Fluttering in and out of consciousness, Mable would feel as though she had lived this moment before. Lifted, carried, and then rushed away from the fighting, Mable heard a cry of discord within the choir of consumption… and as she smiled at that, she would hold on for as long as she could to her consciousness… until she dropped the blade of the Emperor.
She was staring into the void. The white fabric of time was draped over her… and as she looked, she saw a spheric face staring at her. Completely featureless, but a face nonetheless, the oval head of a creature stared at her through time… and then, as she felt a heat in her chest, she would lose sight of it.
"There you are." The daemon from hell stated, and as she was blinded from the light of the room, Mable would see the halo floating above her… looking down at her, and questioning her immediately upon awakening. "Where did your soul fly, just now? I saw it fade, if but for a moment. Who had come to collect that soul of yours?"
"How am I supposed to know?" Mable muttered, her question being genuine as she removed the oxygen mask that had been placed over her mouth and nose. "You think the three random nuns who raised me knew better than something like yourself?"
"There have been wars waged and ended by old women. Because of that, it is why we slay them first in war." The daemon made to kill spoke, and then silenced itself as the doors to whatever healing room she was in were flung open. Blinking at the medicae from the Five-Nine-Nine, as well as the surgeon who wore black powered armor who had initially tried to revive her when she had died the first time, Mable slowly forced herself up to a sitting position on the far too soft bed… and, as the pair stared at her in stunned appreciation, a person she truly had not expected to arrive gracefully maneuvered through the small gap between them, despite being nearly three meters tall.
"I greet you, Saint Mable." The man whose helmeted head had once been crested by a golden halo stated – but as his bearded face, bald head, and scarred brow stared at her, Mable was surprised by the sheer joy that was expressed by… Champion Dart… something. Noting the three metal studs in the man's brow, and the fact that he was unarmed, but seeming in good spirits, Mable watched as the Astarte escorted the two healers into the room properly. "Servants of the Emperor, please, enter and make your checks. As you can see, the saint still draws breath, and has not been sequestered under false imprisonment."
"Apologies, Miss Saint." The medicae that had tried to stitch her heart back together… less than a week ago, carefully said, tip-toeing into the room. Looking to the surgeon who made the sign of the aquila before her, before taking the other side of her recovery bed, Mable would be inspected by the man and woman respectfully, who revealed that although she was not in any pain, she was very much injured still.
Looking at the massive bruise that was a dark purple on her left flank that had created a rippling effect in her flesh all the way to her other side, Mable quickly winced away from the sight, and saw that on her right side, the place where the barrier of Disarray had shattered left a series of burn scars that were currently plastered in salve that the surgeon was keen to scrape off – along with the dead skin that the barrier had created to stop her from become a dead body.
"For my first battle in several thousand years, I did pretty good if I say so myself. Who knew a being such as I could survive more than a single strike against something more powerful than a Bloodthirster?"
"What's a Bloodthirster?" Mable whispered, the overseeing champion shifting his direct gaze towards her as the two healers briefly halted at her question before returning to their tasks.
"Do you remember my original body?"
"I guess?" Mable whispered again, being ignored entirely by those hurrying to put bandages and cream back onto her injuries… and as she winced at the hands of the medicae whose cold auspex ran across her bruised skin, Mable was informed by the daemon who spoke of some kind of… Greater Daemon.
"A Bloodthirster is as if Eight-hundred-and-eighty-eight of me were bound together in a single form."
Not saying anything to that, as it truly was an incomprehensible way of imagining the power of a daemon, Mable would listen to Shoshchiroilhl rant for a moment.
"To think that I, a lesser creature in all aspects, managed to withstand not just one – but two! Two strikes from a creature that surpassed one of the strongest entities in existence… why, I wonder if the trade for my existential freedom was not worth it just to claim such a feat. Perhaps we daemons, trapped in items, must begrudgingly look to our imprisoned bodies, and see the potential in a static, material form."
His rant being finished by the time the healers were done, Mable would watch as the pair were escorted to the door… and seeing the champion stall, she would address the Astarte who had unironically called her 'saint.'
"C-champion."
"Saint Mable?"
"You… don't have to go along with the charade." Mable dismissed, knowing there was no point. "I… was wondering what occurred after the battle."
"The battle is ongoing, Saint Mable. Should you seek your blade, it is beside your bed, along with the remains of the holy cord you carried." Mable was told… and as she looked to the satchel bag that Redmane had given her, removed from the cockpit of the Night Shroud, as well as the rubbery circuit that she remembered shattered against the Swarmlord, Mable… nodded her head as the champion finished his statement. "We are pushing the scattered Tyranids outside of the city walls, or what is left of them. By nightfall, we may even reclaim the arms manufactory that was lost in the first days of the invasion."
Not having even realized such a thing had been within the city in the first place, Mable stared forward in thought… things seeming to be going well, as the champion began to close the doors of the bedroom. Hesitating for a moment, the Angel of Death would pause… and then speak her name without the false honorifics. "Mable."
"Y-yes?"
Stared at for another moment, the bearded space marine would speak, his face softening greatly.
"I am honored to call you saint. Please, do not take it as a charade any longer."
Closing the doors to her room, allowing her peace as he left without further word… Mable wondered what kind of shift had occurred within the Black Templars to call her – a xeno-hybrid – such a thing with sincerity.
Malcevisor had knocked and addressed himself prior to opening the door. More stunned by his respectful attitude than anything else, Mable sat in stunned silence as the castellan returned – smelling of noxious fumes two hours after the second visit of the healers and champion had left her. Now having rested for eight hours of barely interrupted sleep, Mable watched as the castellan sat awkwardly on a stool he had carried into the room, placing a tray of hot rations and going so far as unscrewing the canteen's cap he had brought for her, Mable was waited on by the one who silently waited for her to eat and drink.
"We are water rationing at the moment, so nurse that." The man quietly ordered as she mistakenly took a larger draught at the taste of purified water. Pushing some of the water out of her mouth and back into the canteen, Mable quietly sipped as the 'Primaris' marine, as he had called himself with some distinction prior to the battle, awkwardly shifted. Saying nothing for a moment, before suddenly looking to the halo she had ordered to sit beside the sword it hated, Malcevisor would show off his bare capability to have small-talk. "I see your halo is removable."
"Well, it's a daemonic item I created, so…" Mable muttered her heresy… and as she was stared at for a time, ultimately, her words would be dismissed.
"Well, the local psyker populations' heads aren't bursting because of it, so you've contained it somehow."
"I'd like to dunk it in… platinum, if possible. It's still incomplete, and… he's satisfied now after the battle to reflect, but… giving him something more to busy himself with between battles will be necessary."
"Tell him I want recordings of every battle he can find." Mable heard whisper in her ear, the faded voice of the daemon sounding far off for the moment – but still annoying persistent. "After the bath."
"He wants recordings of battles, too."
"I'll see what I can do. Something tells me the local forge masters aren't going to be thrilled about putting a captured daemon in their workplace." The castellan stated… and then focused onto the more serious news. "May we speak plainly?"
"A-always?" Mable asked, the man nodding, and then speaking bluntly.
"You have given this city… no, all of Hisperia, a moment of reprieve. Millions directly saw your felling strike against the Swarmlord, and, prior to that, your feats of supernatural ability. Rather than a lie used to bolster morale, none deny now that you are a Living Saint of the Emperor."
"But… you know that's not true." Mable stated… and as the man stared at her for a moment, he would slowly nod, seeming to have come to peace with her existence.
"I know… but as Ulvos stated before, we must use every tool we can to win this war… that I, in despair, thought was unwinnable. Throughout our time together, I have acted with indignity, while trying to preserve my honor. Instead, I should have used your willingness to help as another weapon in the arsenal of humanity, rather than surrendering my agency as a leader to my more experienced subordinates who saw the good you were capable of. You have given us a chance for victory, and I intend to grasp it fully – even if I must lie to every person on this planet who now fights for you. For now, Hisperia is unified… and in a war against a hivemind that is currently reeling and disorganized for the first time since invading this sector, I cannot ask for a better boon. You have given me this chance, Mable… and I thank you for it."
Mable watched as the Angel of Death lowered his head to her… and, wanting to cry as the show of appreciation was given, she would fight back tears as Malcevisor raised his head, and asked of her a question.
"Although time is a resource I hear you can spend at will, it is a bit more of a luxury for a temporal being such as I. I would like to spare a part of my time, to allow you proper rest. Is there anyone I should reach out to on your behalf? If only to give you the peace of mind in knowing they still live?"
"O-oh… um…" Mable started, gripping the bridge of her nose for a moment, inhaling sharply, and then rattling off a name. "Uh… Corporal Erithi of the… Cadian Five-Nine-Nine. In… in the moment, when the Swarmlord struck me, her… life, I suppose, inspired me. We… were close, if only for a brief time. The last time I saw her, she was… resting in Lorthanx. I'd like to know if she's okay."
"I shall find if she is still alive. Would you like her to visit, if she is capable?"
"Y-yes. Only… only if she is not busy, though. I understand that… there is a lot going on." Mable stated, getting a nod from the Black Templar who was likely going to demand the woman appear if she could physically stand. Standing from her bedside, entrusting her to eat and drink on her own, Malcevisor would stand, and give her a formal bow of respect, before heading out towards the door. Stopping him then, Mable would… desperately try not to cry as she faced the kind faced Astarte. "C-Castellan."
"Yes, Mable?"
"It was not just her, of who I thought in that moment. Whether… whether you were kind to me or not, you… too, motivated me greatly in that moment. For… whatever that is worth, I could not have… done what I did without your support… so… although you thank me, it is… really I, who should thank you."
Staring at her for a moment… and then turning away from her in silence… Mable was left in solitude again as the Malcevisor quietly stepped away and out of sight.
"You couldn't see it, but he was crying. I could tell. Soul vision, and all that." The daemon immediately stated, undercutting the moment to torture her further. Leaning over, picking the halo up, and throwing it across the room, Mable gained some peace and quiet… until the scratching noise of the wire halo beginning to levitate into her audible range made her laugh out.
"S-Saint Mable." Erithi softly greeted, looking a bit awkward as she took a seat next to her bed. Dressed as best she could in this moment with fatigues that weren't hers – but clearly cleaned – the woman would quickly glance over to Champion Dartharion, who stood as sentry behind them near to the entrance. Glancing to the table with the sword hilt, empty las-pistol, as well as the halo that was hovering in front of a holo-display playing combat footage of the battle from the perspective of some of the Black Templars, the woman would nearly jump in surprise as Mable returned the greeting.
"Corporal Erithi. It's good to see you again."
"Y-yes. Thank you." The corporal stated, and then looked to her with a sense of excitement. "It's sergeant now, actually."
Blinking at the news, and taking a moment to understand that this woman was leading a squad, Mable narrowed her eyes, understanding that the Black Templar likely hadn't asked about the woman's availability. Seeming not to care for the moment, Sergeant Erithi would speak quickly.
"Acting-captain Axel is now just captain, as the colonel didn't think it was prudent to do promotions for this past week, since… you know, we all thought we were going to die. Promotions came out for… everyone, I guess, actually. Right before the space marine asked for me." Erithi nodded… and then hesitantly moved her hands to be closer to Mable's own. "I… um. Saw you, before this."
"Did you?" Mable asked, getting a nod from the woman who glanced towards the Black Templar champion observing their interaction.
"It's… actually quite shameful to say, but I… might have broken rank, when I heard that you were fighting near my assigned squad at the time. Since… well, we all thought we were going to die there, I asked if I could be near you when it happened… and my sergeant at the time refused me… so I just kind of snuck off when they were distracted." Erithi quietly confessed, her admittance being an executable offense. Seeming at peace with her failure in duty, the sergeant smiled sadly in thought, and then looked to her. "But… I saw you. I saw the end, too… and… I apologize, for not having the words to make my feelings… habitable?"
"Habitable?" Mable repeated, and then heard the champion mutter the correction.
"Palatable."
"Y-yes, thank you, Mister… Angel of Death, sir." Erithi muttered, shaking with nervousness and bowing in her seat to the one who returned to doing his best impersonation of a statue. Glancing to her, and then mouthing a concerning question probably, the woman eventually spoke of her heartfelt feelings. "I… I just wanted to thank you, again. When I heard you survived Lorthanx, I had hoped to see you… but knew that the Emperor's work would keep you busy, so… thank you, for allowing me to see you again. Do… do you know what the estimate is for your… injuries?"
"As in their mending?" Mable clarified, and then gained a silent nod.
"I… I saw you get hit. You didn't move, but… I saw the shockwaves of the beast's blows. It…" The woman said with remembered horror and disbelief… until it shifted to genuine awe. "I… I couldn't imagine a Baneblade surviving those strikes, but… to see you standing unbowed, and then… oh that glorious swing, Mable. I swear, I saw the Emperor's visage standing behind you in that moment."
Saying nothing to the hallucination spoken of, Mable would just smile… and then nod at the woman who had first claimed her to be a saint, when in reality it had just been ignorance of xeno technology. Secretly wishing that such hopes could be reality, Mable let out a sigh, and then smiled.
"Well, it really did hit me, and I've got the mark to prove it. Want to see?"
"Of… of course." Erithi immediately agreed, seeming excited as Mable began to lift up the light cloth that she wore at the medicae's prognosis. Wincing as she shifted the blanket to show the mark that the alien's strike created, Mable grimaced at the visible reaction of the woman whose eyes seemed to sink into her skull. Gripping her mouth tightly as she looked at the reverberated wave that had run through Mable's body, Erithi swallowed hard – unable to hear the dismissive voice that emanated from the distracted halo watching combat footage.
"I've seen worse."
"This is… a miracle." Erithi eventually muttered, and then nodded her head as she shook, the excitement, or perhaps fear, or realization that no one should be able to live with such a wound. "This… is a miracle, that you're still here. Are… are you able to walk?"
"Short distances." Mable stated, having only been to the lavatory once on her own for the… nearly fifteen hours of rest she had now?
"It's a miracle." Erithi stated again, having no doubt in her mind about this. "The Emperor is with us."
"That he is, but… we can't expect him to do all the work." Mable smiled, knowing that regardless of what would be claimed from her feat – whether her victory be the product of alien technology, or the spiritual force of the god of mankind – it had been her to take the step and make the swing. "Erithi, will you purge the alien on my behalf, until I'm able to stand once more?"
"Yes." The woman stated with a resolve that was unquestioning, and immediate.
"Well… I don't know if it will help, but… I want you to take this." Mable stated, reaching over to the table and finding the las-pistol that had been attached to her wrist by a cable during the fighting. Currently without a powerpack, and really no different from any other pistol a sergeant might carry, Mable winced in pain as she leaned, and placed the weapon in the lap of the unmoving sergeant… who was beginning to tear up at the gift. Speaking through the pain, Mable glanced to the champion, who seemed to sense that this was also her dismissal of the one she had wanted to ensure had survived the battle. "I'd have given you Lakay's sword, but… an inquisitor broke it on a spaceship like an idiot."
"W-what?" The sergeant asked in confusion as the champion assisted her up. Blinking as she realized it was time to go, Erithi would make a series of bows of gratitude, and then call through the doors that were closed in front of her. "I'll carry it with me until the end! Thank you!"
Being told by the champion that many a civilian was trying to get into the governor's mansion, claiming all kinds of relations to her, Mable wondered how popular she had become. Having been told that no less than five thousand people had claimed direct familial connection to her, making stuff up as they tried to guess her background to get a meeting with her, the Black Templar champion would make light of the entire affair. Without any real identification or proof that they had any relation to her, these people were obviously denied… but a question was given to her if she wanted to give the Black Templars any information to collaborate with anyone who may genuinely be her family.
But Mable didn't.
She didn't want to see her family, even if they were still alive.
They had abandoned her… and she had found her true motivation to fight.
They were not a part of that motivation… and although that thought gave her a clear view of her petty, human nature, Mable was still not interested in reestablishing her familial connection while she was healing.
Instead preferring the medicae that had essentially been separated from his regiment due to his familiarity with her body, as well as the surgeon who had assisted him when she had originally been injured, Mable would keep them as her primary visitors as they at least had a reason of being near her. Resting in the soft bed within the governor's mansion, Mable's last visitor would arrive nearly two days after she had originally been placed in the room… whose arrival would force her to her feet and into action.
As Sindarion entered her chamber, without being heralded or even escorted by the crusade's champion, he would place down a new change of clothing on her bed, and order her into dress. Still hurting, but choosing to be compliant, Mable would call at the door when she fastened the reflective white, but heavy attire to herself that reminded her of the void-suit she had worn before the battle. Wincing as she tried to find comfort in the clothing, Sindarion would stand in front of her as she sat on the bed, and spoke down to her through his newly painted black beaked helmet – intentionally keeping his vox-caster off.
"Mable, are you rested enough to fight?"
"Uh… maybe?" Mable asked, moving to the bedside table, picking up her sword, and making a test swing. Grimacing as she lingered with her arm stretched out, she would look to the space marine that was observing her. Not wanting to disappoint, Mable tried to oversell her current condition. "Probably not against another Swarmlord."
"Unfortunate. Grab your belongings. We must depart, and you may be forced to fight."
"We… must depart?" Mable asked, getting an immediate answer as the space marine, being armed with a bolter, power-sword, and bolt-pistol waited on her. Realizing this was the first time she had seen someone armed enter her room, Mable would understand that fighting may occur soon.
"Yes. The hivemind of the Tyranids is reeling, but parts of it have recovered enough to place their attention onto their newest generation. They are bombarding the upper hive now that the void-shield protecting the city has fully dissipated. These new flying swarms are targeting aerial elements that we have, as they let their ground-based armies run rampant across the world without a thought. We need to leave, while the hivemind does not know where you are."
"O-okay." Mable agreed, picking up her small satchel, donning the halo that was silently listening to the warrior's prophecy of future battles, and throwing the ripped cord that the Solace of Hisperia had become into her bag. Lastly picking back up the currently unpowered sword hilt, Mable began to hobble out of the room, feeling a bit better now that she was actually moving around.
"Follow me. I will inform you of what Redmane has been having Ulvos and I accomplish instead of standing by your side." Sindarion ordered… and as she chased after the space marine, going through a small maze of hallways that would eventually show her the entrance of the governor's mansion. Reminded of the first time she had been escorted by Sindarion through these halls, Mable smiled as she expected three of the warrior's battle brothers to harass him.
Instead turned towards by many more times that, as she entered the main hall close to their main debriefing chamber. Being stared at by the twenty remaining Sisters of Battle and two dozen of the Black Templar Astartes who were seemingly waiting for her, Mable felt a wave of nervousness fall on her as she looked at those who were seemingly waiting for her. Feeling every single eye in the room focus on her for a moment, before Champion Dartharion, carrying a banner in one hand and wielding his drawn power-sword in another gave an order to the room through his vox-caster, informing Mable of something she would not be a part of.
"Sisters, you shall have the honor of breaking their vanguard with fire. Brothers, you shall bring bolter and melta into anything that flies. Clear the courtyard, create a perimeter that will allow the Thunderhawks to land! We have turned larger swarms than what awaits us outside! You are being watched by the Emperor in these moments!" The champion called out to the room… and then, turning to the doors, he would give a mighty kick as he freed the exit that the coalition sprinted towards – the orchestra of whining servos from power armor being deafened by the sound of screaming aliens, and the discharge of bio and mechanical weaponry.
"Come, Mable. We are taking a different exit." Sindarion stated… and as she trotted after the one who immediately turned away from the imperium's finest, she could not help but feel… dread, as she pursued the Angel of Death.
Moving down tunnels until they reached a small platform with an imperial Valkyrie waiting for them with hot engines, as well as masked and armored green imperial guards – their las-guns being attached to mighty backpacks that wires ran into their energy cells – Mable would glance at the unknown soldiers who, as she was helped into the aerial craft, quickly piled in behind her. Sindarion, cramped, would give a single command to the pilots that wore the same type of void-suit that she had donned while traveling to Hisperia's moon… and as she was bumped by their sudden take off by the masked trooper who could barely be heard muttering an apology, Mable would call out to the space marine, having to yell over the engines of the vehicle.
"Sindarion, what is happening?!"
"When you slew the Swarmlord, you created a psychic shockwave that has disoriented nearly all Tyranid forces on the planet. Normally, the hive fleet would have been able to reestablish control after they spawned the next generation of leadership creatures." Sindarion told her… and as she nodded, having trouble with the harness that only she seemed to be putting on from the seats every other soldier was wearing, Mable was given great news. "We have denied them the focus required to create that next generation, however."
"How?!" She yelled again, the vox just barely being able to be heard by the giant that was leaning awkwardly to remain upright in the vehicle.
"While the Tyranids rampaged wildly, Ulvos, Redmane and I, along with a Mechanicus Skitarii force managed to power on, and fire the Mass Accelerator. We were able to use the very stone of Hisperia to cripple the hive tendril, which collided with several hive entities, and thousands of lesser vessels that have stolen this planet's biomatter."
Hearing the entire escort of soldiers let out a single shout that emphasized the importance of such a victory, Mable would be given even better news from the space marine that wasn't done.
"If several million tons of jagged rock suddenly shooting from our planet's surface hadn't crippled their fleet, the doomsday weapon we retrieved together has. Mechanicus auspex has confirmed the hive fleet writhing in agony close to where we estimated the detonation to occur. For the past thirty-two hours, the majority of the hive fleet has been inactive, likely trying to come up with a countermeasure against the nanomachine plague that infests them."
"But… it's not killing them?" Mable asked, picking up the clear implication the briefly silent space marine had given her.
"That is the case. Whether it is because of an unknown criterion within the machines function, or because there is simply too much biomatter to degrade, the nanomachines are not igniting the flammable cloud that currently surrounds the fleet."
"So… you need me to fly up there and ignite the gas?" Mable asked, the Astarte immediately rejecting her guess at why they needed her, or the electricity firing Night Shroud.
"Not exactly. The hive understands what gases surround it, which is why we believe they are focused on aerial unit production. They are trying to keep us grounded – and have sacrificed a large hive ship by crashing it into the Mass Accelerator, which they were unaware it had already become unusable. They are currently trying to buy more time to recover, which we shall again deny them. Now, we are going to implement another one of the xeno artefacts. The Wine of Oblivion."
"The… what?!"
"The Eldar serum that you bargained for, with the harlequins. It has been analyzed by the Mechanicus, and we have discovered its properties." The space marine stated, turning off his vox and kneeling in the middle of the Valkyrie to be heard solely by her. "It is a benign liquid that has the consistency of water, that, twelve hours after making contact with any matter outside of its container, turns into a highly lethal poison. If that wasn't bad enough, it's diffusion to toxicity ratio is consistent regardless of the matter it comes into contact with. We believe that a single droplet introduced to the hive-city's water supply could kill everyone in the city."
"So… we're going to poison them?!"
"Yes." Sindarion confirmed, enabling his vox once more after telling her of the heretical weapon she had brought into the city with only a wobbling lid protecting them. "We believe that, if we introduce the liquid into the main hive ship's Norn-Queen's pool, it will continue on its work without realizing what it has ingested. As it appears there is a constant sharing and updating of biomass between the vessels – even as they are under assault by nanomachines that are actively altering them – we have the opportunity to poison, potentially, the entire hive fleet."
"I… see." Mable muttered… and then looked up to the space marine that hadn't informed her where she came into the scheme. "How can I help?!"
"We have already found the main Tyranid hive ship – but we cannot get to it easily. The Night Shroud is the only craft that can transition from surface to void in less than three hours – and will hopefully be an unrecognized craft to the hive fleet's scouts to get out of the planet's atmosphere. We will also be using the last of the imperial navy's surface craft to challenge the surge of Tyranid aerial elements in a feint to provide you a chance to get to the designated hive ship."
"Okay…" Mable agreed, and then guessed the next step of the plan. "And you want me to poison the queen?"
"No. You will carry a teleporting beacon onto the ship, and a team led by Ulvos, and Redmane will do that. The container is far too delicate to risk a flying transport."
"O-okay." Mable agreed to, glad to know she wouldn't be doing this all on her own.
"A secondary team will then detonate a nuclear device on the hive ship, to cover your tracks upon the successful dispersion of the liquid. You will then flee with any survivors to a different time, and then thirteen hours later, return to be recovered with any survivors."
"Why… why the bomb? Isn't that overkill?"
"We need the Tyranids to think we were trying to assassinate their leadership, and that we failed. If we introduced the liquid, and then fled as though we were victorious without killing the queen, they likely would just sacrifice the main ship understanding we had done something to them. It is believed that if we poison them, retreat, and then detonate the explosive, our main goal of destroying the Norn-Queen had been a failure. Although damaged, the nuclear armament will not be enough to destroy the hive ship, and whether it spreads its biomatter from there to other ships, or continues its role injured, the distribution of the poison should be a success."
"What… what if that's not enough?" Mable asked, and as she was stared at for a moment, Sindarion would speak bluntly.
"Then we continue to fight until a relief fleet arrives."
Staring at the red lenses of the space marine for a time, Mable would eventually nod her head… and then heard the most dreadful news yet.
"There's just one last issue we need to take care of before that, however."
"What?"
"The only faction that has a working teleporter on planet is currently the Ordo Xenos, and they have refused to assist us while Redmane and you are involved. They are making demands, and have barricaded themselves in a bunker. Worse yet, they are claiming that if we attempt to break in, they will sabotage the teleporter, and make our mission impossible to succeed. We need you to go into the bunker to where the teleporter is, and secure it."
"That… means we'll be fighting people."
"Yes." Sindarion stated… and as Mable had yet to directly kill a person, she… felt horrified by Sindarion's consoling statement. "It will be much easier than killing a Tyranid. I promise."
Saying nothing to the oath, but glancing at the visored and helmeted heads of what were likely regular imperial guard special forces… Mable would recognize that behind these visors there were many eyes judging her expression… and as she felt a sinking sensation in her stomach… she would painfully swallow and nod in understanding to the space marine who was asking her to kill people she had… vowed to protect.