A/N: After numerous slacking offs and rewrites, the next chapter finally emerges from the depths of the Warp.

Chapter 9: Tempest

The wind howled and shrieked as the bulky machine ripped through the air, threatening to drown out the throaty roar that it emitted as it whipped past a flaming Cerberus gunship and dove between a pair of buildings that stretched upwards, reaching for the artificial sky. Twisting around with an agility that belied its form, the machine sped back out into the open sky where it rejoined another machine that was both similar yet different.

The rectangular shape of the Land Speeder Tornado was entirely out of place here in this forest of sleek lines and smooth curves, but to Sergeant Kalios only the blessed machine thrumming beneath him was natural. The whipping wind and the enthusiasm of the machine spirit to respond to his every input had been denied to him for far too long, and he was eager to once more wage war in the Emperor's name. Some of his Brothers occasionally joked that the Apothecaries must have mistakenly implanted him with the gene-seed of the White Scars rather than that of their own Primarch given his enthusiasm for his Land Speeder, and Kalios found it hard to disagree with them. He could have been promoted to a Tactical Marine over a century ago, but he had chosen to remain as an Assault Marine Sergeant instead. This was what he had been made for, and this was where he excelled. The rush of adrenaline and the roar of the machine spirit that accompanied every precise movement were the only rewards he desired for his service.

"Brother-Sergeant," came the voice of Brother Mavril from where he sat in the Typhoon-variant Land Speeder that had just fallen into formation alongside him, "Auspex scans show that the majority of the Cerberus aircraft in this section of the station have either been destroyed or fallen back. However, a small group have clustered over what appears to be a Medicae post and are offloading troops there. Your orders?"

"Wipe them all out and mark the Medicae's location for our Brothers. No doubt they seek to turn it into a strongpoint against us."

"Understood. Moving to attack now."

Mavril's Speeder shot past as it rapidly accelerated to assault speed, and ceramite-clad fingers quickly manipulated interfaces in order to keep pace. Kalios' initial skirmishes with the Cerberus gunships over Benning had allowed him to deduce that they were more akin to their Land Speeders, albeit slower and less heavily armed, rather than true interceptors like the Lightning fighter utilized by the Imperial Navy or the few remaining Great Crusade-era Xiphon-pattern interceptors still flown by the First Founding Chapters. Since then, he and Mavril had quickly taken to utilizing all the superior maneuverability granted to them by their machines to outflank and destroy dozens of craft.

The pair of anti-grav vehicles roared through the artificial sky at a rate that left the ground beneath them a near-indistinguishable blur to mortal eyes. Even with his enhanced vision and the machine spirit of the Land Speeder updating his helmet's autosenses with its auspex scans, Kalios could only barely make out a passing glimpse of raging firefights between the inhabitants of the station and the invading Cerberus forces. Even as his body almost subconsciously adjusted the controls as needed, his mind pondered the implications that the attack carried.

Back on Benning, the Brother-Captain had relayed to him and his Brothers that the so-called Systems Alliance that held sway in this galaxy considered Cerberus to be a minor rogue faction, incapable of seriously challenging any of the major factions in power. Yet this assault was clearly anything but a minor nuisance by an alleged small band of renegades. One did not attack the center of a galactic government without having the significant amount of resources required to ensure the attack's success. To do otherwise was pure foolishness. This was the handiwork of a widespread organization with tens, if not hundreds, of thousands of hands to call upon.

Had the Alliance lied to the Brother-Captain? If so, then why? And what else could they be hiding?

Up ahead, the missile launchers mounted onto the back of Brother Mavril's Typhoon roared as a pair of guided munitions leapt forwards from their launcher, spiraling towards a Cerberus gunship that desperately tried to evade the impending doom that came streaking towards it. However, the machine spirits guiding the targeting systems of the missiles aimed true, and the gunship dissolved in a cloud of flame and debris. Normally such a feat would have been impossible, as the Typhoon variant currently only carried anti-personnel missiles, nigh useless against armored vehicles. However, the shielding utilized by the inhabitants of this galaxy proved insufficient in regards to a Space Marine arsenal, and the light armor that lay beneath likewise stood no chance. Kalios had been relieved to discover that this was the case, as a large number of the krak missiles that were intended for use by the Typhoon had been expended back on Arathan Prime, either softening up entrenched heretic positions or destroying Traitor Guard armor units. What little remained would have to be carefully rationed.

Over on his right in the gunner seat, Brother Arafel took aim with his pintle-mounted heavy bolter and sent a torrent of shells into the side of a transport, leaving it smoking as it limped back towards the relative safety that space provided. For his part, Kalios was not idle, thumbing the activation rune for the underslung assault cannon. With it, he tore through another gunship and the transport that hid behind it, the latter craft no doubt having desperately hoped to use its slightly better armored kin as a shield while it unloaded as many troopers as it could onto the roof of the Medicae. For its troubles it was sent crashing down onto the structure, crushing many of the troopers it had just unloaded and leaving a gaping hole in the roof.

All of this took place within the span of seven seconds, and while the Cerberus pilots were still scrambling to react, Kalios and Mavril had already blown past them and were doubling back for another pass.

"Excellent shooting Brother-Sergeant," came the voice of Mavril over the vox as Kalios guided the Land Speeder up and around a towering hab unit.

"As was yours Brother," he replied. "Now let us finish this."

Kalios brought his machine around the hab spire and sent it diving downwards towards the few remaining Cerberus aircraft, the Land Speeder's auspex showing him that Mavril was following closely behind. The underslung assault cannon spat a hail of death at a gunship, tearing off its tail section and sending it plummeting downwards in a spiral of smoke and flame. The Cerberus pilots did their best to return fire, hoping in vain to bring down the Astartes craft, their mass accelerated rounds sparking off the hulls of the Land Speeders even as they were torn to shreds in turn. A pair of missiles streaked past him and impacted solidly upon the cockpit of a transport that had been attempting to use its forward-facing cannons, reducing its fore to molten slag.

As Kalios ripped past the Medicae and pulled back on the controls to avoid crashing into another hab spire, a blip from the auspex notified him that Mavril had just eliminated the last gunship, leaving the skies clear for their Brothers to land on this section of the xenos station.

"Sergeant Kalios to Duty's Shadow," he spoke into the vox embedded within his helmet, "you are clear to proceed with the assault. Show them the consequences of their perfidy Brothers!"

With that, he closed the link and pinged Mavril to follow him as he brought his Speeder around towards the last arm of the station that needed cleansing. His Brothers were now capable of assaulting without fear of any aerial retribution, but his task was not yet complete.

And he would not rest until he saw this blight wiped from the face of the galaxy.

Klivak quietly grunted as the boarding torpedo shook, jostling him inside of his harness as it did. He had questioned the wisdom of this action when Nemros' orders had been relayed to him and his Brothers by the Shipmaster, but he had complied after a few moments. In this new galaxy, loyalty and obedience were all that kept their tenuous brotherhood intact, and he would not be the one to shatter their bonds.

"Confirmed," came the mechanical tones of the Company's Techmarine from behind him. "The Duty is uploading the layout of the ship we have been ordered to board, designation Vesuvius, now."

A rune suddenly appeared flashing on Klivak's visor before it expanding, showing a grid overlay and the dimensions of the cruiser that they had been ordered to board. Klivak chuckled softly at the thought as numbers appeared. Cruiser. This ship was only around six hundred meters long, compared to the ships of the Imperial Navy which reached up to nearly five kilometers in the case of the Lunar-class.

"Your orders Brother Manswell?" said one of the Marines near the back of the torpedo.

"Brothers Klivak and Yonthul will accompany me to the bridge. You and your Brothers will make your way to the ship's Enginarium, in order to forestall any sabotage attempts."

Klivak sent a ping of acknowledgement even as a countdown flashed on his visor, warning him of the torpedo's imminent contact with the hostile ship. Before it reached zero, however, he opened up his vox in order to speak.

"Remember Brothers, the eyes of the Emperor and the expectations of the Chapter are upon us," he said as the torpedo shook violently as the multi-meltas attached to its sides fired, reducing the armor plating of the starship to molten slag that was then churned through by the massive boarding drill attached to the front of the torpedo. "We cannot fail."

"For the Emperor!" shouted the other Marines, with the notable exception of Brother Manswell, who simply hefted his ornate two-handed power axe. Klivak scowled at that, even though he understood why. As a member of the Adeptus Mechanicus, Manswell's loyalties lay first with the Machine God and with the Omnissiah, as the techpriests of the Red Planet called the Emperor, second.

It had never sat well with him in the slightest. A man could not serve two masters, for inevitably loyalty would not survive the resulting clash of interests. However, Nemros had constantly waved off his concerns every time he had presented them to the Captain, claiming that such had always been the case, even before the Emperor had unified Holy Terra over ten thousand years ago, and would most likely continue to be the case until mankind stood ascendant over the stars once more.

Still, Manswell was his Brother. That mattered for something. So he had swallowed his protests and kept his peace, though he had never been able to fully rid himself of his suspicions.

The machine spirits that controlled the forward hatch groaned and hissed in protestation as they raised the boarding drill up, drawing him away from his musings and directing his vision toward the insides of the starship they had boarded. The first thought to cross his mind was how bright the interior lighting was compared to that of the Shadow. The second was that there was a conspicuous lack of any resistance to their intrusion. Did Cerberus not believe in defending their own ships?

Their harnesses detached, dropping them the short distance to the floor of the torpedo with a loud clang. The trio of power armor-clad Marines trudged past them as Manswell briefly sifted through some last second data that had been uploaded from the Shadow, wielding a variety of bolters, chainswords, and combat shields as they did. A brutal mixture of weapons, but then, boarding was a brutal, messy business, even for those who distinguished themselves enough to be granted Terminator honors. The lifespan of a boarder was quick and violent, even going by the standards of an Astartes.

"Let us move," buzzed Manswell as he exited out the torpedo after the other Marines, the blood red color scheme of his armor distinctly out of place in the sterile white corridor that they now found themselves in. Klivak and Yonthul poured out of the tube after him, their bulky frames brushing up against the ceiling.

Manswell led them deeper into the ship, guiding them through passageways that were eerily devoid of any defenders. Occasionally they would stumble across a lone crewmember or two, who would then be summarily be dispatched, but overall Klivak noted an astonishing lack of life aboard this ship. Perhaps the rumors of shipboard Abominable Intelligences that had spread throughout the Company after the battle on Tuchanka were more truthful than he had initially given them credit. A scowl took up residence on his lips at that thought even as Manswell warned them that the bridge was on the other side of the door that they now stood in front of.

"Our Brothers have secured the Enginarium, now we must do likewise with the bridge," the Techmarine said. "Be careful with your blows, I do not wish for us to accidently damage any of the cogitators and deprive the Captain of any potential intelligence."

"Then we should also endeavor to capture the Shipmaster," Yonthul grunted. "He may be able to tell us far more than a simple data log."

"The Captain's orders mentioned nothing about captives," Klivak said. "I personally wish to have nothing more to do with these traitors beyond simply killing them."

That, he mused, and not having to endure Slenarr's angry rantings should this captive fail to be as unproductive as the last one that they had secured for him. There was zealous, and then there was Slenarr.

"Brother Yonthul raises a fair point," sighed Manswell, even though it was clear that he shared Klivak's own opinion on the matter. "Take him alive. Preferably intact as well."

With that, the Techmarine turned back towards the door, which, according to the chronometer installed in his visor display, remained shut for less than two-fifths of a second, down from the three quarters of a second that it had initially taken Manswell when they had first boarded. The member of the Martian priesthood was nothing if not efficient at adaptation, Klivak thought idly even as the doors open to a hail of mass accelerator fire.

Yonthul rushed past him, storm shield raised and bellowing a war cry as he did, no doubt confident that his armor would keep him safe. Sparks spring to life as rounds impacted to no avail on his shield, while Klivak moved to follow the other Terminator in.

The first thing that he noticed was how small the command deck was when compared to the Shadow's. It briefly struck him as an odd thing to notice, as compared to, perhaps, the number and location of the Cerberus personnel. To him, however, it was just another reminder how different this new galaxy was in every fashion when compared to the one that the Company had inadvertently left behind.

Then his lightning claws found their way inwards and upwards in the chest cavity of a Cerberus crewman, and his mind reengaged with the combat raging around him.

Blood, limbs, and viscera flew through the air as the trio of Marines cut their way through the score of Cerberus crewmembers that had imposed themselves between them and the Shipmaster. Of that score, Klivak noted, only five of them were combat troopers. Had Cerberus truly deployed all of their troops to the xeno station below him and left none remaining for their own defense?

He glanced to the right as a flash of light flared into existence for a brief moment, before a charred and smoking body collapsed to the floor, head and upper torso missing as Manswell lowered one of his mechadendrites. A loud buzz filled the command deck a second later as another mechadendrite twitched, scything through a screaming crewmember without any resistance. Clearly some of the crew had decided that the considerably less bulky Techmarine was a weaker target than the Terminators and were paying the price for their mistake.

A quick stab of pain directed his attention back towards the man that he had left broken and bloody at his feet, where he had managed to pull out a pistol and fire a pair of shots in the joints in his armor. No real harm had been done, but Klivak still felt a faint urge to congratulate the man on his courage and defiance. It was good to see the human spirit at work, even if it was on the part of an enemy working at the behest of Abominable Intelligences.

Instead he simply brought his boot down on the man's head violently before turning back to the remaining Cerberus members.

The Shipmaster lay across one of the command deck's cogitators, splayed out awkwardly where he had fallen. His visor told him that the man still lived, though it was clear that he would not be waking up any time soon if the smoke that faintly wisped upwards from his twitching body was any indication. One of Manswell's mechadendrites sparked briefly before falling back to his side.

It took the three of them less than a minute to kill off the remaining crewmembers before Manswell turned to the blinking consoles that were scattered almost haphazardly around the command deck. His boots were slowly staining red as blood oozed and spread from the corpses that lay broken and torn on the floor, and Klivak found himself staring at it as it lapped and clung to the ceramite, thoughts drifting through his mind.

Red blood. He hated the sight of red blood. It reminded him of all the battlefields where the Chapter had deployed alongside the Imperial Guard, and how prevalent it was there. It reminded him of the blood shed to defend mankind, and once again he thought about just how different this humanity was compared to his own.

How he hated this new galaxy and everything that it stood for.

"You are distracted Brother," the voice of Manswell was flat as it drifted over from where the Techmarine had begun his work on one of the cogitators that were laid out before him. With a blink, Klivak realized that the red Marine had been speaking to him.

"I do not like killing humans," he responded as he turned to face the machine priest, the scowl on his features hidden beneath his helmet. "It is far too ambiguous a matter for my tastes."

"You have never shown such hesitation before," noted Yonthul from where he stood by the ship's viewport.

"It is one thing to slay the mortal servants of the Ruinous Powers Yonthul," he clarified as he sought to calm the emotions that fought within his soul. Hesitation and doubt…these had no place within a servant of the Emperor. "It is another thing entirely to slaughter humans in order to protect traitors aligned with xenos of all things."

Yonthul merely grunted in response while Manswell ignored the pair of them, instead returning his focus to the cogitator. After a long moment of uncomfortable silence, Yonthul spoke once more. "You are not the only one to feel this way, Brother." The words were hesitant and low, yet there was the underlining of frustration that had marked all of his Brothers since they had found themselves here.

"I know," he said simply while he moved to stand by his Brother, steps echoing throughout the command deck as he did. It was far too prevalent an issue for not too.

"Unfortunately, the Brother-Captain is correct when he says that we have little other choice in the matter. He has not been wrong before, yet…" the other Terminator trailed off, allowing silence to take hold once more.

"I know," he repeated, voice heavy.

"We will find a way to make this better," Manswell said as he came over to join them at the viewport, clearly having extracted all he could from the databanks. The trio watched the battle raging below them for a few minutes before Klivak sighed.

"I know," he said, one final time. He supposed he hated those words as well, hated the resigned acceptance that they heralded. "Let us leave this ship and rejoin our Brothers. I need to lose myself within war once more."

The other two said nothing as they turned and exited the bridge, Yonthul taking a moment to grab the still-unconscious Shipmaster before he rejoined them.

Manswell was right, Klivak thought as the other three Marines rejoined them in the ship's hangar. They would bring the Emperor's light to this forsaken galaxy.

Or die in the attempt.