AN: I imagine a lot of people are waiting with bated breath for the next full chapter of this story.
Sadly, I am struggling to write. It's just the way of things for me right now. It is coming, but slowly. Glacially slowly. Someone's joked that Henry Cavill's 40k show will come out and be done with by the time I finish this story. I say at least by the time I get the story out of Vale. I'm kidding of course. I hope...
But, going through the FF page for this story, I realised that I hadn't shown these little sidestories that I wrote. They are canonical to the main story, the first being set during Chapter 11 and the second being set immediately after. I liked writing them both. I hope you enjoy reading them. If the formatting is weird, I do apologise, this has been a new experience for me.
Oh, before I forget: I am active on the Space Battles forum for this story, as well as my , Ciaran's Curios, and also the character of Pavemol Rapult belongs to NicholasRFrintz over on Space Battles.
A Helping Hand
The sun rises over Remnant, the same as it always does.
For many living in the wilds of Vale, those walled towns and villages in the hinterlands far in the depths of the untamed wilderness of eastern Sanus, morning was heralded by the rising of the sun, or by the crowing of a loud cockerel.
For the last few days, it has been heralded by the loud bugle call of reveille.
It takes some getting used to, as the Stone family and the others know all too well.
Giving the universal groan that meant "I don't want to wake up but I must", Nella Stone sat up in the bed, blinking away the sleep from her eyes as she groggily processed what is going on and where she is. For a moment, she forgets where she is and wonders why her bedroom is so big, until she remembers… it's not her bedroom. It is basically their whole room now.
It's like this in all of the 'auxiliary bunkers' that the Cadians have built for the displaced townspeople; each one can hold up to one hundred people comfortably. It's spartan and simple; each family unit being given an allotted area to house in, partitioned by boards and sheets as curtains. Furniture was sparse, mainly a spare chest or a rail for their clothes, and little else. The evacuation from Carterstown and the other settlements didn't allow them to bring much, but they make do. People like them always do.
After getting dressed into a blue and white checked dress, with more than enough pockets to carry an entire kitchen's worth of utensils, Nella quickly stopped her husband embarrassing himself ("Bear Stone, you put some pants on right this Gods' damn moment!") and making sure that Melo was ready too, the Stone family joined the others from Carterstown and the other towns the Cadians had rescued as they went outside for breakfast.
"Good morning, everyone!"
The person speaking is a woman, wearing the black and gold uniform of the 'commissariat'. She is… compact, definitely shorter than Nella, but harder. She has no soft lines about her; Nella can see the tension of muscles beneath her well starched coat, and even her smile is somehow angular. But it is a sincere smile nonetheless, and Nella appreciates it.
"Good morning, Miss Angeline." Nella says as she joins the line at the large canvas tent that serves as the refugees eating area. "Keeping well?"
The commissar keeps smiling as she falls into step alongside Nella, her hands behind her back. "As well as well is. Besides, I like taking care of you civilians."
Nella doesn't say a word as she waits in line for her and her family's breakfast. Nothing majorly special: fried eggs, sausages, potatoes and a slice of bread. Nowhere near a feast, but it will do them well. Though it is a feast compared to what the Cadians ate it seems.
As Nella has her plate handed to her, she finds an extra egg on the plate, handed to her by a hairy hand with thick fingers.
"Got to give some kudos to the lady who punched an overseer." The chef, one of the weird, pint-sized 'Ratlings'. This one seems to be one of the oldest, if the greying-red hair and beard is any indication. And he's also the least… lecherous of the ones that Nella and the others has met. So Nella thanks him for the food with a smile before she moves to her seat.
As she does, Commissar Angeline sticks with her.
"So, I heard that you and some of the others are pulling food duty today for the senior staff." The woman in the uniform says kindly and simply as she pulls out a dataslate from inside her jacket, which she quickly consults. "So… I guess that means… yes, you'll be making lunch for the senior staff today!"
"Ah, that might put them in a good mood today then." Bear says as he chews a piece of egg, a smile on his face. His clothing is a red, plaid pattern shirt, with its sleeves rolled up and top buttons undone, all underneath a pair of denim dungarees.
"And Mister Stone." Commissar Angeline says pointedly, scrolling down on the pad. "Captain Zachary of the 49th Combat Pioneer battalion is looking for men to prep some more buildings ready for the next lot of refugees to come in."
Bear still keeps the smile on his face as he nods. "Aye, I can do that. I'll do a quick whip around, gather some lads up to lend a hand. We'll be ready in… twenty minutes or so?"
"Twenty minutes is more than enough time, sir." The commissar responds, a small, sincere smile on her face.
"Are you guys going to be rescuing more people again?" Melo asks from her seat next to her mother, wearing a green version of Nella's dress.
In response, the commissar nods her head with a smile. "We'll be doing our best. We've got vox-operators working day and night to find distress calls, and the Imperial Navy flyboys are sending out flights to look for anyone in danger."
As if on cue, a loud roar fills the sky as a large aircraft descends overhead. About five-hundred feet or so above them, the dark blue underbelly of a large aircraft, one in what can roughly be called a t-shape, flies overhead on four powerful engines as it descends to Fort Tempest's airfield.
"Marauder Vigilant." Angeline says by way of explanation. "A reconnaissance aircraft for the Imperial Navy. Looks like they're back from a night operation. Looking for settlements. Or more Grimm."
It's hard to miss the level of hate and disgust in the woman's voice as she practically spits the last word. And it still surprises Nella so much. These people have only been on Remnant for about… a little over a month, she recalls, and yet these Cadians have such a hatred for the beasts of Grimm as much as any long lived Remnite. Perhaps even more so.
It's chilling in way that Nella has never known before.
But just as quickly as the feeling comes, it is replaced as Angeline turns to look at the woman beside her. "I'll leave you all to your breakfasts. Have a good day."
With a twirl of her jacket, Commissar Angeline walks away to another group of refugees, dataslate in hand as she begins to talk to them.
And all the Stone family can do is eat their meal in silence, even as another Ratling comes along with a pot of coffee.
The only thing to fully disturb their breakfast is the sight of a Humpback transport, coming over the wall from the direction of Vale, the large aircraft's design a complete contrast with the architecture of the fortress around them. It's not long after their breakfast is finished that the vehicle leaves, with no fanfare or explanation.
Not that it really matters to the refugees in Fort Tempest.
There's work to be done.
Breakfast finished, the refugees from Carterstown move back to their billets before properly preparing themselves for the day ahead,
Of all the things that people living in the Valean wilds can agree on having, it's pride. The pride that everything they've done, they've done by themselves, either as a single person or a collective, by themselves or as a group. They grow their own food, make their own clothes, their own communities, their own homes. Everything they had, they worked for. And no relocation to some spacemen's military base was going to stop that.
While she has to wait for her turn in the officer's kitchen, Nella joins some of the other Remnite women in doing what 'housework' needs to be done. The Cadians are a military folk, and they pride themselves on their discipline and professionalism, and they show it all the time in the fortress. The platoon, company and regimental marches around the fortress; the soldiers calling time and shouting cadence, their feet stamping the ground in measured pace. Even seeing them taking part in their morning exercises; moving around at a run or jog, or drilling against each other with their guns or knives, is a sight to see.
The rescued townspeople have no need of such things, but they do their own morning routines. Bed sheets are removed to be cleaned, clothing is washed and put up to dry. The youngest children are gathered by the teachers from each settlement, each one taking multiple classes of students to teach them what they are to be taught. The eldest among them remain behind to tend to whatever they can tend do, usually helping mend clothing, while the youngest do anything and everything they can do.
Inside the fort, that setup has now changed.
Even as young men and women help tend to care for rescued poultry and plant small crops in specially prepared planters, others are taught other more… esoteric functions, not wholly expected in the Valean wildlands.
Under the sharp eyes of the Cadian engineers, Bear Stone and other strong men from the various settlements work around uniformed soldiers and pioneers as they assemble more barrack huts and billets. Others are taught on how to operate Militarum-grade galvanic servohaulers, the smoke-belching engines chugging along on their tracks as they clear space for more buildings, while nimble legged power-lifter variants of the Sentinel walkers help move pallets of the necessary building material around. Others, the men and women who spend time as guards or hunters for the towns, they spend time in ad-hoc lecture rooms, accompanied by officers and the troopers under their command as they go over maps of nearby areas or areas of interest, discussing the terrain, or talking above either what local wildlife to be avoided or gunned down, and the best way to gun them down too.
Nella's job does not start before midday, so she spends time around the civilian quarter, helping the others settle things up. There are still people from all towns who are still traumatised and unnerved by what they've gone through, from the move from their own towns to the fort, and also being near such violent actions. Which was not helped by the Cadians love of using live ammunition in their drills. That's not an easy thing for Nella to help with, but thankfully the 'sisters hospitallers' of the strangely named 'Order of the Azure Blade' are able to help, either giving sleeping aid, or soothing their worries with kind words. It's not much, but it's something to help.
But all the words… Nella can't help but notice how they all fall back to something about the 'God-Emperor', about drawing strength from him, about going to his side for help. The religious nature of it is… Nella is not used to it. Religion is something that Nella knows to be a person's personal thing, and preaching is virtually non-existent in the kingdom of Vale.
But the Cadian's and the other Imperials have such an overt nature about their religious beliefs. It permeates everything about them; their speech, their clothing, their equipment, their actions. Everything is connected to the worship of the 'God-Emperor' in some form, or the 'Omnissiah' that the weird, red-robed machine men refer to. And Nella is to weirded out by them to ask for more information from them.
But, thoughts on religious matter can wait, as Nella looks at the time. It's time for her to make lunch.
As expected, the kitchen for the Cadian officers is separate from the main mess, but it's still spartan and utilitarian. In fact, it looks less welcoming than Nella's own kitchen does, or any of the kitchens of the other women with her as they prepare lunch for the officers.
Under the watchful eye of another member of the commissariat, the six women go about cutting vegetables and meat along with bread for sandwiches and other stuff. Boiled and fried eggs, cornbread, cooked alongside some fried bits of bacon and cooked ham slices. Pots of recaff are on the boil, along with other local variants of tea and coffee, the latter of which have proven popular to the Cadians.
The situation reminds Nella of the times there's been a celebration in Carterstown and everyone has gathered together to cook. Something familiar.
At least until one of those floating 'servo-skulls' drifted down and poked a needle into whatever one of the women was cooking. It was always accompanied by a simple DING and a green light emerging on its forehead.
"Just a security measure," The commissar had explained the first time it happened, freaking out one of the women enough to nearly make her hit the thing with a pan. "When locals are preparing food for senior staff. Mostly for poisons, but also in case there's toxins present that you locals might be accustomed to but not us Cadians."
That… made sense to Nella then, but as she cooks, letting the servo-skull probe one of the dishes beside her, she can't help but wonder how many places have these soldiers been to and who they've faced for that to be a problem.
Though from what Troopers Tychos and Sophia had said, they had been to many different places and met many different people. And not everyone in a whole galaxy would be nice people.
The door the kitchen is opened, letting an officer with a dark red beret on his head enter slightly.
"Is the officer's lunch ready, yet?"
"Just plating up now, sir." Nella calls out in response, as she carefully puts out the last of the eggs onto a plate before it joins the rest of the food and drink on a trolley.
Under the guidance of the officer, Nella pushes the trolley towards a special lift, which soon descends before she exits. That's a common thing she's found with the Cadians: all the truly important stuff is down below ground, relatively safe from any enemy who would try to attack. It also wasn't just the singular building either, Nella notes as she is directed down a long, long, long tunnel intersected by other branching tunnels. All the Cadian buildings are interconnected together, forming a labyrinth of tunnels.
Nella can't help but be impressed by that.
Soon, the pair reach a door. It's a very unremarkable door, or as unremarkable as you can get in Fort Tempest: dark steel, with a copy of the Imperial two-headed eagle embossed on it, and below that, the symbol of the Cadian Gate.
It is made more remarkable by the pair of heavily armed and armour Kasrkin standing guard on both sides of the door. These ones aren't the same as the ones that Nella has seen before though. Their uniforms are more grey, white and black, with their body armour just painted black. Definitely a different regiment to the others. But Nella still smiles at them warmly, especially as she approaches a small table set to the side, taking a small pot of coffee off the trolley and placing it on the table.
"Just to keep you warm."
Nella smiles at the two soldiers and, though their faces are covered by their respirators and goggles, they return the smile with a small gesture; a slight tilt of their heads towards her, before they move to open the door, letting in light and the smell of tobacco.
One of the officers takes a puff from his small stub of a cigar as the officer accompanying Nella, a Lieutenant Rachek, pours some coffee into an enamel cup. The man, a colonel with a green and brownish-red uniform, nods his head at the gesture before turning his attention back to the man from the Imperial Navy as he speaks.
"The word from orbit is that more troops are ready to be deployed as and when they are ready, including large numbers of armour and artillery. Mass landers are standing by to ferry…"
"No mass landers." General Creed says empathically, his words muffled slightly by a small mouthful of cornbread before he swallows. "No mass landers, lieutenant. We'll stick with Tetrarchs and Devourers for now, until the political situation warrants it."
"But, general, that will take… take weeks!" Another Cadian senior officer, a dark skinned woman speaks up quickly. "Especially for our artillery! We only have two regiments of Earthshakers in the fort, and if the Grimm are able to push against us…"
"And that is another topic as well, sir." A third Cadian says, a brown soft cap on their head and an eyepatch over his right eye. "We have actionable intelligence that the number of Grimm are increasing around our area in a seventy-five-kilometre radius from the base. And we have no idea what those numbers are beyond that range.
"We can't establish forward operating bases, listening posts, or even push aircraft out past the hundred kilometre line without encountering major resistance from Grimm forces. Even with aid from Huntsmen."
Nella does her best to seem unobtrusive as she hands out a few more plates of food to the Cadian officers. Right now, she truly feels like an outsider, listening in on military matters spoken by seasoned veteran officers. One such officer, a man with a short trimmed salt and pepper beard on a pale face, wearing the armour of a Kasrkin officer in grey, brown and green brushstrokes, takes the plate from her hand softly as he speaks up.
"The 229th and 48th Kasrkin regiments are ready to work as a quick-reaction force. Give us Sentinel and Hellhound support, we'll clear them out, general."
"But it's not just a question of clearing them out, sir!" The voice of Mayor Goldthwaite, another out of place person, fills the air, drawing many pairs of eyes to him as he speaks. "Getting rid of the Grimm is one thing, but keeping them away is an impossible venture. If we had found a way to completely clear the Grimm out of an area, we'd have done so by now."
Nella can't help but smile slightly at the mayor as he takes a drink from his own cup of coffee. Acting as an unofficial liaison between the Cadians and 'the people of Remnant', as the Imperials put it, was hard for the man.
"And if you'd have done so, you'd have shared that information with us, no doubt." General Creed responds gently, a small smile on his face, nodding his head as he spoke. "But, Colonel Razcak, I will still allow you the go ahead with torch and burn operations in areas where the Grimm are grouping too heavily. Just to thin them out. I believe that is standard practice on this world, yes, Huntsman Luki?"
Nella raises her head to look at the other two Remnites in the room, and the oddest looking too.
Luki Isaz is dressed in a three piece suit of all things; the jacket a deep blue and open to show the waistcoat, a chill blue, and the white shirt beneath. A small chain of interlinked silver and gold trails from the buttons of his waistcoat to a pocket. His face is angular and sharp, with pale skin and piercing green eyes under a short cut of black and grey hair, the same colour as his bushy, wolf-like ears that sit above his non-Faunus ears. The colour instantly makes Nella think of Atlas, with its frigid tundra and ice sheets, but the senior Huntsman is from Vale, which is clear in his accent as he responds.
"Torch and burn operations are the best way to go, unless you go out and build fortification after fortifications in each area. Which, I have no doubt you Cadians are more than capable of doing, and willing too. But…"
"It's too damn slow!"
The shout comes from the young woman next to Luki, earning a disapproving shake of his head. Where Luki is ice cold professionalism, Pavemol Rapult is barely bridled energy. Where the older man beside her is prim and proper in his clothes, the younger human Huntress is wearing a loose and sleeveless set of Mistralian martial arts clothing; grey, with a white scarf hanging around her neck and behind her, while her left arm is covered up to the elbow in segmented armour. Her skin is olive, and her green hair is done in a small bun that sits behind her neck. Her round face would be welcoming if it isn't for the seemingly constant sneer on her lips.
The outburst brings a collective chuckle from the Cadian officers as Nella finishes passing out the food to the table.
"Miss Stone?" General Creed's voice gets her attention, the woman looking at the Cadian. "I thank you for the service today. You are free to leave. If you need anything, Lieutenant Rachek will be able to help you."
Knowing her presence is not needed, Nella simply nods her head, even giving the commanding officer a small curtsy, before she follows the lieutenant out of the room. As they pass through the door, Nella smiles as she sees a pair of half-filled cups of coffee on the table next to the Kasrkin.
Evening falls on Fort Tempest, lights blazing into life to chase away the darkness. In the area of the fort for the refugees, the atmosphere changes. After their tasks for the day are done, all those working shifts return to their temporary homes for the evening meal, and they do so in the company of many of the Cadians. Men and women, many in their armour but lacking helmets, rifles and packs, walk along with the returning refugees, chatting amicably about small things; pushy overseers, temperamental equipment, quality of food. Common gripes, universal complaints.
Whether it was an order mandated by someone higher up, or it's just basic human instinct coming through, the number of Cadians in the refugee portion of the camp swell around dinner time as food and drink is handed out, along with no small amount of alcohol too. Though the members of the commissariat are present to keep order, it doesn't stop the two disparate groups beginning to intermingle with jokes, bawdy songs and, not long after the first instrument is produced, for dancing to start. Not many partake, but just enough to give that small portion of the fort a carnival type air.
Though some activities are a bit more mundane and quiet.
"Straight flush." Bear Stone says with a grin, laying down his hand of cards. "Read it and weep."
A collective groan comes from the small cluster of men grouped around the table, Cadian soldiers and Carterstown and Steelmoor refugees, including the rough looking Huntress from Vale, let their cards drop to the surface.
"I could only manage a high card." Pavemol says as she puts her cards onto the table before taking a swig from her enamel cup. She grimaces at what she drinks down, but she doesn't respond negatively. "Ooh, you're going to need to give me a bottle or two of that Cadian moonshine of yours to take back. This stuff is strong, but damn good."
"We'll be sure to give you a bottle before you two head off tomorrow." An ebony-skinned Cadian says as the cards are shuffled again. "That's if Mister Stone here doesn't win all our bottles."
"Ah, I'm a better man than to steal all of our hosts drink over a game of cards." Bear replies as he looks at his cards again.
From the side-lines, all Nella can do is watch and listen with amusement as she carries on sewing a pair of her husband's shirts. It had gotten snagged on a piece of machinery during the building of the new barracks. A nice pace of normalcy in the world around her.
Though, as the evening wears on, the normalcy peels away ever so slightly.
It's not long after Melo was put to bed early along with the other children and the Cadians have returned to their main sleeping quarters for the night. It comes as a small knock on the doorframe to the barracks, one that Nella misses but someone else catches as they call out; "Nella! Someone wants to talk to you."
Not an unexpected request, since after Mayor Goldthwaite, Nella has become a sort of unofficial liaison for the Cadians to talk to on certain matters that need a civilian touch. An easy person to talk to an ask questions. So she sees nothing wrong in going to speak to whoever it is.
So Nella is taken aback when she sees that instead of uniformed officers or soldiers, it's the two Huntsmen from before. Still dressed in their outfits, garish now compared to the variety of Cadian uniforms present, the pair stand slightly uneasily at the side, especially the wolf Faunus, who is now wearing a newsboy cap.
"Miss Stone?" Luki says, taking his cap off politely. "Can we have a quick word? It won't be long, I promise."
Nella nods her head before she follows the pair to a side of the barracks, one slightly away from the people inside but protected by a blast-wall of metal and stone. It's not a far journey, but Nella sees Pavemol turn her head often to look around and behind them.
When they stop, Luki turns to talk to Nella directly as he speaks. "I know you've been with the Cadians for a while now, and some of the townspeople have said that you were one of the first to talk to them. Is that correct?"
Nella nods her head, remembering her talk with the troopers Tychos and Sophia. "That's correct, sir."
Luki nods his head. "Good. So, I feel the need to ask… have the Cadians ever expressed any… anti-Faunus sentiments to you, or around you?"
That question takes the woman by surprise. "Like… in what way?"
Lukis shrugs. "Any… anything."
Nella thinks hard. She's only been in certain areas of the fort, and the whole time she has been here, she's only ran into two other Faunus; Carmen and Velvet from Team CFVY when they were evacuated to the fort.
So she can only shake her head. "No, I've not heard anything personally. Why do you ask?"
A sour look falls across Luki's face, his wolfen ears dropping slightly in a manner that Nella might have found cute if it wasn't for the face the man pulls.
"Just tell her, Luki." Pavemol says from behind the pair.
The Faunus man nods his head before he looks directly at Nella. "I'm asking because… ugh, I feel bad for saying this since the Cadians are clearly good people and they've helped protect you and yours but…"
Luki's voice trails off, as if he's unsure of what to say next, before he collects himself.
"Long after you'd left, and as Pavemol and me were leaving, I think that the Cadians… they were talking about the Faunus. It's hard to tell since I think they switched to their own native language, but I clearly heard the word 'Faunus' used."
Nella doesn't say anything else as she just listens, listening as Pavemol chimes in.
"They used a word that… damn, I can't quite remember how it was said, but I asked one of the troopers outside what it meant."
The green-haired Huntress says nothing, letting the comment linger.
"What was the word?" Nella can't help but ask.
Luki looks uncomfortable again before he answers. "The Cadians were talking about a… 'Faunus question'. Or a 'question about the Faunus'. I can't say for certain, I don't know how the Cadian language is structured."
Nella can only look at the pair in confusion and amazement. That's the sort of rhetoric she's not heard about in decades…
"Luki, we gotta go!" Pavemol calls out, walking past the displaced housewife to join her friend as they had to leave to wherever they were going.
"It's probably nothing, miss." Luki says as he puts his hat back on and begins to jog away. "Just my paranoia! Talk to you again!"
Too stunned to answer, Nella can't say anything as the two Huntsmen move away from her, leaving alone at the side of the living quarters.
She's seen the way the Cadians have acted around the only Faunus she's seen, the two rabbit Faunus, and they've treated the one with respect for another warrior and the other as a lost child should be treated, with kindness and care. Nella can't say a word about the others in the fort, but the Cadians are all right people by her standards.
Though that word 'abhuman' has been thrown around a lot…
Her chain of thought is derailed as a loud roar fills the air above her again. Th wind whips at her dress and hair heavily as she looks skyward. In the darkness above her, powered by bright blue flames of light, six small aircraft fly through the sky before a larger craft follows them through the air.
Around her, cheers sound up from the refugees of Carterstown and Steelmoor and the remaining soldiers as another rescue mission flies out into the Wilds. More people to rescue from the Grimm.
Wondering if there's more work for her to do soon, Nella turns back to the living quarters.
An Odd Dream
The roar of artillery fills the air as traitor and Imperial shells rumble back and forth overhead. All of them hit with bone shaking force individually, but combined, the thunder of the artillery barrage creates an earthquake unlike anything Tychos has ever felt. Even as he runs into cover, body hunched over low and lasgun held in his hands, the Cadians' body trembles with the tremors from the barrage as the shells hit their targets. Buildings are blown asunder and topples, spires and arches collapsing in avalanches of rocrete and stone, burying guardsmen, cultists, loyalist and traitor Astartes alike, even as they continue to fight each other.
It's beautiful in its own horrible way.
It is both beautiful and horrible that the fighting is taking place on the hallowed ground of Holy Terra itself.
Slamming himself into cover behind a ruined wall, Tychos takes a moment of get his breathing under control before he swings himself up to rest his rifle over the edge of his cover. He quickly peers down the sight of his lasrifle, the magnified scope helping him search for his targets easier, even with pall of smoke, dust and horror that shrouds the air.
Through a break in the smoke, he sees a target: a cultist leader of some description, wearing a tatty looking long coat, looted and defaced Militarum-issue flak armour, and ghoulish bronze mask. They're waving a bloodied and gore-stained chainsword and autopistol, yelling unheard orders or obscenities to his fellows.
Perfect target.
One lasround and the traitor falls, their head blown to oblivion.
Tychos instantly ducks back into cover as a fusillade of las and autorounds hammer his position.
In answer, a volley of disciplined and well-aimed fire flies over his head, silencing the enemy.
"For Cadia! For the God-Emperor! Forward!"
The disciplined voice of Captain Thade calls out, as the wall around Tychos fills up with more Cadians joining the fight. Sophia, Reinhardt, Kian. All the others who escaped the Fall. Each one pours their weapons, their fury and their hatred on the foe besieging the heart of the Imperium.
Joining them, Tychos swings up out of cover, firing his lasgun in the disciplined shots trained into him by the Cadian Whiteshields. Traitors fall, their blood falling to join the blood of tens of millions of other traitors and tens of millions of loyal soldiers.
The ground beneath them rumbles, dust flying around their knees as another building collapses under the weight of artillery fire. The building collapses in on itself before sinking low and out of sight, deep into the bowels of Terra itself, into the warrens and depths below. The collapse gives Tychos and the others a spectacular view.
On a long, soaring esplanade, the height of a hive-spire, mighty statues of angels, the blessed Primarchs and honoured heroes of the Imperium, look down with blank faces at the combat raging beneath them. Even as high explosive rounds level their fellows and powerful beams of las energy send them crashing to the ground, they stand silent and watch as the Lord Commander of the Imperium, Roboute Gulliman himself, protects the entranceway to the Imperial Palace itself. Around him, the mighty Custodes form a shield of golden armour and flickering energy glaives, while a myriad of Space Marine chapters form a living wall of adamantium and bolters. Ultramarines, Blood Angels, Imperial Fists, Space Wolves, Dark Angels, Iron Fists, Black Templars, Crimson Fists, Steel Drakes, Lamenters, Novamarines, and hundreds of other Space Marine chapters stand shoulder to shoulder, while behind them their armoured vehicles blast their fire into the enemy hordes. Behind them, an ocean of other Guard regiments, infantrymen, tanks and artillery surge forward in the defence of the Imperial Palace.
The sight makes Tychos eyes water and his mind swim in its intensity, even as he watches the hordes of Chaos roll and flow towards the defenders.
"STAND FIRM!" Lord Guilliman calls out, holding his flaming sword high, and his voice easily reaching Tychos ears. "STAND FIRM, DEFENDERS OF THE IMPERIUM! STAND FIRM AND DRIVE BACK THE TRAITOR FROM MY FATHER'S PALACE! DRIVE THEM BACK FROM OUR WORLD!"
Above them in the sky, lights bloom into existence briefly, as ships die in orbit before pieces of them plummet down to earth below as meteoric fragments.
It's the End of Days. The End Times.
And Tychos can't think of anywhere else he'd rather be. He's a Cadian. This is where he should be.
The microbead buzzes into life, but the electromagnetic distortion from all the weapons fires, countermeasures and ship fire and ship deaths, brings static, meaning he can only catch snatches of information.
"Reinforcements…inbound…Remnants…on the way…General…Hart…reinforcing."
Tychos doesn't focus on it. All he does is fire into the smoke at the humanoid figures before him. Lasrounds stab into the dust and smoke, along with heavy bolter and autocannon fire, while autopistol, autogun and stubber rounds punch out at them from more cultists. Behind them, the larger figures of Traitor Astartes move to join them.
"Hold the line, sons and daughters of Cadia!" Commissar Schreiber calls out, firing his bolt pistol into the dense smoke, the mass-reactive rounds punching neat holes in the smoke as they fly. "The Primarch has given our orders, so we will hold the line! Whatever comes our way, we will not retreat! We will repulse the enemy! To the last round, to the last breath, to the last drop of our blood; Cadia Stands!"
"Cadia Stands!" Tychos and the others call out, their yells matching the roar of their guns.
The first Chaos Marine pushes through the smoke and dust, its form tall and hideous, gnarled and beaten.
"And Cadia does not stand alone!"
Hundreds of explosive rounds, firing impossibly fast and well-aimed, impact directly on the chest of the fallen Astartes, cratering and destroying their breastplate in an explosion of fire and metal. The Chaos Marine falls with an agonised and gurgling yell of pain. Other weapons fire joins the Cadians', cutting through the haze and the enemy in a multitude of colours.
Around Tychos, blasts of colour and light flash around and above him, surrounding humans that move too fast for humans to move, with a dazzling myriad of weaponry. Swords, spears, hammers, blades and guns of all kinds. Tychos sees a scythe and a curved greatsword among the attacks as they dive into the enemy ranks, bowling and cutting the enemy apart. Chaos Marines draw their own blades and chainswords, driving into the new foe.
The Cadian fire slackens, wary of hitting their new allies, even as their Aura protects them from the enemy's firepower.
Again, Tychos microbead buzzes into life, though much clearer this time.
"Cadian 598th; Remnant reinforcements are now here. We stand with you."
Bewildered, and needing to swap in a new powercell, Tychos ducks back into cover, pressing his back against the wall. And he stops at what he sees.
A figure is walking calmly towards the Cadians. A small figure. A very small figure, dressed in a slightly oversized long coat and smaller than usual flak armour. As they draw closer, Tychos sees the pair of rabbit ears partially flattened down by a peaked cap, appearing behind the figures head like a pair of fins. And the… the carrot, held between the young girls teeth like old Ursarkar did with his cigar.
"Carmen?" Tychos says softly in confusion, not entirely sure of what was happening now, especially as he watched the young girl walking into a combat zone without a care in the world.
It got even more confusing when Captain Thade approached her and began to speak to her.
"General Gael-Hart, we've engaged the enemy but are stuck in a stalemate. We need something heavier than your Huntsmen to advance."
His mouth slightly open in confusion, Tychos watches as Carmen bites of a piece of her carrot, chewing the end and swallowing before replacing the vegetable between her teeth and lips. Without a word, the young reaches up and removes her hat, letting her ears spring up fully.
Silently, the Faunus girl reaches behind one of her ears… and pulls.
The shadow that falls across is tall and vaguely man-shaped, forcing Tychos to look up at the sight high above him.
Then the Warlord Titan sounds it horn.
Tychos wakes with an undignified snort, his torso jolting slightly more upright. Going from sleep to awake, the Cadians fight or flight reflex is triggered instantly as he looks around for threats.
There are none. He's still in Team CFVY's dorm room, the four teenagers all asleep in their beds, though Coco looks as though she is about to fall out of hers with how haphazardly she's sleeping in it. It's still the middle of the night, just after midnight probably, judging from the light from the moon coming in through the curtain shrouded window.
His position in the room has changed, though. Years of training and experience have had Tychos shift himself from lying down on the mattress to propping himself up against the wall. His kitbag is beside him, and his lasrifle. And Carmen is sleeping in his arms.
It's a weird thing, especially after that dream. As he looks down, just able to see the young Faunus girl asleep in his arms, Tychos has to suppress the laugh that comes unbidden to his throat.
He might have to tell Sophia about that dream, especially at the girl pulling a Warlord Titan from behind her ears.
Even as he feels the smile form on his lips, it falls quickly.
To dream about Terra falling is one thing, something to keep away from the commissars at least (though at least it was being held, not falling properly, so there is that to consider), but to have Carmen there as well?
No. Not that. Anything but that.
Raising a hand slightly, Tychos gently places it against Carmen's head, giving her hair a soft stroke, even running his fingers against one of her rabbit ears. She makes a small noise, a murmur, at the sensation, but all she does it nestle herself close against Tychos.
If anyone in this whole Warp-damned universe deserved to be spared the horrors of war, it was Carmen.
Leaning back against the wall again, Tychos closes his eyes as he feels sleep overtake him again.