Hisperia was still in danger, and likely would have to be fought for in the future… but for now, it was safe. As the relief fleet arrived to begin clearing out the dead, starving, and last remaining Tyranid hive ships that still lingered around their planet's orbit, those destined to reestablish order and begin investigating the events that occurred to Hisperia's near consumption descended to the waiting planet.

Yet, as inquisitors and administrators came to sus the truth, the Angels of Death would find new strike-craft waiting for them. Wherever they were, either on one of the massive spires near the governor's mansion, or in the field supporting the imperial forces driving the Tyranid remnants into the acidic oceans of Hisperia, the Adeptus Astartes were found and collected.

For these Adeptus Astartes – the Space Marines of the Black Templar Malcevisor Crusade – the fight was never over. Hisperia was just one of many worlds to fight against the Great Devourer, who still pressed towards the galactic heart and Holy Terra herself. Compared to the fleets that were adapting to the forces of the Lord Regent of the Imperium, the splinter of Hive Fleet Leviathan that had struck Hisperia was quite small… and although none had expected the defenders to succeed in their defense against the uncountable billions of the Tyranids, the space marine's victory was not some great triumph that would allow them to retire.

So long as there were threats against the Imperium, be they from the alien, the mutant, or the heretic, the Adeptus Astartes would serve in its defense. Peace was but an illusion in the forty-second millennium, and only in death would their duty truly end.

Yet, the empire was not without hope. For ten thousand years, the darkness of malicious entities had been turned back – not just by bolter shell, but by courage of the common man and woman. Although they struck heroic images that painters and poets could speak of, the Adeptus Astartes was but one small fraction of those lashing back against the dark laughter of evil gods, the unified song of consumption, and every other unseen threat that was looking upon the relatively defenseless empire whose size betrayed it. In truth, more than ninety-nine-percent of those who would fight, die, and find victory would be unaugmented soldiers who were armed with barely more than what could be considered a 'flashlight.'

Through seemingly sheer determination, and the united will of these people, was the alien driven back. Only by removing the individual fear, and stepping forward against seemingly insurmountable odds did humanity stand against darkness. Only by rallying around the Emperor, whose light could still be felt by every man, woman and child within his Imperium, could humanity be united… whether because he was a god, or simply because he was a powerful man of the past who had the goal to unify them.

Whatever the truth may be of their leader and god, it did not matter. Time continued to flow in but a single direction, regardless of when in time you were. Whether a person was trapped in a time of peace, where one felt the distractions to incite division, or a person within a time of war, confronting the horrors of the universe, all people had their part to play. All individuals could choose to join hands with their brothers and sisters, adding their voice to the chorus that unified them, or they could shy away and mutter to themselves as they sought greater importance from their individuality. Humans, ultimately were social creatures, and if one could not find peace of mind in their environment, contempt for those around them allowed for infectious ideas and ideologies to fester within their minds as they sought a different community to belong into.

But for those who kept their heart open, and aligned themselves to the idea of cooperation and union, they would be shocked to find how many lives they could affect positively. Everyone, regardless of status, ability, wealth, or mental acuity desired to be understood, and belong somewhere. Whether that was in the present, among the company of brothers and sisters, or in memory of the friends and family you made or discovered… if one searched for it openly and honestly, peace could be found.

That was the lesson she learned. That was the lesson he taught her. Although she never truly knew him, or had spoken with him beyond whirs and hums, the simple fact remained that these lessons could not have been learned if someone else hadn't given her the chance to learn them. When alone, afraid and in the dark, surrounded by terrors and horrors, he had given her security, and had taken her hand, showing her a different light of a much different day. He had shown her days of peace, as well as the terrible truth of reality – that this universe was cruel and uncaring. By trusting in her, and by allowing her to step forward when hands wished to drag her down into the darkness of isolation, he had elevated her, and allowed her to move forward… and learn these valuable lessons.

Mable did not know the alien's name. She likely never would. Having only felt him for a brief time, his history, thoughts, and feelings being but a flash within a dream close to death, Mable would never be able to say that she understood what that alien made of liquid metal thought. She would never be able to properly thank him, for teaching her these lessons, whether intentionally or not. Unsure if they would ever truly understand one another, as they now existed in times apart, all Mable could do was take the push forward for what it was, and continue to walk down the road with her heart open. Regardless of what she saw, and the darkness she felt, she would remain steadfast in her belief that there was good in the universe that seemed to revel in the suffering it dispensed.

She would continue to believe in unity. She would continue to propagate that message, regardless of the reactions around it. Choosing to believe that so long as she worked with an honest willingness to help those around her, she would find peace in the grim darkness of the forty-second millennium, Mable stepped forward as all other humans…

All any 'one,' did.

Even her enemy, the Tyranids, creatures of consumption and seeming endless cruelty – who took until there was nothing left – moved forward in unity. If insectoid flesh monsters, some being entirely mindless creatures that acted solely on impulse, could move forward in the coldness of the universe, she could move forward too. Although these creatures were incapable of unifying beyond those outside themselves, for all other life in the galaxy was but competition or the food they sought, then Mable chose to believe that creatures who could think for themselves could unite as well.

It was just a matter of time.

Dressed in black, her face and physically altered, alien inspired features being obscured by the brim of fabric and leather, Mable took a seat in the Thunderhawk that she was riding to the Black Templar Strike Cruiser known to her as the Bellator Errantes, or in Low Gothic, the Wandering Warrior. Staring at the ancient data-pad that was seemingly more advanced than any other she could have gotten her hands on, Mable continued to read through the hard-drive and the associated documentation from Constantin Valdor, or perhaps more likely, the engineers he had overseen.

The Solace of Hisperia had ultimately remained broken. Having wanted to at least repair the proto-type, which she had managed to get restored thanks to Malcevisor bullying a weapon's factory manager to allow them to upload and order a servitor to fix the device, Mable's last adventure on Hisperia had been a disappointing affair. Physically whole, but missing something that allowed the object to produce the anti-psychic field around her, Mable hoped that she'd be able to locate a person or creature capable of repairing the device… or perhaps implementing the one that the Emperor had designed, and whose Captain-General feared the Adeptus Mechanicus would weaponize against normal people.

Having liked looking at the device when the fiber belt had been removed, Mable now looked at the blueprints she had physically assembled. Seeing the schematics of hidden wires, weaves of metal from precious resources that the Adeptus Astartes had demanded on her behalf, but unable to figure out how to turn it on, Mable would stare at the data-pad for hours as they continued their slow flight to the Strike Cruiser. Needing to find a technician who was either of this age, or more likely one in the past capable of understanding the device, Mable would find her eyes stinging at the screen's light, and would eventually give up on the project for now.

Putting the data-pad into her pressurizing satchel, unzipping the vacuum seal and placing it safely into the protective pocket, Mable took a small walk to the front of the Thunderhawk now that they were in the void proper. Peering out the window, looking at the massive ship that was but… a quarter the size of the hive ship she had poisoned, Mable felt a small bit of awe at the engineering capability of her people. Apparently being one of the smaller craft the Adeptus Astartes used, designed to carry but a single crusade of a hundred Astartes across the galaxy, the Wandering Warrior would now carry her to a destination that was currently unknown.

Not just to her, but to Castellan Malcevisor, who had given her the option to come with them as an attached 'inquisitor' that could bum off the imperial ship for a free ride. Normally not required to adhere to any requests from individual inquisitorial forces, it was not unheard of that ships dedicated to the Adeptus Astartes would keep an inquisitor on hand to provide a level of expertise to the nearly three-meter-tall giants that usually had trouble infiltrating populations of normal humans. Apparently possessing ships and small fleets of their own, even minor Ordos of the greater Inquisition could often transport themselves across the galaxy. However, for one who was currently lacking clearances and credentials beyond the amulet that had been left for her, it would be much easier if Mable stuck with those who could grant her requests without asking too many questions. Redmane's amulet, and its identification code built within could only get her so far, after all.

Stepping away from the pilot whose head was turning towards her, Mable would retreat back to the mostly empty cargo hold of the Thunderhawk, absent-mindedly playing with the Inquisitorial Seal that Redmane had left her. Feeling the warmth of it through her gloves, the item apparently possessing an unseen internal device that would provide her a screen to better hide her identity from most servitors and Administratum bureaucrats, Mable would take a step to the side entrance of the ship currently under atmospheric lock. Looking out of the window at the image of Hisperia and her moon whose dark side she had visited… Mable felt a growing anxiety on her heart as the weight of her actions rested on her shoulders.

She was leaving. She was leaving everything behind, never to return. Everything she owned now was on her person or – if she dared to claim the Night Shroud – aboard an unmarked container that had been discreetly added onto the Strike Cruiser under Malcevisor's 'resupply' request prior to them leaving Hisperia. She was leaving this world, mostly with memories… and although it struck her odd to be feeling this now, the regrets and pain that still echoed in her chest… felt…

Good. Knowing that her decisions had mattered, and that their sacrifices had meant something, she felt… at peace, with Hisperia. There was still much to do, and there were still mysteries unsolved… but currently, she felt at peace.

One thing though, did bother her. Sticking out like a sore thumb, due to the logic that was existing in a 'time bubble,' this pervasive thought plagued her.

Redmane had known who she was… and had put every alien artefact on Hisperia.

Including Mister Orb.

At least, to her knowledge… Redmane had managed to get her hands on Mister Orb… which meant, by simple logic, he would resolidify outside of her heart, and appear again. Unless, currently, he existed somewhere else in the galaxy and Redmane would discover him on her own, the Mister Orb that was within her had known everything about her, and what was to come… but… it did not feel that way. Regardless of if she would die in the future and give Redmane Mister Orb to give back to her, the alien artefact should have recognized her, if it was as intelligent as it seemed.

Yet looking back on her first meeting with the alien artefact… it had felt as though it had not recognized her. Unsure if that simply meant that the process that had bound it to her took away its memories, or if there was something else at play, Mable would eventually decide that, regardless of what the future held, she would likely meet the artefact whole again. Seeing her reflection in the glass viewing portal, behind the visor of the protective helmet she had put on for the ride up into the Astarte space craft, Mable smiled… knowing there was at least one mystery she would get to find out.

Soon passing through the tingling ion field that kept the atmosphere in the Wandering Warrior's hangar inside the ship, Mable would step out of the Thunderhawk, assisted by the Black Templar waiting for her. Keeping a loose grip on the hilt of the flaming blade, Mable would land on the metal floor… and realize that quite a few Astartes had come to witness her arrival. Unsure if she was about to be murdered or celebrated as she was stared at by the red lenses of over a dozen Angels of Death, Mable would glance at the helmeted Ulvos, who had a much healthier expression after being separated from the currently sealed daemonic glaive in the Black Templar's possession.

"Why's everyone looking at me?" Mable asked the marine who would turn to his battle brothers… and, after maintaining the moment of silence, would wordlessly dismiss those that each gave her a small bow of recognition… and then returned to their business. Scoffing at the show of appreciation, Mable let out a laugh as Ulvos entirely ignored his brother's true behavior.

"I think they were wondering how the hat managed to stay on the helmet."

"Do not tell him of my humiliation!" The daemonic voice of her hidden halo demanded… and as she smiled, she repeated the words of the one who had taught her what to say.

"It's an Inquisition secret."

"Is that so?" The Astarte seemed to genuinely ask, beginning to move further down the vessel. "Well, Miss Inquisitor, I hope your secrets remain safe in your mysterious stay with us."

"Thank you very much, Mister Angel of Death." Mable jovially stated… and then, following the Astarte onto their next adventure – that she humorously wondered if already happened – she would question the one leading her. "Where are we headed?"

"We will be heading to Bakka, a fortress world with an imperial naval depot, where we shall join up with a greater Black Templar fleet, and be given new orders, as well as new brothers to join us. Malcevisor must report what has occurred on Hisperia, and more specifically, how we turned away the Hive Fleet that is still pushing into Segmentum Tempestus."

"Think we'll find an engineer there who knows how to deal with psychic stuff?" Mable asked, the dry response being nearly useless to her.

"Perhaps."

"Well… I'm excited." She truthfully stated… and as she jostled as the ship began to shift and move… pulling away from Hisperia and heading into the open void… Mable would smile to herself, as she headed into the unknown.

But knew there would be plenty more adventures in her future.