Sirus gleamed towards the garnet sphere, the deep crimson of the world almost matching the scarlet complexion of Sirus's own un-helmed eyes. His Strike Cruiser was here alone, he knew that even this was overkill for both what he had told the remnants of his Chapter that he had planned, and what he was planning in actuality. This world, the so-called "Dathomir" was what Imperial Archives would classify as a Xenos Feudal World. It had no defenses to speak of, no orbital defenses, a standing "army" that would make even the weakest of Chaos Cults seem like a regiment in comparison, and barely anything to stand in the way of Sirus's goals.

This wasn't always the case, however. In his research, Sirus learned of the xenos witch cults that once defended this planet. Much like virtually anything in this galaxy, they used to be so much stronger, and much more of a threat, than what they were in recent memory. The "Night-sisters" of this world, much like the Mandalorians were once a force so strong they repelled the Xenos Republic at it's peak, becoming one of the founding worlds of the ancient "Sith Empire."

But much like the Mandalorians, after defeat and humiliation, they were turned from proud warriors to ghosts of their former selves, and recently, their last breath was finally taken when the Separatists annihilated what remained. But Sirus knew one last, vestigial vestige of their legacy remained. The xeno man he sought, the one who many called "Mandalore the Red," Darth Maul.

Maul by no means was an easy man to track, especially for an outsider to this galactic plane. It took Sirus 4 weeks to find him, 4 whole weeks after he managed to simmer things down with Acamar. The entire time Sirus was made to play politics with the Guard and his, increasingly distrustful, Chapter. Both the Chapter and the Guard commanders wanted this war over and done with, a swift and relatively bloodless war. Sirus couldn't, wouldn't, stand for that, he gave the excuse of wanting to find Maul and kill him to tie up any and all loose ends. They believed him for a while, but as time went on with no results, a cold undercurrent of suspicion gripped his allies.

By the time he found out where Maul was, Acamar was about to kill him, the Guard was breathing down his neck, and even Chaplain Eridani was growing weary. The fact that Maul's location became known to him only after one of his Navigators came screaming to him about this very matter after conducting her own, heretical future-scrying was proof to him that the Gods were with him, and he was their own instrument of war.

Peering over to his ship captain, the trans-human warrior spoke.

"Sabissena. Order the Thunderhawk prepared and ready the Sternguard squad. I will join them here shortly aboard here shortly. Once Maul is dead and we are safely back aboard the Dagger of Eclipse, launch the Cyclonic Torpedo. This world is tainted beyond acceptable measure."

In response, the woman simply nodded stiffly but slowly, the palpable anxiety almost causing Sirus to smile.

0

The blue and silver Thunderhawk Gunship sored through vacuum and alien atmosphere alike, machinery proving itself as its engines burned bright and hot. The ship was one of the loaned vessels given to the remnants of the Angellis Mentors by the Skywatch, one of the many spares kept if and when the need arose for replacement. Because of this, the ship was new, barely 20 Standard Terran years old. It was so new infact, it didn't even have a name, a fact that brought the men aboard the vessel some degree of pride. It could very well be that these Astartes would be the ones to give this glorious machine a name suiting her deeds.

Inside the vessel sat 8 men, two of the most dedicated pilots of the Angellis Mentors, Captain Sirus Tribune himself, and 5 of his most loyal and devout Sternguard Veterans. Clad in armor mirroring his own, these blue-orange-clad warriors were accented with the honorary bright silvers denoting high rank within the chapter. These men were the preverbal best of the best. Among these men was a marine, his highly customized mark-3 plate sticking out like a sore thumb compared to his brothers in their more contemporary plate.

Castor Janius was the black sheep of his squad. Hell, he considered himself the black sheep of his entire chapter, really. The youngest marine by far within the ranks of his chapter's hallowed Sternguard, Castor was barely 40 Standard Terran years old. As well as this, the Chapter Master didn't seem to trust him in the slightest. Only giving him the rank and allowing his induction into the Chapter's 1st company begrudgingly due to his feats and Sirus's good word. In all honesty, if the entire 1st company was alongside what remained of the Angellis Mentors instead of a few squads and a dreadnought or two as they had now, Castor knew Chapter Master Sagittarius Baten would have demoted him using the new environment as an excuse. That was just the type of brother Sagittarius was, after all.

Castor almost chuckled to himself at that thought, maybe some good had actually come of this mess after all. Castor was pulled from his thoughts as one of his brother marines nudged the hulking super-human with an armored elbow. It was brother Izar, his sleek, mark-6 plate almost mocking Castor's mark-3.

"Brother Castor, you feeling fine? If this is all going to go off without a hitch like Sirus said, we need to communicate with eachother." Izar said, his beaked helm hiding a clear look of concern, something his tone of voice gave away completely.

"Uh… What? Oh. I'm sorry. Yeah, I'm fine, why do you ask?" Castor replied, slowly snapping himself out of his self-imposed trance.

"You've been quiet, pretty much ever since we arrived in this galaxy. Look, I know how you are. Been fighting with you ever since you were placed in the Sternguard after you saved Sirus's life during Sleefaos One. You've never been this quiet." Izar said, the older brother wanting to do his best to give his younger counterpart the guidance he once needed himself.

"I just…" Castor began before twisting his power-armored body towards his brother marine, the ancient servos whirring as he did so. "Call me crazy, but, ever since we got here I've had a bad feeling. Not from the enemy, these Xenos are nothing compared to the Nids, or the Orks, but…" Castor stopped himself, he knew what he was about to say could land him in water hotter than the core of Terra itself if anyone overheard.

Izar simply looked at his younger brother as seconds ticked by, waiting for the man to finish his thoughts. Finally, as Castor finished looking around, he spoke the words that he knew would hurt Izar, words that might even damage their friendship.

"I'm scared something is wrong with Sirus."

"What do you mean?" Izar replied in a whisper, slightly puzzled.

"None of this makes sense. Any of it. Captain Sirus sent fully armed and armored battle brothers for negotiations, resulting in 7 of us being killed. He waited for weeks to begin any sort of offensive operation against the Mandalorians, even after we had all gathered in mass. And now, we postpone it longer just so we get the chance to kill a faction leader? Wouldn't it make more tactical sense to just deal with the Mandalorians first, then kill what remains?"

Izar looked at Castor. Castor couldn't see his face under the bird-like helm, but he see the disappointment on his face even then.

"How much have you been talking to Acamar, Castor? How much has that bull-brained whit turned you against Sirus." Izar said, his rage barely above a whisper at this point.

"Izar, please, calm down. You have to understand-" Castor began again before the sound of the Thunderhawk's coms cut him off.

"LZ is 3 Klicks away. Ready weapons."