MASS EFFECT DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. WARHAMMER DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. I HAVE A VOID GRENADE IN MY CLOSET, AND IT WASN'T THERE YESTERDAY. EITHER SOMEONE GAVE ME A COOL GIFT, OR AN INCOMPETENT ASSASSIN FORGOT TO ARM IT.

Before we begin this chapter, has anyone else seen the video 'Austin Powers in Mass Effect'? Seriously, that shit made me laugh so hard.

Star-Bound

Chapter 31

Vendettas

Shepard sat in her quarters, reading a stack of reports concerning the Octarius sector. With every word, her anxiety grew; the sector had been a complete mess for over a century, and had only gotten worse in recent years. It had been an Ork-held empire for a long time, and then a tendril of Hive Fleet Leviathan had been diverted into the area. Since then, the situation had only grown more unstable as the conflict engulfed Metalica, a major forge world, as well as other Imperial holdings.

It wasn't just Orks and Tyranids causing problems for the Imperium. Necron sightings were reported, though they seemed to be focused on fighting the Tyranids. The Death Guard were also present in large numbers, and had done massive damage to Mechanicus forces.

In short, it was a mess. The only saving grace was a massive influx of Astra Militarum regiments, and the recent arrival of the Black Templars, one of the most storied Chapters of Space Marines.

"And we have to find Jaghatai Khan in all that mess," Shepard muttered. "We don't even know where to start looking."

Personally, Shepard hoped that her forces wouldn't fight alone, and planned to contact the Black Templars and anyone else she could reach as soon as her fleet arrived in the sector.

After a few more minutes of reading, Shepard put away the reports and tried to get some sleep. The fleet had arrived on the other side of the Great Rift the day before, and Shepard wanted to get enough rest to safely guide her ships to Octarius in one trip. She had a feeling that she wouldn't be getting enough sleep for a while after that.

…

Aboard the Furious, Garask Brol was living up to the name of his ship. He hacked his way through yet another wave of training-servitors, the tenth in that hour alone. He ignored the burning in his muscles, and reveled in the destruction he caused. In his mind, he was not fighting mindless drones, but misshapen traitors of a Legion he'd once been proud of. He wanted nothing more than to bury his power scythe into the chest of the demigod who'd given it to him, and then laugh at the irony before spitting in his face.

He didn't even know if Mortarion was in Octarius, but it felt good to think about it.

The door to the training cage opened, but Brol didn't turn around. "I gave strict orders that I was not to be disturbed."

"When it comes to the spiritual wellbeing of our Chapter, and of my old friend, I can ignore those orders."

Brol sighed, then deactivated the training program and faced his Head Chaplain. Helicus Nost had been an imposing figure, even before crossing the Rubicon Primaris and taking on the black of a Chaplain. His face was lean, almost skeletal, a trait that he kept hidden by always wearing his skull-helm. His crozius, which never left his side, had micro-script oaths of vengeance and hatred carved into the haft, and his armor had several small reliquaries that carried bone fragments from those of his brothers who had died crossing the Rubicon.

"You have been here for almost nine hours," Nost said. "The commanders are doing their duty, but it is up to you to organize the entire Chapter. You are letting your hatred overwhelm common sense."

"I know," Brol snarled; though both wore Gravis armor, the High Commander still loomed over his friend. "But we are becalmed until Saint Shepard is prepared to finish getting us to Octarius, and I cannot contain my fury for long."

"Then do not." In battle, Nost's voice boomed with fiery rhetoric, but now, it was quiet and understanding. "Channel your wrath into something productive, like the rest of our brothers. They can afford to enter the cycle of rage, but you cannot; you are the hand that casts the spear, not the tip."

As always, the force of will behind the Chaplain's words cooled Brol's burning temper, and he bowed his head. "I know. Thank you for reminding me, old friend."

Nost put his hand on Brol's shoulder. "I share your anger, we all do. Nothing would make me happier than to crush the skulls of those we once called brothers. But the Imperium needs us, and we cannot give in to the urge to satisfy our vendetta."

Brol sighed. "Of course, knowing Shepard, she would probably send us against the Death Guard if she saw an opportunity."

"With help," Nost added. "She is not in the habit of sending her forces anywhere without support."

"I suppose I could accept artillery support," Brol allowed. "If only to soften up those bastards for us."

"If that is going to happen, you need to make the necessary arrangements." Nost waved to the door. "Come, let the serfs clean up the mess you made."

Brol looked back at the pile of dead servitors. "Yes, that would probably be wise."

…

Shepard rested in bed, smiling as she put aside another of Felix's books. She was reluctant to stop reading, but she was tired, and she could hear a familiar set of footsteps outside her door.

"Enjoying your day off, my love?" Gregor asked as he entered the bedroom.

He looked good, Shepard thought. His greying hair was neatly combed, his eyes glittered with affection, and even his scars seemed healthier.

"I could do this every day," she said, "especially if you're here."

"I have no intention of leaving." Gregor stepped closer. "In fact, if you are feeling up to it…"

Shepard saw the look in his eye and grinned. "By all means, I could use some exercise before going to sleep."

Gregor disrobed and crawled onto the bed, moving until he was over her. "My love, if I have it my way, you will not be sleeping for a long time."

Strong hands gripped her shoulders, and Gregor leaned in close. Just before his lips touched hers, Shepard put one finger over his mouth.

"You forgot one important thing," she whispered.

"Oh? And what would that be, dear wife?"

Shepard's smile vanished, and her eyes glowed gold.

"You were never on top."

…

The daemon screamed as it was blasted back, force out of her mind and into the physical world. Shepard threw off her covers and grabbed the creature by the neck; Gregor's features melted away, until it became a hermaphroditic thing with pink skin and needle-teeth.

"Let this be a warning," Shepard growled. "My dreams are off-limits, and so are my memories of him. Anyone who tries shit like this again won't die as quickly."

The pleasure-daemon screamed again as it was utterly erased, and the god it served felt its power reduced by the tiniest fraction.

The Alexian Guard and a pair of Custodes burst into the room just in time to watch purified ash fall from Shepard's hand.

"Your Holiness!" Carolya looked for any other threats. "Are you injured? What happened?"

"Just an unwanted guest," Shepard said mildly. "It won't happen again."

"We will have additional wards placed to repel such intruders if it does," one Custodian said, realizing that Shepard had just repelled a daemon.

"I'd appreciate that." Shepard glanced back at her bed; the sheets were torn by daemonic claws. "And I'm going to need those replaced."

"Why would the enemy send an assassin after you now, after all this time?" Carolya asked, her power sword still activated. "Why not try to kill you before you found Lord Corax, or Russ?"

Shepard thought about it, and Revelation supplied her with an answer. "We helped put most Aeldari under the protection of their death-god. I think that offended Slaanesh; that freak called dibs."

Thanks to Shepard's powers, uttering the name of a Chaos God didn't even make the Alexian Guard flinch.

"So this was revenge?" Carolya asked.

"Probably just to see if this was even possible. Like I said, I doubt it'll happen again." Shepard looked down at the ashes on the floor. "I think the daemons got the message."

…

To most of the Shepard Crusade's surprise, they did not enter Octarius in the middle of a battle; rather, they found a star system full of dead worlds. Each planet had been stripped of all life by Tyranids, save one, which had been subjected to Exterminatus before the aliens could claim any biomass.

"Sensors show vast areas of scrap," Dartan reported. "Records indicate that there was a large-scale battle between the Orks and Tyranids."

"Orks don't have Exterminatus protocols," Shepard said as she watched chunks of ruined scrap-ships tumble past the Vehemence.

"Correct, the purge was initiated by Deathwatch kill-teams that placed seismic charges at specific fault lines. The disruption tore the planet apart."

"Why blow up the planet?" Shepard asked. "Why not just let the aliens kill each other?"

Dartan checked his dataslate. "It appears that the Orks were losing in this system. If the Tyranids became too powerful, it would disrupt the balance between them and the Orks, so the Deathwatch lured a large part of the Tyranids in this system to the final world, and killed them along with the planet."

Shepard wasn't a fan of the Kryptman Gambit, but she had to admit that it worked in this case. "Any sign of friendly forces in or around this system?"

"Our astropaths are sending out a call to any loyalists who might be listening." Dartan swiveled in his command throne. "Saint Shepard, this may take some time."

Shepard smiled. "Is that your way of asking me to leave your bridge?"

"More that your Canoness Superior keeps messaging me, asking if you are available, and I am tired of being an intermediary."

"Ah, of course; I have some prayers to lead for the newest Sisters." Shepard gently patted the old man's shoulder. "Tell me if anyone answers our calls."

Dartan sighed. "Either way, I am merely a messenger."

"True, but you're a messenger with a very big spaceship."

"I suppose there is that."

…

Sister Josephine was sure that her heart skipping so many beats was unhealthy, but she didn't mind; every time she thought about what was to come, she was filled with rapturous joy. She thought it was a good thing, considering how dour her fellow Battle Sister was at times.

"I don't know why you're not more excited," she said, unable to keep from smiling.

"I am excited," Sister Katarin said quietly. "I'm just able to stay composed, unlike you."

"Can you blame me?" Josephine checked for the hundredth time that her armor was immaculate; it was, just like it had been ten seconds ago. "How often does a Living Saint lead prayers, much less a Matriarch of an Order?"

"I believe Saint Celestine was seen praying with an Order some six months ago," Katarin said dryly. "Though, yes, it has been some millennia since a Matriarch did this."

Josephine laughed; she was often joyous, and had been reprimanded more than once for lacking solemnity during certain ceremonies. Still, her faith was absolute, and while she lacked natural skill in combat, she had trained doggedly until she passed every test thrown at her. She was tall and thin, with golden hair that sparkled in even the dimmest light that she tied in a bun. Her pale skin allowed for the freckles under her eyes to stand out, like a negative image of the stars.

In contrast, Katarin was solemnity incarnate; she rarely cracked a smile, and never in the company of others. Like Josephine, her faith was unwavering, but she had far more natural talent for war; that had allowed her to pass her trials more easily, and had given her more time to study. She was even taller than Josephine, and more solidly built, with dark skin and darker hair, and muscles like corded iron.

Their instructors had noted that, despite their differences in personality, they worked well together. Katarin was an excellent shot, and her levelheadedness made her a perfect second for their squad's Sister Superior. Josephine's high energy and eagerness to move forward meant that her skills with a bolter were not as polished, but her flamer made that a non-issue; she cherished that weapon like it was her own child, constantly maintaining and praying over it.

The two had been on the Oath of Fire for less than four months, and in that time, they had yet to actually see Saint Shepard in person. She had led several prayers since returning to Vigilus, but circumstances had prevented Josephine and Katarin from attending those.

That had finally changed; even better, they were early to the gathering, and found seats near the front of the chapel.

"Is that the Canoness Superior?" Josephine whispered as an older Sororitas took a position at the altar; prayers had yet to start, so speaking was permitted, as long as it was quiet.

Her squad's Sister Superior glanced at her. "Yes, that is Temperance Blaise. We will begin soon, Sister, so be silent."

Katarin gently elbowed her friend and bowed her head. Josephine glared at her, then checked her armor for any scuffs; finding none, she also bowed her head.

"Sisters," Blaise's voice echoed throughout the chamber, "we have arrived upon the threshold of war. This entire sector has suffered under the touch of the alien, the mutant, and the heretic. By the will of the God-Emperor, we have come to bring His light back to this benighted part of space. We will defeat His enemies, and on our journey, we will find one of His lost sons! When we are finished here, the galaxy will be a brighter place, illuminated by the pyres we set among the foe!"

"By His will," the gathered Sisters intoned.

Just as the echoes of their words began to fade, a golden light began to shine. The newer Sisters gasped as Saint Shepard gently floated down from the ceiling on wings of light and landed next to Blaise.

Josephine didn't try to hide her tears. Saint Shepard was the most divinely beautiful creature she had ever seen, and for a moment, she feared she might be blinded by her radiance. Her red hair was illuminated by her holy light, and for a moment, it looked to be made of fire. Her skin was marred only by a single faded scar across her face, but that only made her more of a warrior. Her armor was not as ornate as the Sororitas, but that hardly mattered to Josephine; after all, one did not need ornamentation if they already had the God-Emperor's light.

Beside her, Katarin simply stared; her usual reserved nature was shattered in the face of such a holy figure.

"The God-Emperor's blessings are with us," Saint Shepard said, her voice carrying across the entire chapel. "We have been given a task by Him, and by the strength of our arms, our faith, and our bond with each other, we will prevail. Blessed are those who fight without doubt."

"Pity those who cannot keep their faith," the Sororitas intoned, completing the first prayer.

Josephine and Katarin joined in, but their words were spoken automatically; they were too enraptured with the Saint. They had been in awe before, but Saint Shepard's voice—warm, but strong—replaced awe with love. Both silently swore an oath to do anything their Matriarch asked, to follow her into the darkest depths if that was needed, to die before letting her come to harm.

The prayers passed in a blur, and the new Sisters were dismissed for a short recess, before they would need to prepare for battle. Josephine and Katarin, both still in a daze, merely wandered the halls of the ship together. So lost in their own thoughts, they didn't see the figure in front of them until Josephine bumped into her.

For a moment, the two young Sororitas could only stare at Saint Shepard. She looked back at them in bemusement, while four Zephyrim—the Alexian Guard—watched with hands resting on the hilts of their swords.

"Y-Your Holiness!" Josephine fell to one knee and made the sign of the Aquila. "Forgive me, I was not paying attention to where I was going, and—"

Saint Shepard cut her off with a gentle hand against her forehead; Josephine shivered as the cool metal of her gauntlet met her skin.

"It's fine," the Saint said kindly. "Please get up, it's hard to talk to someone down there."

Josephine rose, and noticed that she was actually a few inches taller than the Saint, who was not a short woman by any stretch; the oddness of being taller than someone so divine was strangely funny.

"Apologies for interrupting your journey, Your Holiness," Katarin said, with barely a tremor in her voice. Josephine envied her sister for her composure.

Saint Shepard waved her off. "It's not a problem. I was just taking a walk." She peered closer at the young women. "You're some of the new recruits, right? First deployment?"

Josephine fumbled for words, but Katarin came to her rescue. "Yes, Your Holiness. I am Katarin, and this is Josephine."

"Katarin, Josephine." Saint Shepard nodded to each of them. "I'll remember that. Which Preceptory are you in?"

Josephine finally got her mouth working again. "W-we are in Sister Superior Agatha's squad, Your Holiness, in the First Preceptory."

Saint Shepard nodded. "Right, that's where a lot of the new blood had to go. It'll be good to have them back up to full strength again." She paused. "Can I ask you two something?"

The two women were stunned; as if a Living Saint needed permission from anyone!

"Anything, Your Holiness," Josephine said. She was proud of finally getting her voice under control; if only her heart would stop beating so fast!

"How old are you two?"

"Er…" Josephine shared a glance with Katarin. "I am seventeen, Your Holiness."

"Eighteen," the other Sister said quickly.

Saint Shepard's smile faded, and Josephine felt like a piece of her soul vanished with it. "In that case, I want you two to do something for me."

Both women knelt once again. "Ask, and it shall be done," Katarin said.

Saint Shepard gently lifted them to their feet and, to their eternal shock, held them close. "I want you to live. I won't stop you from fighting, but I don't want to bury more of my girls while they're still actually girls."

The grief in the Saint's words nearly brought Josephine to tears. "I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to live."

"As will I," Katarin swore.

Saint Shepard let them go and smiled brightly; it made Josephine's heart race again. "That's what I like to hear. Okay, I should go, but I'm sure I'll see you again."

The young women stared for some time after the Saint left. It was strange, seeing someone so divine act so… human, but rather than diminish her divinity, it enhanced it.

"We have to prove ourselves," Katarin said weakly. "We have to."

Josephine nodded. "We will prove that we are worthy to be with her."

…

Another three weeks passed before the Shepard Crusade found any sign of an Imperial presence. They had jumped to another system, where they discovered a pair of light cruisers fleeing a much larger Ork ship. The fleet watched, too late to act, as the Ork vessel annihilated one cruiser in a flash of cannon-fire.

The Vehemence showed her displeasure by holing the enemy ship with her lance batteries. A volley of torpedoes caused catastrophic damage, and a broadside from another cruiser finished the job.

"Imperial vessel, this is High Admiral Dartan of the Shepard Crusade," Dartan said into the vox. "Identify yourself immediately."

The return signal crackled for a moment, and then morphed into a strained human voice. "The Shepard Crusade? Never heard of you before, but thank the Emperor for your arrival! I'm Commander Joss, acting captain of the Arrow. My battlegroup got separated from our main fleet during a battle, and those Orks have been picking us off ever since."

"Understood, Commander." Dartan leaned back in his throne. "We'll send you coordinates; fall into formation, and we'll find the rest of your fleet."

"Thank you, sir!"

Dartan turned to his first officer. "Tell the war council to assemble; I believe we have our first clue."

…

"Commander Joss was rather helpful," Dartan said, once the war council had gathered. "His ship was attached to a joint Astartes and Militarum fleet, under the shared command of High Marshal Helbrecht and Commissar Yarrick."

Helmin leaned forward. "The leader of the Black Templars and the Old Man of Armageddon himself? Well, I know why they're here."

Dartan nodded. "Aye, the Beast of Armageddon must be in the sector."

Shepard laced her fingers together. "As much as I'd like to help them stop that Ork, if their mission isn't linked to ours, we're going to have to keep going."

"Understandable," Rex said. "The orders of the God-Emperor are absolute."

"Of course, if our missions do align, I'm all for it," Shepard added. "Sirruk, how long until we reach the other fleet?"

"Going by the navigational data provided by the Arrow, I would say perhaps ten days, assuming they did not change course."

Shepard thought about it, and then tapped the wayfinder; the feather within didn't move. "Okay, let's go in that direction and see if we're still going the right way. Have the fleet remain at combat readiness, just in case—we're deep in Ork and Tyranid territory now."

…

"How fascinating," Typhus gurgled, not rising from his pus-leaking throne. "Are we sure of this information?"

"Very, my lord," a lesser warlord of the Death Guard wheezed. "The Warp spews warnings of Saint Shepard's powers."

"Will her presence affect our plans?"

"Possibly, but only if she gets in our way. Nothing indicates that she is specifically after us."

"Then we will continue as before. The armies of the Corpse-God will rust and decay, and this system will become a paradise for Grandfather."

"There is one other matter, my lord." Typhus' lieutenant hesitated. "There have been recent sightings of a World Eaters fleet. They claim to be led by Khârn himself."

Typhus considered that for a moment. "Keep me informed if his fleet heads towards our own. While slaying Kharn would be a great feat, I have no desire to deal with the blood-worshipers today."

Once Typhus was left alone, save for the capering Nurglings that covered the bridge, he began to consider his options. Things were in motion across the entire sector; some were expected, like the arrival of the rabid sons of Dorn, but Kharn was another matter. He was unpredictable, other than knowing that he would be drawn to the greatest source of carnage. In Octarius, that was something in ample supply.

Typhus was interested to see how things would play out. More importantly, he was interested to see how things could be turned to benefit him, and Grandfather Nurgle.

…

Shepard had a feeling that they were on the right track, and not just because the wayfinder had yet to change direction. Every time the fleet finished a short Warp-jump, they encountered Ork ships; more importantly, those ships showed signs of battle, and the lack of Imperial wreckage suggested that the Black Templars and their allies had pushed through. Shepard's decision to follow after the other Crusade was vindicated when her own finished its fifth jump dangerously close to the world of Fendatha. There, they found a massive Imperial fleet engaged in a three-way battle with both Orks and Tyranid bio-ships.

"All hands, battle stations!" Dartan bellowed. "Vox, get me in contact with the Imperial flagship! Escorts, form up in whirlpool formation, keep any alien vessels from stopping us while we organize!"

"I'll handle introducing ourselves," Shepard said, already heading to the vox station. "You do what you're best at, High Admiral."

Dartan didn't respond, and merely focused on the battle. The Tyranids were closer, and were starting to endanger the flank of the other Imperial fleet; he would strike there, first. With a few curt orders, his cruisers launched long-range lance and torpedo strikes against the larger bio-ships, and the handful of battleships within the Crusade fired their heaviest cannons into the largest concentration of enemies.

"The flagship is responding to our hail, Your Holiness," the vox-officer said, and held out the transceiver to Shepard.

"Thanks." Shepard took it and held it to her ear. "This is Alexia Shepard, identify yourself."

The voice that answered was worn and raspy from years of shouting and injury, but she could recognize the deep timbre of a Space Marine. "I am High Marshal Helbrecht, aboard the Eternal Crusader. I have heard of you, Saint Shepard, and your deeds. I can see that your forces are already attacking the xenos; keep the Tyranids from landing on Fendatha at all costs. We have just landed ground forces to drive out the greenskins, and cannot afford to let the Tyranids open another front."

Shepard wasn't offended by the demand from the High Marshal. "Understood. As soon as we punch a hole through the enemy fleets, we'll send down ground forces to assist you."

"That is appreciated; God-Emperor be with you."

The connection ended abruptly, and Shepard looked out the viewport; even from this distance, she could see an incredible Gloriana-class vessel blow apart a number of smaller Orks ships. The Eternal Crusader was as fierce as the Astartes she carried to war.

Shepard just hoped that ferocity would be enough to get them through this war intact.

…

Captain Torlim held back a laugh as he led his company into battle; that wasn't because he found joy in fighting, but one of his Lieutenants had just told a particularly funny joke as the battle began.

"I hope you never share that with a Tech-Priest," he said as he stabbed an Ork through the throat; it fell to the street, among the dozens he'd already slaughtered. "You'll be labeled a heretic in seconds."

The ruined hive the Necropolis Hawks fought in was just one of many cities across Fendatha the Imperium fought to reclaim. The buildings that weren't demolished were half-replaced by Ork scrap-structures, and the sun was blocked out by ash and smog from the industry of the world's past and present owners. The Orks had slaughtered the original human inhabitants, and the Shepard Crusade planned to return the favor.

Of all the xenos Torlim had encountered, he most enjoyed fighting the Orks; there was none of the shadowy alliances between human and Aeldari, nor the looming dread caused by Tyranids. The Orks were a threat that the Imperium could meet in honest battle, and then move on. While the Orks were still dangerous, Torlim felt more certain fighting them than at any other point in his life.

"Captain," an Intercessor sergeant called out, "I spotted Sororitas forces just beyond this hab-block. They're fighting their way here."

"Good, they can help us finish off this rabble." Torlim paused to gun down an Ork with his boltstorm gauntlet. "If our projections are accurate, we should have this hive cleared in another two days."

The Order of the Iron Tears arrived several minutes later, with Palatine Rychelle leading the charge against the last Ork holdouts. What surprised Torlim was that the Sororitas weren't alone.

With their enhanced physiology and superior power armor, the Black Templars pulled ahead of the Sisters of Battle at the last second. Their leader, a truly massive Astartes that rivaled Torlim in his Gravis armor, hewed his way through an Ork with an ornately decorated power axe. The slaughter inflicted by the Black Templars only ended when they nearly crashed into the Necropolis Hawks.

"Hail, sons of Dorn," Torlim called out to the Marshal. "I wasn't aware you were in this sector."

"We go where the enemy is," the Black Templar said as he shook blood from his axe. "This was the last pocket of greenskins in this city."

"That's excellent news." Torlim then nodded at Rychelle. "Palatine, my thanks for joining us."

Rychelle nodded back, but the duties of her command had her return her attention to her sisters. The Black Templars, on the other hand, were rapidly gathering around the Necropolis Hawks; Torlim saw that his demi-company was outnumbered almost two to one.

"I am Marshal Fedraus Bayard, reassigned to the Octarius Crusade," the giant Primaris said. "Your forces' arrival is nothing less than providence. My thanks for your aid."

Torlim removed his helm and flashed a friendly smile. "Arquevan Torlim, captain of the Necropolis Hawks Third Company. We are always eager to help fellow warriors of the Imperium."

Bayard nodded. "You are part of the Shepard Crusade, yes? I have heard of the miracles of Saint Shepard, and the faith of her followers. I am honored to fight alongside you, but I must ask that we continue as soon as possible."

Torlim gestured for his brothers to begin cleanup with a few curt gestures. "Has there been a development in space?"

"Not that I am aware of, but our objective is urgent, and your aid would help ensure its success."

"Very well, but allow me to contact my Chapter Master to confirm—"

"Do what you must," Bayard interrupted. "We leave now; catch up when you can."

Torlim blinked at the rudeness of the Marshal; he had tried to be accommodating, but the Black Templars were almost dismissive of anyone not immediately ready to fight.

Nearby, Rychelle shrugged when Torlim looked at her. While she was as zealous as a Black Templar, her Order was tempered by Shepard's pragmatism, and she also did not immediately follow after Bayard.

Torlim shook off his vague unease as he contacted Zandtus. It was not his place to question the methodology of his cousins, and he knew that the Black Templars got results. His company would follow soon, and support their cousins as the Templars had supported them.

Wryly, he wondered if the Black Templars would leave him anything to fight when they arrived.

…

Shepard watched as the First-Blooded fought below her. Infantry moved up block by block, platoons followed by squadrons of tanks or lighter vehicles, and supported by artillery. Hive Primus was the largest city on Fendatha; it was so large that the five regiments of the First-Blooded were only assigned to fifteen percent of the hive, while the Lamenters, Black Templars, and regiments of Guard who accompanied the latter covered the rest.

"Your Holiness." Carolya pointed with her sword at the battle below. "Ork jump-troops to the south. They will strike at the artillery soon."

Shepard nodded. "Good catch. Come on, ladies, let's give Riona a hand."

With the Alexian Guard behind her, Shepard leaped from the spire she stood on and plummeted towards the Orks. The greenskins were so focused on the Fiftieth Hecheron that they didn't see Shepard's assault until she was in their midst. Though she and the Alexian Guard were outnumbered more than five to one, they had surprise on their side, and superior weapons. Shepard killed the largest Ork with a well-placed strike from Liberator, then brought down two more with point-blank shots from her plasma pistol. Each of the Alexian Guard killed another pair of Orks before the aliens brought their attention to their new foe. A few tense minutes of combat passed, and the first sign the artillery crews had that they had been in danger was a rain of Ork body parts.

"Your Holiness!" Riona waved as Shepard landed nearby. "My thanks for the rescue."

Shepard grinned. "There're a lot of buildings, so I figured you might need some extra eyes in the sky to watch your back."

"Judging by the dead Orks, I'd say you were watching rather intently." Riona's gaze narrowed when she saw that one of the Alexian Guard was wounded. "Ah! Allow me to call for a medic."

Shepard had already assessed the injury, and knew it was just a flesh wound. Still, she gestured for the wounded Zephyrim to humor the Hecheron medic that attended her; the battle was going well, so they had the time.

"I was also watching the rest of the battle," Shepard said. "Some of your shots were landing pretty close to the Eleventh."

"In my regiment's defense, Colonel Klinner was the one who called in those strikes," Riona said calmly. "Sometimes I think that woman believes riding around in a Chimera makes her invincible."

"I don't think she's ever been injured while inside one," Shepard pointed out. "Still, I'll ask her to tone it down on the danger-close fire support."

"That would be appreciated; I'd hate to have a friendly-fire incident tarnish my perfect record." Riona paused. "Do you hear that?"

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "I can't hear anything other than those cannons."

"There's a Baneblade heading our way," Riona said, her tone deadly serious. "Coming from behind."

"How can you tell?"

Riona tapped her ear. "Years of this position have given me an ear for tuning into unusual sounds."

A moment later, a black-painted Baneblade rolled around the corner, followed by dozens of smaller tanks and transports.

Shepard let out a low whistle. "Really glad I didn't bet any money, because you were very right."

Riona preened. "Of course I am. I'm always right."

"And humble, too." Shepard made a shooing motion. "I'll see who these guys are. You keep blowing up Orks."

"With pleasure, Your Holiness."

Shepard waited calmly as the Baneblade slowed to a halt, as did the armored column. There was a pause, and then the hatch opened up, and an old man climbed out.

'Old' didn't do him justice. He was truly ancient, and looked like he should have been sitting in a chair, surrounded by great-grandchildren. Of course, he would have to be wearing something other than a Commissar's uniform, and not be armed to the teeth. He had a chainsword on his hip, and somehow carried a storm bolter in one hand; his other arm was missing from the elbow down, replaced by a crude bionic claw that Shepard was positive came from an Ork. One of his eyes was replaced by a red-lensed optic that glowed balefully in the evening light.

Despite his age, the man clambered down the side of his tank with the agility of someone many years younger. He walked smartly up to Shepard and saluted with his organic hand.

"Saint Shepard, I presume?" The man's voice was rough from age, but wasn't weakened by it. "I am Commissar Sebastian Yarrick. I hope that the battle is not yet over here?"

Shepard did her best to remain composed. Yarrick was a living legend, possibly the greatest Ork-fighter in thousands of years. His defense of Hades Hive, and later the entire world of Armageddon, was the stuff of legend; he was almost universally respected by Space Marines across the galaxy, and practically worshipped by the Astra Militarum. He was the only human Shepard knew of that could make Orks turn and run just by looking at them.

Shepard had never met the Old Man of Armageddon before, but she had read enough to know that if anyone deserved to be treated like a hero, it was him.

"Commissar." Shepard saluted back, and then held out her left hand. "It's an honor."

Yarrick chuckled and shook her hand. "It is a strange time indeed when Living Saints show deference to mere men."

"If even half the things I've heard about you are true, you've more than earned it." Shepard saw Riona openly staring at the Commissar out of the corner of her eye. "Sir, this is Duchess-Colonel Riona of the Fiftieth Hecheron Artillery."

Yarrick saluted the younger woman, who snapped out of her stupor to return it. "Hecheron, eh? I've heard good things about your world's people; good discipline, better gear."

"Thank you, sir!" Riona tried not to look awestruck, and failed miserably. "We pride ourselves on going into battle with nothing less than the best."

Yarrick nodded, then returned his attention to Shepard. "As much as I would like to talk, we have a battle to win, yes?"

"That we do." Shepard smiled. "I'll make sure your forces have a path to the front; the Eleventh Vigilant Guard is our vanguard, but the Orks are making their advance difficult."

"Fortunately, my men have experience in such terrain, and with the foe." Yarrick returned to his Baneblade. "Allow us to speed up your progress."

"Good hunting, Commissar," Shepard called out. "I'll see you after we clean up this mess!"

As Yarrick's column moved on, Shepard elbowed Riona and grinned. "Don't think I didn't see that hero-worship."

For possibly the first time since Shepard met her, Riona looked embarrassed. "With all due respect, Your Holiness, please shut up."

…

Amalgamation stared out into the void, for all the world appearing like a motionless statue. It only moved when it heard the dull stomp of Huron Blackheart entering the room.

"You were supposed to remain aboard your ship," Amalgamation said.

"You were not answering hails," Huron snapped back. "I grew tired of waiting."

The former lord of the Maelstrom had become more irritable after his defeat at Amalgamation's hands, and became even worse after his second rebuilding. Even with the blessings of Chaos, his armor was unable to maintain the machinery keeping him alive, so he was interred within a suit of Terminator armor. Every breath came out as a wheeze, and every word was a growl; the Tyrant's claw had also been rebuilt to fit his new frame, with much larger talons and a wider barrel for the flamer. His power axe was now chained to his wrist, but not just to keep it on his person; a daemon had decided to inhabit the weapon, and the blade of the axe was replaced by gnashing jaws that tried to snap at anyone who came close.

"Only Khayon has permission to enter this chamber unannounced." Amalgamation still didn't deign to look at Huron. "You should have spoken to him."

"I did, and he said to speak to you." Huron defiantly stood at Amalgamation's side and watched the stars pass by. "What has you so enraptured that you will not listen to my reports of Imperial activity?"

Amalgamation pointed at a star, seemingly at random. "This sector is a madhouse, a never-ending show of carnage and insanity. We are about to plunge right into the middle of it."

"Such wars are happening all over the galaxy," Huron dismissed. "What makes this one so special?"

"Besides the fact that the woman I hate more than anything in the universe may very well get killed before I even lay eyes on her, which would be… disappointing." Amalgamation shifted every-so-slightly in Huron's direction. "I can sense something in this sector. A culmination of fate and chance. A thousand things must go right for the Imperium to have a chance of reclaiming this sector, and a single misstep could spell disaster. It has been some time since events have rested on a knife's edge like this."

"Then let us tip the scales," Huron said eagerly. "A few raids here and there, disrupting loyalist supply schedules, and—"

"You think too small," Amalgamation hissed. "You were content to rest on your laurels in your little kingdom, unwilling to do anything while the galaxy burned."

Huron was glad that the bionics replacing much of his face prevented him from wincing, but he was sure Amalgamation knew how much its words stung. Not since the Badab War had he been involved in a military operation of this scale. He knew he had become complacent in recent decades, but no longer; he would prove that he was worthy of succeeding Amalgamation and joining Abaddon's court.

"I still have news," he pressed on. "It may concern Saint Shepard."

Finally, Amalgamation fully faced him. "Go on."

"A world called Fendatha; a large Imperial fleet was joined against xenos by a 'Shepard Crusade'." Huron grinned, despite the pain it caused him. "I thought that might get your attention."

Amalgamation was silent for a long moment, and Huron wondered if he had pushed his luck with his new master too far.

"Set a course, but we will refrain from entering the battle until I know more. I have lost to Shepard in the past because I was impatient, or I did not believe her to be a threat until it was too late." Amalgamation turned back to the stars. "This time, I will emerge victorious, Alexia Shepard… not you."

Okay, this chapter is done! I have to admit, writing that scene with Josephine and Katarin was extremely fun. Usually, you shouldn't meet your heroes, but in the eyes of these young Sisters, Shepard is everything they thought she'd be. That, plus religious zealotry, can make things… intense.

Speaking of meeting your heroes, Yarrick is the kind of guy Shepard would totally hold in the highest esteem. Dude is one of those guys who lives up to the hype… although he hasn't actually done anything in forever, and I hope that changes when the Guard get their Ninth Edition Codex. Lookin' at you, Games Workshop! At least give him a new model, since Ghazghkull got one.

Also, Amalgamation and friends are here! Well, they're getting close. It's been over thirty chapters, and they still haven't actually met yet. I don't think Shepard has ever gone this long without meeting her nemesis. Or is it nemeses? Technically, Amalgamation is three different people.

As always, please consider buying my book, Alpha Sanction, by Josh Gottlieb. You can find it in PDF format on my website (link in my profile), or on Amazon as an eBook or physical copy. Also, I'm getting close to having my own apartment, and when that happens, I'll have more free time, so I'll be able to devote time to writing Delta Sanction!

If you don't want to buy my book, but still support me, you can also donate on my P-atreon page (link in my profile). Every little bit helps me not need to share said apartment with other people. Also, it will help me buy things like food. Food is important.

I'd like to thank all my patrons for helping me so far, especially the following:

Serious Muffins: Nimrod009, Anders Lyngbye, Matthias Matanovic, John Collins, Red Bard, Aaron Meek, killroy225, Lokthar

Incredible Muffins: RaptorusMaximus, michaelb958, Crazyman844, Ben Stueckle

Ultra Muffins: RangersRoll, Adam Costello

Next Chapter: Two Crusades join forces to hunt a monster, intent on claiming victory, no matter the cost.

For the honor of Muffin on Terra!