Disclaimer: This Code Geass thing and this Warhammer 40k thing? Not mine. I just use the equipment. Additionally, a huge shout-out to Heir of Empires, who's responsible for...well, I can't say it without actually spoiling it. I'll detail his contribution at the end. Look for his cameo, though!
A/N: And next on Craftworld-a-mania M51, Kallen Kozuki vs. Fulgrim! In all seriousness, I have a sneaking suspicion I might lose a few readers (or at least get a few angry PMs/reviews) over this one. Anyhow, here's the chapter, so you can make that decision for yourself.
*grabs an extra-large bag of marshmallows*
Chapter Twenty-Three: The Daemonslayer
While Abaddon's forces ravaged the Imperium from without, crises of faith assaulted it from within. As billions died daily to stave off the inexorable advance of Chaos, many reaffirmed their faith in the Imperial Creed and the God-Emperor. However, a growing number of worlds, especially on the besieged fringes of the Imperium, experienced the opposite effect. The Ordo Hereticus dubbed the phenomenon the "Transitionist Movement," but it hardly deserved so grandiose a title. Many such movements rose and were exterminated in complete ignorance in one another. Their beliefs ranged from puritan to radical, but all agreed on one matter: to survive, the Imperium must change.
At first the Inquisition mercilessly stamped out such movements as they sprang up, but their attentions were soon drawn to more pressing matters as the Time of Dying marched on. As resources grew increasingly scarce, the Imperial Guard and Navy could hardly afford to turn away willing bodies, and the Transitionists formed long lines at recruiting stations. Even if not willing to die for the High Lords of Terra or the Ecclesiarchy, they were willing to die for Emperor and Imperium. Even then, they were viewed with thinly-veiled suspicion at best and as borderline heretics at worst.
Perhaps it was fitting that one of their number would become a beacon of hope in the dark days to come.
Imperial Light Cruiser Manus Iurius Beta, Surface of Craftworld Altansar
Five Days Prior
To say that the crash had totaled the Endeavor-class light cruiser would be grossly understating the damage. The comparatively tiny Imperial warship currently lay in pieces scattered over dozens of square kilometers of Craftworld Altansar's surface. Already damaged from the vicious Warp currents, the cruiser had shed great chunks of its hull during re-entry, and the stresses snapped its keel in several places. The Manus Iurius Beta slammed into the ground at an almost-vertical angle, and gravity tore its already-stressed hull into pieces. Most of the warship's crew and troop complement had died almost immediately on impact.
The crash had not gone unnoticed, and though the Eldar counterattack was gathering steam, Fulgrim's armies diverted a sizable force to investigate the wreckage. Though disoriented, the survivors quickly rallied and fought back, driving back the initial assault at great cost. The Chaos forces provide persistent, determined to use weight of numbers to deplete the defenders' ammunition and sap their will to fight. Relentlessly attacked by day and shelled by night, thousands soon became hundreds as more and more of their number were killed in fighting or succumbed to heresy.
"Commissar, we're being overrun!" a panicked Imperial Guard Sergeant reported, "We've lost contact with the other positions!"
The blasphemous chantings and sanity-stripping litanies grew louder as the heavy stubbers and lascannons along the lip of the trench fell silent one by one. Lasbolts and autogun rounds peppered the hastily-erected fortifications as the Guardsmen crouched behind them retaliated with increasingly-ragged volleys. The Commissar remained silent as one of the Guardsmen, a piece of shrapnel having glanced off his flak vest and severed his jugular, fell to his knees, gurgling and clutching his throat for several seconds before expiring.
"I'm out!" the heavy stubber gunner protecting their stretch of trench called out.
The enemy forces took advantage of the lull in stubber fire to charge, screaming heretical battle cries and wildly spraying weapons firing into the crumbling rockcrete barrier. Several lasbolts broke through, most impacting harmlessly against the back of the trench but one drilling a Guardsman straight through the eyes. A box of stubber rounds tumbled out of his suddenly-slack hands, confirming the Sergeant's worst fears.
"Sir…" the Sergeant cautiously ventured again, trailing off as the Commissar shot him a withering glare.
Several lasbolts struck the Guardsman that sprang up to take the dead loader's place, killing him almost instantly. The stubber's barking started up again as the gunner finally fed a new belt of ammunition through. It fell silent again moments later as a lucky autogun round pulped the gunner's face. As the enemy drew closer, the Imperial Guardsmen began backing up and drawing their bayonets. Black-armored Imperial Navy Security Officers surged forward, the percussive booms of their shotguns filling the air.
"Sir, we have to fall ba-"
"Sergeant Tyrone Wechsler, the charge is cowardice," the Commissar held his laspistol millimeters from the Sergeant's forehead, "The punishment: death."
The lasbolt drilled straight through the Sergeant's skull and exited out the back, punching through his flak helmet and splashing against the rockcrete barricade. After several moments of silence, the Commissar stepped over the Sergeant's rapidly-cooling body and peered over the lip of the trench. Seeing the heretics draw ever-closer, he drew his chainsword and thrust it into the air.
"Death or glory! Charge!"
He leveled his laspistol again when nobody moved from their positions after several seconds.
"Do you not hear me? Charge! Or do any wish to join the Sergeant over there?"
"With all due respect, sir," one of the Security Officers stepped forward, "We'll be cut down before we even reach bayonet range."
The Commissar froze for a second, in shock that a lowly Private would dare speak out against him. A cold fury took over seconds later, and he smashed his laspistol butt across the Security Officer's helmet, shattering his visor. Kicking the man to the ground, the Commissar stood over him, weapon at the ready.
"I take it that this coward here speaks for all of you?" he demanded, turning towards the others.
He interpreted their silence as assent.
"I make allowances for your beliefs because you're a good soldier, but you have gone too far this time!" the Commissar began, "Private Jeffrey Palmer, you are hereby charged with cowardice, insubordination, and fomenting mutiny. The sentence is dea-"
For the intimidation effect, the Commissar had risen to his full height. Unfortunately, the few seconds he took to pronounce the sentence upon the Private gave an enemy sniper ample time to line up a shot. He was cut off mid-sentence, a significant portion of his skull suddenly missing.
"What do we do now?" one of the Guardsmen whispered to nobody in particular.
"We survive," Palmer announced with a confidence that convinced the others to follow him.
Battle cries filled the air as hundreds of Imperial soldiers left their trenches and clambered over the barricades, bayonets ready, only for the enemy to mow them down to the man. Their numbers severely depleted by the futile charge, the Imperial line folded soon afterwards. Barely fifty Guardsmen and Security Officers, having chosen to remain in their positions, survived to fall back to the Manus Iurius Beta.
Unbeknownst to them, Fulgrim began massing forces for his assault on Parynor that very evening. What they did notice was the significantly smaller number of cultists and Chaos Space Marines desecrating the Imperial dead and fighting over the loot that evening. Seizing the opportunity, the surviving defenders of the Manus Iurius Beta gathered what supplies and weapons they could and destroyed the rest. Their sole remaining Tech-Priest begged the Omnissiah's forgiveness as she set the cruiser's remaining systems to overload. Pushing past their exhaustion, they slipped past Chaos lines under the cover of night.
Barely twenty would survive the harrowing two day, one hundred and fifty kilometer journey to Espevar.
Eldar Defense Line, Surface of Craftworld Altansar
017.M51
As the assault cannon shells zipped past over his head, Edelion made a futile effort to sink deeper into the soft soil. When his neighbor, wielding a Fusion Gun, began to rise to his knees, the now-seasoned Guardian grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him face-first into the dirt. A nearby Guardian who had made the same mistake, but lacked a neighbor to pull him back down suddenly ceased to exist above the waist.
"Keep your head down!" Edelion screamed at his neighbor.
The other Guardian, likely a youth hurriedly rushed through training shortly before the Chaos siege, mutely nodded.
"We've got word from the artillery unit!" a nearby Guardian relayed, "Enemy counterbattery fire's wiped out half the battery and forced the rest to relocate! The support fire isn't coming!"
The mounting despair was instantly chased away by a crackling sound behind them. Several turned around just in time to see a trio of Black Knights sprinting towards the Chaos Terminators as they phased into existence. In a manner putting even Howling Banshee Exarchs to shame, they flowed past the enemy fire, finding even the smallest gaps in coverage.
"Cheap imitation Knightmares," Operative Amy Vales scoffed as she hopped a meter to the left and sliced the enemy Terminator's assault cannon in half.
"Don't get cocky!" one of the other operatives gently admonished as he reappeared above another Terminator, landing on the thing's back and driving his sword through his opponent's skull, "You saw how those things shredded through the OPAW troopers!"
Amy ducked under the enemy's retaliatory attack and severed the vulnerable power cables on his stomach. The Terminator went limp, and the operative took the opportunity to drive her blade through its relatively-thin stomach armor before the wearer could recover. The Terminator convulsed as she used the blade tip to project psychic lightning inside the armor.
Amy turned around in time to see the last member of their group busily slashing away at the third and final Terminator. He had lost his monomolecular blade at some point, but had somehow procured a Howling Banshee Power Sword to replace it. The weapon's unfamiliar characteristics threw off his balance, but he managed to last just long enough for a nearby OPAW squad to blow the Tactical Dreadnought to pieces.
"Fall back!" one of the OPAW troopers announced over an open channel, "It's Fulgrim!"
Amy reflexively threw herself backwards, twisting her body into a roll and emerging in a defensive posture. Her fellow operative lost his blade for the second time that day as the Daemon Primarch swiped him with his tail, sending him flying.
"Damn," the other operative whistled, "He still alive?"
"Alive," Amy glanced at the squad uplink, "But he'll probably wish he wasn't when he wakes up."
"Focus your fire! Bring that monster down!" Ted unnecessarily urged as the remnants of the 17th Raiders began circling Fulgrim at high speed.
Though the hadron bolts peppering his face obstructed his vision, Fulgrim swung with his four massive blades. Though they moved at speeds capable of leaving Space Marine Land Speeders in the dust, the Raiders began zig-zagging wildly, sometimes even changing direction entirely or dodging swipes with spectacular midair acrobatics. Several of them focused almost exclusively on drawing Fulgrim's attention, while the rest busily pumped him full of hadron bolts. Though they fought in almost total silence, the Raiders displayed a level of coordination that came only with experience. Despite switching off randomly to keep Fulgrim off-balance, no more than five Raiders were drawing fire at any given time.
"Raiders, operatives, on me!" Kallen's voice ordered over the channel.
Though most of the hadron bolts splashed harmlessly against Fulgrim's Warp-infused scales and daemonic armor, the constant bombardment kept the fallen Primarch enraged and focused on the circling Raiders. So occupied was he with smashing his Knightmare-clad tormenters that he failed to notice the rapidly-closing Guren-Seraph until the crimson Knightmare blindsided him.
"Watch your fire, men!"
Adrenaline flooded Kallen's veins, and the redheaded general entered a combat trance. Her field of vision narrowed until she saw only the serpentine Daemon Primarch before her. The chattering of a dozen hadron machine guns faded away, replaced only with a hollow ringing in her ears. The first swipe seemingly came in slow motion, and she easily caught the blade with her Radiant Wave Surger. The hadron field crackled as it held the daemonically-charged weapon back. Kallen shifted her body slightly, narrowly dodging a thrust and using her other hand on the flat of the blade to hold it away from her body. A mental twitch, and her Radiant Wave Surger ignited, shattering the first blade into a million tiny shards.
Kallen leapt into the air, narrowly dodging the other two swords as they closed on her with a scissoring motion. She lightly touched down on one of the swinging blades and used it as a springboard to launch herself to Fulgrim's face level. A stray thought, and her energy wings deployed. Not even a Daemon Prince could withstand a point-blank meson burst to the face, and Fulgrim staggered back, roaring in pain. The green spears had sheared off his horns and destroyed one of his eyes, sending the vain Primarch into a frothing rage. Kallen narrowly dodged the tail swipe, digging her claws into the ground to slow herself.
As the massive tail came in for a second attack, Kallen handsprung into the air, looking Fulgrim eye-to-eyepiece once again. He instinctively threw two of his arms before his face to shield it, but the expected meson burst never came. Kallen let herself fall, drop-kicking the wrist of his open hand on her descent. Whatever Fulgrim possessed in place of bones broke with a loud snap, and the Daemon Primarch howled in pain as he cradled the now-useless extremity. The ensuring flurry of wild swings, each more than capable of slicing the Guren-Seraph in half, proved so fierce that even Kallen backed away. A barrage of FLEIJA warheads sailed over her head, slamming into her opponent. Recovering, Fulgrim gave a derisive sneer as he swatted several out of the air before they hit. The rest made it through, blowing holes in his great purple-and-gold breastplate.
Howling in rage and pain, Fulgrim thrust his sword into the midst of the Raiders. One failed to leap away in time and was smashed underneath the massive blade. As the fallen Primarch tried to dislodge the weapon, one of the Raiders landed on the flat and deployed landspinners, FLEIJA launcher at the ready. With a dismissive expression, he released the blade hilt and grabbed the Raider. He took a moment to laugh at the Black Knight's struggling before crushing her while the others pumped hundreds of hadron bolts into his hand in a futile effort to make him release her. His remaining blades came around in a wide arc, slicing another Raider in two before the survivors withdrew.
Kallen roar of rage caught Fulgrim's attention, and he turned in time to see the crimson Knightmare sprinting up the stuck blade and leaping towards him, Radiant Wave Surger ready.
?
Craftworld Altansar
"My lord, Lord Fulgrim has taken to the field. Word from the front says he has met the enemy general in combat."
Ralotharta regarded the thrall as one would a particularly revolting insect. Though the Chaos Sorcerer hardly moved and his helm hid his expression, he still radiated a dangerous aura. The heavily-tattooed and mutilated thrall visibly shook as he bowed before the former Librarian.
"No matter," Ralotharta spoke in a smooth, even voice, "Proceed with the ritual."
"Yes, my lord," the thrall bowed deeply and backed away, clearly relieved he would walk away alive.
Ralotharta circled the ring of chanting cultists, all beseeching the Prince of Pleasure to lend his power to their cause. Sanity-blasting images adorned the once-pristine wraithbone walls, drawn in the blood and phlegm and bile of slain Eldar and depicting unspeakable orgies. More Eldar lay tied up at the edges of the chamber, some struggling futilely against their restraints while others resigned themselves to their fate. Pots of incenses and perfumes surrounded the gathering, bringing any who breathed in the fumes to unimaginable highs of pain and pleasure.
The hulking Chaos Sorcerer came to a stop before the altar. Thirty-six soulstones, each inhabited by the soul of a Farseer or Exarch, lay before him, arranged in rows of six. The unwilling Eldar audience screamed in horror as he brought his staff up and smashed six of them. The screams of the damned souls reverberated through the chamber. The chanting cultists fell upon one another in a savage fury, engaging in a nauseating spectacle of violence. Men and women copulated with and eviscerated one another, sometimes both at once.
As the cries of pleasure and pain reached a fever pitch, Ralotharta raised his staff and smashed the next six soulstones.
Eldar Defense Line
Surface of Craftworld Altansar
With the berserker fury she was famous for, Kallen rained blows upon Fulgrim. Even to his unnaturally-sharpened senses, the petite woman seemingly struck from several directions simultaneously. A jab to the chest, powerful enough to crack the Primarch's breastplate, drew his attention. By the time he swung his swords around to retaliate, Kallen had slid around him and landed a punishing drop-kick. A mental twitch triggered the Guren-Seraph's gravitric impellers and sent it flying. As Fulgrim's head wildly swung from side to side looking for the elusive crimson Knightmare, Kallen dropped back down onto his back.
The fallen Primarch howled in pain as he fell, but the redhead wasn't through with him yet. His eyes widened as she suddenly appeared under him. Just before he hit the ground, Kallen leapt up and landed a dozen jabs, each leaving a large dent on his daemonically-enhanced armor, in rapid succession. With a roar capable of sending greater daemons running in fright, she ended with an uppercut that shattered the Warp-forged metal and sent the Primarch flying backwards. His flight path was abruptly altered when Kallen flew up to his face level and landed a devastating roundhouse kick.
His vision swimming, Fulgrim pleaded to the Lord of Dark Delights for strength. As new strength flooded his body, the serpentine Daemon Prince stood up and swatted away the Raiders circling him. He grabbed a Psychic Special Warfare operative out of the air as he emerged from the Warp, throwing him to the ground. Before he could strike the finishing blow, Kallen blindsided him and sent him staggering back. She intercepted the retaliatory swing, grabbing Fulgrim by the offending forearm and igniting her Radiant Wave Surger. The limb simply vanished, eliciting a screech of pain from the traitorous Primarch.
Her knee hit with enough force to send a Baneblade flying, and Fulgrim fell to the ground. A savage battle cry issuing forth from her lips, Kallen leapt high into the air and descended, her Radiant Wave Surger at its highest setting. Seconds before the finishing blow landed, the Prince of Chaos once again intervened on his thrall's behalf.
For the first time in millennia, Fulgrim's eyes became clear as the daemon within was shoved into the recesses of his mind. He saw the crimson Knightmare now streaking towards him, but more importantly, he saw past the armor plating and saw the woman within. He had never seen her before, but there was familiarity there. The daemon's whisperings told him all he needed to know, and one word passed Fulgrim's lips.
"Mo-ther?"
Despite all her training, despite all her experience, that one word threw Kallen's mind into turmoil. It snapped her out of her battle trance. She suddenly twisted around in midair, her gravitric impellers bringing her to a skull-jarring stop. The crimson glow around her Radiant Wave Surger slowly dissipated as Kallen touched down several meters away.
"Wha-what did you just call me?" she forced through her suddenly-constricted throat.
A million questions raced through her psyche. The rational part screamed that it was obviously a trick by the forces of Chaos. After all, she reasoned, she would remember something like giving birth. Yet, the utter sincerity in Fulgrim's tone won over the other half of her mind. So absorbed in her thoughts was Kallen that she failed to notice the light leaving Fulgrim's eyes, replaced by cold fire.
Before she could say another word, a massive tail blindsided her and sent her flying.
"Shit! Protect General Kozuki!"
Fulgrim swatted aside the OPAW troopers that rushed forward with disdainful ease. An unearthly wailing filled the air as innumerable daemons tore their way into reality. The remnants of the 10th and 17th Orbital Planetary Assault Wings reluctantly broke off their desperate assault to deal with the more immediate threat. A smirk appeared on the Daemon Primarch's face as he towered over the fallen Guren-Seraph. Fulgrim picked up the crimson Knightmare as if it were a particularly despised toy and slammed it into the ground repeatedly.
"Even at the height of the Dark Age's wonders, artificial creation of life was impossible," the Daemon Prince taunted between blows, "It's known that the Primarchs are all descended from the Emperor, but have you ever wondered where the eggs came from?"
With savage glee, Fulgrim threw the Guren-Seraph to the ground. Kallen coughed and groaned in pain, her Knightmare's onboard medical foam dispensers struggling to stabilize her numerous internal injuries.
"A facility from the Dark Age of Technology, storing millions of genetic samples from all over the galaxy," Fulgrim continued to parrot the information whispered into his mind by the Prince of Chaos, "Twenty primarchs. Nine of them, including me, created from your genetic material, Kallen Kozuki. Another nine descended from the one you know as CC."
Fulgrim spared a glance at the renewed battle raging around him. Some of his arrogance vanished when he noticed a pair of figures carving their way through the daemonic horde, the few remaining Black Knights behind them. A small measure of fear wormed in his heart when he identified the larger of the two as Janghatai Khan and the other as Maugan Ra. Several dozen daemons and Emperor's Children Chaos Space Marines surged forward, piling atop the two. Yet, they continued to bludgeon their way through the Chaos forces.
Several hadron bolts and lasbolts splashed off Fulgrim's mangled face as he raised one of his remaining arms for the final blow. Pausing, he turned towards the source of the annoyance, laughing hysterically as he saw a lone Knightmare emerging from the encirclement of daemons. Laughter turned to confusion as he saw a handful of Imperial forces right behind.
Private Jeffrey Palmer allowed himself a quiet laugh as he ran, his lasgun shouldered and unloading into the daemonic titan before him. Refusal to embark on a suicidal charge had begun their journey, and it seemed a suicidal charge would end it. Yet, he didn't mind. Everything he believed, everything his creed had taught, he saw in the Black Knights. He nearly voided his bowels when Fulgrim turned to face them, but he never stopped running.
A daemonically-infused blade narrowly missed him, annihilating the half-dozen men to his left. A descending tail smashed Loraine into a pulp. A second blade came down, smashing another man and separating another three from the main group. Jeffrey tried to block out the screams as the daemons on the other side devoured them. He slowed, the finally stopped when he noticed he now stood alone before the Daemon Prince. Taking a deep breath to steady his, he re-shouldered his lasgun and kept firing.
"What's this? A mortal thinking he can stand before me?" Fulgrim bellowed, "You wouldn't even make a decent morsel!"
Jeffrey kept firing, paying no mind to the cracks forming in his psyche.
"Surrender now, throw yourself to the ground before me and beg mercy! Maybe then I will make your death quick, down you in a single gulp!"
Palmer fired his charge pack dry, the last of the lasbolts striking Fulgrim in the eye. As he ejected the spent pack, a sudden roar of anger caught him off-guard. The Security Officer narrowly dodged the massive hand reaching out for him, dropping his last charge pack as he dove to the ground. Blinded by the dirt, he desperately felt around for another weapon. His hands closed around the first solid object they found, the surprising weight nearly wrenching his shoulder from its socket as Fulgrim lifted him up.
Attempting to wipe the dirt from his face, but succeeding only in smearing it further, Jeffrey cracked open his eyes to see one of the FLEIJA launchers he had seen the Black Knights use at Espevar. He shouldered it as Fulgrim bought him into his gaping maw, hands shaking slightly as he placed two fingers over the trigger. He failed to suppress a scream of pain as, with a sickening crunch, the Daemon Prince's teeth cut his body in two. As his vision slowly went dark, Palmer used the last of his strength to squeeze the trigger.
Feeling the FLEIJA launched down his gullet moments before it detonated, the daemon within Fulgrim's body tried to escape. It screamed in rage when Fulgrim's soul suddenly broke free of the chains that had bound him for millennia and latched on to it.
"You fool!" the daemon screamed, "You'll destroy us both!"
"You're staying right here with me," Fulgrim declared as the FLEIJA detonated, vaporizing Primarch, daemon, and Security Officer alike.
Combat Information Center
Space Station Ikaruga
The strength left Lelouch's legs as the reports flooded in. CC rushed forward to assist him as he fell to his knees. Her eyes told him that she had a million questions, but she held her tongue for the time being.
"What," Lelouch's voice cracked, "What's the status of our forces on Craftworld Altansar?"
"10th OPAW is down to 15% fighting strength. 17th OPAW reports 25% fighting strength. Psychic Special Warfare report one dead, one wounded."
"And Kallen?" Lelouch urgently demanded.
"Reports indicate General Kozuki is in critical condition. Doctors aboard the Caerleon are trying to stabilize her as we speak. They're heading back to the Ikaruga to get her further treatment."
?
Craftworld Altansar
Fulgrim's destruction sent massive shockwaves through the Warp. Thousands of Eldar fortunate enough to survive the battle for Parynor suddenly dropped dead, their souls ripped from their bodies. Hundreds of greater daemons were forcibly dragged back into the Warp, while many lesser daemons were destroyed outright. The Warp storm surrounding Altansar slowly began dissipating as, their advantage lost, the Chaos fleet began to withdraw.
None of that mattered to Ralotharta. Unimaginable levels of pleasure and pain surged through him as he carved out the final Eldar's heart and placed it on the altar. He could feel power flowing through him as his bones and flesh contorted. The Chaos Sorcerer loudly praised the Prince of Excess' name as he was elevated to Daemonhood. As he was spirited away into the Warp, bound for whatever Daemon World his master saw fit to grant him, Ralotharta saw the fruits of his labor.
The soft blue glow of the Webway Nexus gave way to the kaleidoscope of madness that was the Warp.
Combat Information Center, Space Station Ikaruga
Ten Hours Later
As much as they wanted to, the four immortals fought the urge to leave and check up on Kallen in person. They contented themselves with regular status updates as they made last-minute adjustments to the defenses around Terra. Lelouch seemed suitably impressed, though he and Suzaku debated at length over whether or not to allocate more ships from the defense lines to the mobile reserve. Suzaku's counterarguments were every bit as half-hearted as Lelouch's arguments, and the matter was ultimately dropped.
"We have reports that General Kozuki has just left surgery," one of the command center staff announced, bringing them the first piece of good news in nearly half a day, "She has yet to regain consciousness, but her condition is stable."
"Sir," one of the staff addressed Lelouch directly, "We have a transmission, source unknown. He insists he speak directly to you."
"Put it up on a terminal isolated from the main network," Lelouch nodded cautiously, a mysterious sinking feeling in his stomach.
Several hands instinctively went for weapons when Abaddon the Despoiler appeared on the display.
"Abaddon," Lelouch's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"So this is the Emperor of Mankind," Abaddon laughed, "I'd always imagined you would be taller."
Lelouch refused to rise to the bait.
"During the Great Crusade, your regicide skills were legendary," the Despoiler continued, "So tell me, have you heard of a move called the Blind Man's Mate?"
Abaddon's laughter rang in everyone's ears as he terminated the transmission. Lelouch, unable to shake the uneasy feeling in his gut, looked over at the main tactical map. Despite his best efforts, several minutes of staring at the display told him nothing was wrong. Every fleet was in the proper position, broad-spectrum sensor sweeps revealed nothing unusual, and Craftworld Altansar… Realization hit him like a sack of bricks.
"Get me a line to all ships in the outer system!" Lelouch ordered, "We need to move them back! Now!"
A/N: And there we have it! Another huge shout-out to Heir of Empires! The "the eggs for the Primarchs came from Kallen and CC" thing was his idea. And his cameo? Say hi to Jeffrey Palmer!
Yes, this chapter marks the end of the Craftworld Invasion arc. Let's see...Abaddon's down an army and Fulgrim. On the other hand, two elite units have been wiped out, Kallen is in critical condition, and there's still whatever Abaddon's got planned. Is this a case of The Bad Guy Wins? I'll also take this opportunity to once again promote this fanfic's TVTropes page. Really...I'm touched that the currently-sole contributor is so dedicated, but it would be cool to see what other readers think. End shameless advertisement.
And for those who want to keep score, yes, all Psychic Special Warfare operatives have a Geass. Johann can use people as an "index" of sorts to peer into the Akasic Record, but can only look up information that the person he's using said Geass on already knows. And if repeatedly losing his sword is a Geass, I guess we can say he has that as well. Amy has that freaky limb-control thing you saw her use on that Terminator. She can use it on anybody with a line of sight to her and has a reasonably humanoid body structure. Actually...didn't we see this one in the anime at some point? The third operative (his name's Darryl, by the way) can manipulate memories. Specifically, he can replace memories of him with those of other people, the catch being that he can only replace himself with people the person he's Geassing has seen before. Paranoia Fuel ahoy!
Also, more of the Code Geass 50k soundtrack!
Kallen Theme: Heart of Courage - Two Steps from Hell
Insert Song (Battle for Parynor): 1648 - Sabaton
Insert Song (Kallen vs. Fulgrim battle): Battle Music - Witcher 2 OST
Credits Theme: En Livstid i Krig - Sabaton
And before anyone asks if I mean 'A Lifetime of War' for that last one, the English and Swedish versions have different lyrics. Why, yes, I am a huge Sabaton fan. Why do you ask?