Technophiles and Militarists

by thelordofdarkreunion

The Reaper invasion is nigh. Outnumbered and outgunned, the Citadel must turn to two new, dangerous allies for salvation: the Adeptus Mechanicus and Imperium of Man.

6. A Grand Parade

I am back once more! I thank you all for your many wonderful reviews. Hearing from any of you truly does make my day. In regards to such, I'm sure you'll all love this chapter. I've always had a soft spot for military parades, so this is a bit of a self-indulgence as much as it is a part to introduce the Imperial forces. There are quite a lot of them, so if anyone has any questions regarding any of them, always feel free to ask! I should also mention one fact: several of the forces showing up are largely unknown. I've always thought it strange that whenever there's a battle in both the cannon 40k books and fanfics that it's always someone famous showing up. What are the odds that five First Founding Marine chapters and only famous Guard regiments and forge worlds are showing up? Slim to none. I have specifically chosen many famous groups, and several non-famous ones so as to be realistic. Who knows, perhaps you'll learn something new and start to like them. Either way, enjoy the story!

Canthurt: That is true, and my wording has been revised. Thank you.

themadnimrod: So am I. Negotiations are always fun. Unfortunately, the link does not work and can't be copy/pasted. However, I imagined (and played while I was writing) Schindlegiest from the Battlefleet Gothic soundtrack while writing the scene.

saitama1155: Damn straight.

fahriuchiha: That is true. The Imperium doesn't give anything freely. To get their technology, you must either be their allies/vassals or direct servants of the Throne.

The Disquieting One: I have some Kevral teaching here. I'll try for more in the future. Glad to hear people like him.

local doc: Thank you!

Clare Prime of Ultra: Cain is not. All Imperial forces here are shown or told of in the chapter.

ProfessorZooms: Thank you!

Hunter19941: Thank you. Our glorious collector might show up at times.

Amon34: Thank you!

LezGo35: Thank you. It's a good game. Listened to the soundtrack while writing.

Chronus1326: Thank you for reading!

Paladinsans: More of that this chapter!

Guest: Thank you.

Guest (Doc43Souls): Thank you! If people reading this have emotional responses, that means I'm doing my job. Mephiston and an unnamed chaplain show up briefly. The named characters will get more screen time, don't worry. Also, thank you for all your corrections. They're very helpful.

OscuroSignore-51: Thank you. I thought the fountain pen bit was pretty good as well. No cannon named Imperial Guard forces are showing, unfortunately. They all have other things to do. There is some Kevral explainations in this chapter, as well as some Imperial propaganda (big parade).

Madara95: Not sure why Cain wouldn't be cannon, but he's not showing up either way.

Guest: *deep breath* Red Tear of the Blood Angels was destroyed after its mortal commander was driven mad by Chaos. She crashed it into a planet. Shadow of the Emperor (Raven Guard) was destroyed by the Terminus Est above Istvaan, Swordstorm (White Scars) was destoryed in a sacrificial attempt to kill Mortarion (didn't work), Fist of Iron (Iron Fists) was crippled by the Emperor's Child above Istvaan and we don't know its full fate, Eternal Crusader (Imperial Fists) was given to the Black Templars as their flagship, and Macragge's Honor (Ultramarines), Invincible Reason (Dark Angels), Flamewrought (Salamanders), and Hrafnkel (Space Wolves) are all in active service to their respective chapters.

valhalan guardsman: The Wolves probably won't show up. The Centurio Ordinatus will. I'm counting them as "forces of Mars".

That Farkn Guy09: Thank you! Ave Imperator!

Jctherevel: Thank you for reading!

Anatheras: Thank you. You have a good point. Shepard can't really be incospicious. (Cawl knows that, though... or does he...?)

blyatman123: Thank you. We have a pretty good reactions here, too.

paytonkraft1102: Yes, that is correct. He wants knowledge and power, and will do whatever he can to get it. However, he doesn't want to be controlled; he wants to control.

MemerDreamer: Very true.

Sicarius117: Thank you! I'm glad you like the story and the characterizations. The Raven Guard are my favorites, as well. I hope I did them justice. I am also planning on finishing this fic.

BonesofSmite: Oh, you'll get more. A lot more is coming in this chapter. As for the Asari and Salarians, well, the Imperium, Alliance, and Hierarchy aren't too fond of them either.

Guest: No. Sorry. I love the Death Korps, but I simply chose other regiments. I'm sure you'll like them, too!

Guest: Yeah, that's true. Now, the question is: was Cawl planning on that or not?

Monstrr: Not sure if the people on the Citadel's reactions count in this chapter. However, I am planning on having multiple civillian perspectives next chapter, so you should like that. I promise you, I have a good idea for it. It'll be great.

Adeter: That's a very good description for it.

Clown2107: That's all true. The Council should have listened.

oOo

A Grand Parade

"I must admit, when I first heard of it I was skeptical. We signed a treaty with the allies of the Mechanicus? Us on the Citadel, who had been enemies for several years? I knew things were bad, but what could they offer? What price would they take from us? Surely it would be far too high. But then…

Well, I was there that day. The endless numbers of the Guard, all resplendent in their uniforms, the mighty war machines, the skitarii legions, and most of all the Marines. Super-soldiers beyond anything I thought was possible. It was then I started to think this might be a good thing. It was then I began to believe." -Elizabeth Alexandria, human writer and follower of the Imperial Cult

"Tell them that ruin has come to their world. Death, despair, and red war… Tell them their hopes and pride have come to nothing. Tell them their empty whispers fall upon deaf ears- their gods are dead, human reason has killed them.

Tell them the Angels of Death have come.

Tell them that nothing can save them now." -Perturabo, Primarch of the Iron Warriors, circa the Great Crusade

oOo

The sky above the Citadel was a brilliant shining blue. No air cars marred the sky with their ungainly sight and noise. Everything was in place. Everything had to be perfect. The weather, of course, was easy to control. Unlike any planet, where the looming threat of rain could ruin any carefully-laid plans, the Citadel's sky was completely artificial. It was always blue, always sunny. Bluntly, bad weather wasn't just a choice no one made: it was an impossibility here. The Citadel was thus perfect in many ways for a grand parade.

The blue sky was shining and an excited hum was in the air. There was no traffic of any sort. Air cars had been grounded and banned for the day by a special order of the Council. It was both so as not to interrupt the festivities on the ground and because the fleets needed the air space for themselves.

Unlike for the past week, there was an air of excitement, of joyful nervousness hanging around the people of the Citadel. It was an odd sensation, made even more so by the nature of its cause. It might have been strange for such a place as the Citadel to be joyful for and have hope over such a group as the Imperium of Man, but it was still true. Desperate times not only called for desperate measures, but also did strange things to people.

The two governments and cultures, now tenuously united, could not be more different from each other. A simple visit to the wards of the Citadel would prove this. Everything was a bustling hub of activity, with sleek design and architecture. Multitudes of species, so diverse as to be staggering, lived throughout the station. All acts were committed; nearly anything was permitted for a price (or if you could hide it from C-Sec). Indeed, even the police force here was entirely different from those found in Imperial territory: their numbers were made of countless species, their mission to protect, serve, and keep the peace.

This was a place of so-called modern ideals: freedom, justice, democracy, utopia. Anything goes so long as it upholded these noble truths. Indeed, one visit to the myriad of Asari strip clubs would probably make the Imperials burn the station to a husk.

In deep contrast, the cities of the Imperium were more dark, more dingy. Everything was permitted… but only if you could hide it. The feel of the cities, the architecture itself was completely different. Everything was ancient instead of new, heavily ornamented instead of sleek. There were no concepts like freedom or utopia: the Imperials knew such ideals were lies from lessons learned in blood. There was no diversity of note: all followed the Imperial Cult. All worshiped His Divine Majesty as the Eternal God-Emperor of Man. The Arbites wore black; their purpose was not to help the people but instead to uphold Imperial Justice.

The two peoples could not be more diametrically opposed. Yet desperate times did strange things to people. The Reapers were running rampant through the galaxy with no one to check them. The forces of the vaunted Turian Hierarchy, protectors of the Citadel and suppliers of its military arm were on the defensive and losing ground every day on Palaven. The Alliance lost their homeworld and capital. Their government was obliterated. All that was left of humanity was remnants and colonies.

Things had turned to despair quickly. Yet with the arrival of the Imperium of Man public opinion had shifted to hope almost as quickly. Most on the Citadel had seen the arrival of the Imperial fleet, either personally or on video. Here were new allies, ones with a mighty military to boot! Their numbers were far greater than that of the Hierarchy, or even the Krogan from the distant Rebellions. Their ships were bigger than anything anyone of this galaxy could muster, including the Reapers.

Now all that was left were the ground forces. While naval personnel throughout both galaxies loved to brag that they did all the war-winning, it was always up to ground forces to take and hold places. Wars could not be won otherwise. So if the Imperial Navy and the various sub-groups' navies were so large and powerful, what were their infantry like?

The parade was being thrown for multiple reasons. There were always different perspectives and ideologies for such things. The Citadel Council wanted to reassure both the populace and themselves of their new allies. The people had been close to unrest just days before; now the Council wanted to show them there was no reason to fear. The Imperial forces would sweep away the Reapers. In addition, the various Citadel military commanders and the Council themselves wanted to figure out exactly what the ground forces of the Imperial crusade were.

For their part, the Imperium wanted a show of force to both impress and intimidate the Citadel. Their arrival had been triumphant. They wanted to remind everyone in Citadel space precisely how powerful they were. In addition, there was also a note of pride. The forces of His Divine Majesty were the greatest fighters in this galaxy or any other. They wanted to both show off their superiority and the inferiority of the xenos forces of this reality.

Thus, the Council had passed a special mandate. All air traffic was grounded for the day, and the main path along the Citadel was to be cleared. To make up for any grumbling, they also declared an official holiday. While it didn't do much to help the poor and desperate (they didn't care about a celebration, only of survival and spit upon the politicians that made their lives more difficult), the Citadel's multitudes were out in force along the parade route. All were curious over their new allies. An air of nervous excitement hung along the way as everyone waited for the festivities to begin.

Along the way, massive banners were draped off the Citadel's skyscrapers, displaying the symbols of all present. No one was left out. The five-stranded symbol of the Citadel itself, mirrored off how the station looked, covered the grounds, resplendent in its dark blue. White triangular shapes hung above a stitching of the planet Earth in some places, the symbol of the Alliance. The thin upward-pointing symbol of the Asari Republics hung next to those of the Turian Hierarchy and Salarian Union.

Largest and most intimidating of all were the signs of the newcomers. Double-headed golden eagles on a background of deep grey hung over the parade route, reminding the people precisely whose military power was on show here. The cogwheel of the Mechanicus, emblazoned on backgrounds of pure crimson, went hand-in-hand with the Imperial Aquila.

Some people had smaller flags of their government or the Citadel. Some even bought Aquila or cogwheel symbols from vendors lining the route as a show of solidarity for their new allies. Everything was grand, glorious, and ready for a parade.

A hushed silence seemed to fall throughout the entire route. Eager whispers from thousands of throats passed a message along to each other, regardless of species or place.

"It's starting! It's starting!" Asari, Salarian, Turian and human alike strained to see over the throngs of people. Volus lined what balconies they could; their short stature meant they couldn't see anything on the ground. A few Krogans, Elicor, and Hanar could be seen, spots of difference in a tightly-packed crowd. The repeating rhythmic thud of heavy boots on the pavement seemed to vibrate through the very air.

Gasps of wonder and awe sounded as the first group came on. They were dressed in subdued greens and tans, all drab and olive in color. They looked plainly military every inch, from head to toe. Green helmets covered their heads, all marked with silver winged skulls. Adorned on every paldron of every Guardsman was the same symbol: a skull within what looked like some sort of building. The symbol of the Cadian Gate.

Proudly furled in front was a raised banner, displaying two lasguns crossed behind yet another skull. Everything about the fabric was richly ornamented and stitched. Above and below the skull were a phrase and number: Cadian 111th, Keepers of the Gate.

The crowd ooh-ed and aah-ed, and cheered themselves hoarse. Confetti rained down on the Cadians as they marched on, their numbers seemingly endless. Each one marched in flawless lockstep, movements practiced for as long as each Cadian could remember. Heavy black lasguns were clutched on shoulders, swinging in time with the step of the march.

On they came in their waves, a veritable sea of drab green and khaki. Platoons were neatly spaced. Standard and pennants were held high. Officers lined the sides and fronts, chain- and power swords held neatly on their shoulders. Everyone was shoulder to shoulder; there was no room for movement, no room for mistakes, and yet the Cadians made no mistakes as the Citadel crowds cheered themselves ragged over this masterful display of martial prowess.

In the center of the parade route, much closer to the Presidium, was the official box. A good twelve meters above the parade itself, it was meant to overlook the full spectacle. Draped on a massive skyscraper behind the box were three banners: the golden Aquila of the Imperium, the Citadel-symbol of the Council, and the cogwheel of the Mechanicus. The banners were so large that Shepard was fairly certain the Normandy could use them as a blanket. He had no idea how they were made, or who put them up, and suspected he didn't really want to know.

On the booth were all of the highest-ranking leaders of both allies. The Council was here, of course, looking good in their nicest clothes and putting on fake smiles for the populace's benefit. They were rather outshined by everyone else.

Chapter Master Dante, The Last Archangel, Bringer of Sanguinius's Light, Lord Commander of the Galacticus Crusade and Lord of the Angels stood in the position of highest honor, directly in the center of the platform. He was utterly magnificent; terrifyingly, wonderfully, breathtakingly magnificent. Until today, Shepard didn't understand the emotions Space Marines induced in people. Kevral had told him the Imperium actually had a name for it: Transhuman Dread. Shepard laughed at the idea that a super-soldier could inflict such feelings. They were simply larger, more powerful humans in armor, were they not?

But the sight of the Marines present today stole his breath. Dante was clad in resplendent golden armor and his shining death mask. Noticeably, the armor actually had carved abdominal muscles; the sight would have been amusing on anyone else. For Dante, it only added to his grandeur.

A massive jetpack, called a jump pack by the Imperials, was on his back. He wore his weapons at his belt: a beautifully ornate axe and large black pistol. Both were of quality craftsmanship, and of a make Shepard had never seen before, even among the Imperials.

Surrounding Dante were a small unit of bodyguards. There were four total: two stood at his right and left, two farther back on the platform, barely visible to those on the ground. Each wore golden armor with chiseled abdominal muscles and massive pauldrons. Each wore a bolter on their wrist, leaving their hands free to wield the magnificent swords at their side. They all had jump packs, decorated with white-painted wings. Shepard was beginning to realize something about the Imperials. It sounded like they had a massive flair for the dramatic when naming things… but each name was quite literally true. When the Mechanicus called their war machines god-engines, it was because they were god-engines. When the Imperials called their super-soldiers the Angels of Death, it was because they were quite literally the Angels of Death.

Next to Dante and his Sanguinary Guard (thank you, Kevral) were the other Marine Chapter Masters. To Dante's right was Lysander Tullioc, Chapter Master of the Hawk Lords. He was clad in armor of violet and gold, shining in the splendor of the Citadel's clear sky. A cloak of the deepest purple velvet covered his back, and a sword magnificent enough to challenge Dante's axe was at his side. The symbol of the Hawk Lords, a golden hawk, wings outstretched, was emblazoned on both his cloak and left shoulder pauldron. Tullioc's helmet was off, hanging by his side, giving everyone here their first good look at the face of a Space Marine.

It was… well, exactly what Shepard was expecting. Tullioc's hair was short, buzzed to the scalp. A myriad of scars covered his head, face, and neck. His eyes were grey and hard, mouth cut into a permanent line of slight disapproval. Behind Tullioc were two bodyguards, both clad in the violet of the Hawk Lords. Their helmets were different from the Blood Angels'. Instead of death masks and halos, they were normal-looking heavy battle helmets with grilles in front of the mouth. Red lenses looked around the Citadel and at the parade ground with a veneer of both disapproval and impressed-ness.

Next to the Hawk Lords were the Iron Fists. Their symbol was a clenched yellow fist upon a background of black, all over silver power armor. Kevral had been grumbling over them; apparently they bore the genes of one Ferrus Manus, and yet their chapter name and symbol was very similar to another Space Marine progenitor. If the details behind Marine chapter history gave Kevral a headache, then Shepard would leave it well alone.

Strangely, the Iron Fists bore clearly visible cybernetics. Several of the bodyguards were missing limbs: one an arm, the other a leg. Both were replaced by extremely well-crafted metal prosthetics, bulky enough for the Marines and surpassing even the quality of the Mechanicus. Shepard didn't know why they didn't put armor over the cybernetics to better protect them. He also most definitely did not want to ask.

Their Chapter Master, Kastal Verchen, did not have any visible augmentations. Then again, Shepard knew there could be anything beneath Verchen's massive suit of heavy armor. It looked like a custom job, actually. It didn't match the Blood Angels' gold and death masks, nor the standard heavy pauldrons and mouth-grilles of the Hawk Lords or his own bodyguard. The chest was broader and flatter, the helmet more intricate, the pauldrons smaller.

Turning his attention from the Iron Fists, Shepard looked to Dante's left. The black-armored forms of the Raven Guard resided here. Somehow, they managed to be completely unobtrusive and nearly invisible despite being eight foot tall genetically-engineered super warriors. All wore plain black armor with white trim. It was unadorned and rather simple, especially compared to the utter magnificence that were Lords Dante and Tullioc.

In additional contrast to the other chapters was the bodily posture of the Ravens. The Sanguinary Guard stood regally behind their Lord, gilded masks held high. The Hawk Lord bodyguards, draped in their violet cloaks, held their swords point down, looking like ancient Medieval statues. The Iron Fist bodyguards were stiff and still, almost looking like machines, or perhaps skitarii. In deep contrast, the Ravens- well, slouched wasn't perhaps the perfect word, but it was a good descriptor. They were completely at ease, weapons loose at their sides, looking as if they wanted nothing more than to blend into the shadows and be done with the parade.

At the front was Shadow Master Kayvaan Shrike. In contrast to Tullioc, Shrike's face looked nothing like Shepard thought it would. A mop of solid black hair covered a pale face, the lower half of which was invisible. A mask, painted white and black, covered the lower half of his face and went up, reaching over both sides of the head. Shepard could pick out some sort of communications gear covering Shrike's ears. Strangest of all were Shrikes eyes. His irises were solid black, contrasting with the white of the sclera around them.

Shepard looked closely. Shrike looked… bored, almost. Shepard had to stifle a grin. It was an expression he knew well. The Shadow Master was bored with all the inane festivities and annoyed with the politics.

Shepard stiffened as Shrike suddenly turned his way. Apparently he wasn't being as inconspicuous about studying the Marines as he thought. Or perhaps it was because they had better sense than he thought.

Shrike's gaze bored into him, taking his measure in a way that made him feel like he was being studied. For the briefest of moments, Shrike's gaze flickered, then he gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod.

You don't want to be here either, do you?, said the gaze. Shepard found it amazing that a man whose eyes were a solid black could convey such meaning in a single look. We're one of the same, then. Shepard nodded back carefully. Shrike seemed to smile beneath his mask, then turned away.

Released from Shrike's discerning gaze, Shepard turned back to Kevral. The stormtrooper was the only one accompanying him on the balcony today. None of his crew were formal members of any Citadel government. Besides, they had work to do, and as much as he would love them here, Shepard didn't think it was a good idea to bring any of them.

"There are supposed to be five Marine chapters, right?" he muttered to Kevral. Behind him, the man sighed. He was clad in the black dress uniform of the Inquisitorial Stormtroopers, "I" sigil displayed proudly throughout.

"There are," said Kevral, annoyed. "There are five on the registers, five total fleets, which means there are indeed five total."

"So… who are the other guys and why aren't they here?" replied Shepard. Kevral was supposed to be his insight into the Imperium. Was this politics at play, Marine prickliness, or something more?

"They're called the Consecrators," said Kevral in a low tone. "I've been up literally all night going through the Inquisitorial archives, and I can only find one mention of them anywhere." The Stormtrooper gave a resigned sigh. "It seems they like their privacy." Shepard's interest was piqued.

"What you'd find?" Now that was curious. If the Inquisition didn't know much about them, then who were they? More importantly, why were they here?

"I'll tell you later," muttered Kevral in reply.

Beneath them, the pride of Cadia marched in perfect formation. Platoon after platoon came by, all clad in their khakis and greens. As they passed the balcony, every head turned sharply to the right and every eye looked up at those on the podium, offering their salute. Shepard winced internally. He very much did not want to be here, especially on a stand high above a military parade, with massive banners draped behind him and soldiers pledging their loyalty. It reminded him far too much of a Nazi rally or Soviet Victory parade.

He seemed to be the only one with such sentiments. Around him, the 'lesser' commanders, if one could call them that, looked on with approval. Hackett was there, in the same Alliance Navy dress blues Shepard wore. A Turian admiral and Matriarch Lydana, the commanders of the Citadel Fleet, represented the Asari Republics and Turian Hierarchy respectively. There was Lord Admiral Stilicho, commander of the Imperial Navy vessels of the crusade, and Lord General Marius, commander of the Guard forces. They stood side by side near the Council, clad in uniforms so elaborate and overly-embroidered that Shepard was sure they could be defeated by magnets. There were just so many medals. Far too many. The epaulets were also completely unnecessary.

Around the edges of the platform were the Generals of the Imperial Guard and the Admirals of the Navy. There were three Admirals, all clad in elaborate gold and blue, all looking like they wanted to be somewhere else than an infantry parade. Six Generals, each wearing the uniform of his or her planetary regiment, stood side by side, each beaming with pride at the martial sight of the Guard.

Kevral had explained each planet in the Imperium was responsible for paying a Tithe, or tax, to the government. It depended on what precisely the planet could offer: those rich in a certain resource would pay that resource, those that had almost nothing paid hardly anything at all. Soldiers were part of that Tithe. Therefore, individuals from a planet were considered members of that planet's Guard 'regiment'. Each planet had a different 'regiment' and different style.

Shepard hadn't really understood until Kevral started to give examples. Taking part in the crusade were six different Guard regiments from six different planets: the Cadian Shock Troops, Harakoni Warhawks, Mordian Iron Guard, Armageddon Steel Legion, Minervan Tank Legions, and Tallarn Desert Raiders. Each came from a different planet. Each was organized into a normal military hierarchy, but broken down into the different regiments.

For instance, Lord General Marius commanded all Guard forces in the crusade. The Guard was then split up into six groups based on planet, each commander by their own general. General Rykan then commanded all Cadians. The Cadians were further split up into armies, then army groups, then divisions and brigades and so on. Once one understood that 'regiment' meant 'planet' instead of 'brigade', it wasn't so hard to grasp.

At the very back of the platform was the massive figure of Archmagos Cawl, towering over even Lord Dante. He was accompanied by Princeps Arduk Taranis, Princeps Vanis Krast, and a few other important-looking Tech-Priests whose names Shepard hadn't bothered to learn. The Mechanicus delegation seemed perfectly content to stay behind the Marines and out of the limelight.

As platoon after platoon, battalion after battalion of Cadians marched past to the wild cheers of the crowd, Shepard saw something he'd never actually seen before. Following the legendary foot soldiers of the Cadian Guard (Kevral told him of their reputation) were tanks. Honest-to-God, turreted, tracked, metal-plated tanks. They came two abreast, rolling forward with heavy clunking sounds and belching promethium fumes into the Citadel's clean air. There were ten in total, all painted various mottled greens. A non-com commander, wearing a leather helmet and goggles, stood atop the cupula of each. As the tanks passed, each commander turned towards the podium and gave a crisp salute. The crowd cheered themselves hoarse.

"You guys have tanks?" asked Shepard, turning back to Kevral. The Stormtrooper grinned.

"You don't?" he asked in lieu of a reply.

"No, we don't," replied Shepard, perhaps a tad too petulantly. "There's no point. Too easy to take out with handheld weapons. Infantry is better suited…" He trailed off as he saw what was coming next.

It was a tank, though calling such a vehicle a mere tank was like comparing a Citadel dreadnought with the Covenant of Baal. It took up nearly the whole street! It was absolutely massive; about fourteen meters from front to end by Shepard's estimation. Its main turret was massive, bearing two cupulas and a main gun he was fairly certain could punch holes into starships. There was a stubby, almost howitzer-like gun protruding from the front of the tank along with three swiveling sponson turrets: one in the front, two on the sides.

Shepard could feel the breath within him quicken. He longed to go over every inch of the vehicle in loving detail, to explore every single inch of its interior. This must be what Tali felt when she saw new starships, Shepard mused.

"And that, Commander, is a Baneblade," said Kevral with pride and a hint of satisfaction. The crowd went wild at the sight. Somehow their volume swelled even louder. The Baneblade commander turned in his cupula and gave a proud salute to the box as the generals returned it.

Next were the Mordian Iron Guard, clad in resplendent blue uniforms, complete with medals, red trim, and epaulets. Officer-style caps covered their heads, each as brillant a blue as their uniforms. Their black jackboots were polished to a mirror-like sheen as they rose and fell in flawless rhythmic perfection. They almost looked like toy soldiers, so good was their march.

As each battalion reached the stretch beneath the official box, an officer barked out a command. Without breaking step, the Mordians spun their lasguns, slapping them from shoulder to shoulder then back in a series of crisp movements. Each snapped their heads right, a series of blue caps facing the podium, still flawless in their marching without looking. The officers marching to the sides took their power swords from their shoulders and held them in front of their faces, saluting the commanders in the official box. The crowd cheered, then kept cheering, then cheered even more at this display of drill perfection. Even the Turians begrudgingly accepted this was as good or better than what they could do.

The Mordian tanks came next, painted black or midnight blue. Shepard noticed that even the Mordian tank commanders were wearing their full dress uniforms, complete with officer caps and epaulets. The cheering continued as the tanks and Baneblades rolled past.

Next were the Harakoni Warhawks, wearing tan armor with violet uniforms beneath. They were drop-trooper specialists, an airborne unit, yet marched with just as much pride and precision as the Cadians. They had no tanks to follow, but there were more tricks up their sleeves.

Valkyrie gunships, the hard-working staple of Imperial air support, thundered overhead to the roaring approval of the Citadel's masses. They were followed by Aeronautica Imperialis Thunderbolt fighters, flying in old-fashioned finger-five formation. Shepard sighed to himself and shook his head, amused, as several of the Thunderbolts did barrel rolls. It appeared that fighter pilots would be fighter pilots, no matter where they came from. The crowd went absolutely wild, of course. Air shows were always good for such things.

The Warhawks were followed by the Tallarn Desert Raiders, dressed in their tan desert camouflage uniforms. White cloth was wrapped around each of their heads and topped off with goggles: perfect headgear for fighting beneath the hot desert sun. They were more styled towards armored warfare. There were less soldiers than the Cadians, Mordians, or Harakoni, but more tanks. To the utter delight of the crowd, there were a multitude of Baneblades following the main battle tanks.

Last of the Guard were the Armageddon Steel Legion and Minervan Tank Legions. Kevral had told Shepard they were two very similar regiments; indeed, the Minervans were rumored to be founded by settlers from Armageddon. The thought was further confirmed by the sight of both groups. They all wore heavy trench coats and goggled gasmasks, the Steel Legion in tan and Tanks Legions in white.

They were not quite as disciplined as the Cadians or Mordians, though it took a discerning military eye to catch it. The slight wavering of a line or subtle misstep could be found here or there. Their march was still extraordinarily good, on the level of normal armies instead of the trained-from-birth Cadians or famous-for-drill Mordians. It made more sense, though: both came from less-disciplined major cities and were majorly armored forces. Shepard smiled softly. Thank you, Kevral.

Following the Steel Legion and Tank Legions were even more armored vehicles: squat, two tracked APCs and multitudes of different types of tanks. As the rustling coats of the Legions marched by, the crowds ooh-ed and aah-ed over the display of Imperial military vehicles.

Indeed, mixed in with the Baneblades was another type of super-heavy tank. It had the same chassis, though minus the frontal howitzer. The turret was moved to the front of the chassis, and instead of bearing a huge main cannon, it had twin gatling cannons as its weapon.

"What is that?" asked Shepard, feeling the creeping specter of intense curiosity creeping over him.

"Stormlord," replied Kevral with a grin. "Vulcan mega-bolter as the main armament. Platoon sized transport capacity. The ultimate assault vehicle," he said proudly. Shepard nodded as the crowd buzzed. He could see the last of the Tank Legions' soldiers passing by, followed by their grey armored vehicles. They rumbled past, thor treads grinding, but over the noise Shepard could hear the crowd farther down the parade route going absolutely wild over something.

As the last of the Baneblades passed, clanking slowly, the crowds opened up with the loudest cheer he'd heard all day. Now that was certainly saying something. Peering down over the sides of the podium, Shepard almost forgot how to breathe.

Arrayed in flawless formation, squad by squad, unit by unit, their crimson armor shining in the light of the Citadel's artificial sky, was nearly the entirety of the Blood Angels chapter. Each wore a suit of heavy power armor, painted blood red and edged with gold trim. The sun gleamed off golden helmets and played on banners so ornate they looked as if they belonged locked up in a museum, not on the battlefield or parade ground.

The Marines marched in perfect formation. Theirs was not the lockstep of the Guard, but a subdued, plodding march, hindered by their heavy armor. They looked as if they could move with ease but simply chose not to, instead preferring to move in slow unison. The crowd ate it up; they wanted to see the Marines for as long as possible.

Company after company marched by, each bearing slightly different heraldry and equipment. Their banners were held high by chosen veterans marching besides the captains in a place of honor. Noticeably, the Marines did not salute the box. Instead, as Shepard looked back, he noticed everyone saluting them. The Chapter Masters all held their right fist clenched over their left pectoral while the normal human commanders gave the typical hand-above-the-brow salute.

Between the ninth and tenth companies were two very curious vehicles. They were short, squat bipedal walkers with boxy chassises. Their two arms ended in guns and claws, and the symbols of the Blood Angels were painted throughout their body in loving detail. Shepard frowned, wondering what the purpose was of these seemingly not-ideally-proportioned walkers.

Behind him, he heard a sharp intake of breath. Turning around, he noticed Kevral staring in wonder and awe, hand held high in salute as the vehicles passed.

"Dreadnoughts," breathed the Stormtrooper. "The chapter's finest." Shepard glanced around. The normal Imperial humans all wore the same expressions as Kevral.

"What are they?" asked Shepard, confused. Kveral frowned, looking slightly insulted.

"Not what, whom," he replied. "They are walking tombs. Mortally wounded Marines can be saved, interred within the Dreadnought sarcophagus. They gain a new body of adamantium so they may continue to serve their chapter and the Imperium. Not even in death does duty end…"

oOo

Far below, the two red painted Dreadnoughts marched side by side, plodding steps shaking the earth beneath. To the side was Techmarine Vealyrn, his servo-arm whirring in interest as he took in the sights and technology of the Citadel.

"To think that I have been awoken from my slumber… for a parade," sighed Ancient Astos. His mechanical voice, heavy and grating, startled a few of the nearby tech adepts. Astos could feel the ever-so slight whisper of confetti upon his iron sarcophagus. That would have to be cleaned out later; another one of today's annoyances. He swept his sensor array over the crowd, mentally frowning in distaste over the xenos present. They should be killing them, not parading for them!

"Ah, but it is a beautiful day outside," replied Ancient Moros from beside him. Despite being purely mechanical, Moros's voice was full of cheer and mischief. "Besides, Astos, you agreed to this. Vealyrn and Dante asked, you agreed."

"Well… I shouldn't have," said Astos petulantly. Techmarine Vealyrn grinned beneath his helm at the Dreadnoughts' bickering.

"Oh, come now! We meet new people, see new sights, and get a chance to stretch our legs without being shot at! What more could you want?"

"We should be killing these… people." Astos invested the word with scorn. Xenos were not people. Everyone knew that. He was also ignoring Moros's points. Everyone knew that as well.

"You're just mad that you died to xenos," grinned Moros within his tomb. "An Aeldari, if I'm not mistaken. Just a normal Aeldari soldier with a shuriken cannon, and brave Brother Astos was brought low…"

"Well… xenos nearly killed you, too!" spluttered Astos. "As I recall, it was nearly an actual death, too! Not just wounded, but almost completely dead!"

"That was a stray hit from an Ork shokk attack gun! Such things are expected from being hit by one of those," replied Moros. "Mine was unavoidable. Yours was not."

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

oOo

"I wonder what noble thoughts, what glorious warrior lessons those venerable Ancients have," sighed Kevral, almost dreamily. "Their stories must be magnificent. Their minds unmatched. So noble. So mature." Shepard looked down. Indeed, now with Kevral's explanation, he was beginning to see the Dreadnaughts in a different light. If someone loved their people so much that they were willing to entomb themselves in a metal walker to continue their fight, they must be noble indeed.

The last group of Blood Angels, the tenth company, looked slightly different from the rest of the chapter. They didn't wear power armor, instead opting for a much lighter style. Still, they marched with the same pride, even if they didn't bear the full gold and crimson power armor as the rest of the chapter.

"Who are those guys, and why are they different from the rest?" asked Shepard, curious.

"Ah, those are the scouts," replied Kevral. "They're the initiates to the chapter. Their job is to act as scouts and provide lighter support for the rest of the chapter while learning the ropes." Shepard nodded, absorbing the information. It was always good to learn more about the Imperials.

Next came the Raven Guard, their black armor edged in white and gold. There were noticeably fewer of them: about four companies instead of nearly the entire chapter. Still, they looked as good as the Angels, their black armor polished to a sheen, sunlight reflecting off white and gold trim. Even though Shrike and his bodyguard might have a relaxed posture, even though the Raven Guard were known for their casualness, they still marched as well as any Marines, black boots falling as one in perfect step.

Farther towards the center of the box, Dante turned his golden helm towards Shrike.

"The entire chapter is not out today, Lord Shrike?" he asked. Despite belonging to a Space Marine, his voice was calm and soft. Unobtrusive. He doubted anyone besides the other Marines could hear or were paying attention to the conversation.

"It is not, Lord Dante," replied Shrike. His voice was soft and introspective, not the typical growly baritone of most Marines. "It is good to disguise one's numbers, not flaunt them." Dante smiled beneath his helm.

"You think spies here?" Shrike turned to face him, amusement in his black eyes.

"I think spies everywhere, Lord Dante. It is wise to do so. I did not come this far to be careless." The Shadow Master shrugged. "Besides, it is the policy of the Ravens to disguise their forces. It is good if no one knows our numbers." He smiled beneath his mask. "Except you, of course, and those who take part in our crusade."

"A wise policy indeed, Lord Shrike," said Dante as the two Chapter Masters turned back to the parade.

Next came the Hawk Lords, in their brilliant purple and gold. Resplendent in the colors of kings, their armor shone in the sun, reflecting light off falling confetti. Masters of aerial warfare, their Stormraven and Stormhawk gunships flew above, drawing out the cheers of the crowds in the wash of their engines.

Last of the Marines were the Iron Fists. Their silver armor gleaming, yellow fists clenched on their pauldrons, they marched in flawless, emotionless, nearly mechanical formation. Much like the Blood Angels, nearly the entirety of their chapter was there. The crowds continued to cheer, awed over the massed amounts of super-soldiers. Such a sight was rarely witnessed, even within the Imperium of Man.

Trailing the Fists were their contingent of Techmarines accompanying a full ten Dreadnaughts. More cheers, more gasps of awe sounded through the crowd as the ancients filed past. Several of them were larger, more intricate models bearing different weapons. Shepard made a note of it. It seemed not all Dreadnought sarcophaguses were made equal.

The crowd wavered down somewhat now that the spectacle of the Marines had passed. The cheering, confetti, and flag waving all remained, but was now at a normal parade-type level instead of near-frenzied insanity. The Marines had that effect on people, it seemed.

Last of the parade were the forces of the Adeptus Mechanicus. The Citadel crowds seemed more wary of them; they had been in a cold war for the past two years, after all.

Still, the endless numbers of red robed skitarii made for an impressive sight as they marched down the causeway. As always, the soldiers of the Tech-Guard moved in utterly perfect, almost eerie mechanical precision. Every step, every movement, every rustle of their bodies was in flawless synchronization.

There were four groups of skitarii: the crimson-robed soldiers of Blessed Mars herself, the bright scarlet of Graia, the black and red of Stygies VIII (Shepard smiled when he saw the forces of Natrius's homeworld represented) and the black, red, and gold of a forge world called Tolkhan. Shepard hadn't heard of this planet before, even while perusing Natrius's records. Kevral told him it was not a major forge world, but its soldiers were being brought along anyway.

For while Tolkhan might not have been a world of renown, it did have a Titan Legion of great repute.

Shepard had smiled at that bit of information.

As the Mechanicus elements passed, the endless robed skitarii marching besides Tech-Priests waving blessed incense and chanting binharic praise to the Omnissiah, they were followed by perhaps the most glorious sight seen on the Citadel today.

Following the seemingly endless numbers of the Legiones Skitarii were the Mechanicus's sworn allies, the Knights of the Cog.

Despite their earlier misgivings for seeing the forces of the Mechanicus here on the Citadel, the crowds went berserk at the sight of the massive war machines. All four of the major Houses of the Questor Mechanicus were here. House Raven led the way, with two smaller Armigers stomping side-by-side in front of a much larger Knight Paladin.

Shepard had a sudden thought. How easy would it be for the Knights to simply open fire and cause unimaginable chaos and casualties? Very easy. He pushed the thought aside.

Directly behind House Raven was House Vulker, lending two Knight Errants to the parade. All the Mechanicus Knights had similar color schemes; the only differences being the heraldry and trim. Raven was red with silver trim, while Vulker was red with silver shoulders and legs. The trim of the Knights of Vulker was gold, providing a wonderful contrast around the center of the Knight suit body.

Third in the procession was House Krast, with their yellow trim. They brought a Knight Gallant, bearing a massive power fist and chainsword. Several of the crowd shrank back as the intimidating war machine passed by. It was followed by a Paladin, red paint shining, then, wonder of wonders, a Knight Valiant.

The cheering went wild as the colossal war machine thundered past. Shepard was unsure if it even fit comfortably on the road. It was higher than even the official box, massive shoulders towering above the various officers within. The Valiant's thundercoil harpoon and conflagration cannon moved with its stride, the massively destructive weapons silent and still.

Last was House Taranis, the First House, the Knights of Mars. Their white, black, and red Knights thundered past: first the smaller Armigers, then two Paladins, then a massive Knight Castellan. The crowd continued their huge cheer at the sight of Taranis. Shepard was wondering how they were keeping it up after all they'd seen. Many a person would have a very sore throat and very hoarse voice tomorrow.

The Knights of Taranis were the last of the procession. After all the Guardsmen and their armor, the might of the Emperor's Own Angels, the stalwart Tech-Guard, and the noble Knights of the Questor Mechanicus, the parade ended. The people shuffled about, murmuring in excitement. For the first time, there was hope in many of their tones.

Upon the official box, Lord Dante raised his hand high in acknowledgement to the crowd. One last, almighty cheer sounded, resounding through the depths of the Citadel. Dante turned. The rest of the Marines followed. Behind them, the Council stepped forward, to a large, but less powerful and enthusiastic cheer. Shepard smiled at that.

He was already walking, Kevral following loyally. The politicians remained on the podium. The soldiers turned to leave. There was a war to plan.

oOo

The room was utterly massive. It was less a typical meeting room with space enough for a long table and not much else, and more the size of a ballroom or lecture hall. It was packed with people of all sorts from countless different backgrounds and species. Their width was absolutely astounding: it seemed that representatives from every Citadel race was here, and no two Imperials looked the same.

There were the Councilors themselves, of course. Matriarch Lidanya represented the Asari military, and Hackett the Alliance. There was a Salarian there who was a Union Admiral of some sort; Shepard hadn't bothered to learn his position or name. Interestingly, or perhaps more tragically, Sparatus was the only Turian in attendance. The war on Palaven was going poorly, and no other Hierarchy officials could be spared for the meeting. Shepard hoped Garrus was safe.

The Council was to Shepard (and by extension, Kevral's) right in the massive ovular room. To their left were the Marines. First were the Blood Angels. Dante and his Sanguinary Guard were there, of course, but the Chapter Master brought two new additions to the war council. Shepard couldn't decide which one was more terrifying.

Flanking Dante on both sides were two other Marines. One was wearing armor of pure black with red trim. A helmet fashioned into a skull covered his face. The skull leered down in disapproval at everything in the room as its owner crossed his arms unhappily.

The second man wore neither the skull-man's black nor Dante's gold. He was in the Angel's normal crimson armor. For the first time, Shepard got a good look at an unhelmeted Blood Angel. The man's hair was blonde, such a fair shade to be nearly white in color. His chin was sharp, cheekbones high, and nose hawk-like. He was utterly terrifying in appearance, scowling at the various aliens present, looking like he could simply kill them with his looks alone.

"That's Mephiston, Lord of Death," whispered Kevral with a nudge, pointing to the unhelmeted Angel. Almost as if he could hear his name being called, Mephiston swirled around and fixed Shepard and Kevral with a wary glare. Both flinched. Satisfied, Mephiston turned away. "He's the Blood Angels' Chief Librarian."

"What's a Chief Librarian?" asked Shepard, tones hushed, afraid to attract any more Marine attention.

"He's their head psyker. A psyker is basically-"

"I know what a psyker is," interrupted Shepard. A cold wave washed over him. So, Alpha Primus wasn't the only Space Marine psyker? The Commander remembered what terrible forces Cawl's bodyguard could call upon with a shiver. Now there were more of them.

Going along clockwise, the Raven Guard stood next. Shrike was there, unmasked and unhelmeted, standing next to one other black-armored Marine. His face was unblemished, interestingly enough. It looked almost odd on a man of his position. His lips and nose were thin and unmoving, simply content to watch the meeting around him without interfering. Yet. If his reputation as Master of a very notable chapter was to be believed, Shrike was one of the deadliest people in the room. Yet Shepard couldn't actually tell, and he was beginning to believe that was the point.

Next to Shrike was a man in full solid black armor. He was extraordinarily hard to make out. In fact, he almost didn't seem like a corporeal being. Shepard vaguely recalled hearing about a shade of black paint that was so dark it made three dimensional objects look two dimensional when applied. That was this man. It was like he coated his entire being, his very soul, in that paint. He bled shadows everywhere, almost like some horror movie monster.

Strangely, Shepard got no sense of malevolence from the man. The incredible darkness wasn't evil, it just was. Just as the sky was blue and the grass green, this man was shadowy black. That was simply the way it worked. Shepard got the feeling that this man was a psyker as well.

The Hawk Lords brought along another black-armored man in a skull mask, looking remarkably like the individual in the Blood Angels retentive. Shepard assumed these men held the same position in both chapters. He'd ask Kevral later. In addition to the skull-faced man, Tullioc, and his bodyguard, there was another Hawk Lord in normal yet ornate armor. Whatever his position was, he didn't advertise it.

The Iron Fists were next, led by Chapter Master Verchen. The only other Fist with him was a rather strange individual. In his hands was a very familiar weapon: an Omnissian power axe, the badge of the Tech-Priests. He wore the same gray power armor as the rest of his chapter, yet on his back were myriads of servo arms and mechadendrites. Unlike the other Marines in the room, the symbol on his chest and belt was the cogwheel of the Mechanicus instead of the winged skull of the Astartes. Interesting. Was this a Marine that worshiped the Omnissiah, or some sort of liaison between the chapter and the Mechanicus? That was a question Shepard wanted to find out.

After the Marines came the various human Imperial commanders: the Lord General of the Guard and the regimental generals, the Lord Admiral of the Navy and his admirals, and a general wearing a strange sky blue uniform. According to Kevral, the man was the commander of the Aeronautica Imperialis, or Imperial air force. Apparently, there was a branch of the Navy dedicated entirely to atmospheric combat aviation.

Each had an advisor or two with them, wearing the colors of their station. Interestingly, behind the Lord General was a very tall man in a massive black greatcoat. A high-peaked officer's cap of black covered his head, red gloves his hands, and shining black jackboots his feet. The entire ensemble was trimmed in red and gold, and a heavily scarred face, harsh and commanding, scowled down from beneath the cap's shadow. He was so different, so alien from the other Imperial generals Shepard couldn't help but pick him out. The Commander idly wondered what exactly this man's role was. Something akin to the black-armored skull-masked Marines? He'd ask Kevral later, along with his myriads of other questions.

Between the normal Imperial humans and the Mechanicus-affiliated representatives were two men and a woman. All wore simple gray or black robes, reaching down to their ankles. Each had a different heraldry emblazoned on them: a black wasp on an orange background for the first man, a yellow ram's head on a black triangle within a white cogwheel for the middle woman, and a strange halved shield bearing the words "Pallidus Mor" and a skeletal hand holding a scythe. This group huddled close together, bearing a strange mixture of calculated aloofness and friendliness all at once.

Shepard recognized their like, even though he hadn't been introduced. He'd met a man of their position once. He would bet good money that they were the executor fetials, or representatives, of the Titan Legions.

Next, of course, was the Mechanicus delegation. There were representatives from all four of the major Questor Mechanicus Knight Houses. Shepard recognized Princeps Aurduk Taranis from the Dawn War, and though the man standing next to Taranis was unknown, Shepard did know the clenched fist and yellow serpent symbol of House Krast on the man's armor. He was told this was the princeps of House Krast, though he didn't know the man's name. Next were two barons representing House Raven and Vulker. Strangely, the representative of Vulker was not unhelmeted like the other Knights; instead, he wore a golden mask. All of the Knights were clad in their magnificent interface armor, shining a variety of silvers, golds, and bronzes in the meeting room's overhead lighting.

Archmagos Cawl was there, representing Mars, alongside a Tech-Priest in the scarlet of Graia and another in the black and red of Stygies VIII. A third Priest, wearing the black, red, and gold of Tolkhan stood slightly farther back, as benefitted the lesser status of that forge world.

Shepard couldn't help a huge grin as he came to the next group. Last, and certainly not least, was Admiral Han'Gerrel of the Quarian Navy and Fabricator General Felis Natrius of Adas. He caught several wary glances being thrown their way by the Council. His grin got wider. For the first time in three hundred years, the Quarians were aboard the Citadel as a major power.

"Is everyone here?" asked the smooth voice of Councilor Tevos, calling the meeting to order. In the corner of his eyes, Shepard caught the briefest flicker of movement. Glancing over, he noticed something he hadn't when he swept the room before: the Inquisitors, all four of them, standing in the shadows and carefully watching every person in the room. Shepard glanced down before they could see his interest. It seemed the long arm of the Inquisition was present at all times, even here, even when Lord Dante was in charge.

"Yes, everyone's here. Except the Consecrators," replied the Lord General with a frown. He glanced over at Dante, somewhat annoyed. "My lord, they are on the official lists, are they not? They are taking part in this crusade. Shouldn't they be here, at the strategy meeting?" Shepard had to admire the man's guts. It took a lot to speak to a Marine, especially one as intimidating and powerful as Dante, like that.

"Grand Master Nakir has assured me both he and his chapter will be ready when the time comes. Unfortunately, he could not make it here today," replied Dante smoothly. "However, he will abide by all strategies created by this assembly and his chapter will deploy where asked." The Council looked satisfied by this. The Imperial generals, not so much. There were some murmurings and mutterings, none of which could be made out.

"Dark Angels," muttered Kevral from behind him. The Stormtrooper sounded annoyed. Shepard flashed him an inquisitive look. "Tell you later," whispered Kevral in reply.

"In the name of His Majesty, the Emperor of Mankind, by the authority invested in me as the chosen lord of the Sons of Sanguinius, by the grace of the Golden Throne and in accordance with the laws of the Imperium, I hereby call this meeting to order," said Dante, raising a hand for quiet. The chamber was instantly silent. "Let it be noted our new allies, the Citadel, are here and in attendance, as in accordance with the Treaty signed by them and the High Lords. In this galaxy, it is the year…" He looked over to the Mechanicus and Citadel section of the room.

"2189," replied the Stygian Tech-Priest helpfully.

"The year 2189. Let it be noted," continued Dante. "The purpose of this meeting is to determine the best course of action for destroying the Reapers and ancient traitors to His Majesty and Mars, and to retake this galaxy from their clutches." Dante looked up, death mask scouring the room. "The first order of business: Earth." Hackett stepped forward. Though it was a massive, open room with no central table or decorations, there was a holoprojector in the middle. Heckett opened his omni-tool, and the holoprojector whirred to life, showing an image of Earth.

"While the Reaper forces have taken the entirety of the planet, they seem to be headquartered in several of the Alliance's larger cities, especially Vancouver, London, and Singapore." Hackett looked around the room. "As many of you know, Admiral Anderson, the Alliance's ex-Councilor," Udina stiffened for a moment, "Is on Earth and leading a resistance. He's given us what intelligence he can." Hackett's gaze became hardened, more intense. "He tells me that many of our people died or were imprisoned for it, so we'd better make it count."

"Imprisoned?" asked Valern, curious.

"I'm getting to that," replied Hackett, annoyed at the interruption. "Bad news first. The Reapers, and from what we can tell, these Mechanicus traitors controlling them, are setting up what are basically concentration camps to house millions of captured humans. For what purpose, we don't know." Shepard caught a troubled glance between Dante and Cawl. "We do know that they aren't killing anyone, which makes me think their purpose is even darker."

"While details cannot be divulged over the nature of their heresy, and while we of course know nothing of their precise plans, I can confirm the purposes of the Dark Mechanicum are nothing short of that: dark," said Dante. "The camps will be our first priority." Hackett smiled. A few eyebrows went up at this. A few people opened their mouths to object, then thought better that arguing with Dante.

"In addition," continued Hackett, "There are vague reports of comings and goings of strange ships in Vancouver. While we don't know for certain, our intelligence experts guess that a traitor Titan Legion has taken up residence there." More mutterings. Now that certainly wasn't good news.

"One very important bit of information. In fact, perhaps the most important." Shrike stepped from the shadows, his mild voice ringing through the room without effort. He turned his black eyes to Hackett. "There is a ship, a very large ship, about thirty five kilometers long, that is the command vessel of the Dark Mechanicum forces here. Is that ship in orbit above Earth? Or do you not know?" Hackett nodded in understanding.

"We do, in fact." He checked his notes. "That ship arrived shortly after the Omnissah's Blade and Normandy left. It was in orbit for several days. About two days ago, it disappeared, along with a few other traitor Mechanicus vessels." Shrike nodded, satisfied.

"Without the Olympus Mons present, we have orbital supremacy, at least for the present moment." Shrike's pale face flashed over to the Lord Admiral. "Can we break through the Reaper blockade?" The Lord Admiral stepped forward.

"I am confident it can be broken with ease," he said, the confidence flipping into his voice.

"Good." Dante took over the meeting as the Lord Admiral stepped back and Shrike disappeared into the shadows once more. "The plan for the reconquest of Earth is as follows. Any available Alliance forces not defending colonies will come with us. Both the Raven Guard and Blood Angels will deploy in their entirety to Earth." Dante held up a golden gauntlet for silence as the other species protested against this action. "I can assure you that your needs will be taken care of. However, Earth is the most important world to the Dark Mechanicum and the Reapers. We can say with near certainty that they want Earth and Mars, and can and will pull forces from other fronts to take and secure them. We will be going there to liberate the planet. In addition, bulk elements of the Cadian Shock Troops, Mordian Iron Guard, and Harakoni Warhawks will be deployed there." No one interrupted this time; they'd learned their lesson. "I have been assured, and am assuming that the forces of Mars, alongside Taranis, Krast, and Ignatum will be deploying to Earth as well?" The sentence was phrased as a question. Shepard remembered that the Mechanicus was technically autonomous.

"Yes. Our forces will be there as you say, with some Martian ground troops in reserve," said Cawl smoothly.

"Ignatum will be there in our entirety," said the executor fetial with a wasp as his symbol. His fellows remained emotionless.

"As will Taranis and Krast," spoke Princeps Taranis, adding the opinions of the Knights for the first time.

"Very good," replied Dante. "I have overlooked the geography and history of Earth as it is in this reality, and alongside the information Admiral Hackett has given us, I believe our strike plans should be as follows." He stepped forward, massive steps crunching, to point out locations on the holographic representation of Earth. "Raven Guard strike forces shall liberate the internment camps. That is a situation for which they will excel." Shrike nodded. "Both Blood Angels and Raven Guard forces will commence orbital drop pod deployment to take the cities of Moscow, Beijing, and Mexico City. All of which, as you can see, are continentally centrally located. The forces of the Harakoni Warhawks and 43rd Iotan Dragons will commence high altitude, low opening drops to take Jerusalem and support Astartes insertion forces in the other cities. After these cities are taken, we will use them as staging grounds for bringing in the other ground forces and their heavier support." Dante looked around. "Any questions?"

There were none. It was a good plan, made all the more impressive by the fact Dante probably only had days, if not hours, to learn the entirety of Earth's geography and understand central cities.

"Who are the Iotan Dragons?" whispered Shepard. Whoever they were, they didn't seem to be present.

"Stormtrooper regiment," replied Kevral in hushed tones. "Not big enough numbers to be formally present, but they're good. They'll get the job done."

"What about the rest of the galaxy?" asked Sparatus, crossing his arms. "This is all well and good for the Alliance, but the Hierarchy was promised reinforcements. Our people are dying and we are losing ground by the minute," he snapped. Dante held up another hand.

"Peace, Councilor. Your concerns shall be addressed." The Lord of the Angels looked around the room. "'Tis true that your people suffer. As loath as the Imperium is to tolerate the alien, your people show a magnificence of values, honor ranking above all. And so you will learn that we are honorable too," he threw a glance at Valern and Tevos, "And will keep our end of the bargain."

Dante nodded at Cawl, who stepped forward. With a flick upon his omni-tool (where did Cawl get an omni-tool?), an image of Palaven appeared. Dante stepped forward once more, taking Cawl's place.

"Reaper forces are throughout the planet, with Hierarchy soldiers barely holding them back," began Dante. "While there is war everywhere, the main focus of the action is around the capital of Cipritine." The Cipritine lit up in red. "Both the Primarch," Shepard noticed the Marines flinching at the title. Dante invested an element of scorn into the word. "And his war cabinet are there, trying to coordinate the defense. The campaign upon Palaven shall go much as the campaign for Earth, but with some slight differences."

Sparatus nodded, apparently satisfied. Shepard worried once more for Garrus's safety.

"The Hawk Lords will use their mastery of aerial supremacy to sweep clean landing zones in the cities pointed out." Chapter Master Tullioc nodded. "The Armageddon Steel Legion and Minervan Tank Legions will deploy to the surface, directly into combat. They excel in city fights, I can assure you." Dante paused for a moment. "In addition, the forces of Graia, Tolkhan, and Legio Pallidus Mor shall deploy to the surface to combat the Reapers. The Titans shall be the best machines for destroying those foul abominations."

"How do we know you'll not abandon us?" Sparatus turned and gave a withering glare to the rest of the Council. "Just as everyone else has? How can we trust you?" The executor fetial of Pallidus Mor stepped forward with frown.

"You question the honor of the Imperium's finest?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Sparatus without hesitation. "Allies who have stood with us much longer have betrayed our trust." Shepard winced. Oof. That must have hurt the Asari and Salarians. The executor fetial opened his mouth to speak, but Sparatus beat him to the punch. "I know how you operate, and so we want your word."

"Our word?" asked the executor, now scowling that he had to answer this bold xeno.

"Your word. Because you keep telling us that your Imperium operates on honor." The "unlike some" was left unsaid, but it still stung. "And so I want it. Your word of honor. The honor of Pallidus Mor." The executor fetial stepped forward, burning fury in his eyes.

"You have it," he hissed. "By our honor, Pallidus Mor will stand until the end." The other Imperial forces going to Palaven gave wary nods. Sparatus settled back, satisfied.

"Well, now that that's settled, we come to our last issue," said Dante mildly. Shepard was beginning to realize precisely how good of a mitigating factor the Chapter Master was. Truly, whoever chose him had done an excellent job. "Reaper forces have been sighted heading to the Tikkun System." The Councilors shot death glares at Admiral Han'Gerrel and Natrius, who returned them evenly. Shepard grinned. "The Iron Fists, alongside the Tallarn Desert Raiders, the forces of Stygies VIII, and Legio Honorum will be sent there to aid the defense." The Citadel representatives, minus Hackett, erupted.

"This is ridiculous!" protested Valern

"They're not even part of the Treaty!" said Tevos, normal calm broken. Dante turned her way. The Asari gulped as she stared down the golden Death Mask of Sanguinius.

"They are our allies, the same as you, and shall be treated as such," replied Dante, voice firm yet fair.

"What if our worlds fall under attack? You don't have many resources left," accused Valern. "We are still part of the Treaty, are we not?"

"You are indeed," said Dante soothingly. "A Naval battlefleet shall be stationed here, alongside elements of all Guard forces, Mechanicus reserves, and the Consecrators. They shall provide reinforcements wherever they are needed, if it comes to that." Tevos made a move to speak, but was silenced by Dante. "In addition, should the present forces of His Majesty be insufficient, reinforcements will arrive from the Imperium." His golden mask swept the room. "This is a war we are going to win." His tone brokered no argument. Indeed, with Dante at the helm, it seemed as if the war was already as good as won. "Are there any further questions?" No one responded. No one had the guts to. "Very well, then. This meeting is adjourned."

oOo

Back aboard the Normandy, Kevral spread out a huge piece of parchment with a frown. Shepard, Tali, Chambers, Traynor, and Solana gathered around him curiously. There was perhaps the tiniest, briefest flicker of annoyance over the aliens, or perhaps it was because everyone was hovering over his shoulders, but the look was gone in an instant. Shepard didn't quite know what to make of it. At the very least, if Kevral had any xenophobia to him he hid it and treated the alien members of the crew with respect. Shepard could definitely respect that.

"Okay, so you want to know more about the Marines, especially the Consecrators." Shepard nodded. The rest of his crew looked on curiously, eager to learn anything about the history of the Imperium of Man. "So… first off, a little bit of history. You all know who the Emperor is, right?" A chorus of nods greeted the question. "Okay. Good. The Emperor, besides being the immortal leader of the Imperium and Divine God of Humanity was also an utterly brilliant individual. After He conquered Terra during the Age of Strife, He set about making plans to conquer the galaxy and bring the Imperium of Man into being. To do this, He created eighteen demigod sons called the Primarchs, and from the genes of each son, a legion of super soldiers called the Space Marines. Any questions so far?" Solana raised a clawed hand.

"You said created? Not… like, had?" Kevral nodded.

"Correct. Like I said, the Emperor had a brilliant mind, and so he created these sons using his own genes in a laboratory." A few raised eyebrows and interested expressions greeted this new revelation. "Now, to make a very long, complicated story very, very short, the Emperor, the Primarchs, and the Marine Legions conquered the galaxy. However, nine of them, seduced by dark powers, turned against the Emperor and waged a revolt to overthrow Him called the Horus Heresy." Kevral looked up. "The… uh, traitor Mechanicus forces were part of that war, and did terrible things. That's why we're hunting them." More nods. So far, so good. Kevral was a good teacher.

"How does this relate to the Consecrators?" asked Shepard.

"I'm getting to that," replied Kevral. "Context first. Anyway, after the Horus Heresy, which, as you can imagine, the loyalists won, the loyal Space Marine Legions were broken up." More questions. Kevral held up a hand, forestalling them all. "Roboute Guilliman, Primarch of the Ultramarines, decided that the Marine Legions had too much power and that was the reason the Heresy happened. It's somewhat of a touchy topic, but both I and the Inquisition believe he was right. Anyway, the Legions were too big and powerful, which was why they were able to do so much damage during the Heresy. Therefore, Guilliman decided to split them into smaller chapters. This was called the Second Founding." Kevral paused to take a breath. "Since then, there have been many other Foundings, where new chapters are created from the genes of the Primarch and original chapters."

"So… that brings us to the Consecrators?" asked Shepard. "And what you said about… Dark Angels, or something like that?" Kevral nodded.

"Precisely." The Stormtrooper gestured to the massive parchment laid out before him. "This is a… map, I suppose, of the First Founding chapters and their successors." On the top of the parchment were nine boxes, bearing different names and symbols, with other boxes beneath for each founding. Shepard picked out the Blood Angels and Raven Guard easily enough. Kevral pointed to the top left corner. The box there had the words "Dark Angels, I" beneath a winged sword. "Dark Angels. First Legion. Both the chapter and all of their successors are notoriously aloof, which could explain why the Consecrators didn't show."

"You said you had some trouble finding the consecrators though?" asked Shepard. He peered down, going through the different successor chapters of the Dark Angels. Angels of Absolution, Angels of Redemption, Angels of Vengeance, Cowled Wardens… no Consecrators.

"Yes," sighed Kevral. "Due to our ten thousand year history, archives, as well as they are maintained, can be lost or destroyed. And, of course, there's human error." He pointed down. "For instance, like I told you, the Iron Fists are the successors of Ferrus Manus and the Iron Hands." Shepard saw "Iron Hands, X" listed beneath an outstretched gauntlet. "However, their name and symbol are very similar to the Imperial Fists," Kevral pointed to "Imperial Fists, VII" beneath a clenched fist, "And so based on heraldry and name, could be from either chapter."

Things were getting a little bit more confusing now. Shepard could see everyone else taking notes on their omni-tools.

"I've been going through the Inquisitorial Archives on all Space Marine chapters. Things are… kind of hard to figure out. For instance," Kevral brought up an image of another record on a nearby holoprojector, "The Lions Sable are listed as a Second Founding successor of the Dark Angels here, but I can't find them anywhere else. Not their symbol, their history, or any of their campaigns. Which, finally, brings us to the Consecrators."

"What about them?" asked Tali, her natural curiosity piqued.

"The Consecrators are listed in the official records of this crusade. Their fleet is here. They exist. However, there are only a few other mentions of them anywhere in any Imperial archives." Shepard frowned. That didn't sound good.

"So… what did you find?" he asked.

"There is no record of their existence prior to the third century of the 40th millennium. Their first and, it seems only appearance is in the works of the field notary Corwen Quil, in his account of the Second Kuppukin Schism." Kevral looked around, face grave. "At the height of the war, Loyalist forces were surrounded in the Sanctum of Silence upon Kuppukin by a sea of renegades, mutants, and traitors when the entire Consecrators chapter deployed at full chapter strength with no warning whatsoever. It appeared the Imperial forces had but hours to live until the Marines arrived. All vox-hails to the Consecrators were ignored, but they went to war on the defenders' behalf with terrible fury. In just six solar hours, the Consecrators wiped out the schismatists' high command and left their army a mess of broken corpses. Though his descriptions are somewhat vague, Quilp is very clear about one fact: he noted that the brothers of this chapter bore all manner of sacred relics, and only used the most ancient patterns of power armor, weapons and vehicles. It was as if the Consecrators inherited the most revered arms of the ancient First Legion, and preserved them lovingly to bear against the enemies of the Lion and Emperor."

Shepard opened his mouth to speak. There were so many questions. Too many. What did that mean? Was the ancient better than the new? Who was the Lion? However, before he could speak, he was interrupted.

"Commander, there's someone who wants to see you," said Kasumi, poking her head around the corner. Shepard frowned.

"Send them in," he replied, mind still whirring with questions.

As the newcomer stepped in, his appearance only raised more questions. It was a man, face heavily scarred and obscured beneath a hood and robe of pure crimson. On the front of the robe was the winged teardrop symbol of the Blood Angels. Who was he? Certainly not a Marine. Some servant of the Angels perhaps?

"Lord Dante requests your presence, and the presence of your chief engineer," said the man, giving a polite bow to Shepard. Shepard glanced at Tali, then back at the man. Tali shrugged.

"We'll be right there," sighed Shepard. Kevral nodded in the back and continued his lecture on Imperial and Marine history. The man in the Blood Angels robe bowed.

"Very well. Follow me, if you will."

oOo

Tali and Shepard followed the robed man from the docked Normandy into the Citadel. It was not a far walk, though it was filled with curiosity and hints of apprehension. What did Dante want to see them for? Both of them? The robed man had specifically mentioned chief engineer, not Tali, which made Shepard think Dante was interested in some form of technology or knowledge from this reality.

The robed man took them into a large building near the docks where the Imperials had been loading and unloading soldiers and equipment. A nearby building, square and unimaginative, seemed to be some sort of headquarters. The robed man, who still had not introduced himself, led the duo inside.

Strangely, for being so close to the Imperial port section, there were no signs of Guardsmen, naval officers, or any sort of normal humans. The halls were bedecked in Blood Angels tapestries, and the only personnel inside seemed to be people much like their guide: normal humans wearing Blood Angels robes.

Their mute guide led them deep inside to a central room hidden by an unsuspectingly plain door and Shepard stepped forward. Inside was Dante, accompanied by four of his ever-present Sanguinary Guards. The robed man bowed and left. Shepard and Tali stood in the middle of the floor, trying not to look nervous beneath the piercing eyes of the Angels.

"Good to see you, Commander," said Dante, turning around. The expression upon his golden mask was unreadable.

"You too, Lord Dante." Shepard wasn't exactly certain how he should address Dante, but a simple 'lord' before his name seemed to be perfectly acceptable.

"I was… doing some research, Commander," began Dante. Tali looked up inquisitively from Shepard's side. "Ascertaining to you. Personally." The death mask's glare became intense, almost furious and accusing. Shepard felt his stomach drop. "And it seems… you are craven enough to have married a xeno."

Strong hands pinned Shepard's arms behind his back. The Sanguinary Guard stood behind both him and Tali. It felt distant, as if this horrible situation was happening to someone else. Shepard barely caught Dante's next words behind the rushing in his ears.

"I know not how the Mechanicus let this happen, but rest assured, words will be had with the Fabricator General." Shepard tried to open his mouth, tried to speak, tried to say anything but somehow nothing happened. He could not move, pinned in place by golden Angels. He could not speak, his ability robbed by shock and fear.

"What… what happens?" asked Tali, voice shaking. Shepard desperately wanted to stand next to her, side by side as they had always done, but he couldn't. Dante was master of this situation.

"Now he must die," said Dante calmly, as if imparting wisdom to a pupil. "We cannot have a man of such… interests lead the Citadel forces upon this noble crusade." Shepard struggled against his captors. He could barely move. The Angels were too strong. Dante looked down on Tali. "This is a sin, a heresy of the highest magnitude. It must be… extinguished." Drawing his axe, Dante advanced on Shepard.

"No!" screamed Tali, thrashing helplessly against the Sanguinary Guards holding her. Dante paused. He turned back.

"Though… his sin is extinguished… if you die." The Death Mask of Sanguinius stared down at Tali, the weighty glare of both Dante and his Primarch measuring her. It was Shepard's turn to scream.

"No!" He thrashed, even though he knew it was hopeless. "Tali, don't do it! Don't!" Tali and Dante stared at each other.

"How do I know you won't kill him too?" asked Tali.

"Don't do it! No! Please! Tali!"

"You have my word of honor as the heir to Sanguinius, noblest of all Primarchs, that if you take his place in death he will be free to go and do as he pleases," replied Dante solemnly. Tali nodded.

"Okay," she said softly.

"No! No!" Dante nodded at the guards. They released Tali's arms, and she stepped forward. Her slim frame, tiny in comparison to the Lord of the Angels, stood defiant in front of him. She turned back, a soft smile behind her visor.

"I love you, John. Know that. Always know that."

"Tali, no! Don't die for me! Please! Don't!"

For the briefest of moments, Dante and Tali took each other's measure. Silvery eyes stared up in defiance of the Lord that would take her life and the Emperor he served.

So fast that Shepard barely saw it, so inescapably quick that it would have taken any mortal man by complete surprise, Dante's hands moved. In one flawless, fluid motion, the Axe Mortalis crackled to life as it was unsheathed. A flawless, utterly perfect killing blow spun towards Tali's neck-

-and stopped, hovering mere millimeters from the thin fabric of her enviro-suit.

Tali did not move. She did not flinch. She made no effort to escape.

Her eyes stared up at Dante, full of defiance behind her mask.

Dante stared back, axe hovering near her neck.

Shepard couldn't breathe.

As quickly as it had been unsheathed, Dante put his axe away. He nodded at the two guards holding Shepard. They released him and followed Dante wordlessly from the room, leaving Shepard and Tali inside.

Shepard fell to the floor with a thud. For some reason, his legs wouldn't work. In the center of the room, Tali collapsed. They crawled towards each other, unable to focus on anything else.

"Tali, Tali, Tali, Tali, Tali." Shepard repeated her name as a mantra as he held her close, as if her name would make the terrible shaking go away. She trembled in his arms and pressed her mask against his forehead, desperate to know he was still there.

"John," she whispered back.

They stayed that way for an indeterminate amount of time, holding each other, making sure they were both alive. The greatest comfort could be found in each other's arms, and neither Shepard nor Tali wanted to leave it, no matter that they were in the stronghold of the Angels.

Looking over Tali's shoulder, Shepard noticed the door was open. They were free to leave at any time.

oOo

Rhythmic heavy thuds sounded as Dante and his four accompanying Sanguinary Guards walked down the hall in their commandeered Citadel headquarters. The Guards looked at each other, frowning behind their golden masks. Dante's emotions were unreadable.

They should have killed the xeno! She sullied the honor and blood of Holy Humanity! Shepard too. He was craven. Hedonistic. Honorless. A heretic. A xenophile.

Looking amongst each other, seeking answers, the Guard silently chose one of their number to speak. He moved forward a pace, trying to get up next to his Lord.

"My Lord…" he hesitated a moment as Dante turned. "I… we… were wondering-"

"A very interesting display," came a new voice.

Not much could surprise a Space Marine, one of the Emperor's legendary Angels of Death, and even less so one of the handpicked veterans of a First Founding chapter. Yet, one of the Sanguinary Guards actually yelped as the grinning visage of Shadow Master Shrike regarded them. Two went for their weapons before realizing who it was. How did he get here? He wasn't there three seconds ago!

"Ah, Lord Shrike," replied Dante calmly. The Death Mask of Sanguinius tilted curiously. "How long have you been here?" he asked. Shrike shrugged.

"Long enough," he replied evenly. One of the Guards snorted. A typical Raven Guard response. Shrike only smiled back in return. "It was… rather interesting."

"You disapprove?" asked Dante. Shrike shrugged once more.

"I do not approve nor disapprove. I am simply curious." He tilted his head. "Why?"

"Xenos are craven. Honorless. They have no love for anyone but themselves, and would betray you in a heartbeat if it meant the salvation of their own skin." Dante paused. His voice became soft, thoughtful. "And yet… and yet she did not." The Lord of the Angels turned back to the Shadow Master. "I have been around a long time. You know this, Lord Shrike." The Master of the Raven Guard nodded. "I saw her eyes, despite being hidden by glass. They were full of defiance, of willingness for death… and love." Dante gave a mirthless laugh. "Strange that a xenos has love, but yet she did. Love so great, love so great for a human that she was willing to give her life for him without question or hesitation. And so she shall be spared." Shrike nodded.

"Very astute. Another question: what if the Inquisition finds out?" Dante frowned beneath his mask.

"I think the Inquisitors have other things on their minds. Besides, Shepard will be on the front lines, and untouchable due to the way the war shall go and public opinion." Dante resumed his walk, the Sanguinary Guard and Shrike following. "I am, however, prepared to speak on his behalf, should the need arise." The Sanguinary Guards muttered among themselves. Shrike simply nodded, accepting it.

"Like you said, I don't think it will." There was a brief pause, slightly too long to be anything other than dramatic effect. Dante smiled softly. The Ravens, for all their aloofness, did have a dramatic side to them. "Though, all things considered, I have a feeling that this crusade will be very… interesting."

oOo

And there we have it! No codex. We don't need more words in this mammoth chapter. Anyway, I hope you liked it! The parade scene, the meeting, the Kevral scene, the Dante and Tali scene, and the Dante and Shrike scene. An overload of wonderful interactions. Tali was saved by love; ironic, considering how Warhammer 40k usually operates. Now, if you have any questions on the Imperial forces arriving, please, feel free to ask. If you have any comments, questions, criticisms, concerns or reviews, please, tell me!

And next chapter, the Emperor's Angels of Death go to war...