The Celestial Orrery, Tomb World of Thanatos, 999.M41

Trazyn the Infinite, Necron Overlord and 'Archaeovist' of the Solemnace Galleries

"Orikan, we need to leave… now!" The interesting thing about Necron 'consciousness' after the bio-transference, is that for the most part it was at best a misnomer deliberately proliferated by the Necron Lords amongst their dynasties.

Instead, Necrons operated off a rather complex series of commands and programmed sequences in their head, even the more 'sentient' types like the Lychguard. Admittedly, these sequences had a large amount of adaptability in the fields were the Necron in question specialised in, for example combat and strategy in the case of the Lychguard currently stood frozen around them.

But if something happened that was so far outside the list of their programmed responses that it wasn't even manageable with several leaps of logic, such as the revelation that one of the most powerful pieces of technology the Necrons possessed was in effect flawed, then it had a tendency to 'jar' the operating programs.

"Agreed! Now I understand why I had to land as close as I did…" Orikan and he were amongst the few who had managed to remain mostly autonomous following the bio-transference, and as such both knew the next few moments would be vital to their continued existence.

For the first time in decades Trazyn sprinted from the Orrery room into the winding halls of Orruscar, Orikan barely two steps ahead of him and shouting instructions to half a dozen Lychguard that were standing outside the main doors to the section that held the Orrery.

These were obviously Orikan's bodyguards, assigned to him by some Necron house for his divination work. Though, as they drew their Hyperphase blades and moved into combat stances as the two of them sprinted past, it was clear they were here as sacrificial pawns.

"This way!" The fact that Orikan had clearly brought some forces of his own made Trazyn reconsider his own plans, even as they moved off again at a run, slipping the small cube he had been holding back into one of his storage pouches.

Always best to save his emergency back-up for later…

Suddenly, as they darted down a smaller access corridor, the scarabs that were moving along the walls froze, several of them falling from their path as they stopped mid-step, the eldritch green of their eyes glowing all the brighter.

"27 seconds, A rather pitible response time…" Even as the scarabs turned in their direction, dropping any items they were transporting, the two Necron Lords were acting.

The Emphatic Obliterator roared to life as it struck the nearest scarab, it's propagated destruction wave scything through halls and massacring the small Necron workers in their hundreds. It seemed that whoever had decided to silence them hadn't considered the targets of their orders that they sent out to the denizens of Orruscar, focussed orders like 'kill X & Y' made the Emphatic Obliterator all the more powerful.

Still, now was not the time to gloat at the foolishness of their foe, in fact it might be the only thing that keeps them alive through the coming minutes.

"Ahead Trazyn, target there now!" The commanding tone of Orikan's shouted instruction would have made Trazyn's blood boil, if he had any that is.

But there was also a subtle undertone of worry in the Diviner's tone, so despite their past rivalry threatening to overcome his common sense Trazyn did as asked, a stream of energy shooting forwards into the empty void of the…

Trazyn cut off his scathing thoughts as an entire squad of Lychguard phased into existence to block their path, the energy stream from the Emphatic Obliterator slamming into the nearest one's face with almost pinpoint accuracy. The first three Lychguard fell almost instantly, one of them so badly damaged by the energy wave that his body didn't phase back out, but the other two shook off the effects even as they readied their war scythes for combat.

Still, two Lychguard were far less of a problem than an entire squad, and their armament made it clear that the Orruscar Nobility were still panicking rather than thinking things through properly. These Lychguard were clearly a stalling action, to slow them so that other forces could be directed towards them. But Warscythes were offensive weapons rather than defensive, and unwieldy to boot.

"You think to stop me? Such impudence must be punished!" With a thought, some of the mindshackle scarabs Trazyn always carried with him shot outward onto the two Lychguard.

Blocking the opening strike, which had gone from masterfully graceful to hurried and unbalanced in a mere moment, Trazun ducked under the strike of the second Lychguard and continued to move past them, refusing to lose any further time in effecting their escape.

"Still using those puppet scarabs of yours Trazyn, clearly we need to get you some new toys." Despite his sarcastic comment, Orikan didn't seem to mind the opportunity to avoid more combat, slipping past the Lychguard duo as they froze in place, internal systems attempting to fight off the effect of the mindshackle scarabs as they began to dominate their consciousness.

"Well if you could phase us to your ship a little faster, I wouldn't need to use such toys old man." It was perhaps a little churlish bringing up Orikan's age, especially as he was only two years older than Trazyn in a lifetime that had spanned millenia. But amongst those Necrontyr who still remembered their time before the bio-transference, two years was a massive difference in those whose lifetimes often barely passed forty.

"Obviously patience is something you still need schooling in brat, though given the situation I can understand why you are letting your fear get the better of your rational thinking… No duplicate bodies to transfer into this time." Trazyn snarled even as the two of them were forced to deal with a large group of Necron warriors that were blocking the path ahead of them, the slow moving automatons struggling to bring their gauss weapons to bear as the pair of them danced through them, felling an opponent with each strike of their respective weaponry.

As much as he didn't like to admit that Orikan had won this round, this was the first time in centuries that he had used his real body outside of Solemnace's halls. If only he hadn't used so many dupes in dealing with the damned bell...

Still, no use raging over discarded necrodermis, he'd arrange for an entire battalion to be created when he made it back to Solemnace. Assuming he had time while he crushed these upstarts into the dust…

The flash of Gauss weaponry barely registered to Trazyn's senses, as he spun to decapitate the last of the Necron warriors that had dared force him to deal with melee combat, striking out of the darkened side corridor that he only now realised was too dark. Such was the surprise the attempted assassination achieved, Trazyn was only able to shield his head with his left hand, catching the beam of particles that was targeted with pinpoint accuracy.

"Deathmarks!" This time, the rage in Trazyn's voice was cold and full of malice, all thoughts of amused outrage at the Orruscan nobility stomped into the dust as he used the Empathic Obliterator to react as close to instantaneously as he could against the threat.

*Thunk*

As his left arm hit the floor, sparking and smoking slightly from the destruction of the internal synaptic links that allowed Trazyn to 'feel', Orikan was thankfully taking out his own issues on the Necron assassins with the Staff of Tomorrow, giving Trazyn a moment to adapt to his new impairment.

If he hadn't severed the affected limb, the effects of the Deathmark's synaptic disintegrator would have at best killed him in seconds, or left him as a mere shadow of himself in minutes.

"Hakmephet would dare break the ancient pacts? Such arrogance! Such foolishness!" Orikan had felled three of the Deathmarks by the time Trazyn returned to the fray, obviously using some kind of secret technology to slow them down without affecting himself, as he moved between them like a mono-scythe cutting through still water.

"Obviously he assumes that it doesn't matter as long as he makes sure we don't get a chance to tell anyone…" It wouldn't be the first time the accords regarding the usage of Deathmarks against fellow Necrons had been broken of course, though given the normally peerless success rate of the Deathmarks such history was more built on hearsay rather than first hand accounts.

If they survived this, it would be only the third failed Deathmark assassination in the last millenia, or at least the third that the Dynasties would admit to.

Blasting the last Deathmark to smouldering wreckage, even as it tried to retreat back into it's dimensional pocket that had allowed them the initial opportunity for their ambush, Trazyn resisted the urge to grumble further even as his Necrodermis' regenerative properties began to kick in.

"Well, we will have to disappoint them Trazyn, we are nearly ready to phase to the Zodiac's Fury. Are you ready?" Planting the Empathic Obliterator into the hallway floorway, to allow him a free hand to grab a couple of items from his pouches, Trazyn couldn't help the smug vindication that was audible in his voice.

"Maybe just one further stop along the way. Wouldn't want to depart without leaving a present for our host after all…" He'd been wondering what to do with the 5,000 Orks that he had trapped in several Tesseract Cubes on his person after all, having traded the Squat part of that particular display to the Traveller.

What was that phrase the Traveller had used again?

Waste not, want not…

The Solace of Agony, Drukhari Bladed Lotus Light Cruiser, Reznor System, 999.M41 4 hours after the arrival of The Chariot of Retribution

Bhutahr Nazzack, Drukhari Kabalite Raid Captain

The Solace of Agony sat in one of the larger pockets of space between the wrecks of the primitive Mon-keigh vessels numbering in their thousands, the lumbering hulks making The Solace's sleek and sharp profile all the more evidently superior in design and function.

The Solace was one of an entire flotilla of Drukhari Raiding Vessels, joined together under the banner of Archon Ferotax of the Bleaksoul Brethren for the purpose of targeting the Ynnari that had fled from Commoraugh several months before, commandeering more than half a dozen Brethren Vessels as their own in the process.

Personally, Bhutahr had no bone to pick with the Ynnari, especially given the Champion of the Arena was rumoured amongst the fleet they were targeting, such fighting against other Drukhari made little sense when there were far… easier targets in the area. More than half of the other raiding captains had been easily persuaded to join him on a series of 'excursions' to pass the time.

The screams and mewling cries of the Mon-keigh prisoners, jammed into the underbellies of the ship in their thousands from the recent slave-raids into the Jubal system, brought a heady feeling of pleasure to Bhutahr's darkened soul. The desire to descend into the darkened pits and sate his eternal hunger on a few of the weakest creatures was almost overpowering, and it was only the promise of a greater reward that awaited their return to the Drukhari homeworld of Commaraugh that stayed his hand.

That wasn't to say this little side trip had been without cost, his Kabalite warriors had taken heavy losses after encountering a group of the Mon-keigh brutes known in their primitive tongue as 'Space Marines', failing to capture even one of them after driving them and their crew to abandon their neolithic space vessel. They had captured hundreds of the Mon-keigh crew, and slain three Space Marines in the initial boarding action, but there was little reward in the spires of Commaraugh for dead Space Marines.

But Bhutahr hadn't reached his position by being greedy, and despite the lure of potential rewards that laid on the monstrous Mon-keigh battleship before him, it was in part the battlestation in whose shadow the Battleship sat that stayed his desire to send his Kabalite warriors forth once more.

His sensors didn't detect any active shields on the battlestation, or much in the way of life signs in general, but its engines were active and had moved it with agonising slowness in The Solace of Agony's direction over the last several hours. And if any of the weapon systems on something that large were active, it wouldn't matter that it didn't have shields. It's bulk alone made it near impervious to anything The Solace and it's accompanying raiding frigates could inflict, even if they spent hours hammering away at the areas where there were clear signs of millenia old battle damage.

No, best to claim the easy prizes amongst the Mon-keigh Scavenger ships that his boarding parties had pursued into the literal minefield of battlefield wreckage that sat off to one side of their current location, and then return to the main raiding force in readiness for the Ynnari's arrival before the battlestation could reach weapons range.

"My lord, the last raiding transport is returning now, but they aren't responding to our hails." Bhutahr went through the motions of scowling at the report from one of the tank-born Drukhari that operated the ship's comms systems, but it wasn't exactly an uncommon occurrence amongst raider forces.

"Idiots are probably too busy gorging on their captives to be paying attention. What hangar?" The Raiding transports could hold dozens of Mon-keigh at a time, even more if the warriors took heavy losses during the raids, and were almost capable of entirely autonomous piloting and docking.

"Starboard Bow Hangar one, my lord." It was the nearest hangar to the bridge of The Solace, which made Bhutahr's decision all the easier.

"Excellent, I will go and meet them personally…" The fact that such a meeting would invariably end in the death of at least two or three of the raiding party as examples went unsaid, and certainly none of the bridge crew would find fault in such 'leadership style'.

Their cuts of the eventual price that could be bartered on their return to Commaraugh would be reduced if the raiding parties slaughtered half their prisoners before bringing them aboard after all.

Still, if the raiding party were soul-drunk on the pain and torture of their 'prizes' then they might be… obstinate about him executing their leaders, and Bhutahr had no delusions about taking on an entire raiding party by himself. Not that he would need to, that is what he had his own cadre of bodyguards and enforcers for, each of them seasoned members of his own raid team from his previous role before his ascension.

Gesturing, one of the three squads he had placed on the bridge moved quickly to a defensive grouping as he strode from the bridge and to the nearest Grav-lift. Slave packs were already at work moving ammunition and other supplies through the halls, the pack handlers revelling in the use of pain-whips and razor sharp lances to 'motivate' their charges out of his path, any who were too slow in doing so bodily battered aside by the four Drukhari clearing his path.

One of the slaves, an elderly Mon-keigh male, collapsed rather than be knocked to the side of the corridor as a much younger Mon-keigh female with a shock of red hair cried and tried to move in his direction, causing one of the younger pack handlers to draw his mono-blade with a clear malice in his posture at the 'lack of discipline'.

"Enough!" The distance was such that Bhutahr had to take only three steps to intervene, every assembled soul freezing in place as one of his Djin blades rested against the nape of the pack handler's neck, the power field cutting lightly into the Kabalite's armour even as Bhutahr's other hand gripped the man's wrist to prevent him cutting down the female Mon-keigh.

"Slaves are only to be killed if they attempt to attack or violently resist, not whenever you feel like instilling a bit of fear to fuel your hunger clone…" The reminder of the pack-handler's own status, which in the eyes of any 'true-born' Drukhari was only a step or so above the slaves he currently lorded over, made the pack-handler stiffen with barely controlled rage and fear.

"U-Understood Ship-master." Both emotions gave the encounter an intoxicating scent, even as two of his bodyguards disarmed the pack-handler and moved him aside, allowing three of the Mon-keigh to move and retrieve their fallen fellow.

With the path cleared, Bhutahr was quick to move on from the minor incident, ignoring the muffled thanks that the Mon-keigh female muttered in his direction. He hadn't done anything for her sake, it had been a challenge to his orders and the threatened loss of his 'investment' that had driven his intervention.

Word would spread quickly enough and it would make what he would do to the raid leaders approaching now look like a continuation of said lesson. Which would give it all the more resonance among his more 'difficult' followers, making the consequences for any future disloyalty crystal clear…

The slight hiss of the Djin blade still in his hand made clear its inhabitant was not at all happy about having been drawn without bloodshed, the trapped soul of the first assassin that had been hired to take his head after he became a raid leader was certainly a bloodthirsty and cantankerous being.

Though if Bhutahr was trapped in a power blade that could only 'feel' the outside world through the shedding of blood and rending of souls, he wouldn't exactly be happy about the situation either.

"60 seconds until boarding ship-master." Scowling slightly as he gestured for his party to speed up with three hand gestures, Bhutahr cleared the remaining halls at a run that would have left any Mon-keigh collapsed in exhaustion by the time they arrived at the intended hangar.

Despite his superior Drukhari physiology, Bhutahr found himself breathing hard as he slowed to a stalking stride, obviously a sign the life of a ship-master had in fact been a little too kind to him.

Brushing an errant lock of raven hair aside, and vowing to restart his training regime from when he had been a mere Kabalite warrior the moment this mission was over, Bhutahr did not have to fake the angry scowl that dominated his expression as the assault ship entered the hangar.

It was clearly on autopilot, as any Drukhari would have been high on the energies of their captives, the motion of the ship as it settled across the hundred metre hangar smooth and without flair or attempts to impress. The psychic smell of fear, pain and death that quite literally radiated from the ship seemed to confirm Bhutahr's fears that the crew had gotten carried away.

"Boss… something… Something's wrong." Where moments before his bodyguards had been full of confidence, something about the feel of the ship was putting them on edge, and it was only as the giant loading ramp facing them from the bow of the ship disengage it's vacuum locks did Bhutahr realise what had similarly been screaming at him from the back of his mind.

Souldrunk Drukhari tended to radiate emotions such as satisfaction or even pleasure, which would have been almost as easy to discern as the other psychic impressions he had been getting. But here there was nothing, only silence as the ramp dropped down swiftly, which it should only do when it was boarding enemy shi…

"Mon-keigh!" The sight of more than a dozen Space Marines, weapons raised and firing even as they charged down the ramp at a run, made Bhutahr's shout a little redundant.

But as two of his bodyguards were messily eviscerated in the vital moments it took for them to realise the danger, Bhutahr had no time to process the fact that his shout would have been far more useful into his comms system rather than merely out loud to the hangar, three bolter rounds having targeted his chest and head. Ducking behind a small pile of maintenance equipment, with a speed born from realising exactly how much trouble he was in, Bhutahr knew that such flimsy defences wouldn't last under the explosive fire of the Mon-keigh weaponry.

But given he was armed with melee weaponry, and there was at least 40 metres between him and the Space Marines, charging towards them wasn't really an option. Which left…

"Ship-master!" The voice of the ship's navigator, almost screaming in his ear, nearly made Bhutahr dodge out of cover on reflex.

It was something he'd have to do soon anyway, as the replacement piece of ship plating that was serving as the majority of his protection was being reduced to slag far swifter than he'd like. At least someone on the bridge seemed to have noticed the invasion, if they were contacting him so…

"The Ynnari, they've jumped into position right above us and are launching boarding craft! Our spy gave no warning!" And when it rains, it pours, or however the saying went.

"Evasive maneuvers! And send combat units to Hangar 1, the Mon-keigh have boarded us already!" The Ynnari were a bigger problem than the Mon-keigh in front of him, strategically he knew this.

But as his risked glance to assess the situation nearly cost him his skull to a bolt round, Bhutahr knew he wasn't going to be thinking of anything but his own survival for the next few units.

Unknown Enemy Vessel, Reznor System, 999.M41 12 days after 'The Saint's awakening'

Letty Cudan, Kasrkin Acting Lieutenant and Weapons Specialist, 9th squad, 1st Company, 129th Cadian Regiment

"More non-combatants. 4 O'clock!" Officially, Letty was still meant to be bed-bound on medical leave.

In fact, according to the hastily scribbled medical notes that she wasn't meant to have seen from her treatment on Urthwart, she was meant to be in a casket. Between the rapid onset infection, perforated intestine and internal bleeding, it should have been impossible for anyone but an experienced Magos Biologis to do anything but ease her passing.

"Search them! No more surprises!" Instead, she found herself promoted to Lieutenant and leading a boarding operation onto a Xenos vessel, alongside Astartes and the psyker that had saved her life, as well two companies of Kasrkin.

The promotion in itself wasn't a surprise, given the mauling the 129th had taken on Urthwart there had been a lot of leadership positions to fill. But the jump from Corporal straight to Lieutenant, over several older and more experienced Sergeants in the 1st Company, was definitely going to lead to several probing questions in the newly gazetted Captain Gratis' direction when they got back to Cadia.

"Contact!" The call from their right as they continued to advance, causing every Kasrkin around her to move into what cover was available, again serving as a reminder that even 30 Astartes couldn't cover every corridor as they rampaged through the ship.

"Die Mon-keigh scum!" Even as the Xenos appeared from amongst the panicking former slaves, butchering Low Gothic in a manner that made it clear how little they thought of the language, Letty couldn't help but think that the Imperial Saint had a point with his nightly speeches and improvised sermons.

'For Mankind to thrive and flourish amongst the stars, we must break with the belief that such a right is 'pre-ordained' or 'ours by the Emperor's Divine right'! For humanity's strength is no single and flimsy thing such as fate or chance, it is built up from the work, blood and sacrifice of each and every one of us! The farmers, voidsmen and factory workers. The lowliest Guardsmen, the Tech-Priests and the noble Astartes.

Each and everyone of us stands for a belief beyond a single person or figure, but for the belief that no matter what foulness and spite the Galaxy can throw at us, the Imperium of Mankind will endure and scream our defiance to the stars!'

For all the 'official' scripture that the Ecclesiarchy on Cadia espoused about mankind's superiority and divine right to the stars, it had only taken one hidden Xenos that the Astartes had missed to take out 4 Kasrkin and injure half a dozen more. And it would probably have been more if the Psyker hadn't intervened, which he did again now as the Xenos weapons spat death in their direction.

It was part of the reason that Letty had actually not moved into cover, the shimmering shield of lightning and force that encompassed the two of them providing far more protection than any ship balustrade would offer, and it kept the Xenos' attention fixed on the two of them as her Kasrkin returned fire. As one of the former slaves collapsed backwards, used as a human shield by the Xenos and riddled with half a dozen fist sized holes to the abdomen, Letty realised the Xenos were clearly adapting to their incursion.

The first three attacks had been far more rushed and hadn't made use of the humans aboard...

"GET DOWN!" The psyker, who was only referred to as such because Letty hadn't managed to get an official rank to better use, barely raised his voice to carry above the din of screams and gunfire.

But it took a considerable act of willpower from Letty to not drop to the ground in response to the psychic suggestion, something that it was clear the former slaves didn't possess as they dropped like rookies after punishment detail, several of them colliding bodily with other former slaves or even the Xenos as they did so.

Even the Xenos seemed thrown by the mental 'assault', which combined with the suddenly difficult terrain meant that the Kasrkin could finally draw a bead on them. That wasn't to say they simply died, one of them managing to make it almost halfway through the mass of bodies on the floor before a bolt of energy from the psyker consumed his upper body.

Still, there were more than 30 dead or maimed former slaves scattered amongst the survivors, lasgun rounds against unarmoured flesh were not a good match up. Even more of the former slaves were injured in the crush that had occurred as they attempted to get away from the Xenos attackers, or when the Psyker ordered them to drop to the floor.

Several of the Kasrkin immediately moved to help the wounded, even if they had been weak enough to be captured by the foul Xenos, they were going to be more useful to the Imperium alive than dead.

"Prioritise the worst of the wounded, get those that can walk back to the safe area." The psyker was already working his powers even as he strode forwards, more than a dozen of the former slaves crying out in shock and slight pain as they were bodily lifted into the air.

Tendrils of glowing white power, which was reminiscent of The Saint's but felt far more… Letty couldn't quite give meaning to the feeling of peace but firmness that emanated even as they began to restore the slaves. And it wasn't just surface or recent wounds that shifted and knitted back together, as Letty well knew as her free hand unconsciously moved to where the abdominal bayonet scar she had received during Whiteshield training used to be.

That, half a dozen other scars and even her shoulder, which had long been a minor annoyance since she dislocated it as a child, had all disappeared over the course of her treatment at the Psyker's hands. Even breathing had become easier since she was released from the med-bay, the occasional wheezing hisses that came when she pushed herself to her limits was gone from her breathing.

"There, that should be sufficient for now. Grab the others and get moving to where it is safer." The very air around the Psyker was lighter after his use of his healing powers, the former slaves stood and checked their now healed limbs in clear shock and awe, but that lasted only moments.

"Understood my lord, bless your strength and kindness!" There were more similar cries from the other healed ones, who quickly moved to assist in moving the walking wounded while the Psyker lifted a second set of former prisoners out of the accidental pile up of bodies.

More than forty former slaves were moved and healed in this manner in less than a minute, meaning the numbers of wounded and injured for them to deal with dropped from over a hundred to a far more manageable twenty or so who were in far more critical condition.

As the last batch of walking wounded moved away under the careful watch of five of her Kasrkin there was a shift in the air, the smell of ozone permeating from where the psyker stopped mid-step from moving to assist in the treatment of the wounded.

"Get those that can walk out of here… now." The Psyker's words were filled with an urgency that hadn't been there when he had been giving instructions earlier, which made every Kasrkin ready up for more combat.

The Psyker hadn't led them wrong so far, despite the grumbles of the more... zealous members of the Kasrkin and Urthwart populace, and for him to be on edge didn't bode well.

"Please, we need help!" The cry from amongst the former slaves drew Letty's attention from scanning the air ducts and ceiling spaces, and it was as she looked down she caught sight of another Xenos.

This one was different from the others they had encountered so far though, in the same manner that a Fenrisian Wolf stuck out from the normal wolves and wild dogs she was used to.

"Xenos to the front!" It was incredibly hard to focus on the Xenos directly, who seemed thoroughly unconcerned as more than thirty Kasrkin levelled weapons over the remaining injured, as if there was something that stopped them perceiving her properly if they looked at her head on.

Dressed in some strange half armoured bodysuit, which left large stretches of abdomen that could have been carved from stone such was the definition of the muscles exposed there, the clearly female Xenos coming to a stop about fifty or so metres from them.

"Your powers aren't as impressive as you think, such a disappointment…" The Xenos' words were spoken in High Gothic, in a tone that portrayed amusement and dismissal of the weapons pointed at it in equal measure.

"Lord Potter will show you the error of saying his powers are weak, foul Xenos!" The cry from one of the younger Kasrkin drew a mocking chuckle that, while clearly elicited at normal volume, carried and echoed around them in an unsettling and offputting fashion.

Casting a glance over at the Psyker, who was for some reason not even looking in the Xenos' direction but instead casting his gaze around the entire area, Letty froze as he suddenly jerked his vision towards her, the translated words conveying something approaching fear in his voice.

"She wasn't talking to me… Lieutenant, I need you all to put your weapons down." Every instinct screamed at Letty to spin round, as the Psyker's gaze wasn't on her, but something behind her, but it was the look of restrained panic on the Psyker's face that made her reconsider.

"Are you sure that's a good idea sir? I'm sure we can take two of them, no matter how one snuck by us." There was something like a snort of amusement from whatever was standing behind her, in a similar manner that a 30 year veteran dismissed the boasts of a Whiteshield on his first assignment, as the Psyker shook his head.

"There's not just two of them, and if they wanted to get the drop on us I doubt they would have waited for me to notice them to do it…" He had a point, though the stories of what Xenos might want that didn't involve messily slaughtering them were hardly better consideration.

"Kasrkin, weapons down and fall back to the last Evac point." Stowing her own plasma pistol, a 'promotion weapon' she wasn't entirely thrilled to have if she was honest with herself, Letty raised her hands to make it clear she was unarmed before slowly turning around to see what or who had managed to get the jump on her so adroitly.

"My illusions work better if you don't just stride down an open corridor, though clearly the Mon-keigh here is more able than most if he was able to detect all the dancers here." The speaker, dressed in a mixture of gaudy colours and stark grey and black robes, wasn't even ready for combat or stood.

Instead the Xenos was leaning against a wall, twirling a long staff-like weapon in one hand, her entire posture screaming a mixture of playful annoyance and intrigue in a way that made her shadowed visor almost pointless. Thankfully, the other Kasrkin seemed prepared to listen to her orders despite their training, more than a dozen of them moving to help some of the remaining former slaves evacuate with them.

A nervous silence fell over the four of them as the other Kasrkin departed, Letty determined to keep to her mission objective of protecting the psyker during the boarding operation, Kasrkin weren't worried about minor things such as numbers, skill or psyker powers anyway.

"You are a brave one for a Mon-keigh, most would have either tried to kill me or left with their men. Do you trust The Ally of Ynnead to protect his acolyte if the rhythm demands violence?" The gaudy one was clearly trying to get a rise from them for some reason, though the title she gave to the Psyker held a hint of reverence that gave a clear indication as to why the Xenos were here to talk this time.

"She is here for your protection, which is something you should probably thank her for given your terrible attempts to refer to dance and song in every sentence. If you utter another terrible pun or analogy I will force you to spend the rest of this meeting tap-dancing in a maid's outfit… Though looking at you, you'd probably enjoy it." There was a soft chuckle from behind Letty, reminding her that there was in fact a second Xenos to worry about, one that had somehow managed to cover the 50 or so metres between them with nary a sound to betray her journey.

"I think such an act would be highly entertaining, if you could indeed pull it off without Veilwalker deciding to get serious for a change…" Up close, the scarlet haired and scantily clad Xenos was even more of a picturesque and dangerous figure than she had been from afar.

"Oh, such a backbone on this one, maybe we can perform a…" The masked Xenos was forced to pause as the scarlet haired Xenos blurred into action.

The clang of steel on steel made Letty jump, the serrated blade buried almost an inch into the bulkhead neact to the raised staff of the masked one seemingly having appeared out of thin air, despite the fact Letty had been watching the entire scene. She had seen the Scarlet Xenos twitch, but drawing a blade, aiming and throwing it in the time it took Letty to blink?

"No more, getting us aboard and to the Ally of Ynnead, that was what was required of you Shadowseer. By your own admission, your interactions with the 'new note' will be detrimental to the Ynnari, and I was the one tasked with this mission. You and your troupe can continue to deal with these would-be assassins and slavers, perhaps we can even take the ship intact and functional if this meeting ends amicably. Two Mon-keigh, even one who has drawn such interest from you and Ynnead, will be no trouble for me." Letty realised at this point what the Psyker had meant about her presence being protection for the Xenos, as the masked Xenos looked in her direction in clear amusement before raising her hand above her head and waving it in some kind of dismissive gesture and then doing an imitation of a line across her face.

"Sufficient… for now." Clearly the gestures meant something more to the Scarlet Xenos than it did to Letty, her attention turning back to the Psyker with a self-satisfied smirk on her face.

"I apologise for Shadowseer Veilwalker. All I can say is that she is usually far worse than this, so she is seemingly trying to be at her best behaviour…" The one referred to as Veilwalker crossed her arms in a clearly over the top angry manner, though she went ignored as the Scarlet Xenos continued, dipping her head in a small bow reminiscent of one of the more… elitist Imperial Guard Officers at the start of a duel.

"I am Lelith Hesperax, Leader of the Cult of Strife and Herald of Ynnead's Chosen. I greet you, Ally of Ynnead on behalf of Ynnari and the Eldar race, and despite the efforts of our more… degenerate cousins I intend to ensure a positive impression of our cause and it's importance." It was forced politeness and formality, clearly this Lelith was not normally one for politics even if she did a decent job of trying to hide it.

"So, you aren't with these slavers? Good to know. But I would say that if you want to talk, an enemy ship in the middle of a boarding action isn't exactly in my top five locations for a diplomatic summit. One would almost think you were trying to distract me from finding out exactly what these 'cousins' of yours have been up to..." There was a light hiss from Veilwalker, and Letty was pleasantly surprised that the Psyker was so openly antagonistic towards this Hesperax, there were rumours amongst the non-Kasrkin Guardsmen about his seeming friendship with a robotic type Xenos.

And despite his almost unfathomable psyker powers, he was still a man. Letty was distracted by the beautiful Xenos in front of them, so she couldn't imagine what was going on inside his head…

"I see you are also not one for politics." Despite the slight, Hesperax was smiling even as tapped her upper arm twice before continuing.

"You are correct however, there are better places for us to formally introduce ourselves and speak candidly, though whether your Mon-keigh allies would permit such talks is another question. Shall we call a truce for now? My forces can aid in securing the ship, and free any Mon-keigh prisoners, to show that we are serious with our intentions." Letty's mind was torn between confusion and the inherent suspicion towards the Xenos.

For though Imperium dogma was emphatic on the point 'trust not the Xenos, they will lie and advance their subversive agenda against the Emperor's work!' Their desire to make nice with the Psyker was clearly their main reason here and they weren't trying to hide it.

"And I'm sure you will take control of the ship when that is done, so it isn't exactly a selfless act you're offering here." The Psyker seemed to pause for a moment, before shaking his head and then bowing slightly towards the two Xenos.

"Apologies, I have long been treated like I am a dumb child who must be manipulated and coerced into fighting and killing for 'The Greater Good' without any consideration for my own wants and desires. I shouldn't assume that you would do the same and analyse every word for tricks and schemes, when you haven't shown any real indication that you plan on doing so…" On the face of it, it was a simple apology with an explanation for his antagonism.

But the sideways glance Hesperax cast at Veilwalker as she gave another lilting giggle made Letty think there was a depth to the apology that she hadn't grasped.

"Again, your words are far more accurate than I expected Veilwalker. Well, I make no promises for the rest of my kind, such would be the same folly as you offering to stand by the words of every Mon-keigh, but I will not waste time and effort on pointless breaga kion brion." The last words were clearly in the Xenos' own language, but the Psyker seemed to accept it after several moments of musing.

"Strange... The translator has your language as 'Old One Spawn Speak'. But I suppose, if you are prepared to be straight with me, we might as well talk face to face…" Even as the Psyker spoke, his form shimmered and grew, like a hallucination caused by a dust haze and too much amsac, the form of Astartes Gallant towering over the Xenos but looking in the direction of the badly wounded former slaves.

It was at this point that Letty realised it had been too quiet for some many dying, and looking that way she found the Psyker at his work without a care he was presenting his back to someone he had just diplomatically slighted.

"He plays with shadows and illusions, and has no care for slights as he carries out his work. I'm now less sure he is an Ally of Ynnead instead of one of the Laughing God's flock, as much as the idea of the two of you fills me with a terrible dread…" Hesperax waited a moment and then turned to her companion, Letty caught the look of surprise on the Xenos' face as she turned in turn, only to see the veiled Xenos shimmer in an identical manner to the Psyker before disappearing in a small flash.

"Merlin's saggy ballsack!" Letty didn't know who this Merlin was, but the sheer shock in the Psyker's voice made an uncharacteristic chuckle build in her throat as she jumped round to catch him landing from a jump that had carried him at least two feet from his latest patient.

The veiled Xenos, who was examining the same injured former slave, gave no indication that she noticed the reaction she had elicited and was instead looking at the now healed patient's wounds.

"I think he is far less complicated, and far more interesting than you give him credit for young Hesperax, the other side to a coin long rotating without true faces to spin between. Still, I think our focus should be on the messages the God-Prince Spawn has for consideration…" For a fraction of a second, Letty thought the veiled Xenos meant her, and only after a moment of frantic panic did she realise that she wasn't even carrying a vox-system outside of her void-suit's inbuilt comms.

"Listening in on our comms as well as playing mind games. Typical of your kind." Astartes Gallant's tone was colder than usual, and Letty knew even amongst Astartes he was hardly a boisterous conversationalist, but as the veiled Xenos did a mocking semi-bow while kneeling, the Astartes ignored her and carried on speaking.

"We have received communications from Magos Nihilus. Chariot is waiting to assault on The Last Word's sensor data, but the number of enemy vessels has greatly increased including at least two Cruiser-class ships. Given the… agreement with these Xenos, how do you want to proceed?" The Psyker finished his healing work with a small flourish, another half dozen former slaves caught between shock at their healing and terror at the unknown Xenos facing them.

"Keep The Chariot at a distance until we can take the bridge or cripple their engines. While I don't know much about these raiders, I imagine an Imperial ship appearing while they are also under assault from their own kind might spook them into doing something stupid." Straightening from his crouched stance, which reminded Letty of a cat that had been caught off guard, The Psyker then gestured to Hesperax.

"Speaking of, shall we take an objective each Lady Hesperax? While I can limit the actions of the Legion somewhat, I wish to avoid any risks of friendly fire in the rush of combat. I can keep Veilwalker with me as a contact in the meantime, though I warn you, the whole tapdancing thing is still very much on the table…" Looking at the Xenos in question, as she jumped to her feet a little too eagerly, Letty wasn't entirely sure she wasn't taking the threat as more of a challenge.

"I would warn against such, if only to avoid the headaches her actions will no doubt lead to. But, if it means I don't need to deal with her then please, go ahead. My forces will take the bridge, my presence there will cow most of the remaining scum into surrendering or running, not that such will save them." Gone was the forced politeness, the stilted body language and clear attempt to restrain herself in the name of first impressions.

The predatory smile that showcased her ivory teeth, twin knives that appeared in Hesperax's hands as if they had been there the entire time, even the flick of her hair reinforced the initial impression that Letty had when she had seen Hesperax down the corridor. This Xenos was a reaper of death, and she could only be glad that she was on their side… for now.

A/N: And that's a wrap, for this chapter anyway. Apologies there was such a long delay on this chapter, I just couldn't get it out the way I envisioned it, particularly the interactions between Hesperax, Veilwalker and Harry. That and tbh, the last two years have been mad! Too much work, not enough life balance.

Balancing Hesperax's 'better than thou' attitude, Veilwalker's joking half-truth's and Harry's jadedness on said points was a challenge, and I am still not 100 % happy with it.

Still, I've dropped some more hints as to what Harry and Co might be here for, and of course there is what Veilwalker hinted might help the Ynnari as well somewhere in the area to consider. Quite a lot of people wanted Harry to find one of the Gloriana Class Battleships which were the personal vessels of the Primarch's, but unfortunately that would have stretched the 'luck of the plot' a little too far I feel unless it was a near ruin, and that would have ruined it's usefulness.

Now, that isn't to say that's completely off the table for this story at a later date, as at some point I want to deal with the two lost Legions and their Primarch's, each of which would have had a Gloriana class Battleship readied for them. But that's quite a way off, and I don't want to get distracted from other plots and plans.

Let me know what you think as always, and I welcome ideas on lore around the Fall of Cadia that I will want to take into consideration. We will get there, I promise :P

Defias Out!