Magnificent Scoundrels

by thelordofdarkreunion

When galaxies collide, the greatest heroes from each team up. The question is not if they can survive this strange new reality, but rather if this new universe can survive them. Featuring Ciaphas Cain, Jane Shepard, Peter Quill, Jack Cooper, Han Solo, James Kirk, and Master Chief John 117.

17. The Reason Why II

I am back! I haven't seen you guys since last year. Sorry about that. Things in my life are at a place where I just don't have a lot of time to write anymore. So, my apologies. But, here we go, part two of a long overdue and hopefully fun chapter! For those of you who don't remember exactly where we're at, the Scoundrels went to the Warhammer 40k galaxy, got kidnapped by Eldar, and are now on a hunt for soulstones. I hope you enjoy the story, and my thanks to all of you who read and review! (Also, as recompense, I'm starting off with the boys.)

Clare Prime of Ultra: Uh, yeah, about that updating quickly... Sorry. My apologies. I am glad you liked the chapter and the depiction of the Eldar. I hope you enjoy this one too!

jacobdkidder: Fair enough. That's what I was going for in the last chapter, and I hope I also deliver in this one. Enjoy!

dethbringer66: They were allowed to because of Cain; I would think the Commissariat, especially one as famous as Cain, would be allowed to do so. If not, well, he also has Inquisitor Vail's permission, so there's that too. I hope you enjoy!

BonesofSmite: I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter and I hope you like this one! I'm glad my Eldar characterization skills were on point.

BlitzNeutral69: Yep! I hope you enjoy this long overdue chapter!

Chikapu941: Thanks! I don't have time for everything you're suggesting, though I really wish I did. Those would be fun. I hope you enjoy what Chaos and Imperium shenanigans you see here!

Wangbu: Yeah, in retrospect, I probably should have shown all of their minds. I'm glad you liked the Eldar. They're one of the most important 40k factions, but no one, especially Games Workshop, writes them anymore. Alas. I hope you enjoy!

ndabdm: Yes and yes. Enjoy both Chaos and the Scandalous Misfits.

LezGo35: Oh yeah. Enjoy!

Passingthru: You have a good point. I think it's just the scale. However, I will be going over all of the dark parts of the other universes, so don't you worry. We just have to get there.

Austin: Thanks for the review! I appreciate the thoughts. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

powerhendler: Thank you! I hope you enjoy!

Legion2345: Thanks! I hope you enjoy the long overdue sequel!

giblo126: Listen, there will always be those who are not satisfied with the amount of grim dark, and there will always be those who think it's too much. Ultimately, frankly, if they tried to 'fix' things they'd just be shot. Story over. Each galaxy has to work with each galaxy here, and I'm trying my best. I hope you enjoy the story, but if you don't, so be it.

Nobody here: Lol. I hope you enjoy!

oOo

The Reason Why II

"I know not whether Cypher is the greatest threat or the greatest hope for the Imperium. I only hope that we can stop him before we find out." -anonymous Dark Angel

"Faith alone shall save." - Martin Luther

oOo

"The time has come for us to make our first move." The forms of Revenant, Loki, Kaiser and a hologram of a copy of Trazyn (maybe? Cypher got a headache trying to figure out how Trazyn worked; now he knew how the Dark Angels felt about him) looked up to the tall, white-hooded Space Marine.

"Indeed?" replied Trazyn politely. "I do believe I have been making some moves before this, but please, do go on." Cypher resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Trazyn and his numerous body doubles had been rolling around the various new galaxies stealing everything that wasn't nailed down. So far, Cypher was fairly certain none of it was missed or important, but he got the feeling it was only a matter of time before various governments started hunting the person who stole their greatest treasures.

Honestly, the only reason Trazyn hadn't waltzed into the Imperial Palace yet was because he was busy doing other things; that, and because necrons had a different sense of time due to their immortal lifespans.

"Anyway, to get back on track," Cypher shot a glare at Trazyn, who grinned back smugly behind his metal face, "We need to get moving with our actual purpose."
"And what might that be?" demanded Revenant angrily.

"Helping our… ah, mortal friends," replied Loki smoothly with that small, mischievous and knowing smile he always seemed to wear. Revenant turned to him with an incendiary glare.

"Wipe that smug grin off your face," ordered the assassin.

"And if I don't?" replied Loki, even more smug.

"Do not start this again." The phrase was more of a command than a suggestion. Cypher looked over as the black-armored and masked form of Kaiser crossed his arms and glared at both Revenant and Loki. Sometimes the Marine was honestly tempted to throw Revenant, Loki, and Trazyn together on a ship and watch the ensuing chaos across the galaxy. "The nine we've discussed are the best hope for things moving forward. Now that the Eldar have captured them and forced them to retrieve soul stones from Uyriun, we must go there and ensure things do not go… Poorly."

"And how exactly do we know the Eldar kidnapped them?" asked Loki. Kaiser turned to Cypher, wondering the same thing.

"Some information I got from my cousin," shrugged the Marine. Kaiser seemed to frown beneath his helm.

"Which cousin?" he asked suspiciously.

"I have a lot of cousins," replied Cypher neutrally. He did, too. In fact, the cousin in question was Ahzek Ahriman. The Watchers in the Dark had informed Cypher that Ahriman and his band of brothers had broken free from the Changer of Ways. Since then, Cypher had put out some feelers towards the ex-First Captain of the Thousand Sons.

Ahriman was a powerful enough sorcerer to realize what Cypher was doing, and dropped a nice tidbit of information into his lap, hence the current situation.

"That's not an answer to the question," replied Kaiser with a sigh. "Regardless, we are going to Uyriun. Our information also states that it is in immediate danger of becoming a daemon world, and we cannot allow either that nor can we allow the nine to die. However, in addition to that, it cannot be known that we were there. The nine must complete their mission."

"So what's the plan, then?" demanded Revenant in his usual growly baritone.

"Our information states that a Slaaneshi cult, run by the governor and the ruling elite, has come into possession of a large number of Eldar soul stones. With these stones, they can turn Uyriun into a daemon world. The timing for the nine arriving is close; this is something we cannot abide. Therefore, we will infiltrate the governor's palace, take the stones, and move them to a location outside of the cult's influence so the nine can pick them up. Any questions?" There were none.

oOo

The governor's palace on Uyriun was an utterly massive affair, a nearly mountainous building that towered high above the rest of the planet's capital city. The capital itself was farther away from the palace; it would not do for the lord of the planet to mingle with the commoners, after all. So large and luxurious was the estate that the palace had countless gardens throughout its varying levels. It was within one of these massive meadow-like areas, located in the center of the palace and on its top floor, where the governor's Slaaneshi cult met.

Today was to be the most momentous of days. The governor had come into possession of a cadre of Eldar soul stones: those broad gems that held the souls of Eldar and were so coveted by his dark god. With these in tandem with a terrible ritual, the cult would be able to breach the Empyrean and turn the world into a plaything for the servants of unimaginable excess.

Today was to be a most momentous day for the cult, if not for the interference of the Shadowed Lords.

The cult was powerful - yes indeed. They were nearly the entirety of the governor's household and the ruling class of Uyriun. All within the nobles' houses who resisted the glorious coming of the Dark Prince were dead or serving more… interesting purposes to the cult. Powered by the mind-bending strength of the Warp, fueled by pain, and augmented by the governor's elite household guard who had joined the cult, the governor's men were quite a force to be reckoned with. They had the numbers, the equipment, and the power of their dark patron.

None of them could stand against Lord Cypher.

Cypher by himself was dangerous enough to topple planets. When backed up by a god of mischief, an immortal assassin, and a strangely hyper-competent soldier, there was almost nothing that could stop him.

Bolt shells and searing-hot plasma fire rained down on corrupted soldiers and nobles. Cypher was a whirlwind of lethality, feet moving and weapons twirling in elegant form, spinning and firing and slaughtering anyone that got in his way. Twin pistols spat death at anything that moved, and anything that got remotely close to the Marine was smashed apart with the ease that one might shoo an insect away. Even armored and Warp-augmented bodies were no match for a Marine's brutal strength.

Cypher was followed by Loki, Revenant, and Kaiser (Trazyn was out somewhere else collecting; he demanded the soul stones along with a fair amount of the local populace as payment if he were showing up). Kaiser was the epitome of precision: turning with exactness and firing neat double-taps to the head.

Loki and his various magical decoys of himself danced around the room, confusing everyone, enemy and ally alike. The god of mischief was doing just as his nature stated: making mischief. Lord Cypher was experienced enough in insane distractions that he was able to thrive in the chaos Loki caused. Cultists fired at decoys even as the real Loki threw thin-bladed daggers from the shadows.

Revenant… Revenant actually seemed rather disturbed that the cultists they fought not only had exactly zero regards for their own lives, but actually seemed to enjoy being horrifically ripped apart, letting loose near-orgasmic noises as he tore them open with his clawed metal hands. The synthetic assassin thrived on shocking, horrific, gruesome murder, and the fear resulting from it. His most potent tools were thus taken away from him when fighting masochists who worshiped the god of unimaginable excess of the senses, of pain and pleasure in equal measure. He switched to neat headshots with a stolen lasgun soon enough.

The gardens were a massive, expansive area of the most decadent section of the palace. The Shadowed Lords had infiltrated through the palace roof and were now making their way into the gardens themselves, fighting all the way. Though they could not stand for long against the power arrayed against them, the governor's men were numerous, numerous enough to slow the Lords.

Cypher shot a cultist point-blank with his plasma pistol, neatly bisecting the howling creature. Whoever the person had been before was lost on the Marine, replaced with an androgynous figure swathed in purple silks, howling in an unearthly voice, screams of unimaginable pain and exquisite pleasure commingling. That was what the cultists all were, now: simply slaves to the Lord of Excess, their dark god of the Warp, leaving all humanity behind.

This was perhaps the darkest secret this galaxy held, a cancerous rot on reality itself. All mortals had to do was simply give in, give up, let the Ruinous Powers in and submit to them. The Warp, the realm of unreality, the realm of souls, held gods and daemons, and their whispering temptations could drive men to commit acts unspeakable against the very fabric of nature.

The cult, driven by the decadence and pleasure of the high nobles of Uyriun, no longer cared about anything logical. Long ago had they been inured to fine food and wine, to the most comfortable clothing, to song and dance, to sex, to drugs, to small pains of cuts and sore muscles and bruised bones. Now, they wanted more, and as disturbing as it was to any rational mind, being shot or torn apart was just the unimaginable excess of the senses they sought to give their Dark Prince.

But Cypher, Kaiser, Loki, and Revenant were nothing if not efficient. The bodies facing them were mostly human and could die as any human did. They came in waves upon waves of violet silk or stark-nakedness, and were ruthlessly shot down by the Fallen Angel and his cadre. The decadent garden was churned and burned and shot up as the Shadowed Lords inexorably advanced to its center.

There, they found the governor, his skin grey and veins popping, eyes crazed and a smile far, far too wide to be natural on his face as he watched dozens of his cultists in the throes of passion before him.

"Welcome, honored guest!" cried the governor as Cypher advanced, pistols drawn. The Marine noticed a heavy, locked metal trunk behind the governor. Behind him, Kaiser casually tossed a grenade into the middle of the orgy. The noises coming from it went blessedly silent. "I can see the Corpse God spared no expense! Sending his very finest to us!" The governor laughed, a horrible, crazed, utterly maniacal sound. "Oh, oh, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. General Tiploc is out with an entire legion of my best troops! The cult has spread! This world, this reality, is ours!"

Cypher shot him through the head. The bolter shell vaporized the man's skull in a spray of blood and bone. Even as the governor's body fell, Cypher holstered his weapons and grabbed the locked box. Breaking open the cover was child's play for one of Cypher's strength.

Laying inside, stacked atop one another, were about sixty or seventy circular shining red jewels approximately the size of a man's fist. They glowed with inner incandescence, swirling as if they were almost alive. Cypher supposed they were, in a way.

"What do we do now?" asked Revenant, his usually grouchy voice sounding extremely subdued. Cypher looked back at the others, then stood to his full height, walking forward to the edge of the gardens, taking the box of precious soul stones with him.

Far below, Uyriun's capital city spread out onto the horizon. Already, Cypher could hear screams and shouts, gunfire and smashing buildings below him. A few flames started to flicker, lighting up the sky. It seemed that the governor's men, likely led by the general the man himself had mentioned, were on the warpath. Despite the fact the governor was dead and Cypher was in possession of the soul stones, the cult was on their way to taking the world.

Besides, that wasn't even the reason they were here. The reason they were here was to give the nine a fighting chance.

"We need to put the stones somewhere safe, somewhere where the nine can find them," said Cypher.

"Why not give them to the Eldar?" replied Loki.

"That is not our issue. It would merely cause more problems for everyone involved. We cannot be seen and nothing of our involvement can be left to chance." Loki frowned.

"So then what do we do with them in the meantime?" Cypher looked at the large cathedral dominating the skyline in the distance.

"I have an idea…"

oOo

"Reloading!"

"Ten o'clock, second building! Fire!"

"Suppressing fire!"

"Move!"

The fully-armed forms of the nine Magnificent Scoundrels fought through the streets, adrenaline pumping, feet pounding as shots flew over their heads. Turning and firing, maneuvering and running, diving and panting and reloading, they fought their way through the chaotic streets of Uyriun's capital city, block by bloody block.

It was, in every sense of the word, chaos. The cultists were everywhere. They were easy to distinguish by their silky robes, very skimpy outfits, or complete lack of clothing. Most of them were either busy either ingesting as many substances as they physically could or were massacring or raping anything that moved. There were plenty of normal Imperials running around, fighting, or hiding, which only served to add to the insanity of the beleaguered city.

The Scoundrels, bereft of their crews, had been thrown straight into the maelstrom. The city was straight from a nightmare, and it had momentarily stunned even those among them that were used to these types of situations. However, they were all experienced combatants and quickly pulled themselves together to try and figure out what was going on.

Fortunately, the cultists, horrifying and loathsome as their actions were, were very much not experienced soldiers. They possessed numbers and a rather horrifying lack of care for their lives, but no tactical sense or heavy weapons. That was the only reason the city had yet to fully fall.

However, at the present moment, the Scoundrels were stuck in a rather poor position. The cultists were advancing through the city, pushing at the safe zones the local police and militia had set up. Driven by emotion and sensation as they were, many seemed to flow around these protected areas and went for targets they thought were easier to overcome, such as a group of nine making their way unprotected through the streets.

"Two o'clock, fire!" roared Drake, turning his tri-barrel plasma gun on a group of cackling cultists racing towards their position on the edge of a cobblestoned intersection. Along with a barrage of bullets from the Master Chief's assault rifle, they were swiftly cut down.

"Nine o'clock!" cried Solo as a few cultists tried to rush them from a side alley. Crimson lasers and Quill's orange blaster projectiles lanced through the air.

"We need to get out of the streets!" shouted Cooper as the group continued their fire-and-maneuver drill. "Find somewhere safe or where the stones are located!" That was the objective of their mission, after all, both for their crews the Eldar had promised to kill and because if the stones remained in the cult's possession, this world could be turned into more of a hell than it already was.

"Agreed!" said Cain over the din of their gunfire and the cultists' utterly maniacal, inhumane laughter. The Commissar whirled towards Shepard. "Shepard!" The Commander turned from where she was blasting apart another group of cackling, naked cultists. "I have a plan. The largest and most powerful Imperial force on this planet are the Sisters of Battle in the cathedral in the center of the city." Cain had spent much of the shuttle ride going over any information the Commissariat and Guard had on Uyriun. "You need to go there and tell them what's going on. The stones are likely at the governor's palace. We regroup at the cathedral and figure out what to do from there with the Sisters' help."

"Why me?" demanded Shepard.

"You're a woman!" called back Cain.

"Thanks for telling me, I didn't know."

"Shocking."

"I didn't notice!"

"Now you tell me?"

"Oh, really?"

Cain rolled his eyes at his comrades' sarcastic comments.

"They'll like you and be more trusting of you than us; besides, I'm not sure if men are actually allowed in some parts of their monastery or the cathedral," explained Cain. "If they give you trouble, tell them you're working for Inquisitor Amberley Vail of the Ordo Xenos." Shepard blinked, memorizing the unknown name. Cain had never mentioned it before; Shepard was slightly suspicious, but let it go. The Commissar knew what he was doing.

"What about you guys?" demanded Shepard, sparing a quick glance at the others. A larger force of cultists, drawn by the gunfire, was now making their way up the main street. A few of them, intoxicated beyond belief, swayed and passed out as they marched. As they got into range, the Chief started taking precise potshots in their direction, downing half a dozen.

"We'll be fine," said Vir with a (slightly) reassuring grin. Shepard frowned beneath her helmet. She despised the idea of… of running away. Of leaving them.

"You need to go before this gets worse," ordered Cain in his best Commissar's voice. "Right now, the Sisters are our best hope. Go!" he stated, noticing Shepard was still hesitating.

"I'll… I'll meet you there," replied Shepard with a nod. She looked at the others for confirmation. "Right?"

"Damn straight," replied Solo. "Don't worry about us. We're too handsome to die. Now get going." He shot her a cocky grin. Shepard smiled and rolled her eyes even as she took off running. The cathedral was centrally-located and large enough not to miss.

Behind her, the volume of fire increased. Sparing a glance back, she saw a horde of cultists approaching. Frowning, she continued her run, picking up the pace. The sooner she got there, the sooner they could deal with the city and the stones. Shepard tried not to think about leaving her compatriots behind.

She hoped she would see them again. Some newfound part of her would be… oddly missing if they were gone.

oOo

Panting, drenched in sweat, and utterly exhausted by her run through the panicked city, Commander Shepard finally reached the cathedral.

It was utterly massive, dominating the skyline and stretching farther than Shepard could see from the front. Its gothic architecture was like nothing Shepard had ever seen. Ornate and flowing, its tall bell towers, intricate carvings, and flying buttresses dominated her view. There were obviously such cathedrals on Earth in Shepard's own galaxy, but she'd never seen one in person, and this one was far larger.

It was, in fact, a compound, with the main cathedral building surrounded by a massive wall and countless smaller buildings. Behemoth double doors framed by the massive metal gate leading into the heart of the Sisters' territory. Shepard jogged forward and had just pounded on the doors before a smaller single door in the larger gate opened, and the form of a white-armored woman stepped through.

Shockingly, she seemed to be wearing Imperial power armor, like the Marines wore, though this version was fit to normal human sizes and seemed to be stylistically different. It seemed more feminine, fitting closer to the curves of the human body rather than the behemoth chucks of plate that made up Marine armor. The helmet looked more like something a Medieval knight would wear, and apart from the glowing red eye lenses, would not have looked out of place from that era. To add to the Medieval effect, fleur-de-lis symbols decorated the armor, emblazoned on the breasts, shoulders, and the forehead of the helmet.

A heavy, blocky gun was clutched in the woman's hands. It was smaller in length but far bigger in size than the typical Imperial lasgun Shepard was used to seeing. Its barrel was large and a massive, curved magazine was inserted into the bottom.

Shepard knew about the weapons of most of the new galaxies, and recognized from Cain's description a bolt gun. It seemed that the Sisters, to go along with their power armor, wielded the Imperium's devastating explosive projectile weapons.

"I was sent by Commissar Ciaphas Cain with information about the cultist uprising." Shepard blurted out the first thing she could think of that would give her an audience and time to explain their mission. Thankfully, the Sister nodded.

"Come with me," she instructed, her voice muffled by the helmet. Shepard followed her inside even as the small opening within the massive gate was closed by another Sister.

The gate opened to a massive interior. The cathedral rose up into its massive height in the distance. Before it were placid stone pathways, statues and shrines of Imperial saints and heroes, and a variety of auxiliary buildings spread throughout the compound.

Perhaps the most surprising thing, apart from the stark white-armored and heavily armed forms of patrolling Sisters, were the refugees in the middle of the compound. The vast majority of them seemed to be children and their mothers. Many wore torn and dirty clothing, wide-eyed and fearful children huddling close to their mothers. What few uninjured non-parents there were busily arming themselves with any weapons they could find.

A few unhelmeted women, still wearing the power armor of the Sororitas, had set up a makeshift field hospital and were busily treating wounded civilians and a few members of their order. Shepard took all of this in with awe. The scene was nearly as alien to her as the Eldar craftworld or the Citadel the first time she had been on it, despite everything here being human.

Her guide took her along the side of the cathedral, down a stone path lined by various statues and shrines. At their brisk pace, Shepard did not have time to admire them, though each seemed like a perfect museum piece as they flew by in record time.

The cathedral was incredibly long; the walk took longer than the Commander was expecting. Still, they reached the path's end soon enough.

Before them was a long, square building. A residential quarters of some sort, likely housing the Sisters, it somehow endeavored to look both like an ornate cathedral and a secure bunker at the same time. Shepard's escort stepped forward and rapped on an engraved but still heavy metal bunker door. The ringing noise of power armor against metal filled the air.

Quickly, the door opened and another Sister stepped out. This one wore more ornate armor and was unhelmeted. Her face was thin, cheekbones high, and her black hair cut into an unflattering bob. She took a single look at Shepard and frowned at the Sister escorting her.

"Sister, you know civilians are not allowed within the convent. Take her away, and report to-" The unhelmeted woman was cut off mid sentence by another voice from inside the building.

"Sister Ametha, I'm sure if Sister Veronica brought a civilian here, it is for good reason." An older, but smooth, confident, and wise voice sounded, calming whatever tension there might have been. From behind the unhelmeted Sister came another woman.

This one was older, likely in her late fifties if not in her sixties. Her hair was a uniform gray and pulled back neatly on the nape of her neck. Gray eyes sparkled as her kindly face took in Shepard's battered black armor. The woman herself wore a simple floor-length black robe emblazoned with a white rose on its chest.

"What is your name, young lady?" she asked Shepard. The Commander straightened.

"Shepard, ma'am. Jane Shepard," she replied. "I'm here with Commissar Ciaphas Cain to stop the cultists. I have information on what they're after. They're called soul stones: round red gems about the size of a fist." Cain had described them to the Scoundrels. "They can use them to complete some sort of ritual." Her words came out in a rush, desperate to explain to and convince this woman, likely the Sisters' leader, to help them.

Thankfully, the woman in question nodded sharply, glancing at the other Sisters, who suddenly seemed slightly awestruck and rather nervous.

"Very well. Follow me," ordered the woman. She started on the path towards the cathedral, Shepard and the Sisters following.

"I, uh, didn't catch your name," asked Shepard, catching up to the surprisingly fast and spry woman. She gave a small laugh in return.

"I am Canoness Preceptor Riella, head of this convent of the Order of the Sacred Rose." Riella turned her head and gave a small bow. "We are Sisters of Battle, women who are called by Him on Terra to serve in whatever capacity He might deem fit. Serenity in peace, determination in battle: whatever the galaxy might bring, we shall illuminate it with our faith." She gave a small smile. "And what brings you here, Jane, with such an illustrious Hero of the Imperium?"

"I'm actually from one of the other new galaxies," Shepard admitted. She wasn't quite sure what made her say so, but Riella had such a calm, motherly demeanor she couldn't seem to help but start talking. "There are a few of us, meeting with Commissar Cain. We were brought to this planet… Well, that's a long story." She still wasn't sure she wanted to remember the Eldar.

"Well then, welcome to Uyriun," drawled the Canoness with a small huff of laughter. Shepard couldn't help but laugh in return.

"Good to be here," she replied with a grin.

After what felt like a far longer walk than Shepard was expecting, they reached the back end of the cathedral itself. Situated within the massive stone base was a simple plain wooden door. Ametha opened the door, then Shepard and the Sisters stepped into the building.

To Shepard, it felt like stepping back in time. The room itself seemed like some sort of small basement storage area or office. The walls were stone, and the only illumination within were the flickering shadows cast by candles lining the walls, shelves, and single wooden desk within. Pieces of parchment, stuck to the walls and shelves with red wax, seemed to lend an odd, reverent, gothic atmosphere to the place.

Unfortunately, Shepard didn't have any time to examine the room as she followed the Canoness forward and up a narrow, circular stone staircase. Shepard ducked under a stone archway… and ended up in the cathedral proper.

Usually, the expression 'someone's mouth dropped open in surprise' was not a literal truth, merely used to illustrate something shocking. However, in Shepard's case, she stopped dead in her tracks, mouth gaping open upon the sight before her.

The cathedral was, without question, the singular largest continuous enclosed indoor space she'd ever been in, and by far the most beautiful. The ceiling seemed to rise up into eternity, its huge vaults scraping the sky. Intricate decorations and beautiful wood carvings lined the vaultings, balustrades, and walls. Stained glass windows, all decorated with Imperial heroes and saints, each almost large enough to fly a shuttle through, lined the sides.

Hundreds of carved wooden pews were the main space. Interestingly, most of them seemed to have been moved aside to form barricades, firing positions, and to clear the area for the Sisters to use the cathedral as either a medical station or the place of their final desperate stand.

At the rear of the space, closer to where Shepard was, a raised dais and altar framed the edge of the room. The floor was white marble tiling, the altar was draped with a white cloth with golden fleur-de-lis symbols upon it, and the walls surrounding the space were painted in much the same style and color. Behind the altar, towering from floor to ceiling, was an utterly behemoth golden stained glass window of the God-Emperor of Mankind, in full armor, flaming sword in hand, jet black hair flowing, glaring down at the cathedral as if he were daring anyone to interrupt its silent holiness.

The canonness led Shepard around the altar, to a small nave on the other side. In it, a young girl wearing the long, flowing white robes of the Order of the Sacred Rose stood looking over what seemed to be a rather impressive collection of various relics. A few weapons, pieces of armor, pennants, standards, statues, various bones, and intricate gilded cases of all sorts lined shelves or stood on display. As Shepard's party walked in, the girl bowed.

"This is my squire, Merida," said Canonness Riella. Merida bowed politely. She was young, Shepard could tell. Not horrifyingly, abysmally, Death Korps young, more like seventeen or eighteen, which was a rather normal young military age, but nevertheless still quite young.

"Pleased to meet you," said Merida softly. Shepard nodded.

"You as well." Riella continued forward, walking around a massive battle-scarred flag. From the back of the room, she picked up a small rectangular metal box. Undoing the latch, she opened it and showed the contents to Shepard.

"Is this what you're here for?" she asked. Shepard peered inside. Laying within the box were dozens of fist-sized, ovular scarlet stones. They seemed to faintly glow with some sort of odd luminescence from within, swirling with abstract and unknown power.

Shepard had never seen a soul stone in person. She did not know of their existence before the fateful meeting with the Eldar. She therefore could not definitively say if these were the object of their search or not, but something deep inside her told her that these had to be what they were looking for. It could be nothing else.

"I'm pretty sure that's them," replied Shepard. She looked up at the canonness. "Where'd you get them?"

"Interestingly, they just showed up in front of the gate with a note to keep them safe," replied Riella. She gave a brief bow. "The providence of the Emperor. We shall not squander his chance if this is what the cult is after."

"Canonness!" The women within the room looked up sharply. A fully armed and armored Battle Sister stood in the doorway. "The cult advances towards us. There are refugees at the front gate, and a group led by Commissar Cain asking for entrance."

Relief flooded through Shepard. She hadn't wanted to abandon her comrades to what might have been certain death. The fact that they were still alive was both a great relief and a testament to their skills. Hopefully they were still ready and able, because she had a feeling they would need everyone they could get to repel the inexorable tide of advancing cultists.

"Very well, sister," replied the canonness. She shut the lid of the box and handed it to Merida. "Keep this safe." The squire nodded. "And fetch me my armor and weapons." A hard look, flinty steel tempered by unbreakable faith, overtook Riella's elegant features. "The Order of the Sacred Rose goes to war."

oOo

"Cain!" Shepard ran towards the weary man, his head bowed beneath a blood-spattered and grimy commissarial cap. His head tilted up and he gave one of his patented wry grins.

"Commander Shepard," he said with a polite nod. The other seven behind him were all in a similar state, blood-spattered, gore-encrusted, dirty and tired but completely unbowed. Solo shot Shepard his trademark cocky grin.

"Told 'ya that we were too handsome to die," he stated with the sublime confidence of a man who'd made the Kessel Run in twelve parsecs, a fact that he'd mentioned more than a few times.

Shepard merely laughed.

"I know, all of you are very handsome," she assured. Cooper grinned and gave her a fist bump; Drake gave a wan smile even as Cain walked up to Cannoness Riella.

"We have a lot of uglies coming in behind us," said Vir grimly.

"Don't know how we're going to get out of this without extra support," added Kirk. "They have a full army; there's some loyal Planetary Defense Forces left, but other than that…" The Enterprise's captain merely shrugged. They all knew the prognosis, and it was grim. If the Sisters couldn't hold, the planet would die a horrifying death.

Welcome to the grim darkness of the far future. Shepard snorted. She hated this place so much.

"Fortifications are in place, turrets are aligned, the tech-priests are either fortified in their base or safely in here. Ammunition, food, and water is stocked, and all able-bodied survivors are armed and formed into a militia," rattled off Sister Ametha to Cannoness Riella and Commissar Cain. The two seemed to have convened an impromptu war council.

"The last bastions of Imperial resistance in the main sectors of the planet are the PDF holdouts on the other side of the planet along with a few scattered groups here and there. Apart from them, there are us, and the reactor complex the Mechanicus uses as a base. The traitors can and will defeat the PDF; the Mechanicus facility is nigh impregnable and they have a company of skitarii alongside the automated defenses. They can hold out, but if no Imperial relief comes for decades they will eventually fall. Then there's us," continued Reilla. "We're the most central and dramatic symbol of Imperial loyalty and resistance. Besides, they'll want to profane the temple. They'll be coming here first."

"Do we have backup?" asked Cain grimly.

"Unknown," replied the cannoness. "The astropathic relay fell; I believe the local Commissar was able to grant them the Emperor's Mercy before they were corrupted. If he didn't, we have a much larger problem on our hands, which we would probably already know about at this point. We sent out a message on the vox; no response as of yet."

"How long can we hold?"

"Depends," came Riella's crisp reply. "If they have enough bodies to flood over the walls at every point, we'll be overwhelmed even with your help. If they have siege equipment and breach the gates or the walls, we'll have to make our final stand in the temple. Come those situations, not long. If they have neither such numbers or heavy equipment…" The cannoness shrugged. "For as long as we have ammunition, we'll hold."

"And how much ammunition do you have, cannoness?" Riella shrugged.

"I'd say more than a week's worth on hand for us. But who knows how quickly it'll be used?"

"I thank you for your time, Cannoness Riella," said Cain with a bow. The cannoness returned his bow.

"It is no trouble for one as loyal as you, Commissar Cain," she replied. Cain gave no visible sign at this save a smile and military bow.

"Thank you, Cannoness. I'll see to the defenses." With that, he returned to his comrades.

"So, how screwed are we?" asked Quill cheerfully.

"Oh, very," replied Cooper nonchalantly. "Unless the Eldar actually want to come save our asses, which is probably not gonna happen."

"I doubt it. They're weird creeps," added Shepard.

"Indeed," replied Cain. "They have the stones. I have no idea what the Eldar have planned; we should not think about nor rely on them. What we do is…" Cain shrugged. "Defend the temple. That's all we can do." In truth, Cain was staying because this was the safest place on the entire planet. (He was not not not staying with the cogboys.)

"Sounds good," replied the Chief with a rumble. "Last stands are something of a SPARTAN speciality." So saying, he nodded, checked his ammunition, and went out to survey the defenses.

"Well then, last stand it is, unless something crazy happens," noted Vir. The others nodded.

This was a bad situation, and they didn't even have the reassuring presence of their crews or friends. They would likely die here, all over some crazy alien scheme. All they had was… Well, each other.

Maybe it wasn't so bad.

"Commander Shepard, may I speak with you for a moment?" Cannoness Riella's soft, commanding voice drifted over the group. Shepard turned around, surprised.

"Of course," she replied.

"We'll go check on the defenses," noted Cain with a nod, turning the other way. The others followed with a series of nods and salutes.

"Walk with me," invited the cannoness. Shepard did so.

The interior of the massive temple cathedral was as beautiful as ever. Somehow the massive space managed to be as solemn and peaceful as ever, as if there was no war raging around them, as if there was no incoming siege and violent last stand going to happen. The massive golden stained-glass window behind the altar with its massive portrait of the God-Emperor looked down at the entire space with its firm glare.

Besides the window of the Emperor on the far side were other stained-glass portraits of power-armored men. The one on the Emperor's direct right caught Shepard's attention for a moment. The man had long blonde hair and a matching neat beard. He wore ornate green armor and held a massive broadsword point downward like an ancient Medieval statue. Green eyes stared downwards at Shepard in a calculating challenge.

"Ah, that is Lion El'Jonson, Lord of the First, the Emperor's first son," came Riella's voice, noticing Shepard glancing up at the mural. She came to stand beside Shepard. "In times of great doubt, I always find it helpful to ruminate on the glorious God-Emperor and his sons. They are a great comfort in such trying times."

"How?" said Shepard softly. The word slipped out; she looked at the cannoness guiltily, but she still wanted to know. She didn't get how anyone could live like this, how anyone could live in this place, in this dark empire.

"Because humanity conquered the galaxy under them. But alas, we were our own worst enemy. It was the traitors who threw the Imperium into chaos and the galaxy into darkness. It shows me how much power humanity has; how holy we can be. It shows me what we could be, and what we should aspire to be. That we can be the lights in the darkness." That… made a surprising amount of sense. Shepard was starting to get how and why these guys operated.

Now, if they could just drop the human supremacist thing…

"That makes sense." Shepard settled for the typical non-response. "What exactly did you want to talk about with me?" The cannoness chuckled.

"This, for one. As well as your comrades," she replied. Shepard nodded, careful. She still didn't know Riella well, and was generally uncomfortable around Imperials save Cain.

"What about them, then?"

"Well, all of the statuses of yourselves: your souls, your relations." Riella gave a small laugh. "Perhaps you'll find it intrusive, but nevertheless it is my job, and my personality. I worry."

"I'm still not following you, I'm sorry," replied Shepard.

"Well, the first is that the state of one's soul is an eternal concern. The second is that I did happen to notice that you have many brothers, so I thought you'd like to talk sister to sister," she added with a flash of a smile.
"We're not siblings," said Shepard quickly. Riella scoffed.

"Maybe not in blood," she replied. "And, as you can see," she chuckled, gesturing to the temple and the Sisters of Battle setting up defenses inside it, "I am frequently around exclusively women, but I have fought beside those who I would consider brothers. And I had a little brother, once." Her gaze became distant. Shepard opened her mouth to ask as to his fate, but she turned back to him. "He died in the Emperor's service in the Guard. I saw him rarely when we joined the Sororitas and Guard respectively, but I loved him dearly. I am over it now, but I pray daily that his soul remains in the Emperor's light."

"I'm sorry," replied Shepard automatically. She'd never had any siblings, but it must be excruciatingly painful to lose one.

"No trouble. But," Riella's smile turned slightly wry, "I wanted to ask, how are you, girl to girl?" For a moment, Shepard was speechless. There hadn't been anyone who ever asked how she was doing except Tali and Garrus.

"I… I, uh," she cleared her throat, "Sorry." She suddenly missed her mom. "I…" Some part of her wanted to just say she was fine, but there was something about the cannoness's gaze that made her comfortable; drew the words out of her. "There's a lot of pressure on me," she admitted. "They call me the Savior of the Galaxy," this was said with a snort, "And I don't know how to do it. There's a…" she decided to go with Imperial terminology, "Xenos race that's kidnapping human colonists, and I have to stop it, and it's supposed to be a suicide mission, and no one actually believes it's happening so no one will help me," she finished. She suddenly started. That was probably the most she'd told anyone about how she was feeling in a long, long while.

In reply, Riella only gave a reassuring smile.

"It is the Emperor's will to give us these challenges," she replied. "He would not give them to us if he did not think we could succeed. The harder the challenge, the more glory we gain and the more knowledge we learn." Reilla put her hand on Shepard's shoulder comfortingly. "I know it is hard. But know you are never alone. Rely on your sisters, and in your case, your brothers as well. They will never let you down," she said confidently. Shepard nodded. It was good advice. She wondered how Cannoness Reilla would react if her brothers and sisters in question were aliens…

"Thank you, cannoness." The words were actually relieving. They meant someone was there for her, someone who wasn't Tali or Garrus, someone outside of the Normandy. It was…

Nice.

"Oh, it's no problem," replied Riella warmly. "I know the burdens of war beat down hard upon us all. This is our trial. The galaxy is full of suffering, but we stand tall to defend our people. And it is only through faith that we can succeed," she continued meaningfully.

"That… makes sense I suppose," said Shepard. She wasn't much one for faith; never really thought about it. The strange, human-centric, human-worshiping Imperial cult was very much not high on her list, but she would humor the cannoness. The woman in question merely smiled and patted her on the shoulder.

"I know you don't particularly care," she replied. "I see it in your face, in your eyes. Magic, or gods, or whatever it is people preach to you, are just false illusions because you don't want to believe. You want to be in control of yourself, when you could work for something far greater. You have no idea the truth of reality," sighed the cannoness. "And often, if you do not think of these things beforehand, they shall sneak up on you and kill you. Fair warning," she continued, pointing her finger at Shepard, "What is on display here, on this planet, in that cult, is the heinous power of the Warp. It is only through faith in the God-Emperor that you will survive."

And with that, Riella turned on her heel and strode through the cathedral. Shepard watched her go mutely. She didn't really know what to think anymore. She just wanted to get off this planet and back about the Normandy. She had a feeling everyone else did too.

oOo

"They're coming!" The urgent shout permeated the air, and the heads of all the defenders whipped around to the guard tower from whence it came.

"Oh, boy," muttered Kirk unhappily from where he stood with his compatriots. Cooper looked over from where he stood, checking the ammunition for his carbine. With everything they'd gone through, he was low. There were Imperial lasguns to use as backup, but he'd stick with more comfortable and familiar weaponry until his ammunition ran out.

He had a brief moment to compose himself, the calm before the storm, the moment of nerves and adrenaline before combat. He desperately wished BT were here; nothing would be able to withstand the two of them. It was a certainty that no half-naked, insane, drugged up psychotic cultists would be able to stop a Titan. If BT were here, they would already be done with this.

Stupid Eldar, stupid Imperials, stupid cultists, stupid war…

"Horde of 'em, 12 o'clock, straight ahead," reported the Sister on the ramparts. "Mostly handmade or close-quarters weapons." From below, Cannoness Riella gave a sharp nod.

"Open fire when they reach optimal range," she said.

"Yes, Cannoness!" came the immediate reply. The blam-blam-blam of bolter fire immediately opened up. If one listened closely, they could hear screams of pain, of pleasure, and maniacal cackling over the gunshots.

"Militia, hold your positions!" ordered Cain. The various refugees, clutching lasguns, nodded at him nervously. "Everyone else, to the walls! Hold them back!"

Cooper nodded and swallowed nervously. With a running start and boost from his jump pack, he clambered up the wall, followed quickly by Quill and his rocket boots.

Upon the wall was absolute chaos. Sisters of Battle, clad in their white Sacred Rose armor, blasted away with bolters at the incoming tide of cultists beneath them. Cooper shuddered at the sight. The cultists were as insane as ever, charging forward with reckless abandon. Grenades thrown by the Sisters landed in their midst, shredding them to ribbons, producing a disturbing array of cries of pain and pleasure. Cooper drew his carbine and opened fire. There was no need to aim.

The sound of different weapons opening up, assault rifles, mass-accelerated weaponry, blasters, a phaser, and a laspistol joined the fray. Weaponry of all sorts poured down on the cultists, but unless they were blown apart or otherwise incapacitated, they continued onward despite their wounds.

Cooper's world became a focused blur, an indeterminate existence of fire, eject magazine, insert new magazine, cock, aim, fire. There was no goal. There was no strategy. His carbine was hot in his gloved hands, the barrel sizzling with the energy of the hundreds upon hundreds of rounds he fired into the press of cultists on full automatic. It was a blessed world, a world of no thinking, a world where the only things that existed were him and his carbine and the all-consuming sounds of bolter fire in the background.

"Cease fire!" came the command. It was a female voice. That was the sum total of anything foreign that penetrated Cooper's blurred mind. He stopped shooting and realized he had half a magazine left.

Damn. That meant he would have to switch to a lasgun.

Numbly Cooper found himself in the courtyard once more. He was pretty sure he took the stairs. He couldn't remember. There were some very… weird cries in the background from the street, and a few lasgun potshots at the varied cultist survivors laying in the streets. Cooper shuddered. He tried not to look too hard at any of the cultists, even when dead. He had a feeling it was better for his sanity that way.

"Situation?" asked Cannoness Riella grimly to a grimy assortment of Sisters and Commissar Cain.

"They've retreated with heavy casualties for now," reported one of the Sisters.

"We all know that won't last," replied Riella. Her face was creased into a tight frown. "Ammunition?"

"Enough," came the terse response. They were interrupted as a group of newcomers entered the courtyard from the back buildings behind the cathedral. They marched in lockstep, metal legs ringing on the cobblestones, crimson robes swirling around their forms. Everyone looked up.

They looked human, but their limbs were clearly all cybernetics, and their faces were covered with expressionless metallic masks with wide oculars that glowed a soft blue. They all held long wooden rifles, looking strangely anachronistic but embellished with magazines that glowed an odd electric blue. All within the courtyard openly stared at these strange newcomers, save Cain, who seemed to deflate at the sight of them.

"Cannoness Riella," spoke the leader of the red-robed squad. Its voice was metallic and flat, giving no hint to what manner of being this was. "We are skitarii squad Epsilon-Alpha-937. We were cut off from the city's main generator facility and have thus diverted here. Magos Vitruvius has put us under your command. We await your orders." The Cannoness cocked an eyebrow at them. The Cult Imperialis and Cult Mechanicus usually did not get along well. Desperate times, though, called for desperate measures.

"Very well. Hold the central courtyard for the present moment." The lead skitarii nodded and moved his squad to a position near the main gate.

"Cultists incoming!" shouted one of the Sisters on the wall.

"Positions!" cried Riella. "Spiritu dominatus, Domine, libra nos," she called, the words in Imperial Gothic. From the ramparts came the reply.

"From the lightning and the tempest," shouted one of the Sisters.

"Our Emperor, deliver us!" roared the Sororitas as one.

"From plague, temptation and war," continued Riella.

"Our Emperor, deliver us!"

"From the scourge of the Kraken."

"Our Emperor, deliver us!"

"From the blasphemy of the Fallen."

"Our Emperor, deliver us!"

"From the begetting of daemons."

"Our Emperor, deliver us!"

"From the curse of the mutant."

"Our Emperor, deliver us!"
"A morte perpetua, Domine, libra nos. That thou wouldst bring them only death, That thou shouldst spare none, that thou shouldst pardon none, we beseech thee…"

"Destroy them!" came the ringing cry. In the courtyard, Kirk raised an eyebrow to Solo.

"Well, that's an interesting prayer right there." The others could tell he really did not approve.

"Effective though," grinned Drake. "Really gets the blood pumping."

"So what's the plan here?" asked Cooper, checking his newly-procured lasgun. He sighed to himself. He missed his carbine. He missed BT. He wanted to go home. "Do we just keep blasting them as they come through the streets?"

"Yep," sighed Cain. "That's usually how these sorts of things go. The IQ and tactical sense of cultists is in the negatives. The problem is, there are a lot of them. Probably enough to bring down the gates."

"Don't worry," said Quill confidently. "There's no way they can make it through the gate with anything they have-"

"They have a Leman Russ Demolisher!" came a panicked shout from the walls. Everyone turned to glare at Quill.

"...sorry," he muttered.

"You just had to say that," groaned Solo.

"I-"

"You just had to say it! Just had to say it!"

"Focus up and fall back to the cathedral!" came the ringing order from Commissar Cain. "They'll blow down the walls and everyone on them. They want to take the cathedral, not destroy it."

"What's a Leman Russ Demolisher?" asked Vir hurriedly.

"Big tank with a big breaching gun," replied Cain. The Commissar was still in the process of directing the refugee militia when everyone inside the courtyard was interrupted by a large, throaty boom followed by an ear-shattering explosion. The massive wrought gate of the cathedral complex was blown clear off its hinges and now sat in a smoking pile of twisted rubble.

"Sisters, fallback positions! Militia, to the bunkers and convent!" roared Cannoness Riella. The Sisters of Battle immediately began a fire-and-maneuver drill, scything down the screaming cultists now streaming through the breach. Horrifyingly, these ones were actually wearing armor, military uniforms, and bearing Imperial laser weapons. The uniforms were the bright violet of this world's Planetary Defense Forces; it seemed most of the local military was swayed under the cult's rule. No wonder they had a tank.

There was even one massive man, muscles bulging, in carapace armor, wielding a hotshot lasgun. He stepped onto a pile of rubble, ready to open up with his weapon, and was immediately fried with a skitarii arc rifle, a beam of crackling lightning dropping him into the dirt in seconds.

The red-robed cybernetic soldiers joined the fray with terrifying abandon, strange weaponry crackling around them. The squad checked the cultist's charge, red standing starkly against the smoke and violet uniforms around them. Farther behind them, the refugee militia fell back to the convent behind the cathedral, terrified but still in good order.

Cannoness Riella led a vanguard of Sisters as well as the Scoundrels gradually fell back, blasting away over the heads of the skitarii. Heaps of cultists lay at the broken gates, far more than anyone could count, but the press of giggling, cackling, screeching men and women threw back the defenders with their sheer, neverending, overwhelming numbers.

Still they died, died in heaps, died in droves, died screaming and shouting in pain and delight, blown apart by lasers and bolters and blasters and phasers and mass accelerators and galvanic rifles. But it didn't matter. They kept coming.

The skitarii were now in the press, ripping apart cultists with strange humming blades and the sheer brutal strength of augmetic limbs. The bolter drill of the Sisters continued, one line firing as another maneuvered or reloaded.

Someone in the cultists thought it was a good idea to bring up the Demolisher tank, seeking to clear the courtyard with its firepower. Unfortunately for them, this act brought it within range of the Soroitas' melta weaponry, and soon enough the tank was a smoking ruin, holes blown through it by superheated pyro-petrol fuel.

Suddenly, there was a strange feeling in the air, a slight mental pop, a feeling of an incoming rushing wind. The cultists went into a frenzy, howling and screaming and doing unspeakable things to and amongst themselves. Such was the depravity that Cooper shielded his eyes for a moment. Still, whatever happened seemed to drive the cultist onwards, giving them greater imperviousness to pain. Their tide now streamed over the gates, past the outnumbered skitarii and into the Sisters' lines. Riella and the Scoundrels fell back to the main cathedral doors.

From the center of the gates, the cultists parted and a small party walked over the shattered metal. They wore heavy carapace armor, and were led by a man wearing an incredibly ornate general's uniform. The group ignored the battle raging around them, and as if they were strolling in the park, walked serenely forward towards the cathedral.

However, before Cooper could get a closer glimpse of the picture, the order came for them to fall back into the cathedral itself. The press of cultists was coming too close, and Sororitas on the flanks were being forced to give ground, leaving Riella, her bodyguard, and the Scoundrels exposed.

The cathedral interior was its typical calming self, the stained glass windows of the Emperor and the Primarchs looking down severely upon the hurried occupants below. A line of Sisters in full armor stood behind a makeshift barricade halfway down the cathedral's length, bolters at the ready. Riella and the Scoundrels moved behind it, towards the altar.

The massive, ornate cathedral doors blew apart, splinters of shattered wood flying everywhere. From the blasted doorway came the small party of well-armed cultists. Cooper was briefly surprised by how few of them there were, but judging by the scant number of cultists now tramping into the cathedral proper and the absolute racket of the din outside, the skitarii and the Sisters outside were putting up one screaming hell of a fight.

The cultists were led by the man wearing the purple general's uniform. Cooper glanced closer at him and shuddered. There was something off about the man, and it took Cooper's brain a moment to catch up with his eyes to figure out why.

The first was, interestingly, the weapon in the man's hand. It was a sword, though it was completely unlike any sword Cooper had seen before. It looked like a scimitar, with a curved blade, but the blade was strangely warped. It was colored violet, shining like spilled oil on pavement. The hilt was beautiful, studded with shining jewels, crafted by a master, but there was something profoundly wrong, distinctly unnatural, about the weapon that made Cooper shy away from it.

The man's jacket and uniform was emblazoned with bizarre sigils, some put on with proper craftsmanship, while others seemed to be daubed on with unknown fluid. Cooper could see the old Imperial eagles beneath several of the weirder, more headache-inducing symbols, disgraced and broken.

Then, of course, there was the man's face. His mouth quite literally stretched to his ears, coming all the way up his cheeks, completely unnatural and very disconcerting. He smiled, and Cooper flinched. All of his teeth were pointed. Worse, his tongue dropped from his jaws. It was violently purple, long and prehensile, forked at the end and coated with barbs.

Worse were his eyes. They were an utterly inhuman violet, literally swirling with strange, unnatural power. There was something odd, something wild, something wrong, something promising an eternity of pain in that gaze. Cooper shivered and looked away before the churning psychedelic-ness of those eyes drove him insane.

"Ah, dear Cannoness!" he cried. "I must praise thy most wondrous of rescues! I still have no idea how you carved through all the governor's men in his place of power and stole the stones, but well done! Heh heh heh, well done indeed! I'm sure their agony was exquisite."

"Cease thy words, servant of darkness!" roared Cannoness Riella in reply.

"Oh, I am not just any servant!" snapped the man in reply. "I am General Vinris Tiploc!" He proclaimed the name to the heavens, pulsating through the cathedral as if it were a battle cry. "I am the chosen servant of the Prince of Pleasure! I am he whom the Dark Prince favors! I am the commander of the armies of this world, and you will die this day, little servant of the Corpse Emperor! The stones will be mine! I will put them, heh, to their proper use, and I will put you all," he looked around wildly at the helmeted Sisters and the Scoundrels standing beside them, "To… hehe your proper use as well! As playthings of the Lord of Unimaginable Excess!"

"Okay," said Quill with a nervous laugh. "Is now the time where we start shooting?" Apparently, Tiploc heard him. His head snapped over to Quill.

"Ahhhhh," he said, voice dropping low, dripping with honeyed venom. "The extra-galactic guests! Welcome, welcome!" he grinned. "I have heard so much, heh, so very much about your homes! And you! And you! The Star Lord!" Tiploc's eyes danced wildly. "Oh, I know everything, everything! Hehehe! I know that none of you want to stand with the Corpse Emperor and his stagnant Imperium! You want to be free of the vileness! Free of the Imperium's restrictions, their hate, their bigotry! Leave them behind. They are not your allies. You have, all of you, been deceived. We are far closer to you than they are. Join me. Fight with me, for me, and I can promise you that which you crave: true freedom. True pleasure. Freedom from the Imperium of Man." Tiploc's eyes swirled with promise, beseeching them.

For the briefest of moments, Cooper actually considered it. He could see it in the eyes of a few of the others: Shepard, Vir, Solo, Drake, Quill and Kirk seemed to stop. The Chief and Cain just had their weapons up.

Tiploc had a point. The freedom, the pleasure, what could be gained, in accordance to the ideals of modernity, that same freedom to do as one pleased…

Cooper suddenly realized there was something else going on, and his will was losing this battle to Tiploc. The thought terrified him.

"Auvant, in the Emperor's name, foul creature!" roared Riella, drawing the shining blade at her hip. She advanced at him.

"Aaaahhh, Daughter of the Emperor," purred Tiploc. "And the cannoness no less! Oh, I have so very many plans in store for you." The corrupted general cackled.

"My faith is my shield, vermin, and thou shalt not pierce the Emperor's holy will!"

"What about the rest of you?" asked Tiploc, voice low with terrible promise, turning towards the Scoundrels. "You can still renounce the oppressive stagnation and evil constraint of the Imperium. We are closer to you than they are. The Dark Prince has whispered honeyed nothings in my ear about your own galaxies, and you know the vileness of the Corpse Emperor and the sweetness of true freedom. That's what I offer you: freedom. The freedom to do as you want, the freedom to be you, to be yourself, to do as you please, to love as you will…" Images rose unbidden to Cooper's mind, of a universe without the Imperium, a universe without the rules of morality, a universe where anyone could do whatever they liked…

I know every secret inside your head, came the voice of something other within Cooper's mind. Every secret, every dream, every fantasy…

Cooper whirled to his friends, desperate to focus on something else. Vir looked utterly haunted, Kirk stood stock still, fingers twitching worriedly, Quill was clutching his head, Solo had edged beside Cain and the Chief, Drake looking at his pistol with a fearful expression, and Shepard looked like she was torn between shooting Riella or Tiploc or maybe herself.

They will betray you, they will kill you, join me, be free, KNEEL…

"Frak that, my soul's my own and I'm keeping it!" said Cain. That seemed to snap them all out of whatever that was.

"Yeah, made a lot of deals in my time," laughed Drake shakily. "You don't seem like the trustworthy type."

"Cease this, servant of Slaanesh!" interjected Riella. At the last name, Tiploc grinned wildly, too-long tongue falling from his jaws. A pulse of something echoed through the cathedral. "Torment them no more! You shall die this day here in this cathedral, beneath the Emperor's boot as all your kind will."

"Oh, don't worry," said Tiploc with false sweetness, saliva dripping down from his wild, unnatural grin. "When I win, I'll be sure to drink your body dry of blood and rape your corpse on the altar until there's nothing left of it." The Scoundrels collectively shuddered. That was no idle threat; that was a statement of what he'd do if he won. "The same goes for all of your companions," continued the fallen general, casting a hungry look over the Scoundrels. He gave an insane giggle. "I'm not picky. You are all worthy offerings, heh, to the Dark Prince!"

In response, Han calmly drew his blaster and calmly shot Tiploc directly through the heart.

Tiploc looked down at the smoking hole in his violet uniform, completely unfazed, then back up at Solo, who had a rather pale expression gracing his face.

"Ooooh, I like you." Tiploc licked his lips. The gesture was monstrous. "You'll be first!" With that, he leapt forward, wicked blade flashing in the golden interior lighting of the temple. The jump carried him all the way towards the terrified Solo and his outstretched blade would have taken the man directly through the chest if Cannoness Riella did not step forward and knock Tiploc away.

Sword crackling with blue energy, Riella cut neatly at Tiploc, who parried with a wild horizontal slash. The cultist behind Tiploc charged. The Scoundrels and Sisters opened fire.

Tiploc spun low, eyes wild, going for vulnerable and painful leg joints. Riella parried against and neatly reposted, cutting at the darting cultist leader in front of her. Tiploc was fast. He was very fast. Nearly inhumanly so, and incredibly dangerous with that wicked sword.

Cain drew his own chainsword and advanced, backing up Riella. He did not interfere; he did not want to distract the Cannoness or impede her in any way.

The cultists were firing as they charged, crimson lasbolts streaking through the air. They cackled and howled and made all sorts of strange, guttural, insane noises. They were met by a wall of fire as the Scoundrels and Sisters fired, as cold and implacable as the grave.

Tiploc flipped backwards, a full backflip, feet over head, then spun graceful, kicking his leg low and sweeping his sword out at the Cannoness's calf. She danced backwards, sword up and ready to counterattack, but Tiploc had used his momentum to bring his blade in a whistling uppercut, the noise of its movement sounding wrong as it echoed through the air. This too the Cannoness dodged, swaying backwards with sublime grace before countering with her own deadly forward thrust.

Tiploc blocked, knocking her blade aside. He lunged, stamping his foot, tongue lolling out of his hideous unnatural grin, viscous saliva flying everywhere. Riella parried. Cain circled, ready to assist.

Cultists died screaming in ecstasy as they were blown apart by Sororitas bolter shells. They were clustered now, their shots coming more accurate as they abandoned their recklessness for actual tactics. The Scoundrels ducked low behind the makeshift barricade in the middle of the cathedral, firing back.

"Die die die die die! DIE! Die as the Eldar died! Die as the Maiden Worlds died! Die as Istvaan died! Die as Cadia and Terra will die! Die as ALL THINGS WILL DIE! ALL BELONGS TO THE PRINCE OF PLEASURE! ALL BELONGS TO SLAANESH! ALL THINGS BELONG TO CHAOS! THIS REALITY IS OURS! LET THE GALAXY BURN!"

Tiploc flipped far too high for a human as he screamed, somersaulting in midair and landing with catlike grace behind Riella. The cannoness parried just in time, but now Tiploc was behind the barricade. He was cut off from his troops, but he was too fast to shoot at, too quick to interfere with. He moved with liquid fluidity, dancing around the implacable white-armored form of the cannoness. Cain continued to circle, chainsword growling, ready to assist, but Tiploc's only focus was Riella, eyes fever-bright as he promised a horrid death.

The unmoving eyes of a thousand Imperial saints watched from their portraits and statues and windows as the duel continued beneath them. Riella's sword, a beautiful two-handed weapon made of shining steel with golden filigree and prayers etched down the blade, wreathed in the crackling energy of a power sword field, met Tiploc's weirdly corrupted weapon. Corrupt against pure, Imperial against cultist, human against something baser and dark. The Cannoness was a shining beacon as she fought in the middle of the cathedral, crackling weapon moving around her smoothly, face stony and serene, as if she'd done this a thousand times before.

Tiploc was his same insane self, cackling and threatening, moving too fast and too fluid and too wild for any normal human. The fight continued to rage its way down the cathedral, reaching the foot of the high altar at the end.

As they continued, the last of the cultists died, outnumbered by the cathedral's defenders. Precision bolter shells and gunfire downed a few, and the last, hunkering down beside their barricade, died as grenades rolled into their position. The Scoundrels and Sisters remained alert, ready at their positions in case more cultists streamed through the cathedral doors from the battle raging outside.

Tiploc danced ever onward, pushing Reilla back to the altar. He swung out with a wild horizontal sweep. Riella parried and stepped forward, thrusting towards the general's chest. He parried, then swung again. It was the same blow. Riella made the same move.

Tiploc spun. The cannoness was off-balance, and a hair too slow.

Riella looked up, stunned, as the general's terrible sword punched through her armor and pierced her heart. Tiploc leaned in close, intimately, and licked a stripe of saliva and blood up Riella's face.

Spinning, he pulled the sword from her body with a wet thunk and turned to face the Scoundrels. Circling warily, the two sides faced each other, Tiploc giving up his position near the altar and moving towards the pews.

Cain readied his sword and stepped forward, the chain growling menacingly. The Commissar wore a look of grim and resolute determination on his face. His comrades readied their own weapons. This… creature was clearly more dangerous than they thought.

But, strangely, as Cain advanced, Tiploc's eyes grew impossibly wide. His face slackened, his expression one of utter shock as his own wicked, warped sword slackened in his hand.

"No…" he whispered, taking a nervous, stumbling step backwards. His gaze was beyond Cain, the legendary Commissar utterly forgotten. "No," he repeated, shocked and frightened. Cain's comrades turned to where Tiploc was gazing, and stopped short.

"Impossible," breathed Kirk.

Bathed in a halo of golden light, the stained glass window of the God-Emperor behind her seemingly glowing with some otherworldly radiance and falling about her form, Canoness Riella rose from where she lay. The gaping wound on her side closed, she took her sword up and struggled to her feet before the awestruck and staring crowd. Wincing, a hand going to her side, she stretched out her back and stood to her full height. Her face was once more in lustrous sheen, the wounds Tiploc's barbed tongue pierced gone. The only trace the horrible, mortal wound in her side had ever been there was the blood that lay upon the altar and her armor.

"How?" asked Tiploc, his voice still a whisper. The canoness activated her sword, a corona of holy lightning dancing across the blade with a snap and crackle.

"I have faith, and faith is enough," spoke Riella, drawing her sword up in salute before raising it to a guard position and moving forward.

Her opening blow was a downward cut, ready to slice the corrupted general from head to toe. Tiploc barely parried in time, still stunned. However, he recovered quickly, and with a terrible wordless scream, charged forward into the cannoness.

His form was not his older dancing, lethal-quick perfect style. Instead, this one was off-balance, sloppy, and filled with rage. Tiploc's kill had been denied to him, and he silently raged as he fought, trying desperately to regain what he had lost.

Riella seemed to move with profound, holy purpose, her cuts quicker, every movement of her body blessed. Against the creature before her, it seemed as if she were an avatar of the Emperor's vengeance, holy wrath made manifest.

With one wild swing too many, Tiploc overcommitted. As he stumbled forward, Riella cut upwards, slicing through his spine. Tiploc hissed in both pain and utter delight at the same time.

Moving too fast for the fallen general to counter, Cannoness Riella brought her sword down, severing his head. The corrupted creature died, wildly unnatural blood spraying on the massive stones of the cathedral floor.

Things suddenly felt lighter in the cathedral, as if a cloying heaviness that had been present was gone. Riella looked up to the Scoundrels.

"All is as the Emperor wills it to be," she said serenely. "Those with faith in the Master of Mankind cannot lose."

"What about the rest of the cultists? Won't they come here to get the stones too?" asked Vir. It was Cain who answered.

"Not yet, at the very least. They're disorganized at Tiploc's death. With no leader, they'll be in disarray for the moment." Cain looked around. "Time to regroup and rearm, because Emperor knows they'll be back." The others nodded grimly. Their musings were interrupted by a shout from one of the Sisters.

"They're retreating!" A cheer rose up from the remaining Sororitas. The Scoundrels joined in weakly, too tired to do too much else.

"Cannoness! Cannoness!" Riella's squire came running up to the group. "Come look outside!" said the girl enthusiastically. "Come look!" Bemused, the group followed Merida out. Cooper wished she would just tell them what was happening. He was in no mood for games. He just wanted to leave. Maybe take a nice hot shower and go to bed.

Outside was a mess. Blood coated everything: the walls, the cathedral facade, and the ground. Dead Sisters of Battle lay near their barricades. It seemed the cultists did not have the time to defile their corpses, which was a blessed relief. Near the gates, among hills of cultist bodies, lay the fallen red robes of the skitarii squad. The Sisters and Tech-Guard had gone down fighting, and bought the civilians and those inside the cathedral enough time to throw the cultists out.

As the exhausted group filed from the cathedral interior, Merida pointed up excitedly.

"Look!"

High above, silhouetted against the sky, were trailing wisps of supersonic fire, were dark specks falling all across the city. As they continued downward, Cooper looked closer. They looked like… They were…

Drop pods.

The Pilot looked over to Riella, who had gotten a pair of what looked like binoculars from somewhere and was gazing at the pods. Cooper flipped on the magnification in his helmet.

The pods were enormously large, bulky, and armored compared to what he was used to in his own galaxy. They were painted a deep forest green, and emblazoned with a white winged sword.

"The Dark Angels," said Canoness Riella with satisfaction. "The First Legion." She turned to the other occupants of the cathedral. "Ladies, gentlemen. The Emperor's Angels have come. Uyriun is ours once again."

oOo

"...and then we killed General Tiploc, and we got a report that the Dark Angels had shown up to free the planet," finished Commissar Cain succinctly. Before him, a woman clad in a simple bodysuit nodded. Apart from the rather unique shade of her golden blonde hair, she would have been rather unremarkable… But across her neck, this woman wore a golden necklace ending in a stylized 'I' with a skull in its center.

"Well, I should think that pretty much sums it up, Ciaphas," noted Inquisitor Amberly Vail of the Ordo Xenos. She gave the Commissar a coy grin. "You're lucky I just so happened to be on the trail of these soul stones. Otherwise, things might be a bit hairy right now." Cain could only nod in agreement.

Cain knew Amberly to show up in the most odd and out of the way situations; the Emperor had a sense of humor in such things, he supposed. She was his go-to (and only) contact within the Inquisition, a great help in battle, a good friend, and, well. Perhaps a bit more.

"What about the Eldar? Should we worry about them? Are we going to have to go return the stones?" asked Cain, mentally shaking himself out of his thoughts. Vail shook her head with a small smile.

"No. The Ordo Xenos will take care of things," she assured. Cain wasn't sure if that meant legitimately give back the stones and get a diplomatic assurance the Craftworld Alaitoc would leave the Imperium alone, or the Craftworld would be 'taken care of' through the careful application of Deathwatch Marines and cyclonic torpedoes.

"Just as well," said Cain. He gave a wry grin. "I think that was a bit out of our realm of expertise." Vail smiled at that.

"I should think so." Her smile fell for a moment as she took a step towards Cain and reached out to touch the side of his arm. "Ciaphas…" He cocked an eyebrow. He had always known Amberly saw through the mask he'd thrown up for the rest of the world; she knew what he truly was. Why she hadn't yet exposed him for the fraud he was, he couldn't quite figure out. Perhaps it was because she had the blackmail material to force him on missions. Perhaps it was because she did not care. Yet, in moments like these, they both knew what his thoughts on himself were.

Cain did not enjoy being put in moments of vulnerability. He did not want to acknowledge the deeper parts of his mind. It was for that reason he remained in his Commissar's mask for this; always polite, always smiling, always helpful and differential, no matter the situation.

"I'm sorry that happened. The Eldar are… unpleasant, but at least it wasn't the Drukhari…" Vail looked to be on the verge of saying something else, but composed herself. "All I'm saying is, I'm sorry that happened, and I'm glad you're still with us." Cain nodded.

"As am I, Inquisitor. As am I." That much was true. Cain very much valued his life. Vail looked like she wanted to say something further, but they were interrupted by the heavy ringing of massive armored boots on cobblestones.

Cain and Vail were standing outside the cathedral itself, within the open area of the walled compound. Around them were the various huddled refugees, Cain's eight compatriots, and the various members of the Order of the Sacred Rose. The combatants were covered with dirt, mud, and the stinking grime of combat. Considering the nature of the enemies they had just fought, the Sisters had offered buckets of holy water to scrub off gear, a fact Cain's companions were bemusedly grateful for.

The rest of the city (and what other parts of the planet had cultists in them) had swiftly fallen to the timely arrival of the Dark Angels. It was a stroke of fortune: Amberley had told Cain that she had not requested backup, thinking the only issue was missing soul stones. It made sense, considering she was a member of the Ordo Xenos, and would thus not be investigating any cultist uprisings.

But the Dark Angels had been in the area in what seemed to be rather large numbers: about four companies, plus additional elements. Despite what Cain sometimes thought of His Glorious Majesty's sense of humor, at least the Emperor seemed to be smiling on them today.

However, now everyone in the courtyard looked up nervously as a fire team of green armored, bolter wielding Marines marched into the courtyard. The super-soldiers were hugely intimidating, even for one who had served alongside them before. Their heavy footfalls seemed to shake the earth, and glowing red eye lenses took in the courtyard with inhuman glares. Bolters too heavy for mortal men to wield were hefted with casual ease.

The six Marines parted next to the gate, forming two lines on either side, then snapped to attention as two more massive figures stalked forward. Cain shuffled nervously. Amberley crossed her arms and frowned.

The first Marine was, perhaps, the singular most intimidating presence (save the full-blown daemon prince he'd met) Cain had ever seen. It was a Marine chaplain, bedecked in the full regalia of his office. A bone-white skull-faced helmet covered his head. A hooded tunic was thrown over this, making the figure look like the personification of Death itself. A winged mace, a chaplain's badge of office, was clutched in one hand even as the other held a sword. Upon the chaplain's belt was a string of shining, spherical black pearls.

The second, strangely enough, wore armor of blue beneath a white hooded robe instead of the typical Dark Angel green. A metal mask covered his lower face, and as he turned to face Cain, the Commissar could see one of his eyes had been replaced by a bulky and protruding red augmetic. Cain shivered under the man's one-eyed gaze. His skin crawled for some reason. The look was disconcerting, as if the man was peering into his very soul, reading each and every one of his memories in turn. This must have been a Marine Librarian, one of their treasured and extraordinarily powerful psykers. Cain had a sudden bad feeling about this.

Fortunately for him, the Marines didn't even seem to notice either him or the Inquisitor, instead making a b-line for the Canoness, who was presently speaking with several of her subordinates.

"Canoness," boomed the voice of the Chaplain, snapping across the courtyard like a winter wind. The woman in question looked up, wide-eyed, and crossed the yard before bowing and making the sign of the aquila before the Marine.

"Ah, Chaplain, it is an honor to have one of the Emperor's Angels here. How may I be of service?" she asked politely and slightly awed. Cain hid a smirk. He had great respect for the Canoness, but it was a bit funny to see the normally quietly dignified woman to be in awe at the sight of the Marines.

"We need to know if you have seen anything… unusual going on." He raised a hand to forestall any questions. "I know of the cult. We are specifically wondering if you have seen any other Astartes upon the planet." The chaplain's gaze swept to the rest of the occupants of the courtyard. For the first time, he seemed to notice Amberley, and did the Space Marine equivalent of a double-take before quickly looking away from the Inquisitor. "That goes for the rest of you. If you have any information regarding anything that could be Astartes, we require it."

"You, my lord, are the first Astartes we have seen upon the planet," replied the Canoness. "In fact, I believe you are the first of the Emperor's Finest to ever set foot upon Uyriun." A few of the Sororistas behind her nodded. The chaplain glanced at the librarian, who gazed back at him placidly.

"Anyone else?" asked the man, his skull mask sweeping across the crowd. He received a series of terrified head shakes in response. Seeing this, he turned to the librarian, who merely gave him a small nod. With a huff, he turned back to the Canoness.

"Very well. We're merely doing our due diligence. And just to make sure this cult is not more insidious than we thought, have you heard any rumors or seen anything that could fit the description of a Heretic Astartes?" Again, he received a series of no's. He then turned to Cain and Vail. "Inquisitor? Commissar? We are merely ensuring the continued safety of this world." Cain shook his head to the negative.

"No. You are the first Marine responders, and there have been no reports or rumors of Traitor Astartes," replied Vail succinctly. Upon receiving another small nod from his librarian companion, the chaplain nodded.

"Excellent. We shall take our leave, then." With an incline of his head, the chaplain turned and walked back out the gate, followed by the librarian and their honor guard.

Cain glanced at Vail, who gave him a wry look.

"Well, I was certainly not expecting that. I thought the planet got saved by a stray captain or some such. That was Ezekiel, their chief librarian, and Asmodai, one of the Dark Angels most famous and dedicated chaplains," explained the Inquisitor.

"I'm just glad they were in the area," joked Cain. He got a laugh for his efforts, which put a genuine smile on his face.

"So am I, Ciaphas, so am I," replied Vail. "Though they were probably on their way to a mission and found putting down a minor cultist uprising rather boring." Cain snorted. That much was true. The Reclaimer squad he had once served with would have been enough to crush the uprising. The Chief Librarian of a First Founding chapter and three companies was a bit overkill. "But enough of that. You take your companions and continue the good work you've been doing. The information you've given us is invaluable." Cain nodded.

He'd given Vail an update on their progress and every detail he could possibly think of. While Amberley was certainly no heretic nor radical, she appreciated the more passive stance towards the aliens he'd chosen to take. After all, as she'd often said to him, it was a far more important thing to gather information rather than just charge in all weapons blazing.

"I'll pass it along," she continued. "And don't worry about the Eldar. Like I said, the Ordo Xenos has things in hand. I have the soul stones back aboard my ship." She nodded and touched Cain's forearm. "Be seeing you, Ciaphas." The Commissar nodded, some feeling he wasn't quite sure of and did not really want to acknowledge twisting in his mind.

"Be careful, Inquisitor," he replied. Vail merely winked.

"Always. Now go back to your ships and go get some sleep, Ciaphas." Cian grinned and touched two fingers to the brim of his cap in a brief salute.

"As the Inquisitor orders," he said. He got another laugh for that.

oOo

"I do hope they're alright," muttered Eric Richter as he, Spock, Simon, and Lawson walked through the halls of the Apocalypse to the now-docked shuttle. Jurgen and Chewbacca, alongside a plethora of other worried friends and crewmen were nearby, though none of them were in the hangar. They knew this was something for the executive officers first, then they could talk to their commanders. It was merely proper protocol.

"I think they'll be fine," reassured Lawson as they walked, her tone confident. "They're the best, and they're alive." That much was true. However, Richter knew that death was permanent, unfixable. Physical injuries could be fixed through Kraiker, and now the other doctors', geniuses. It was the other things, silent soldiers coated in blood tramping home in complete silence, that worried him.

They entered a quiet hangar. A few pilots, technicians, and miscellaneous crewmen walked or spoke softly, completing what tasks they had. The single shuttle that had transported the commanders back from the planet of war and death sat innocently within the massive hangar's center.

The executive officers all frowned as one when they did not see the expected line of commanders waiting for them. There was no group of happy yet tired people, laughing and joking, nor was there a silent, professional group cleaning mud off boots and checking weapons. There was no one. Only silence reigned.

His stride confident but his expression worried, Richter approached the shuttle pilot, clad in a simple jumpsuit. He was chatting lowly with his co-pilot, the duo standing beside the cockpit. Both straightened as they saw the officers approach.

"Where are the commanders?" asked Spock without preamble. The pilot nodded towards the shuttle.

"Inside, sir," he replied respectfully. Spock nodded and the four turned to make their way into the shuttle's interior.

All the while, Richter's mind raced. What was going on? Why were they not here to meet them? They must be just checking their gear in the shuttle: if they were injured, the medics would be down here. But why?

Richter shook his head. It wasn't like them. Oh, sure, Quill and Solo could be rather lax and impetuous at times, but wouldn't they just want out of the shuttle? Wouldn't they want to go greet their friends?

Hoping that nothing was amiss, the four executive officers walked their way to the back of the shuttle. The door was still closed. Frowning to each other, they stepped forward and opened it.

The shuttle's interior was dark. The hold was a utilitarian thing, with a sheet metal floor and bolted seats lining one of the walls.

At the present moment, the chairs were not being utilized. Richter, Lawson, Simon, and Spock stopped short at the sight before them.

The nine commanders were sprawled on the sheet metal floor, curled up against each other, sleeping the complete and dead sleep of utter exhaustion.

The Chief had his back against the wall and appeared to be in a sitting position. His green armor was smudged and dented. His long arms were held out wide and curled around the other eight commanders protectively. Most of them seemed perfectly content sleeping next to or atop him, and strangely, he seemed perfectly fine letting them.

As the doors of the shuttle opened, the Chief looked up, his golden visor tilting towards the executive officers. Apparently satisfied they were not a threat, he dropped his head once more.

Cain was closest to the door, his back against the Chief's right shoulder, commissarial cap pulled over his eyes, boots crossed and arms folded. He was the picture of a calm, casual, campaign sleeper.

On the Chief's other side, mirroring Cain perfectly aside for his cap, was Solo. Richter could only shake his head.

Quill was draped mostly over the floor and slightly against the Chief's chest on the side closest to the shuttle doors. The others were nestled in a tangled pile of limbs, sprawling over the Chief's legs and farther onto the floor.

Spock raised an eyebrow. Richter looked torn between slight exasperation and soft amusement. Miranda had an expression on her face that looked suspiciously like a smile. Simon didn't care, and was covering the full-blown smile on her face with her hand.

The Chief looked up at them, head slightly tilted, golden visor sparkling in the dim light, and gave a small nod. It seemed he was the only one awake, and couldn't move well considering he was directly in the center of the pile.

"We'll leave you be," said Richter respectfully. The Chief gave another nod. The second-in-commands exited. Richter sighed. Never a dull day.

Inside the shuttle, John looked around at the other Scoundrels sleeping under his watch. He was tired, yes. They all were. Utterly exhausted was more like it. Thank goodness they didn't have to go back to the Eldar; Cain's friend and contact would take care of that for them.

A sudden voice sounded through the Chief's helmet.

"You should get some sleep, John."

"I won't abandon my brothers and sister." He shook his head minutely. "Won't leave them defenseless."

"Don't worry about it. Sleep," insisted Cortana. The Chief acknowledged he wasn't as keen as he usually was. Cortana was usually right about such things, too. He drifted off to Cortana's sweet voice ringing in his head.

"Sleep now," said Cortana. Somehow he knew EDI and BT were with her. "We've got the watch."

oOo

I should note that canonically, the Sororitas can actually perform miracles due to their faith in the Emperor and from the power of the Golden Throne, the most impressive being resurrection/coming back from the brink of certain death.

Yes, the Dark Angels were there to hunt Cypher. I'm guessing that Cypher, both in canon and definitely in this story, uses his 'Most Wanted' status among the Dark Angels to lure them to battles where Marines are needed. This probably leads to the Dark Angels going 'oh no, wherever Cypher goes, he starts trouble', whereas in his mind it's like, 'I have intel on Chaos the Imperium doesn't, so if I pop up here the Dark Angels will show up and take care of it'.

I should also note that while Inquisitor Vail will show up again, Ezekiel and Asmodai will likely not. They won't be important characters moving forward; I just couldn't resist having the Dark Angels showing up in a cameo chasing Cypher.

I hope you liked the story, and I always appreciate any comments, questions, concerns, and reviews! I'll try to get out the next chapter soon, but I unfortunately can't promise anything with the way my life and schedule are right now.