WARHAMMER DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. MASS EFFECT DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. SOME SQUID-LOOKING DUDE TOLD ME HE COULD CURE ALL DISEASES IN THE WORLD, I JUST HAD TO GIVE UP MY EYE. I'M SURE I'LL DO NOTHING WRONG, RIGHT?
Necrons? Check.
Big Army? Big check.
Space Dwarves? Appropriately smaller check.
Star-Bound
Chapter 42
Dragon
Brol swung his power scythe deep into the head of a flailing Necron wraith; the heretical machine let out a synthetic screech as it died, but Brol paid it no mind, instead focusing on killing the rest of its pack. Around him, the warriors of the First, Fourth and Fifth Companies pressed their attack, hammering the Necrons with an unending storm of firepower.
Heavy Intercessors formed the bulk of the force, pushing back the Necrons with grim efficiency; Assault Intercessors, covered by Hellblasters, moved around the flanks to carve deep into alien metal. Whenever heavier Necron assets appeared, Annihilators moved to destroy them, supported by Ballistus Dreadnoughts—these walkers traded all melee weapons for a twin lascannon on one side, and a missile launcher on the other.
The Reapers' tactics lacked subtlety, but they were brutally efficient, and the Necrons could only fall back before their assault. Even when their xenos weaponry lashed out and struck one of the Reapers, those whose deaths couldn't be prevented by the many Apothecaries scattered behind the lines merely drove the others to acts of greater fury.
"Commander Ismir, tighten efforts on the flank," he ordered. "The Necrons are trying to rally."
"By your command," Ismir, commander of the Fifth Company, replied briskly. "We will not give the xenos room to breathe."
Brol didn't say more; he was confident in Ismir's abilities. The Fifth Company as a whole had quickly earned a reputation for success, and only the First Company had greater honors. Ismir personally led a charge into a host of Necrons, followed by a squad of Deathwarders that shot and hacked their way through the alien machines. Had Brol not been in the middle of his own battle, he would have happily watched the carnage the Fifth Company inflicted; instead, he focused on the waves of mechanical beasts that flung themselves at him.
Another such monstrosity—called a Wraith in Imperial records—wrapped its tail around his waist as it tried to plunge its claws into his chest. He caught one claw in his hand, and parried the other with his scythe enough that it only scraped across his pauldron. One of his own Deathwarders shot the machine at point-blank range with his melta blaster, weakening it enough for Brol to tear off the claw he held back with his hand. The Wraith jerked and twitched, giving Brol space to swing his scythe into its head; it collapsed to the ground, and then faded away a moment later.
"High Commander, we have reached a series of xenos structures," Ismir reported. "The Necrons were trying to guard to guard them. Commencing demolition now."
Brol had a moment to feel satisfied with the impending victory; then there was a flash of light, a horrible pain, and then everything went dark.
…
It took a nerve-wracking five minutes for Shepard to convince a large number of Space Marines—who had been psycho-indoctrinated to hate and kill anything that wasn't human—not to immediately attack the Kin. Fortunately, she was able to remind them all that the Imperium technically had an alliance with a majority of the Aeldari, so this situation wasn't unprecedented. All the Imperial forces had to do was keep shooting the alien robots, and not the shorter folks with very powerful guns that could just as easily be turned on the humans if they were provoked.
Between her rational argument, and the respect they had for her, the Imperials agreed. A few minutes later, Shepard received word from the other leaders of the Crusade that they would keep an eye on the Kin, but otherwise leave them to their own devices, unless attacked first. Considering how xenophobic the Imperium was, Shepard considered that the best possible outcome.
"Now that that's settled," Shepard said, "who wants to see what I found?"
He'stan was practically shaking as Shepard led him and the others to the lock his spear had slotted into. "A vault… crafted by the Primarch…"
"I figured." Shepard pointed to the spear. "I tried to move it, but it's stuck. I have a feeling it will only move for a Salamander."
As if to confirm that, He'stan placed his hand on the Spear of Vulkan; the Unbound Flame, still attached to the spear, glowed brighter, and loud clicks were heard. A long crack appeared on the ground, bisected by the lock, which turned as a massive door opened up. It was dark, but Shepard could see a flight of stairs leading down, each step wide enough for a Space Marine.
"I've got a feeling that we won't all fit down there," Shepard said dryly, and turned to He'stan. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
He'stan nodded. "A small team, one that must include both you and I."
"I was thinking Darius as well." Shepard waited for the Shield-Captain to acknowledge her words, and then continued. "Everyone else should stay up here and secure the perimeter. We might be down there for a while."
"Agreed, though I request that Captain Agatone be placed in overall command." He'stan's words were polite, but his tone suggested that it was not a request. "This is a matter for Salamanders."
"I get it." Shepard turned to Torlim. "Any problems?"
"None, Lady Shepard," the big Necropolis Hawk said amicably. "I know better than most how important such a task is for one searching for their Primarch."
Shepard glanced at Krônn. "What about you?"
The Kin shrugged. "So long as you come back, I care not what you do."
Shepard didn't react to his rudeness, but she saw that some of the Alexian Guard were outraged. "Keep him alive, ladies; something is going on, and I need answers when we're done here."
Carolya sighed. "As you command, Your Holiness."
That was good enough for Shepard. "Hold the line. We'll be back soon."
…
Helmin slowly paced the strategium as he watched the Shepard Crusade's progress. In the back of his mind, he was thankful for the technical prowess of the Stygies Tech-Priests; before he joined the Shepard Crusade, even a man of his rank rarely had access to such quality hololiths and displays. Most of his attention was fixed on the skulls representing various units on the map; green represented Imperials, red represented Necrons, and after a Tech-Priest finished arguing with the display's machine spirit, yellow represented the Kin.
These xenos were among the few that Helmin had never fought, despite his long and varied career. He had heard rumors of them acting as mercenaries, both for and against the Imperium, and stories of how their technology was a heretical imitation of what the Mechanicus created, but little beyond that. Even now, he hadn't actually met any of them in person, and he had no way to contact them—though a Commissar would likely have a bolt round with his name on it if he tried. Still it would have been sensible to coordinate their efforts, but the best that he could hope for was that the Kin drew off enough of the Necrons to give the Imperial forces the advantage.
Helmin noticed a sudden change on the display, and blinked to make sure he wasn't just seeing things; three red skulls, representing regiment-level strength, had just vanished. He examined the closest Imperial units to that sector, and saw that it was the Reapers.
"High Commander Brol," he said over the vox, "The entire enemy position at Sector Alpha-Three-Three just vanished. Did you have something to do with that?"
"We did, Lord-Marshal," Brol confirmed, his voice full of pain. "We fought our way to an underground tomb of some kind and began destroying Necron structures there. Something exploded, and the Necrons were drawn back to this location. The feedback seems to have destroyed them all." There was a hacking cough, and then Brol continued to speak. "The battle has been intense. I lost one of my hearts during the explosion. Many of my brothers are dead, or too injured to continue fighting. My remaining companies will have to switch to supporting roles, but we can hold our position until you move reinforcements to capitalize on the breakthrough."
"I will do so with gusto, High Commander," Helmin said with his typical bombast. "I have an entire armored regiment ready to spearhead such an operation. They will be at your location in one hour, but I can have the Seventy-Seventh Deltic Scorpions air-dropped there in ten minutes."
"Many thanks, Lord-Marshal."
Helmin couldn't help but grin as he gave the necessary orders. The Imperials' slow, grinding advance had just picked up the pace.
…
Shepard wasn't exactly afraid of the dark; if anything, she was more afraid of the things she knew lurked within the darkness. Still, as the tunnel led further away from the light of the surface, Shepard could almost feel the oppressive weight of the shadows pressing down on her.
"Did your Chapter ever come to this planet before?" Shepard asked He'stan as they walked, just to break the heavy silence. "Or, I guess you might have been a Legion, back then."
He'stan shook his head. "I have searched every inch of our archives, and never once did any Salamander ever come to this world. If Lord Vulkan left something here, it was something he did by himself."
"Unless someone erased that part of your history," Shepard pointed out. "It's not like your Primarch has made this search easy for you."
"If he did so, then he meant it as a test," He'stan said with absolute certainty. "Our quest brought us the Unbound Flame, created the key to this vault, and we will now see what rewards Lord Vulkan has left for us."
Shepard just nodded. She hoped that, by splitting the key to this place into two priceless artifacts, Vulkan was protecting something valuable, not sealing away something dangerous that she would inevitably have to kill.
Speaking of priceless artifacts…
"Hey, when did the Unbound Flame let go of your spear?"
"As soon as the vault opened. I left it in the care of Captain Agatone; I dare not bring our prize into further danger and risk losing it."
"Smart." Shepard was about to say more, but Darius halted, and blocked their way with an outstretched arm. "What is it?"
"I hear something." Darius paused. "It sounds like… ringing."
"Like a bell?"
Darius shook his head. "No… like a hammer in a forge."
Shepard drew her plasma pistol; she couldn't hear anything, but her senses were leagues behind those of an Astartes, and a Custodes was even more advanced. "We're not alone."
Darius advanced, his shield held in front of him; He'stan moved to his right, ready to cover the Shield-Captain with either his massive flamer, or his spear, while Shepard moved to the left, her plasma pistol ready to unleash a miniature sun at a moment's notice.
"Should it come to a battle, we should retreat if the threat is too great," He'stan said quietly—for a Space Marine, at least. "I cannot allow the relics I bear to be lost to my Chapter, and Saint Shepard is far too important to the Imperium."
"Agreed on both counts," Darius said, and Shepard thought he heard a bit of respect in his voice; perhaps it was because He'stan showed such care for Darius' charge, despite his own quest.
"If we do need to fall back, I can give us an extra few seconds with a little light." Shepard was sure the post-humans didn't need that kind of support, but she still wanted to contribute. She hated the idea of not pulling her own weight.
After another minute of walking, Shepard finally heard the echoing strikes of a hammer striking something. It did indeed sound like someone was working in a forge; it reminded her of when she would work on projects in Nuln, adjusting components for her latest invention until they were just right, even if she had to work well into the night.
She pushed those memories aside, even if they weren't tainted with grief, like so many other times she had been pulled into her own mind.
As they got closer to the source of the noise, they started to see various items scattered on the floor. All of them were items of war, all suited for Space Marines—power weapons, ranging from swords and axes, to spears and hammers, or sets of power armor. Each and every piece was masterfully crafted, a relic a Chapter would go to war over, and Shepard counted at least thirty before reaching the entrance to—going by the sound and the heat—the forge that had made them.
"Be ready," Darius said, just loud enough to be heard over the ringing hammer, and crossed the threshold.
Shepard blinked as she saw what awaited them. If the equipment strewn about outside were relics fit for Astartes champions, then what she saw now was meant for legends. Suits of power armor lined the walls in the style and colors of every Legion that had remained loyal to the Imperium; some were for Space Marines, but others were so large that they could only have been designed for Primarchs. Before the armor were racks of weapons—plasma and melta weapons, unique patterns of bolters, and other, more exotic guns that Shepard had never seen before. There were also a wide range of melee weapons of such quality that even the chainswords could defeat a standard power weapon.
The wargear outside had been merely castoffs, Shepard realized. A Space Marine equipped with the items here was easily worth an entire company of Astartes with standard wargear.
There were so many treasures here that Shepard almost missed the giant that was making them. He truly was a giant, bigger than Darius, though he didn't wear armor, and Darius did. Arms bulging with muscle easily lifted a hammer that a Space Marine would have struggled to carry over his head, and then brought it down onto a red-hot piece of metal in the forge before him. His skin was coal-black, and his eyes were a blazing red—if Shepard needed any confirmation that this was the Primarch of the Salamanders, that alone would have done it.
"Good evening," Shepard called out. "Whatcha making?"
Darius didn't react, but He'stan whipped his head around to stare at her, as if he couldn't believe what she had just said. For his part, Vulkan didn't pause in his forging, though he did glance in her direction.
"A power dagger," Vulkan said, his deep voice rumbling like an erupting volcano. "It is meant as a backup for one of the larger pieces."
Shepard looked around at the weapons nearby, the ones Vulkan hadn't placed on a rack yet, and pointed at one. "Like that broadsword?"
Vulkan nodded. "Likely that one. The Lion would approve of such a gift, assuming he is not dead."
"He's not," Shepard said mildly. "I got a report from him not too long ago. He's busy killing bad guys."
For the first time, Vulkan paused in his work, though only for a moment. "One of my brothers has returned?"
"Not just him—Guilliman, Russ, Corax and the Khan are all back now." Shepard couldn't quite keep the smugness out of her tone as she continued. "I had something to do with all of those, except for Guilliman."
"How? Why?"
"Well, the Emperor gave me the job of finding every loyal Primarch still kicking, and He would point me in the right direction each time. As for why…" Shepard sighed. "Look, things have been really bad for the last few thousand years, but the Emperor has a new plan to fix things. Or at least give humanity a better chance than it's had for a long time. But He can't make it happen without you and your brothers."
Vulkan turned his attention back to his forge. "You ask me to return to a lifetime of war. I cannot do that, not again."
Darius took a step forward. "The Emperor has called. You would defy Him?"
"I followed every order my father gave, little Custodian." For a moment, Shepard thought Vulkan's eyes blazed brighter. "I sacrificed everything, even my own life, for his broken dreams. I have earned my peace."
Darius tensed with uncharacteristic anger. He'stan had barely moved since seeing his Primarch, but there was just a hint of hurt in his posture at being ignored. Shepard frowned… and then began to laugh. It was such an unexpected reaction that everyone turned to stare at her, but Shepard just laughed harder, until tears ran across her face.
"Why does my suffering amuse you?" Vulkan loomed over her, the grip on his smith's hammer so tight that the handle creaked.
"It doesn't," Shepard gasped out as she fought for breath, and then smiled bitterly up at him. "Believe me, I've got issues with your father for the exact same reason."
Vulkan scoffed. "I have seen the state of the Imperium. Every human would jump at the chance to serve Him."
"I wasn't born in the Imperium." Shepard had to tread carefully here; Darius knew of her true origin, but He'stan did not. "I lived on a world far from the Emperor's light. I fought my share of wars, and lost my share of loved ones. I watched my husband get murdered right in front of me, and I outlived most of my friends. I was tired of all the death, and I was ready to join them, but the Emperor called on me to serve humanity. I still feel like I already did my fair share, but I know that I wouldn't be able to rest easy, knowing I could have done more." She sighed. "More than that, my friends and family would be disappointed in me if I stopped trying to make things better."
"Are you making things better?" Vulkan asked. "Or is that something you tell yourself as you slaughter foes in the name of a god you have never met?"
"Again, I've found a whole bunch of your brothers, and they've been making plenty of progress." Shepard raised an eyebrow. "Also, I have spoken to the Emperor. A few times, actually."
Vulkan shifted to face Darius, who nodded. "The Emperor instructed my Shield-Host to fight alongside Saint Shepard and ensure her success. Her actions have resulted in the true death of Magnus the Red, and saved the Imperium from his sorcery."
Now, Vulkan looked truly shocked. "Magnus is dead?"
"And my friend died helping me, so if you call me a liar, I'm going to be very upset with you." Shepard sighed. "Look, we've both earned our peace, but can you honestly say that you can stay here while your brothers—and your sons—are out there, fighting and bleeding?"
"That is a low blow," Vulkan said.
Shepard grinned wryly. "I'm up against a Primarch; there's no way I'll win by fighting fair. Besides, I kinda had a conversation like this back when I found Lord Corax, so it's not like I don't know what I'm doing."
Vulkan chuckled; it sounded like stones colliding, and Shepard could feel it reverberating in her very bones. "If you were able to inspire Corvus, and then find all of my artifacts, you must be quite remarkable."
"Well, I don't like to brag…" Shepard paused. "Wait, we didn't find all of your artifacts. I think a few are still missing."
Now it was Vulkan's turn to pause. "But… but I was only supposed to be found when all the map pieces hidden in my creations' designs lined up. It would then bring you here, and the Unbound Flame would form half the key to this place."
Shepard turned to face He'stan; despite the Salamander still wearing his helm, she could tell that he was flabbergasted.
"I think… I think we skipped a few steps." Shepard shared a disbelieving look with the Primarch. "Oops?"
Vulkan was frozen for a long moment; then, his shoulders began to shake, and laughter fought its way free of his throat. He threw his head back and laughed so hard that Shepard genuinely thought the room was shaking.
Eventually, Vulkan regained his composure, but he couldn't stop smiling. "Perhaps the Emperor was right. He one said that there was no fate but that which we made for ourselves, but by the end of Horus' madness, I believed that destiny was set in stone. I was so sure that my sons would follow the path I had laid out for them, but they blazed their own trail and found me far earlier than I expected!"
Vulkan dropped his hammer—and Shepard noted that the simple tool still left a small dent in the floor—and approached the Forgefather. He'stan fell to one knee, with his spear laid out before him.
"My Lord," He'stan said, his voice trembling. "I… I apologize if my actions displeased you, but Saint Shepard is right. The Imperium needs its greatest champions more than ever—not just to save it, but to press the advantages we have gained against our enemies."
"Rise, my son," Vulkan commanded. "You need not apologize to me, not when you have made me so proud."
He'stan got to his feet, but before he could say anything, the room shook so violently that Shepard was knocked off her feet. Suits of armor and weapons were flung from their resting places, and Darius had to cover Shepard with his own body to keep her from being impaled by several deactivated power swords.
"What the hell was that?" Shepard demanded, even as she went for her vox. "Torlim, what's going on out there? It felt like an artillery strike down here."
"Apologies, Lady Shepard," Torlim said. "Another Necron structure is rising from the ground, and is striking our position with very powerful weapons. I suggest you get to the surface; being buried alive is hardly a glorious death."
"No kidding." Shepard turned to Vulkan. "It seems the decision is out of your hands. You can come with us, or you can be buried forever."
Vulkan sighed, and then walked over to a massive suit of armor. It was painted a vibrant green, with gold trim; images of dragons and flame were carved into the plate, and a twin-barreled meltagun was attached to the left arm. Resting next to the armor was the biggest hammer Shepard had ever seen; its haft was pure metal, but the grip almost looked like it was made of a reptile's scales, and the head was a flat-sided monster, with the Salamanders' iconography carved into it.
"It seems my hand is forced once more," Vulkan mused, and reached for the first piece of armor. "Into the fires of battle, unto the anvil of war."
…
Torlim bit back a curse as he ducked under a Necron weapon that would have taken his head off. He responded with a burst of fire from his boltstorm gauntlet, and was rewarded for his efforts when the alien machine sparked and collapsed. At his sides, Necropolis Hawks unleashed precise fire from their bolt rifles, damaging or destroying Necrons by the dozen; others, armed with shorter-ranged weaponry, waited for the aliens to close in.
Agatone led a counterattack into the heart of the Necron force. His entire Company had mounted their transports—even the Terminators were carried to battle in a pair of venerable Land Raiders. Some of the Custodes accompanied them, while the rest stayed with the Necropolis Hawks and Alexian Guard to keep watch over the entrance to the vault.
Torlim would have felt completely comfortable with this arrangement… if he didn't keep seeing the Kin at his flank. They also maintained a defensive formation, but fired volleys of plasma and grenades at any Necron that came within range. It felt blasphemous to work alongside xenos as they fought to reach one of humanity's greatest champions; aliens had no place in such momentous work. Still, Torlim was pragmatic enough not to start another war before this one was finished, even if Shepard hadn't convinced him to stay his hand.
"Torlim, we're coming out," Shepard said over the vox. "Don't let the Salamanders freak out, okay?"
He was curious, but hopeful at those words; his hope was vindicated when Shepard's team emerged from the vault, followed by what could only be a Primarch. Vulkan rested an enormous hammer on one shoulder as he marched to the surface for possibly the first time in thousands of years; he took in the battle in a single glance, and then turned to Shepard.
"My sons have gone off to war without me."
"I'm sure they're just trying to impress you," Shepard said nonchalantly. "I'm pretty sure Torlim over there did the same thing with Lord Corax."
Torlim didn't deny it; he had fought the Dark Angels with more ferocity than was needed, even if his Primarch hadn't even been on the planet at the time.
"Some things never change." Vulkan took a breath, and then charged after the Salamanders; he wasn't as fast as other Primarchs Torlim had seen, but he was certainly faster than all but the swiftest Astartes. He'stan sprinted after him, but the Primarch still left him in his dust.
Torlim readied himself to follow, but Shepard held out her arm to stop him. "This is between him and his sons. We'll bring up the rear, but let's let them have the vanguard."
"As you command." Torlim kept his gaze fixed on the Salamanders. "I will have my men record this battle through their helmets. It is not every day we get to see a Primarch do battle."
"I think your Chapter has had more experience with that than most," Shepard noted. "You guys can probably hold that over everyone's heads."
Torlim chuckled. "We may do just that, though not to the sons of Ferrus Manus and Sanguinius. That would be… cruel."
Shepard winced. "Oof, yeah, don't do that." She let out a low whistle as Vulkan made contact with the Necron line. "Damn, I think he just turned some of them into confetti. I didn't even know you could do that to metal."
"Now I am glad that I am recording this," Torlim said. "Otherwise, nobody would believe it."
Shepard watched the carnage unfold for a few moments more, but the Necrons were collapsing under the weight of Vulkan's charge as he led his galvanized sons. "I think I need to talk to our new friends. Can you keep an eye on the battle, just in case things change?"
Torlim brought his boltstorm gauntlet to his chest. "It shall be done."
Followed closely by the Alexian Guard, Shepard walked over to Krônn. "You ever fight the Necrons before?"
The Kâhl nodded. "Aye, many times in the galactic core. Their tombs are often still asleep, which makes them easy pickings, but they fight hard when they wake up."
"I'll bet." Shepard paused when she saw a Monolith crack open after a few strikes from Vulkan. "Since we've got time, I need some answers."
Krônn sighed. "Ask, and I will tell you what I can."
"How do you know who I am? And why does your leader want to speak to me?"
"I cannot say why, but my orders were not to be disobeyed. And I do not know exactly why, but my people's leaders know many things. Not too long ago, your name was brought up, and I was commanded to find you. However, if you were reluctant, I was told to ask you something that might gain your interest."
Krônn leaned in, and Shepard knelt so that he could whisper in her ear.
"How is the son of the poet?"
Shepard swore her heart stopped. There was only one thing that could mean, and there was no way some alien could know about that. It took every ounce of her self-control not to draw her pistol and point it at Krônn's head.
"How do you know about him?" she hissed.
Krônn shrugged carelessly. "I know nothing, only what I was told. If you come with me, I am sure you will find your answer."
Shepard glared at him. "That's low."
"If it works, I do not care."
After taking a few calming breaths, Shepard tapped her vox. "Helmin, come in."
"I am ever at your service, Lady Shepard," Helmin replied almost immediately.
"Whatever plans you have for beating the Necrons, I need you to double your efforts and get this place cleaned up as soon as possible."
"You sound upset. Dare I ask why?" Helmin paused. "Was there a complication in locating that artifact the Salamanders are looking for?"
"What? Oh, right, we found it. And, uh… we found Vulkan, too."
There was an odd choking noise over the vox. "You found the bloody Primarch!?"
"Yeah, he's…" Shepard paused as another Necrons exploded in the distance. "I think he's working out a few millennia of frustration. But that's not why I need this battle over and done with. I just had a talk with our new allies; they know things about me, personal things, and the only way I'll learn how is if I go talk to their leader."
Helmin had known Shepard long enough to know what she meant by 'personal things'. "Understood, Lady Shepard. We recently made a vital breakthrough; I will impress upon our Space Marine friends to capitalize on it while I finish mustering reserves. If my estimates are correct, we should have this world pacified in two days."
Shepard wanted to say that that was two days too slow, but she knew better. The fact that the Imperium was taking an entire planet even that quickly was an amazing feat. Instead, she turned to Krônn.
"I'm not going alone," she said, not up for an argument.
The Kin considered that for a moment. "You may have one ship travel with some of mine; the rest of my fleet will stay here to claim our salvage. You can bring some guards to a certain point, but you will speak to our leader alone. This is non-negotiable."
"If this is a trap…" Shepard let the threat hang.
"It is not. I swear by the Ancestors that you will be allowed to leave unharmed."
"I'd better be. I've already got a lot to do."
And that's where I'll leave it today! Sorry that this chapter is so short, but I'm already past my self-imposed deadline of getting something written, but I've had a really bad month. Some of you may know that I went through a couple of operations to prevent cancer, but I recently went through another, and learned that I was pre-cancerous. The doctors said they got it all, but I'm on 5 different meds for possibly the rest of my life that make me feel miserable. It makes writing a chore. Also, I'm going to another doctor soon to see about possibly another operation. Basically, shorter chapters may be the new norm for a while.
Anyway, Shepard thought she was getting a cool artifact; instead, she got a Primarch who needed to be talked out of his depression. And now, he's hitting stuff with a hammer. There are worse ways to blow off steam. While he gets situated, Shepard needs to get some answers.
As always, please consider buying my book, Alpha Sanction, by Josh Gottlieb. You can find it on my website (link in my profile), or on Amazon, in both eBook and physical format. I'm trying to finish the next book, but between the meds and the cancer scare, it's been hard to get into professional-writer-mode.
You can also support me via P-atreon (link in my profile), which I would appreciate even more now, because these medical bills suck. And my rent went up. Even a little bit of support would be extremely appreciated.
Many thanks to the following patrons, whose generosity have helped with those medical bills:
Serious Muffins: Nimrod009, Aaron Meek, Matthias Matanovic, Lokthar, Hakuryuken, Anders Lyngbye, Kristen Tyler
Incredible Muffins: RaptorusMaximus, Crazyman844, CherryGoesBoom, michaelb958, TBF3979
Ultra Muffins: RangersRoll
Next Chapter: Shepard has succeeded, but can't enjoy her victory while a part of her past beckons her from beyond the grave…
Rock and Muffin!