A/N: I apologize for the delay. Blame Fallout 4. XD
Book Two: Corruption's End
Chapter 37: Looking Out for Us
"You don't survive forty-five years in the Guard without getting some crazy ideas about the level of interest the God-Emperor has in you. Now shut the fuck up and get me my recaf." - Veteran Sergeant Janice Vadiik, soon after her retirement on Woadia
"Oh, you bitch!" Yang screamed, skidding backwards. Even though she'd had her aura up, it was like getting hit by a truck. Her semblance flared, dying to be used against the Palatine. "Fug!" She said, lips running over with blood. You're going to eat my fucking fists. She bit her tongue trying to keep her hair from bursting into ghost-flame, but she could not stop her eyes from reddening.
The Palatine stepped backwards, stumbled by the rage that poured from Yang. When she saw her eyes, Naja snarled and stomped forward, eviscerator braced to behead Yang. A flash of ebony and silver interrupted her.
"ENOUGH!" Weiss bellowed. Yang's head snapped around to face the Inquisitor, the woman's face masked behind a twisted, sneering skull. The Palatine spat, still advancing. "Stand down, the both of you!"
"But-" Yang shouted, blood leaking through her fingers.
"Stand down!" Weiss continued. "This is utterly ridiculous! Childish!" Ira approached, red robes dripping with blood. Behind him stood the kasrkin, white masks gleaming in the shrouded sun.
"My Lady?" He asked, bionic eyes flicking between the two women.
"Pursue them!" Weiss replied, waving at the fleeing cultists. "Do not overextend! Shore up our flanks and dig in! I'll order General Campbell to follow us. Get Lieutenant Varo up here too." Bowing, Ira jogged away, relaying orders. The kasrkin marched forward, following him. Their Captain stopped to glare at Yang before another caught his shoulder and directed him onwards.
"As for you, Palatine, this is disgraceful. Absolutely disgusting."
"This wretch is a mutant!" The Sister shrieked, her halo quivering with anger as she pointed at Yang. "You dare defend her!?" Weiss paused at this, head turning to look at her warband. Only a few were brave enough to observe the altercation directly.
"Follow me, both of you. I will have total silence."
"Fuck that," Yang started, snarling. "I'm-"
"SILENCE." Weiss said, her sword set alight with crackling blue power. She turned on her heel and stomped into the ancient shipwreck, now smoldering from the earlier assault. Yang followed reluctantly, making sure Naja stayed in front of her. The second she makes a move, I'm shoving my sword up her ass. Ducking inside the ruin, they found relative privacy. The dozens of charred skeletons and smoking corpses would not disturb them. Weiss rounded on them. Even though her face was hidden, Yang could feel her frustration and anger spilling over, a blizzard that pressed down upon her mind.
"Do you realize what you've done?" She hissed. Naja huffed, planting her eviscerator into the ground and crossing her arms.
"You've kept me from squashing a roach," she offered.
"Wrong, Palatine!" Weiss said, shaking a finger at her. "I pray to the Emperor that no one saw that display of yours! And Yang! I warned you! I explicitly warned you about your arrogance!"
"Excuse me?" She demanded. "I try and do my job, and I get punched in the face for my efforts!"
"I will not be treated like a common dog," Naja shot back. "I am one of the Emperor's chosen, and you are little more than a freakishly strong mutant! No ordinary human can withstand my discipline and remain unscathed." Yang growled, her fingers tightening into a fist.
"I'm gonna break you over my knee if you keep pissing me off!" Their argument was interrupted when Weiss picked them up and pinned them to the wall, slamming them hard enough to dent the rusted metal.
"One more word. I dare you." She growled. Yang struggled under Weiss' grip, but found no purchase. "You are two of my most capable warriors. If I see you bickering again, I will break you. Palatine," she said, snapping her head to glower at her. "Your conduct is disgraceful, and I will be making a full report to your Canoness. If," she said, knocking her head back when her lips opened in protest, "I decide not to take my own disciplinary measures first. And for your information, she is no mutant, but my apprentice psyker."
When the Palatine's lips twisted into a snarl, Weiss rang her against the wall once more, pushing her farther into the unyielding metal. "Your personal opinions on the matter are irrelevant, Palatine. She butchered heretics, is that not enough? Who cares who does it or how? As for you Yang," she continued, staring into her stormy violet eyes, "we've spoken about keeping your emotions in check. If word gets out you picked a fight with the Palatine, there will be side-taking and divisiveness, two things I absolutely do not abide. We do the Emperor's work, and the fact I must treat you like squabbling children turns my stomach." She released them, and they landed on their feet, rubbing their necks.
"Go lead your Sisters," Weiss said to Naja. "Speak nothing of what was said here."
"Yes-"
"Now." The Palatine left without another word. When her back was turned, Weiss' pauldrons slumped, and she buried her face in her palm. "Are you okay, Yang?"
Yang didn't know what to say at first. She tries to be my friend after treating me like a child? Her anger must have shown, as a gauntleted hand landed on her shoulder. "Easy there," Weiss said, the other palm open and wary, "I had to make it look like I wasn't playing favorites."
"Wait, what? You're not mad at me?"
Weiss scoffed, cocking her head at the carnage behind them. "Of course not, I saw everything. Emperor, you almost routed an entire company by yourself! I did mean what I said about your arrogance, however. You shouldn't have been so careless with the Palatine, though. I warned you that the Sisters are a dangerous enemy," she said. "Now they will be watching you like a Nevermore, just waiting for an excuse to kill you." The skull-visage shifted, watching the retreating halo of Palatine Naja leaving to join her Sisters. "Or worse, make an official report to her Canoness upon her return." There was a brief silence as the Inquisitor took a deep breath. "Emperor, I should have handled that better. Damnation." she turned to face Yang, her face invisible, swallowed up by the baleful blue glow of her helmet's eyes. "I… apologize."
"It's... yeah," Yang said, breathing a soft sigh of relief. She didn't want to start another fight with her friend... but the Inquisitor's sudden laxity unnerved her. What game is she playing? Does she mean it? "Don't worry about it." It doesn't matter right now. She'd take whatever out she could. Weiss sighed, turning to watch the battle unfold. Woadians swarmed around them, building defenses and laying down suppressive fire.
"I didn't lie though, I can't have my warband fighting each other. Watch yourself. The Palatine won't take this lightly. She is a capable fighter, but she isn't you, Yang. If you need to pick a fight, there's more than enough heretics to slap around." Yang nodded, letting out a clipped laugh.
"Yeah, you got it. It sucks keeping my aura in check though. Can't really get into it like I could on Remnant."
"More's the pity. A few more months of lessons, and we'll see where you are. Now, let us go. We need to consolidate and regroup. Once we have them on the run, we'll push onto the Forge," she said, pointing to a distant cluster of skyscrapers that reached well beyond the clouds. "That's our destination. Once we get there, we might be able to find Josephus." Yang grinned at that.
"Can't wait." Weiss nodded, turning to leave.
"Keep your comrades in good spirits, Yang. The road ahead is long and dangerous."
With a snappy salute, Yang went to check on Caolin and Ros. Stepping out of the wreckage, she drank in the sight of the carnage they'd wrought. Dead cultists were strewn everywhere, most burnt to a crisp. Many others had been blown apart by bolt shells, rendered into little more than chunks of meat. A few Woadians lie dead or dying as well, moaning prayers as medics stooped over them.
She found Ros at Caolin's side, who she'd propped up against a slab of rockcrete. Jogging over, she gave them a wave. "Hey guys."
"Yang!" Ros said, her face brightening. "Praise the Emperor, you're okay!"
"Cause I've never come out unscathed before, right?" Yang replied clapping her on the back.
"Not last time," Caolin added, wearing a faint smile. "There was your ribs, after all." Laughing, Yang crouched down to meet his eyes.
"Good to see you're okay, bud."
"Oh, I wouldn't say I'm okay, per se. I did… you know… get shot."
"Suck it up," Asgeg said, walking over to them, a smile splitting her face. "You got zipped, you're even now."
"Hey Asgeg, how's the rest of Gamma? I lost track,' Yang said.
"We're all good. Sarge is rounding up the wounded, getting the others into position. Something you should be doing, Ros." Ros sighed and scooped up her lasgun.
"Yeah, good point. Watch him for me, would you?" She said, ruffling her friend's milky hair. He's an asshole, but I might get a little misty-eyed if he dies." Caolin lovingly patted her boot.
"I appreciate the outpouring of support. My corpse would be very grateful." He watched her jog away, grimacing. "You guys don't have to babysit me you know. Once everyone starts runnin' the other way, then I'll be concerned."
"Not happening, buddy," Asgeg said, punching Yang's shoulder. "Big, blonde and busty over here sent them packing. Practically by herself." Caolin smirked, resting his head against the rockrete.
"Sounds like Yang," he said. "Quick thinking, grabbing that banner. Emperor, what a rush."
"You sure you're okay?" Yang asked, eyeing his armor. It was burnt and cracked, but there was no cooked flesh beneath. She breathed a sigh of relief.
"Yeah, yeah. Varus stuck something in my neck, and gave me some pills. I'll live. Just catching my breath, really. Asgeg, you good?" He asked, looking up at their comrade. Her sharp chin and freckles shone in the muddy sunlight, splotched with bloodstains.
"Against all odds, yeah. But check this out." Stooping, she pointed at her bionic arm, which bore a series of long scratches. "Get this, I was about to hit the trench, and this fucker pops over it with an autogun. Point blank, right? As close as I am to you. He points it square at me, but he misses. Grazes my arm. Physically impossible, but it happened." She sighed, looking up at the dogfights that clouded the smog-choked sky. "It's like the bullets came out sideways. Emperor's looking out for us."
"That He is. He sent us Yang, didn't he?" Caolin said, the scar on his lip splayed into a wry grin. Yang shrugged, beaming.
"Just my luck to get stuck with you guys, huh?" She replied. "Alright, I'm going to do the rounds. Check on everyone else."
"You got it. Make sure Lana doesn't catch me like this, I'll never escape her." Chuckling, Yang moved on, hopping into the first trench. Her boots squelched and sloshed as they slogged through the ocean of blood that saturated the floor. A few wounded heretics still lived, until she found them.
The trench was mostly clear of Woadians.
However, looking out over the field they'd charged across, it was littered with dead. She scowled. Back at the canal, a press of green-clad soldiers prepared to move, clumping up behind boxy tanks. All along the battleline, the heretics were falling back.
She found Gamma near the leftwards flank, stacking sandbags and firing potshots at those foolish enough to come within range. Hopping out of the trench, she joined them. They welcomed her with a cheer, slapping her on the back and smiling broadly.
"Good work Trooper," Jorvis growled. "We thank you all from the bottom of blah, blah blah. Now quit gawking, maggots!" He said, "get back to work!" Grumbling but still grinning, they complied. Yang helped too, stacking sandbags with Theni and Ros. It felt good to build something, no matter how small… and even though staying behind cover wasn't her thing.
Ira bowed and obeyed his Lady, relaying her orders without hesitation. Whatever happened between the Palatine and his Lady's Representative was none of his business. All around him, the chorus of war ebbed and flowed, a thousand different sounds that looped through his subroutines, each one distinct and traceable. They'd done well seizing the hill, thanks to the efforts of Trooper Yang. He'd done his best as well, carving up the ones that couldn't face her head-on. Blood dripped from every extremity, soaking through his robes and staining his bionics.
Looking at Tyrham's Forge on the horizon, he grinned. He was home. It'd been twenty years since he saw it last, spirited away from the only world he'd ever known and thrust into the Imperium's most secretive and distinguished organization. He'd been called to a higher service, and though he didn't miss the clouded skies and noise of forge-work, a sense of nostalgia pervaded him, one that his processors logged as 'strange' yet 'warming'.
His eyes whirred, zooming to focus upon the fleeing heretics. Another victory for today, but rest could not come just yet. There was more work to be done, and Magos Tyrham must be relieved. The name of his old master opened a backlog of memories, each one booting up and displaying in the corner of his vision.
His birth.
His battles.
His Lady.
He shook his head. Twenty years since he fought against every instinct, rebelled against programming and his own metallic limbs to do what was right. Twenty years since he deleted the part of him that answered to 'Iota-Rho-One'.
He could remember seeing his Lady for the first time, clad in onyx armor and a swirling duster that dripped ichor and oil. He'd been tired, ragged, ammunition for his galvanic rifle nearly spent. Behind her stood her guard, twenty avatars of the Omnissiah's rage, black as the soot that stained their hellguns. Iota-Rho-One had expected a summary execution for staying behind, ignoring orders… defending the horde of trapped serfs that cowered and hid when the cultists ran amok outside the foundry.
Instead, the Inquisitor had praised his initiative, and extended him an offer far beyond his wildest projections. Why? He still wasn't entirely sure. Even after twenty years of serving and self-searching, the answer eluded him.
Stopping, his hand reached into his bloodstained robes, clasping around his necklace. After Shao-la, his Lady had kept her word. He prayed to the Omnissiah he didn't fail her trust. His eyes were open now, more so than ever before.
Uncurling his fingers, he pressed a kiss to the slim sterling cylinder.
He would not fail his Lady, and he would not fail the Recongregationalists.
Like a knife between the ribs of an unsuspecting victim, the Pylon of Malice slipped between the orbital battle that raged over the skies of Uriel. Dazatyhr sat at its helm, gauntleted fingers steepled into a nestle of ebony spikes, each laced with enough neurotoxins to fell a hundred kabalite warriors. The humans waged their petty war, unwilling and unable to detect the sliver of night that passed between them. He was nothing like these barbarous cretins. He was a warrior, a master, an epitome of cruel ability and unparalleled focus. He was entirely unlike his soft and false-faced Craftworld kin, those who abandoned the true way of the eldar after the Fall.
He was a trueborn son of Commorragh, and Senior Dracon of the Black Myriad Kabal. And he had a mission.
"Lord," an underling said, glancing up from her console, a pane of glass that cast the bridge in a sickly green glow, "We're entering the planet's atmosphere now." Her voice was silken and smooth, barely rising above the rattling of bladed chains that bound her to her station.
"Engage our stealth measures," Dazatyhr ordered with a wave of his hand. The crew obeyed in silence, each avoiding the black pits of his eyes. Displeasure in his gaze was a sordid, terrible thing and it meant one thing only - an invitation to Malafar's chambers. He grimaced at the thought. Any cost spent to avoid the Haemonculus is gladly paid.
His officers stood behind him, wreathed in shadow. He could taste their bloodthirst from here, a sweltering summervine ache. Travelling here was no short trip, and they had long exhausted the slaves that abated their succory relish for pain.
Parsing them, he scrutinized El'Eszthar, his lieutenant. Dazatyhr knew the trueborn upstart was angling to stick a knife in his back, patiently waiting for an opportunity to strike. In Commorragh, the rungs of all ladders were built from corpses. He would watch him closely.
No better was Succubus Alysandrex, leader of the Blade Denied wych cult. She lounged in the corner with her closest lackeys, expanding and retracting the yellow crystalline blades that sprouted from the hydra gauntlets around her wrists. With crackling hiss, the weapon slid from its housing once more, framing the lithe beauty of their owner in a pale light. She caught his eye, and a cruel, sharp-toothed grin stretched across her violet lips.
Dazatyhr ignored her. Archon Baharaz insisted that the Blade Denied should accompany their expedition. He knew that the promise of fighting alongside such a storied cult sent a cool thrill rippling under the skin of his warriors, but he had his reservations.
Personally, their presence curled his lip. Their mission was not an easy one, and wyches will always put glory and prize-winning above discipline and obedience. Their greatest failing. A detestable lot, he mused, watching the wyches fawn over the half-armored form of Alysandrex.
The battle they so desperately crooned for would arrive soon enough, but above all else, the mission must not be forgotten. Archon Baharaz charged him with this contract - a lucrative commission, entrusted to no one else.
And for a good reason… to abduct an Inquisitor from under the nose of the Imperium... A broad smile worked its way across his face, a forked tongue running over his sharpened teeth. It was a perfect challenge, and there was no one better to complete it.
Recalling the relevant data, he examined his target once more. A small, pretty thing, her face upturned and arrogant, frozen between locks of icy hair. She will be fun to break, he thought. Running a talon around the smoothness of her features, he laughed. She was alluring, in a barbaric, savage way.
He could almost hear her screams as Malafar flayed her skin away, twisted her limbs into fanciful knots. The proud ones thrilled him to no end.
Dazatyhr smirked. Completing the mission would secure a plethora of treasures for himself and his warriors, one they could grow fat upon. It will even be enough to please those damnable wyches. And who knew? In the chaos of the raid, El'Eszthar could suffer a nasty accident.
Such is the capricious nature of war.
A/N: Weiss did not handle that situation very intelligently, wouldn't you say? She's used to total, unquestioning obedience, and the Palatine doesn't enjoy the friendship the only other disobedient member of her retinue enjoys... Also, I wonder why she let Yang off so easy? Hm... I wonder...
Random note, but I really enjoy writing the Dark Eldar. Nasty, twisted little sweat-goblins, the lot of them.
Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed! Please, let me know what you thought about the chapter! I'm so flattered and honored by all your reviews so far! :)
Review Replies:
reality deviant: Thanks! Always nice to hear from you!
OmegaCloud696: It's honestly never a good idea.
soupie13941: Thanks a lot for all your feedback! Really appreciate all the thought you put into your reply. I'll respond really quick without bloating my word count too much! First off, about both the romance and the show up/kill heretics/leave pattern, you raise good points, but Uriel will be a HUGE paradigm shift about how both of those things are approached. As for the romance, I see your point, but I felt since romance will feature heavily in later chapters, I felt it would disingenuous not to tag the fic with that genre. I just wanted it to be a very slow burn of sorts, and it has to be earned - no throwaway romances for the sake of having sex in the story. I also wanted to throw the 'typical 40k story' on its head a bit, since most BL books tend to be sterile when it comes to the sexuality of its characters, which often has the side effect of making them feel bland or unrealistic.
ATP: I mean, it's a possibility... XD
Gafgar: Yeah, Naja didn't really think that one through... and you were bang-on about Weiss' displeasure!
Kiyoushu: Aw, you're making me blush! I'm always happy to see your reviews in my inbox. As for your question, responding in any kind of direct way would spoil the story, so unfortunately, I can't say at this time. The answer will make itself known in due time.
Nemris: Thanks! I'm trying my hardest to make sure the battles don't get stale or over-done. :) Always happy to see your reviews!
snoogenz: Personally, I don't like Eclipse because Thieves' Company is my OTP! And agreed - Yang is really starting to learn.
blaiseingfire: She has it pretty rough.
PredatorPuck: Thanks, dude! I think you're new around here, and if so, welcome! Always love seeing new faces!
Redcollecter: Thank you! I hope this chapter satisfied!
Dayanne Rockstar: Yeah... although it isn't touched upon too much in this chapter, it will have its repercussions. Weiss' fury illustrates this nicely, I hope. As for the promise of more wargear... well... there's still a lot more ground to cover!
The Walrus of Eden: They are! And yeah, Weiss is in the right here. Yang did a dumb. I try and make sure the characters aren't perfect people, and that they make mistakes, This... this definitely being one of them!
OBSERVER01: Weiss was on hand to diffuse the tension, but it could have gotten pretty nasty... also, I expected Nora's semblance to be... idk, something smashier, but this works too.
dvilleza: Very much so. Weiss' handling of the situation did not help.
Magnificent Bosh'tet: Hey, thanks so much! Love hearing from new people! As for "Auh", it's a very guttural bellow, think shouting "HUH", but without too much of the 'h' sound at the beginning!
Allard-Liao: Hahaha I always love getting reviews like yours! I did try and write this fic to cater to those new to the universe, and I'm glad to see it's paying off! I hope the introduction of the Dark Eldar went smoothly!
Victor L: Thanks so much! Your words mean a lot! I'm really glad you picked up on a lot of important stuff in the Weiss/Yang dynamic. It's something I worked hard on, and I'm pleased to see it's paying off! Interesting theory, btw! :)
RIC: Aww, you're too kind! Thrilled you're enjoying it. :)
mr. anonymous: I have to admit, it's pretty damn fitting! You're pretty much spot on with the whole bagpipe thing, the Woadians are based off of Nordic Scotland, sometime in the 10th century AD. :) Thanks for your review!
Mintskittle: Yeah, this won't go over too well. It might for this chapter, but going forwards it certainly won't. As for Ember Celica, I'm pretty sure Tyrham won't think about it as a piece of archetech... archeotech is some pretty serious shit, stuff like teleportation, STCs, and other crazy-awesome gadgets. A bit of collapsible tech probably won't impress him that much. However, this is something that'll be brought up, and I think you'll be surprised by how much Tyrham and the Lady Inquisitor have collaborated!
Whew! I love getting all your reviews! Always makes my day to see how much everyone's enjoying the story! Keep 'em coming, guys! :D