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"Holy Emperor, your servant beseeches you…" Silicia whispered, letting her tongue snake out of her lips to wet the stiletto blades in her hands. "…accept the souls I snuff out this day in your name."
Mercutio watches the shapely figure clad in tight black leather knelt upon the bloodied floors of the penal colony shelter, eyes fixed on her as she performs the rite of Absolutionem Imponebantur, a very old and suspiciously dark ritual that was adapted from a pagan cult into the Imperial cult itself.
Moments after Strikeforce Herald made planetfall upon Saint Josmane's Hope, the expected result of their arrival occurred. Thousands of crazed inmates, minds twisted by the warp, swarmed in from all sides. A safe landing zone was entirely impossible to find, and so they had to make their own landing.
The penal colony's defensive weaponry were turned against them, shooting down several of the transport ships, including Mercutio's own Valkyrie. The pilots were able to make a forced landing upon the living sector, undoubtedly overrun by those Violator cultists, and kept their precious cargo alive long enough to deploy into the field.
After that, things turned for the worse, as was the nature of this bleak future.
For when the inmates lacked for proper weaponse, they made up for it by numbers, as it was with the Orks. They overwhelmed Mercutio's regiment and forced the captain and the surviving guardsmen out of the crash site and into the deepest recesses of the Mining sector.
As they hunkered down in the shelter, exhausted immediately after the poorly executed landing, Mercutio inwardly hoped and prayed the Death Cult assassin would prove useful for once.
He did not have to wait too long, for the mere split second he averted his gaze, Silicia had already blended into the shadows away from the group and above the approaching mass. She rappelled across the overhanging cables and landed on top of them, moving like a blur with her deadly stilettoes outstretched.
Possessed with incredible speed and agility, the assassin weaved in and out of the fray, untouched by the enraged mob save for the blood and viscera that spurted out from open wounds! Silicia demonstrated that even without bioaugmentations or cybernetic enhancements, a human could attain such feats and more.
With the assassin carving a path for them, the guardmen of the Whiteshields regained their strength and will to fight, working hard to catch up with Silicia so they may regroup with the main force of Strikeforce Herald.
Horus ran his hand over the blade of his spear, finding himself unable to resist admiring the fine craftmanship of the weapon. He had his assumptions on whose work forged the great spear; one of his loyalist brother-primarchs, a trusted weaponsmith on Terra, or even a relic of mankind's glorious past- whose forgefather's name had been long forgotten. A spear- a symbol of leadership, it deserved to have a name. "You have served me well from the moment I was reborn." Horus spoke softly, "Together, we vanquished the daemons of Chaos and their champions. You have rent their souls from their bodies and gave the Ruinous Powers a taste of oblivion. For that, I shall name you…Soulrender."
Feeling sentimental, the penitent primarch rose to his full height and crossed the hydroponics deck. The Golgo's Respite was a unique vessel, as he soon found. The Dauntless-class cruiser was noticeably more advanced than its sister-ships though remaining as ancient in its features as one would expect a vessel plucked from the relics of the past. Whereas the crew of old would rely on stockpiled rations in the hold, Cpt. Goodwill relied on the ancient practice of growing the crew's own food.
The hydroponics was a forest in itself, and the primarch found it peaceful when he stopped by to be immersed in his thoughts. Reflecting on his sins depressed him greatly, but he found hope in his involvement saving these worlds from the forces of evil, the comfort of the trees helped bring serenity to his otherwise troubled mind.
"What's the story behind the Golgo's Respite?" Aggregius asked Maranda, thoughts growing idle as he watched the crew work to bring the ship through Cadian space. "How did it earn its name?"
"It used to be called The Respite, my lord." Maranda replied, "Back then, I was just a battle-commander with its former captain. Golgo was the name of the spacestation I grew up in and was trained by the Armada's Elite. When the dark eldar invaded the station, The Respite was among the first to answer the call to defend it."
"And so you took the name from your home to honor it?"
"Yes." The captain nodded, "My liege was killed in the defense of Golgo when the xenos boarded us. It took almost a week before we regained control of the ship and liberated the station from its twisted captors. I swear, some of that blood still remains in the crags of some hall down the way."
"If you've lead your beleaguered fellows against the dark eldar, then I applaud your accomplishments, captain." Aggregius said, "You have indeed earned that rank you now hold."
The woman smiled, "You bring me great honor with your words, my lord." Her eyes stare straight into the unblinking stars of space, muttering to herself. "With the kind of family I was born into, I have a lot to live up to."
No one else but the transhuman heard the silent remark, yet Aggregius does not pursue it, choosing instead to divert his full attention to the next space battle taking place just a few short clicks from where the Golgo's Respite hovered. It was another Imperial world, besieged by the forces of Chaos similarly to the ones that once plagued Agripinaa Prime.
The comms-officer opened the channel for the astropaths to detect incoming messages as well as vox-chatter so they'd have a semblance of an idea of what was going on. There were subtle bows of reverence as Horus entered the bridge, having spent the past three hours meditating in the gardens of the hydroponics bay. "My lord, we're detecting local transmissions from the penal colony. It would seem that the world has indeed fallen to the enemy's hands."
"What of these Imperial vessels laying in orbit?" Horus asked, "I've no desire to turn a blind eye to anyone who may need our aid. If the Golgo's Respite and Battlegroup Imperatis are ready for combat, we must lend a hand as duty demands."
"I understand, my lord. But…" Maranda paused, recently notified that vox-transmissions from Cadia Prime had been re-established. "Standby, we are being hailed by Cadian High Command."
"Do what you must, captain." Horus gave his consent, prompting her to answer.
"This is Captain Maranda Goodwill of the Golgo's Respite, Battlegroup Imperatis, to Cadian High Command." Maranda identified herself.
On the opposite end, the comms-officer stationed in the Imperial naval base where Strikeforce Herald was commissioned read the secured transmission of the battlegroup clearly, relaying it to his superiors as soon as he received it. "This is Captain Maranda Goodwill, how copy?"
"Solid copy, captain." The comms-officer saluted the Lord Castellan as he took over, addressing his beloved daughter for the first time in fifteen years. "Damn good to hear your voice amidst all this mess."
Her father's words warmed the captain's heart, and she smiled. "Likewise. I hear you've been appointed as Lord Castellan of all Cadia. I believe congratulations are in order?"
"We can have that discussion another time." For the sake of all that lived in the segmentum, Ursarkar put aside the pleasantries and moved to work. "First, you're going to tell me what you're doing this far into the sector."
"We've received vox-chatter indicating the forces of Chaos have been terrorizing this part of the segmentum and received the call for aid. After dealing with those on our end, we headed straight for this sector, my lord."
"Ah. I see that damned veil has finally been pierced." Ursarkar took it as small comfort that word had reached at least one battlegroup outside of Cadia Prime, whereas most interstellar communications have gone dark. "Still, any help you can offer is greatly appreciated. Regroup with the main Cadian defense fleet as soon as possible and await further orders."
Still not up to speed, Maranda inquired of the nature of the assignment. "If you don't mind me asking, my lord, what are we defending Cadia from?"
Seeing no harm in revealing his suspicions, Ursarkar gave voice to his concerns. His daughter was smart as a whip, she'll understand everything he has to say. "These attacks were not done at random, I'm sure you know that by now. I fear these are merely the beginning of another Black Crusade."
"Abaddon's here!?" Aggregius gasped.
The mere utterance of the name caused Horus' head to snap towards the two, face growing pale from recognition and horror, though kept safely hidden behind his helm. He had thought Ezekyll, his former first captain, had died alongside the traitors who perished in the Siege of Terra. He had not considered asking Aggregius of the fate of the corrupted champions, and it came as a surprise that the Sons of Horus, those he thought would be the first to fall when the Imperium came to collect, survived in the Warp all this time.
"What of Saint Josmane's Hope?" Maranda asked, "We're a few clicks away from lending a hand to the Imperial forces on its surface, my lord. Shall I assist, or immediately make headway for Cadia Prime?"
"Saint Josmane's Hope's fate has been decided. It shall be consigned to an Exterminatus, but we're evacuating as many Imperial forces from its surface as much as we can. If you have the capability of extending a helpful hand, then you have my permission to assist. May the Emperor watch over you, my daughter."
"Acknowledged. Stay strong, father." Maranda terminated the link and commanded her vessel forward.
"Little Maranda's all grown up." Jarran Kell chuckled, "Who would've thought that scrawny little lass would be commanding her own ship in the short span of fifteen years?"
"She got that determination from her mother, Emperor rest her soul." Ursarkar replied, "Come, my friend, let us see to the preparations. I want Cadia ready for the Despoiler should he pokes his ugly head out of the abyss."
"I've got a feeling he already has."
They were trapped, and they knew it. Back against the wall, amidst the desecrated corpses of the slain and gates barred securely against the howling host of daemon and traitor, the Strikeforce readied themselves for their imminent doom. Captain Mercutio yet again found himself the last commanding officer alive, having witnessed firsthand how quickly his liege astartes fell to the dreaded talons of the Violators, their bodies added to the growing pile to be sacrificed to the Dark Prince of the Warp.
Those that remained of the Space Wolves instructed them to proceed into the generatorium with the tech-priests to initiate the overload procedure, that their mission will not be in vain. The valiant astartes, bolter and chainswords ready to cleave and tear, steeled themselves for the approaching horde. The Violators did not give them long to wait, for they soon bore down on the loyalists like a swarm of locusts in harvest. As the tech-priests worked, Mercutio could hear the vox-grilled shouts and bolter fire of his lords as they bought the far weaker guardsmen the time they needed.
Once they've been given the room, the tech-priests fulfilled their purpose and worked to rouse the ancient engines to bring an end to Saint Josmane's Hope. Mercutio stood with the remainder of Strikeforce Herald, including the assassin Silicia, and waited for their enemies to burst through the doors.
Outside, the final Space Wolf made his last stand against the Violators, cutting down six of the demented traitor astartes before taking a fatal shot through the left eye. His head bursts open like a rotten tomatoes, corpse growing stiff as it fell back like a severed tree.
Shraga, leader of the Violators, approached the genatorium. With eyes grown purple from his time in the Warp, he watched the barred gates of the complex with an amused smirk upon his handsome face. The traitor then raised his halberd, an exquisite weapon decorated with a hundred diamonds, and fired a void shard that tore a hole through the generatorium's great doors.
Unbeknownst to the beasts clamoring for the deaths of Strikeforce Herald, the Golgo's Respite had entered Saint Josmane's Hope's orbit. Horus had instructed the captain to pinpoint the local IFF of the Strikeforce so that he and Aggregius may teleport down upon the penal colony to assist them in their endeavors, to extract them from the doomed world if possible.
Though reluctant to deviate from their purpose, Cpt. Maranda adheres to her lord's command and prepared the way.
A bright flash of light burns a hole through reality in the middle of the battlegrounds where the Violators stood, and a group of well armed loyalist spacemarines stood where empty dirt once was. Horus and Aggregius, backed up by a small company of Blood Angels who had sworn to aid him back on Agripinaa Prime, cast their baleful glares upon the twisted creatures they had once called brothers.
Horus took one look at the bodies of the slain valiant Space Wolves and was filled with rage. The primarch hefted Soulrender and attacked the nearest Violator he could reach, splitting the astartes in half with a single swing of the godlike weapon. Shraga grinned and signalled his men to charge, breaking away from their initial quarry holed up in the genatorium complex and towards the new foe they faced today.
"Your armor will make a fine addition to my rack!" Shraga cackled, meeting the white-clad stranger in the middle of the clash with his bejeweled halberd. The lightspear strikes the Violator's weapon with such force that the resulting impact shakes the ground beneath their feet. "First you, then all of this world!"
"You talk too much." Horus remarked, totally unfazed by the madman's babbling. The primarch kicked the lesser astartes off him, throwing Shraga off balance, following swiftly to thrust Soulrender into the fallen one's stomach. The hallowed blade's edge tears through thick ceramite and fatally wounds Shraga. Blood bursts from the Violator's gashed flesh, and he screams as the Soulrender sets him aflame.
"Nooooo! Stop!" The Violator squealed, scared shitless upon feeling his dark patron abandon him in his hour of need. "I beg of you! Have mercy!" His cries of anguish ironically mirror those of his past victims, most of which were a few hours recent.
"There shall be none for you." Horus replied grimly, brutally wrenching the spear sideways in order to open the wound another jagged angle. The Violator burns from within his armor, then falls to nothing as his flesh turns to ashes.
Slaanesh, the foul Dark Prince of the Warp, was greatly displeased at the loss of one of his champions. Though a lesser champion compared to most, Shraga had gained his attention through his unique artistic mind that could even be on par with Fulgrim himself! That a wandering interloper such as Horus would dare to deny him his soul filled the Dark Prince with a rage so great that the veil suddenly thinned on Saint Josmane's Hope, allowing slaaneshi daemons to spill out of the Warp and attack Horus.
Daemonettes, lithe and beautiful, lunged at the young primarch with talons outstretched. They grab onto Horus and raked their claws against his armor, laughing playfully as he whirls around, attempting to shake them off. Aggregius, seeing his friend in trouble, pauses from fending off the Violators and aims his bolter at the daemonettes atop the Nameless Hero. Six short bursts of the trigger turns the luscious slaaneshi into mush, banishing them into the hellhole from which they came.
Horus shakes off the last one and crushes her head in his iron grip, taking a moment to recover from the attack. He turns to give Aggregius an appreciative nod, "Thank you, sergeant."
"I've got your back, brother."
Mercutio, hearing the battlecries of Imperial loyalists, found his brows furrowing in confusion. Has the Emperor heard of their plight and sent his angels to their aid?
"It is done!" One of the tech-priests cried, "Five minutes shall the clock race before this world's death is certain!"
"Duly noted, milord." Mercutio acknowledged.
Heavy footsteps echo across the wide room where the guardsmen stood as their saviors walked in. Amongst blood red clad ceramite armor, the Nameless Hero stood taller than any astartes. Mercutio could not help but kneel before him, followed by his fellow men as they beheld the man in white. "Thank you, my liege! We're it not for your intervention, we would have surely perished this day."
"I could not allow such noble soldiers of the Imperium die such an ignoble death so far I into this fallen world." Horus replied, his words becalming the hearts of the guardsmen. "The Emperor has need of you elsewhere, and I am here to ferry you over. Come, the Golgo's Respite awaits!"
Together, the loyalists stood until the teleporter opened a rift in space that sucked them into the Imperial vessel orbiting Saint Josmane's Hope. Once done, Cpt. Marines wasted no time getting clear of the doomed world before it cracked in half. Horus took no pleasure in seeing so much go to waste, but knew it was necessary. He watched as the resulting shockwaves sing through the planet's surface, ultimately reducing it to a cluster of floating asteroids.
Silicia, having taken a great interest over the Nameless Hero due to the stench of death upon him, regarded him like a cat curious over its reflection upon a mirror. "You." She called to him, "The scent of a billion souls worth of deaths are upon you! Even more so than an astartes can accomplish in a thousand lifetimes! Who are you?"
Horus swallowed the lump in his throat and turned to face the assassin. But before he could address her vague accusations, Aggregius stepped in to defend his friend. "He is the Nameless Hero, savior of Agripinaa Prime and of the very ship you now stand in! I know him as my brother, friend and leader. But I do not know you, assassin! Now do away with your ingratitude before I throw you out the airlock!"
Horus heard his friend's defense and was ashamed, feeling he did not deserve this kind of devotion. "That is enough, sergeant. We all stand as allies here." He turned to Silicia, "Isn't that right, my lady?"
There was a long pause as the assassin considered his words, then she relents. "Of course…my lord."
Satisfied with her reply, Horus turned to give his latest command to the captain. ""Maranda, make a speedy headway for Cadia Prime. Tell High Command that Saint Josmane's Hope is no more and that Strikeforce Herald's mission was a success. Also, relay to the rest of the fleets in this system to regroup with Battlegroup Imperatis. I believe we have some refugees to drop off."
"Acknowledged."
"My lord, I am Cpt. Mercutio of the Whiteshields." Mercutio spoke to his liege, "You've saved me and my men from what would otherwise be a suicide mission. As the Emperor's my witness, I pledge myself and my men to your cause. I am at your command, sir."
There were grins and nods of approval from the Blood Angels as the guardsmen saluted their new commander. Horus could do little but to accept their pledge, choosing to value his allies' support, never letting himself take it all for granted.
Battlegroup Imperatis was growing with each passing day, a welcome change to the fates of other Imperial forces around them who seem to gladly plunge themselves blindly into meatgrinder, thereby reducing the number of formidable allies significantly.
Meanwhile, as the Imperium commits more and more of its resources to the defense of the Cadian Gate, the xeno Tau Empire used this opportunity to bolster their borders and even expand their ever-growing empire. With Imperial worlds falling to infighting or raids by the dark eldar, the populace could find no hope in trusting the Imperium with their safety- thereby happily switching their loyalties and embracing the doctrines of the Greater Good in exchange for security.
In turn, the tau were all too glad to welcome the oppressed humans with open arms, sheltering them from the coming storm.
The Emperor looks on in sadness, yet too with understanding, for he knew with the state his empire had become it was all too natural for mankind to seek relief in any form possible. In his eyes, if the tau would treat his people well, it was better than allowing them to be ensnared by the self-destructive influence of the Ruinous Powers.
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Thank you so much for your continued support of this fic, dear readers. I apologize if it takes a while, but I only work to deliver the best.
Also, Crom'Torak. Don't worry, my daemonic friend, you have a purpose in the Lupercal's story. I might not use your suggestions, but trust that it will be somewhere along those lines. :)