the machine spirit. Another Skitarii was nicked by one of those deamonic blades, and he fell to the floor in mechanical screaming before the xenos cut his head off. Emperor damn them, they were losing ground too quickly. He didn't know how much longer only eighteen lasguns, a longlas and a melta could hold out, and spent capacitors were being ejected faster than he could keep track of. He didn't know-

"I'VE GOT IT!" Soelok shouted, disconnecting from the interface. Glancing over Coda could only briefly make out a… massive ensemble of information compiling into a strange, cube like storage structure.

"WE JUST NEED TO HOLD THEM OFF! THE THUNDERHALK IS ON ITS WAY, WE JUST NEED TO PROTECT THE HAEVUS FOR-"

Tallus Soelok stopped dead in his tracks, and Coda knew why. An overwhelmingly blinding orange light radiated through the viewports, the Aeldari barely acknowledging It as they took advantage of their preys distraction, cutting down skitarii and tech priests as they made their advance. Saito barely had time to scream before his throat was sliced clean through.

"No… No NO NO!"

Desperately trying and failing to engage his neurovault quarantine procedures, Tallus could only stare at the viewports in unrelenting terror.

Yelling at the top of his lungs as his lasrifle poured endless rounds into the horde, Fowler mentally gave a prayer to the Emperor, thanking him for the honorable death he would soon receive and how he would march boldly beside him into the immortal conquest.

That was until his lasgun ejected its last capacitor. Seizing its prey, an Aeldari made a mad dash towards the Sergeant, her arm slashing furiously towards the venerable man. Its stained blade was still swinging as it was blown of its weilder by the boltpistol Fowler drew from within his jacket. He staggered back, Eldar guts paining him, while Coda stepped beside him returning waves of lasfire into the xenos swarm. The only thing he could see were the flames of Boomer's melta and the piles of Aeldari faces drunk with the euphoria of bloodshed piled the floor.

"GUARDSMEN!"

The two men turned towards the Magos, only to be grabbed by the soft firm hands and faced with the blinding brilliance of the eyes of Klare Vaikade.

What happened next was an aberration to an order of magnitude so astronomical that none dare comprehend it.

Coda could feel his head throbbing, taste the blood pooling in his mouth and his teeth skittering as a wave of profane warpborn energy perforated them. He could hear her screaming in his mind, crying to the void, its expanse unperturbed by their insignificance. He endured the weight pulled through him, as if his innards were being sanctimoniously ripped from his guts. Coda could see nothing but endless stars, an eternity in his mind lasting only a fraction of a moment before the only thing he could feel was…

Cold.

Spitting the blood out of his mouth and onto the chilled metal he caught himself on, Marcus took several quick and pained breaths, his eyes darting around him. The Aeldari were gone… and so was everyone else. Everything else. The viewports of the bridge were gone, replace with shining metal walls. A pointed frost filled the air, the room coated in tiny sprouting crystals of ice. Before the Corporal had a moment to process just how freezing he was, a dainty body collapsed into his shoulder.

"Lady Klare!" he exclaimed, holding her to face him.

"By the Emperor…"

Where once her eyes shone with the brilliance of a thousand suns, now only charred craters blackened and leaking biological fluids remained. He held her tight to his chest, prayers repeated to the Master of Mankind.

Suddenly he heard a crash before him, looking up to see Magos Soelok's mechanical apparatti failing him, his body shaking and falling to the ground. He spoke not a word, but the whine of his mechanical components filling the room, Coda's eyes widening at the unhinged and deranged erraticism of his movements. His concern only grew when Soelok stopped moving completely.

The static screams were deafening.