WARHAMMER DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. MASS EFFECT DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. FIVE MINUTES AGO, I WAS EATING A BANANA. NOW, I'M COVERED IN TIRE TRACKS, I'VE BEEN WEDGIED, AND I CAN HEAR LAUGHTER IN THE DISTANCE. I THINK THE WHITE SCARS WERE HERE.

So, Space Marines can move very fast, and their bikes are 'blindingly fast' by their standards. Is it possible to reach terminal velocity on a motorcycle? If so, I think 40K did it.

Star-Bound

Chapter 33

Blood

Shepard would deny it forever, but when the Webway gate abruptly activated, she let out an undignified yelp. It had, after all, happened quite unexpectedly; Shepard had idly kicked the thing mere seconds after the last shovelful of dirt had been cleared away. There had been an unearthly hum, and then a bright flash of alien energies, and everyone within fifty meters of the machine was knocked backward.

"Ow," Shepard muttered, and hauled herself to her feet. "Well, that happened."

"Indeed," Darius said, already interposing himself between Shepard and the gate. "What we do not know is what exactly happened."

"I think someone pressed the 'on' button." Shepard waved away the Alexian Guard, who looked torn between fretting over her, and indignantly charging the gateway itself. "Have the troops get ready. Just because we need to be here doesn't mean the first thing coming through that gate is on our side."

To their credit, there was little hesitation from the eight companies of Duranian Rangers as they formed a perimeter around the gateway. Their resolve was bolstered by Shepard, who formed a lynchpin in the center of the formation with twenty Adeptus Custodes, the Alexian Guard, and five squads of Reapers, led by Commander Fralk. With so much power on their side, it was little wonder that the Duranians felt confident.

"I feel like I should have a bet going," Shepard mused, trying to break the building tension. "I want to say that whatever comes out of there waits at least two minutes before trying to kill us."

"Three minutes," Hiral said at her side. "If it allows you to talk, it'll wait."

Shepard gave him a look. "Do I really talk that much?"

Hiral shrugged. "You kind of do. It's a compliment, really."

"Yeah, well…" Shepard took a moment to reflect on her life, and some of her habits between missions. "Shit, I do talk that much."

"I think it helps balance out how many enemies you kill," Hiral offered.

"Thanks, I think?" Before Shepard could decide whether or not Hiral was teasing her, her vox chirped. "This is Shepard, go ahead."

"Saint Shepard, this is Reclusiarch Grimaldus, of the Black Templars. I am not sure what you did, but every Ork in this hive saw that light and is coming your way. We are trying to get to you first to shore up your defenses, but I fear we may not arrive in time."

"Do what you can," Shepard said. "We'll hold out until we have what we need, and if necessary, we'll conduct a fighting withdrawal to you once we're done."

"Understood, Saint Shepard; I wish you victory in the coming battle."

"Just get here as soon as possible, and that'll give us a better chance." The Webway portal crackled, and Shepard thought she saw something getting closer. "I have to go. Shepard, out."

Fralk approached, though he kept his heavy bolt rifle trained on the portal. "Saint Shepard, we should pull back now."

Shepard laughed tiredly. "Pull back to where, Commander? Whatever comes through that portal is the next step in our mission. We don't have the luxury to fall back and analyze."

Fralk sighed. "I understand, but I have read reports that Daemons sometimes infiltrate the Webway."

Shepard's smile was fierce; she held up one fist, which glowed with golden light. "Good thing I'm really good at killing Daemons, huh?"

"That… is a good point," Fralk admitted, then tensed. "I hear something, coming from inside the portal. It is getting louder."

Shepard was about to call out to the troops, but was an instant too slow. Something burst from the gateway with blinding speed; it was so fast that not even the Custodes could react in time. Shepard saw a flash of white and gold, and then it slammed into her with the force of a meteor; she felt her bones shatter and organs burst, and then everything went dark.

…

"Okay, ouch," Shepard groaned as she sat down next to Revelation. "Did I die again?"

"I am afraid so," the old man said. "At least it was quick."

"Yeah, tell that to my everything." Shepard tossed a stick into the fire, then held her hands out to stave off the cold; she was pleased to notice that it took less time than usual. "How long before I come back?"

"Time moves differently here than outside," Revelation reminded her. "For us, it could be days, but out there, it could be but minutes."

"Is that a fancy way of saying that you don't know?" Shepard pulled out a bag of marshmallows. "Because if it is, I'm going to make a snack. Want one?"

Revelation sighed. "You really have no appreciation for what I do here."

"I do, I swear, but…" Shepard quickly assembled a s'more. "Chocolate tastes just as good here, and I can't find it anywhere in the Imperium."

"Yes, the loss of chocolate is the greatest tragedy, not the untold trillions of lives."

"Bite me, I like chocolate." Shepard closed her eyes and smiled as she chewed. "You sure you don't want one?"

Revelation sighed again. "Fine."

Had Shepard not been sitting, she might have done a happy little dance. Instead, she wordlessly handed another s'more to the old man.

"I really should thank you," Revelation said.

"You could make these yourself," Shepard replied.

"Not for that." Revelation prodded the fire with his stick, and absently chewed on the s'more. "Few have suffered like you have, yet you continue to help me, even knowing what I have done. Even many of those I called friend during the height of my power would have abandoned me, had they known the truth."

Shepard was quiet for a long moment. "You did what you thought was right. Looking back, it's easy to see where we make mistakes, and you're trying to fix them now. I can't say you made the best decisions then, but you admit that you were wrong. At least you're willing to change."

Revelation nodded. "My situation, and that of the galaxy, meant that change was a luxury I could not afford. With your help, and that of my sons…"

"We all need help sometimes." Shepard's smile was sad. "Especially when everyone thinks that we never do."

Revelation chuckled for a moment, then sat up straighter; Shepard noticed that he didn't look quite as tired as before. "You will return in a moment."

"That was fast." Shepard rose and brushed some crumbs off her clothes. "We'll talk later?"

"Of course, my friend." Revelation held up the remains of his s'more. "And thank you for this."

…

"Ow," Shepard mumbled as her jaw reformed. "Did someone get the number of whatever hit me?"

Darius gently helped her to her feet. "He did."

Shepard had the odd experience of watching hundreds of loyal Imperials aiming their weapons at a loyal Primarch. Apparently, their righteous anger allowed them to push past a Primarch's natural charisma.

Jaghatai Khan was every inch what Shepard had hoped to find. He sat proudly upon his enormous jetbike, his white armor barely marred by tiny nicks and scratches; his topknot, beard and mustache fluttered in the evening breeze. His eyes seemed to pierce into the soul of everyone he looked at; there was ferocity in that gaze, but tempered by wisdom and keen intellect.

The Khan had not come alone; hundreds of White Scars had poured from the Webway, and were now barely contained by the perimeter. Shepard had a feeling that the only reason they stayed put was because they wanted to; if that changed, their charge would punch through all but the sternest defense.

The White Scars were an odd mix. Some had clearly come from the time of the Horus Heresy; they drove ancient jetbikes, and many carried power lances of exotic design. Others, however, had equipment of a more modern era; they wore Mk. VII armor and drove the more common Astartes-pattern bikes. Shepard knew there had to be a story there, and wondered if she would get the time to hear it.

"Evening," Shepard called out to the Primarch, and tried not to feel a little bit upset that he had, technically, just killed her.

…

Jaghatai stared at her for a long moment, and then got off his jetbike. Every movement was sinuous and graceful, like the wind itself given form. He was confused and lost; to him, the last thing he remembered was chasing the Drukhari into the Webway after they attacked Chogoris. Now, he was on an unfamiliar world, surrounded by mortal soldiers and Astartes in unfamiliar armor and heraldry. There were Custodes, which meant that they were loyalist, if nothing else, but everyone was pointing a weapon at him after he'd collided with the red-haired woman.

"I thought I killed you," he said in heavily-accented Gothic as he approached.

"That happens sometimes," the woman admitted. "It doesn't seem to stick. Thank your father for that."

Jaghatai raised an eyebrow. "Who are you? Where are we?" He looked up at the damaged spires of the hive. "What is happening?"

"Okay, in reverse-order…" She took a breath. "We're in the middle of a war against the Orks, and the World Eaters just showed up, so that's a thing. We're on a planet called Fendatha, and you and your friends just popped out of the Webway after about ten thousand years. I'm Alexia Shepard, and I've been sent by the Emperor to find you."

To his credit, Jaghatai didn't even blink. "I would like to know more, but if this world is indeed under attack, then we may not have time."

"Probably not." As if the universe heard her, there was an explosion, and a Leman Russ tank drove backwards into the excavation site, firing as it moved. "Oh, that can't be good."

A horde of Orks—some on foot, others aboard ramshackle vehicles—chased after the tank, firing randomly. Shepard grabbed her weapon and headed for the breach in the Imperial lines.

"Attack!" she shouted. There was no time for a plan or complicated tactics; the enemy was here, and had to be stopped.

Custodes, Astartes, Sororitas, Militarum and Skitarii all charged. Some fired as they moved, while others readied blades or other melee weapons. They fell upon the Orks an instant after Shepard, who flew just above them, severing heads with Liberator.

If Jaghatai had any opinions about Shepard's wings as they manifested, he kept them to himself. As far as he was concerned, humans loyal to the Emperor were fighting one of the Imperium's oldest enemies. He jumped aboard his massive jetbike and lifted his dao, White Tiger, above his head.

"Run them down!"

Engines roared, and the White Scars moved; in seconds, they not only caught up to the Shepard Crusade, but overtook them. They slammed into the Orks' flanks; those they didn't simply run over were impaled on lances or cut down by swords.

Jaghatai severed the cab from the rest of a transport with a single blow of his sword; as the vehicle fell apart, he saw Shepard holding back the snapping shears of an Ork walker with one hand. She could have simply avoided it, but there was a squad of Guardsmen behind her; if she moved, the walker would butcher them. Jaghatai was about to help her, but a trio of Custodian Guard, and ten women with winged jump packs and power swords, were at her side, and the walker was torn apart in seconds.

After a few tense minutes, the skirmish was over. Medics were already moving to help the wounded; Jaghatai was surprised and pleased to see what looked like an Apothecary treating an injured mortal.

"Well, that was… well, it wasn't fun, but it was something." Shepard landed softly next to him, and her wings vanished. "This is what we've been dealing with since we got here, and it's only going to get worse if the World Eaters land." She froze, and looked horrified. "Oh, shit, I just tempted fate."

"Er, Your Holiness?" Jaghatai raised an eyebrow when a man carrying a banner pointed at the sky. "What are those?"

Jaghatai followed his raised arm, and saw a familiar sight in the sky. "Drop pods… a great number of drop pods."

"They aren't ours," Shepard said grimly. "The Black Templars landed almost an hour ago, and everyone else is already on the planet."

"We can expect the Orks to attack them as fiercely as they have attacked us," an old man with an Ork's power klaw on his arm said as he joined them. "If the Orks manage to put themselves between us and the traitors, it will only be better for us."

"I am all for our enemies killing each other," Shepard half-joked. "Hey, we should grab snacks and watch them beat the ugly out of each other."

"That would be a long show," the old man said. "There is a lot of ugly to go around."

Shepard laughed, and then turned to the Primarch. "Sorry about this, but I'm going to be giving some orders. Technically, you outrank me, but…"

"These are your soldiers, Alexia Shepard," Jaghatai said calmly. "I will take my warriors and strike at the flanks of any enemy we find."

"I'd appreciate that." Shepard waved over a Magos, who floated a few inches above the ground. "Telok, can we get the White Scars some supplies? At least fuel and ammo."

As the Magos immediately got to work, Jaghatai smiled at Shepard; she had obviously anticipated his warriors' needs, and had preempted him. It had become obvious to him that she deeply cared for those she fought alongside.

"All Crusade forces, this is Shepard; we've found Jaghatai Khan, and require immediate support. I repeat, we have the Khan!"

Jaghatai could hear the faintest cheers, even from kilometers away, as Shepard's news reached Imperial units throughout the hive. He felt like he was missing something important, and filed it away with the growing list of questions he had. For now, he had a war to fight.

…

"You are insane, you know that?"

"Hrnn…"

"Can you even hear me, you blood-man lunatic?"

"Hrnn…" Khârn coughed, and tasted blood. Was it his? Someone else's? Did it even matter? "I can hear you."

"Good. You're about two minutes from landing. Expect heavy resistance."

Khârn wanted to ignore the voice in his head. That voice belonged to a dead woman, her voice and mind taken by the thing that now commanded the Conqueror. Still, Lotara Sarrin's voice brought back a semblance of his own mind.

"I'm counting on it. I want the Templars. I want… hrnn… I want the sons of Sigismund."

"He killed you once. You might kill some of his followers, but there are many of them now."

"Good. More… hrnn… more skulls for the Skull Throne."

"Skulls for the Skull Throne!" the dozen Berzerkers in the drop pod echoed.

Khârn briefly wondered if he'd accidentally used an open vox channel. Maybe the Sarrin-thing had spoken through the drop pod's vox, or used Warp-power to speak. It didn't matter to Khârn; all that mattered was landing and getting to grips with the enemy.

Who was the enemy? There were the Black Templars, of course—worthy offerings, nearly as ferocious as the World Eaters—but there were others fighting as well. Then there was a spike of agony from the Butcher's Nails, and the questions faded away. There was killing to be done.

The drop pod slammed into the ground; Khârn kicked one of the doors off before it completely opened, and charged. The first thing he saw was an Ork, which he slaughtered with a single blow of Gorechild. Orks were good sport; they loved war, and they were everywhere. Still, they were no challenge; Khârn rarely fought one that was worth offering to the Blood God. He wanted Imperial skulls; he wanted Astartes to slay.

This was going to be a good war, he told himself as he butchered more Orks. There were Imperials and Orks, all fighting in a crucible of blood. With so many warriors, there had to be a few worthy foes; even if there weren't, the sheer number would still please Khorne.

"The light…" Khârn glanced at a Berzerker, who pointed at something in the distance. "A weapon?"

Khârn saw the pillar of light, which flickered and died. "A target." He raised Gorechild in that direction. "Go! Kill everything!"

…

Shepard was, at her heart, someone who craved order in life. Whether that came from peace, or just a proper battle line, it didn't matter, as long as she could have some kind of order. It was one more reason she hated Chaos; the Dark Gods sought to overthrow all order and plunge the universe into never-ending madness.

The Orks were similar, though less insidious. They sought anarchic violence for its own sake, and didn't try to corrupt the souls of mankind. They were less evil in Shepard's mind, but no less infuriating. That was why she enjoyed ending Ork invasions whenever she found one; it brought order back to the world.

One Ork after another died at her hands; at one point, she had to remain in the air, because there were too many of their corpses to safely walk. She flew over another mob of Orks, shooting or smashing a dozen heads; behind her, the Alexian Guard followed suit.

With Saint Shepard leading them, the First-Blooded were fearless. Their ferocity nearly matched that of the Reapers; some soldiers even threw themselves at the larger Orks with bayonets fixed when their lasguns ran out of power, and many times, they even won. As far as the Militarum regiments were concerned, they had achieved their divine mandate—they had found another Primarch, and now they had to wipe out the enemy.

Shepard tried not to get overconfident, but even as more Orks swarmed towards her position, more of the Crusade arrived to reinforce her. It started with air-dropped Scions of the Deltic Scorpions, followed by a mechanized column from the Order of the Iron Tears. Then, elements from the Lamenters and Necropolis Hawks opened a gap in the Ork lines, just long enough for a hundred Black Templars to join the fray. Within hours, despite casualties, Shepard's force was larger than it was before the battle.

Other Imperial units trickled in, thanks to the White Scars. The Khan led one charge after another, shattering entire warbands and opening more gaps in the line. He seemed to be everywhere at once, always driving his sword through the skull of the biggest Orks and preventing them from reaching critical mass. To the Shepard Crusade, it was like the wind itself gave its aid.

Despite all this, the Orks were just as ferocious as ever. The only part of the line where they truly faltered was where Yarrick made his stand. The Old Man of Armageddon fought on foot, or atop the Fortress of Arrogance; even when he wasn't directly fighting, his mere presence was enough to stir his men to feats of extreme bravery, and cowed all but the bravest Orks. Shepard quickly saw how Yarrick had created a bulge in the Ork line, and centered her counterattack around it; a large influx of tanks and heavy infantry began to drive a wedge in the Ork horde.

"I recognize this tribe," Yarrick said during a lull in the fighting; he kicked a dead Ork for emphasis. "They've served Ghazghkull longer than most, and act as his veterans. If they are here, then there is a chance that he will be here soon."

"If he shows up, what are our chances of killing him?" Shepard asked.

Yarrick sighed. "I do not know. He is cunning, and would not place himself in a battle he did not have a chance of winning."

"So if he picks a fight, it'll be with something that gives him an edge." Shepard closed her eyes and rested her head against the turret of Yarrick's tank. "I've called for as many reinforcements as I could, but I have no idea if they'll get here in time."

Yarrick nodded. "He will bring Gargants soon. We need Titans if we are to maintain our footing."

"I brought some, but they were deployed halfway across the continent. Princeps Lynn said they were coming, but she couldn't give an accurate ETA."

"Then we will have to make do with what we have, and hope that there are not too many Gargants when the time comes."

"It's been my experience that our luck is never that good." Shepard rose and stretched her aching arms. "I'll see if we can get more melta bombs, just in case."

Yarrick smirked. "There can never be too many melta bombs."

The sound of Orks roaring in the distance made Shepard tense. "Let's hope our backup arrives before those guys do."

…

Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka, Grand Warlord and Prophet of Gork and Mork, was not happy. Oh, there was plenty of fighting to be had, and the spiky Space Marines had even been kind enough to bring the fight to his Space Hulk, but they weren't the ones he wanted to fight. He wanted to be on the planet below, where Old Bale-Eye was! That was where he'd have a battle worth remembering, not in the cramped halls of his ship.

A screaming Berzerker charged him, but Ghazghkull merely leveled Mork's Roar, his enormous quad-barreled gun, and opened fire. The blood-crazed maniac didn't so much die as totally disintegrate from the sheer volume of high-caliber rounds.

The World Eaters—and that was a name Ghazghkull could remember—had boarded his Space Hulk in more places than he could count. Of course, he couldn't count past fifteen, but the point stood. His most trusted Boyz were fighting all over the enormous ship, either dealing with the Chaos Marines, or twisted machines that followed them into the breaches. Though there were many of the Chaos forces, Ghazghkull had Orks to spare, and had mostly contained each boarding party. Given a few more hours, and the intruders would be slaughtered.

However, Ghazghkull did not want to wait a few more hours. He wanted to be on the surface by now, but those annoying World Eaters had damaged his tellyporta array during the worst of their rampage. His Meks were fixing it, but it would take a while; he could have taken a ship down to the surface, but there were too many human ships around. The Prophet of Gork and Mork couldn't get killed before even reaching the main battle! That was just embarrassing.

"Can't wait ta get down dere," he growled.

Makari, his loyal Grot and banner-bearer, looked up at him. "Wot's down on dat plannit, Boss? Sumfing speshul?"

Ghazghkull scoffed. "Nah, it's just anuvver rock in space, but da gods… dey tol' me fings, Makari. Dere's a real punch-up down dere. Not like all da waitin' we did on Armageddon, just fightin' and killin'. Dere's Space Marine bosses, and oomie Gargants, and Yarrick 'isself!"

Makari nodded. "Sounds like gud fun, yeh? Why ain't we goin' down already?"

"I told ya, da tellyporta got busted by da spiky boyz." Ghazghkull huffed, and stomped on a dead World Eater as he passed by. "I jus' wanna be on da ground!"

"Uh, Boss?" Makari shuffled in place. "I know ya wanna fight Old Bale-Eye, but wot 'bout da uvver 'oomie bosses?"

"One of 'em was wiv Yarrick, so 'e's gotta be good at fightin', an' sum of da boyz on the plannit sed dey saw lots of beakies. Dat means dere has to be sum beakie bosses!"

Makari nodded; it made sense for Space Marine leaders to be with other Space Marines. They tended to fight on the front line, unlike other humans. Knowing Ghazghkull, he would probably go after the Space Marine bosses; he often used that tactic to shatter whatever plans the humans might have concocted.

Of course, it didn't matter to Makari, because all he planned on doing was putting Ghazghkull between him and anything dangerous.

"Boss! Boss!" An Ork ran up, waving his arms wildly. "Da meks sed da tellyporta's all fixed up, Boss!"

Ghazghkull laughed. "Dat's wot I want ta 'ear! C'mon, ladz, 'ere we go!"

…

"Lord Jaghatai," Grimaldus said, and sank to one knee. "It is an honor to be in your presence."

Shepard kept an eye on the introductions, but was more interested in the White Scars' reactions. For those who had come from thousands of years ago, they seemed more amused by the Black Templars' deference, but the ones in newer armor looked ready to join their cousins in kneeling.

"Rise, son of Rogal," the Khan said. "This is no place for ceremony. There are still many foes yet to slay."

"As you say, my lord," Grimaldus replied, and rose.

"He is to be called Khagan, or Khan," one of the White Scars said tersely. "Not 'lord'."

Shepard could tell that Grimaldus was bristling behind his helm, but he nodded. "Very well."

"All right, we've got some breathing room," Shepard said, dispelling the tension. "The Orks can't decide who to fight, so half of them are fighting the World Eaters. That's fine by me, because we've fortified our positions. Raquilon, you said you had a development?"

Zandtus wasn't as affected by Jaghatai's aura as he'd been by Corax's, but it still took him a moment to respond. "Yes, I have teams of Infiltrators patrolling our supply depots; they are disrupting enemy teleportation signatures, and funneling them into kill-zones. If the Orks want to come at us in significant numbers, they will have to throw themselves at our heaviest defenses."

"Good to hear. Vils, what about the World Eaters?"

"I have men tracking their progress," Vils reported smartly. "They aren't exactly subtle. They're fighting their way to us, and they're building up momentum. My scouts have reported heavy infantry formations, bikes, transports, and a number of daemon engines."

"Why would they come here?" Helmin wondered. "Why not just keep fighting the Orks?"

Shepard jerked a thumb over her shoulder, where the Webway gate continued to glow. "I'd put money on that thing as the cause. Might as well have a sign saying 'something interesting here, come and kill it'."

"Then we should destroy it," Grimaldus argued. "If it is disrupting our strategies by drawing the enemy to us, then it should burn. Besides, it is a xenos relic, an affront to the God-Emperor!"

Jaghatai raised an eyebrow. "I agree that it should be destroyed, but not yet. For now, it remains as bait to the enemy, and an advantage that we can exploit."

Shepard was glad the Primarch was there; for all that he was a fierce warrior, he was also a wise leader, and tempered the more hotheaded of those gathered without her needing to flaunt her powers.

"For now, we should rest and reorganize," the Khan went on. "We may have gathered, but there is always much to do before battle resumes." He inclined his head at Shepard. "If there is nothing else."

"No, you're right," Shepard said. "It's going to be a long while before this war is over, and it'll be a while before we'll rest again."

"Good." Jaghatai glanced at Zandtus. "Perhaps you can use that time to explain what, exactly, you are. You are like no Astartes I have ever seen."

Zandtus bowed his head. "I will endeavor to explain what I can, Khagan."

Shepard snorted. "Wow, it's like every Primarch missed the Primaris project." She nodded at Blaise, and the two of them headed for the field-chapel the Sororitas had set up. "You guys have fun!"

…

With some bemusement, Josephine watched as a squad of more veteran Sisters sat among a platoon of Guardsmen from the Duranian Rangers and talked. Both groups kept their weapons close, in case of a sudden enemy attack, but they sat relative ease as they spoke.

"Is that common among this Crusade?" she asked quietly.

Sister Superior Agatha looked up from loading bolt shells into a magazine; she followed Josephine's gaze, and nodded. "Saint Shepard encourages all elements of the Crusade to… mingle."

"Mingle?"

"That was the word Saint Shepard used. She believes that all who fight in the God-Emperor's name should become true comrades. It has prevented infighting almost from the beginning, and many bonds of friendship have formed since then."

Josephine nodded eagerly. Saint Shepard had declared something, and even if Josephine hadn't been so devoted to her, it just made sense that the different factions of the Crusade should learn to get along.

"Will you not also find some Guardsmen to speak to?" she asked.

Agatha shook her head. "Once my preparations are complete, I intend to find Sergeant Lann—he is from the Necropolis Hawks. He and I usually speak to each other between theaters we are both assigned to, even if it is only over the vox." She glanced at Josephine. "You are free to wander the camp, if you wish, but do not go too far. We could resume battle at any time."

Josephine looked over at Katarin, who was meditating quietly. She could have, should have, been doing the same, but she was restless. She rose, checked her flamer, and cautiously walked through the camp. Despite the 'mingling', there were still distinct lines between the various forces in their sector; this was mostly because there would be little warning before the next attack, and no one could risk straying far from their borders.

At first, Josephine wasn't sure where to go, or who to speak to. She was not shy, but she related more to her sisters than those who were not Sororitas.

A loud clang caught her attention, and she nearly raised her flamer out of reflex; close by, a Tech-Priest cautiously resumed their ministrations to a Sentinel. It was difficult to tell their gender, hidden as they were by their robes, but Josephine could tell that they were a lower-ranked Enginseer. They had a servo-arm curling over their shoulder, and one arm was a gleaming bionic, but that was all Josephine could immediately see.

"Hail, Tech-Priest," Josephine called out softly. "Is there a problem?"

The Enginseer twitched, then cautiously turned to her; without the shadows blocking her features, Josephine could see that it was a woman. Her right eye was a bionic, with a shimmering green lens, but the rest of her face was remarkably human. She pulled back her hood, revealing silver hair, so out of place on a face so young.

"Startled realization: Greetings, Sororitas," the Enginseer said, her voice timid. "Explanation: There is no problem. This holy machine has been properly maintained, and is ready for battle. Embarrassment: The fault was mine. My servo-arm was recently grafted to my unworthy flesh, and it accidentally connected with the Sentinel. No harm was done to either."

Josephine tried not to laugh; she had never heard of a clumsy Tech-Priest before, and her method of speech was endearing. "That is good to hear. I am Sister Josephine, of the Order of the Iron Tears. Who are you?"

The Enginseer hesitated, then nodded at her. "Introduction: I am Theta-Iota-Alphus, Enginseer of Stygies VIII, assigned as support to the Seventy-Seventh Duranian Rangers."

"Greetings, Theta-Iota-Alphus." Josephine took in the other woman's young features. "Have you served in the Shepard Crusade long?"

"Negative reply: No, this is my first deployment. Statement: I was honored to be selected for this task, humble though it be."

"We all have a role to play, and all of them are important, even if we cannot see it."

Theta-Iota-Alphus smiled; it was uncertain, and oddly adorable. "Dogmatic recitation: We are cogs in the holy machine."

"I suppose that is true." Josephine hesitated, then took a leap of faith. "I mean no offense, but your name is a bit long. If we meet again, might I call you Tia?"

Josephine could almost see the Enginseer's mind working, realizing that she had made an acronym out of her name.

"Affirmation: That is acceptable. You may call me Tia." She was about to continue, but alarms suddenly blared throughout the camp. "Alert: Potential enemy attack. Query: Xenos or heretic?"

"I don't know," Josephine said. "Either way, I think I'll find out soon."

"Understanding: You will be on the front line. I am designated as support-personnel. Emphatic: Omnissiah favor you in battle, Sister Josephine."

"And may the God-Emperor bless you, Enginseer Tia." Josephine waved, then headed back to her squad; she missed how Tia tentatively waved back, or how her servo-arm mimicked her.

"I saw you back there," Katarin said as Josephine joined them at the defenses. "Did you make a new friend?"

Josephine smiled. "Actually, I think I did." Her smile became fiercer when she saw a mass of red-armored warriors charging their position. "And I have no intention of letting those heretics get near her."

…

Shepard was patient with many things; when she had been an N7, she had worked steadily and methodically with Mordin and Tali on various projects, never rushing any step. When planning operations, she made sure she stacked the odds in her favor as much as possible; during the Reaper War, she'd had the Normandy on standby for strafing runs on almost every mission that had her squad outside.

All that went out the window during actual combat, though; Shepard hated being patient during a mission, regardless of which universe she lived in. Whether as a Commander, General, or Saint, she led from the front; it made her a lesser strategist, but it made her the kind of leader whose soldiers would follow to the end of the universe.

That meant that leaving battles to others, even for a little while, chafed at her very soul. If being on the battlefield meant saving just one of her soldiers from suffering, she wanted to be out there. Instead, she was waiting on the remains of a spire; it had collapsed long before the Shepard Crusade had arrived, and its fallen half had turned into a perfect ramp. Next to her, Jaghatai Khan sat on his jetbike, observing the battle below.

"World Eaters," he spat. "I fought them many times during Horus' betrayal. They were always butchers, but seeing them like this… how far that Legion has fallen."

Shepard frowned. "You know, I've squared off against guys like them, but I don't think I've ever fought the originals. Weird."

"Your Holiness." Shepard glanced over her shoulder at Blaise, who was waiting next to her Chasseur-pattern bike. "How much longer must we wait?"

The new bikes had been delivered by Xem-Beta at the behest of Cawl; during their discussions, Shepard had offhandedly remarked that the Sororitas didn't have fast ground units, only transports. She had tossed around the idea of bikes similar to what Space Marines used, and Cawl had apparently taken the idea and made it a reality. The bikes were slim and ludicrously fast, and only a small percentage of Sororitas had the reflexes necessary to use them. They looked almost like dirt bikes, but with formfitting armor plates in the colors of the Order of the Iron Tears, and a bolter mounted between the handlebars. The entire front half of the bike could be partially locked, so that the rider could swing about with a melee weapon; most couldn't use a chainsword, since it was so unwieldy for them at those speeds, but their small numbers meant that each and every one was armed with a power sword instead.

"This is just the vanguard," Jaghatai said. "Once the enemy arrives in force, we will hit their flanks. Our main force must endure for a little longer."

"At least they've got help," Shepard added as she watched hundreds of battle-servitors trundle to the front, positioning themselves between the World Eaters and the Imperials. The miserable existence of the servitors made them the only units Shepard was willing to throw away.

"More of them coming in," Jaghatai cut in, pointing to hundreds of World Eaters; some were in transports, while others were on foot. They were accompanied by tens of thousands of screaming cultists, and the hunched forms of daemon engines.

What they lacked in discipline and strategy, they made up for in mindless ferocity. Despite the hammering artillery, disciplined fusillades of las- and bolter-fire, and devastating barrages from the tanks, they just kept coming.

Shepard noticed one warrior in particular; he was huge, for a Space Marine, made even taller by the U-shaped crest of his helm. His left arm was bare, save for loops of chains, which connected him to an ugly chainaxe that practically oozed bloodlust. He stood on top of a corrupted Land Raider, screaming incoherently at the waiting Imperials.

"I know him," Jaghatai said quietly. "He is more powerful than before, but I recognize him. That is Khârn; he was Angron's equerry, one of the fiercest Astartes in all the Legions."

"I think we found our main force," Shepard commented. "Shall we?"

"Indeed." The Khan revved the engine of his jetbike. "Now is the time, warriors of the Emperor! Strike hard, strike fast, and bleed them dry!"

Shouting oaths of loyalty and vengeance, the Imperial force charged down the ruined spire. There were less than a thousand of them, formed from the fastest units available; nearly half of them were White Scars, while the rest were Sororitas Pursuers, and a few squads of Outriders from the Necropolis Hawks and Lamenters. Only Shepard and the Alexian Guard weren't mounted; they would fight from the air.

The cavalry charge slammed into the Chaos flank, as planned; for the first thirty seconds of the charge, they didn't even slow down as they simply plowed through the massed ranks of cultists. They didn't even start shooting until they came within range of the Chaos Marines; they would need to conserve every shot they had for the true threats.

With their allies now within the ranks of the enemy, the defending Imperials mostly focused their fire on the enemy's opposite flank. The one exception was a detachment of Space Marines, who leapt from the defenses and charged the Chaos center; leading the nearly three hundred Space Marines, comprised of Black Templars, Necropolis Hawks and Lamenters was Grimaldus himself, roaring prayers to the Emperor, even as he thundered towards his foe.

It was when the flanking force hit the World Eaters that the tide began to turn. Despite their momentum, only the most elite White Scars were able to break what little formation the World Eaters had. Some Chaos Marines died, yes, but many more swung roaring chainaxes with practiced ease, knocking Astartes and Sororitas from their saddles in sprays of blood.

Where the momentum broke worst, Shepard was there to build it up again. She landed in front of a Berzerker who had been about to kill a wounded Sororitas; she pointed one palm at the World Eater, and a beam of golden light reduced him to ashes.

"Don't stop!" she shouted, straining to be heard over the din of battle. "Keep pushing! We can win this!"

Somehow, despite the gore and machine parts flying everywhere, she suddenly locked eyes with Khârn himself. The champion of Khorne jumped off his Land Raider and pointed his axe at her; the challenge was obvious, and after Shepard watched him effortlessly bisect a Lamenter who tried to get in his way, she knew she had to accept.

"For Chapter, for Imperium, for Emperor."

Shepard was nearly thrown off her feet when a Redemptor Dreadnought stormed past her, guns blazing as he charged at Khârn. The World Eater plowed heedlessly into the gunfire and raised his axe; Artin reached out to crush him in his massive fist, only for Khârn to lean out of the way and bury Gorechild into his chassis. Metal parted as easily as flesh; sparks and hydraulic fluids spilled, but Artin refused to fall. He swung wide with his fist, and managed to stagger Khârn with a backhanded blow.

"For Chapter, for Imperium, for Emperor."

"Your Emperor is dead!" Khârn bellowed. "All that is left is to claim his skull!"

Another swing of Gorechild severed Artin's underslung gatling cannon, along with one of his fingers. He tried to back up, to bring his main gun to bear, but Khârn didn't give him the chance; his massive chainaxe hacked one of the Dreadnought's legs off, and carved another deep gash in his carapace. Artin collapsed, but continued to struggle; he grabbed his killer's leg and squeezed, cracking armor and bone.

"For Chapter, for Imperium… for Shepard."

Khârn roared, and brought Gorechild down onto Artin's carapace. The screaming teeth found purchase, and carved into, and through, the sarcophagus. The Dreadnought twitched, then went slack as its pilot died.

Shepard had only been able to take a few steps in a desperate attempt to save her friend before he faced his final death. She couldn't even shout a denial, because a pair of World Eaters were on her, and she was forced to deal with them. Her rage manifested in her powers growing even stronger, and she burned the corruption out of them, leaving them stunned and confused for the instant they had before Shepard crushed their skulls.

Nearby, the Khan weaved around one group of World Eaters after another; his dao moved at impossible speeds, often killing Berzerkers before they even saw the deathblow coming. His jetbike spat bolts at close range, blasting chunks out of Chaos Marines, and even severing the tracks of a nearby Rhino. He revved his bike's engine, preparing for another charge; for an instant, less than a fraction of a second, his attention wasn't where it should have been, and in that moment, Khârn attacked.

Shepard could only watch as the champion of Khorne fired his plasma pistol into the thrusters of the jetbike. There was a cough, a pop, and then the entire rear half of the vehicle exploded; Jaghatai was hurled forward, cartwheeling through the air, but managed to roll to his feet. Blood dripped down the side of his head, healing almost instantly, but he was still stunned, and unable to react to Khârn's charge in time.

Thankfully, while Shepard hadn't been able to stop the first attack, she was there for the second. Liberator met Gorechild in a shower of sparks; mica-dragon teeth screamed as they tried to tear through a power field. Even with her enhanced strength, Shepard nearly buckled against Khârn's assault; the maniac was as strong as a Dreadnought, and faster than any Astartes she had met before.

Shepard leaned to the side, letting Gorechild skip across her shoulder, only taking a slice of her armor with it. Khârn let out an enraged howl and punched her in the face with his free hand; Shepard's helm shattered, along with her nose and front teeth, and she was knocked on her back. She scrambled back to her feet, and the pain faded as her wounds healed, though she could still taste blood.

Wait, she thought, that's not blood.

Khârn also seemed to realize that something was off, and hesitated. The only other warning anyone had was an odd crackling noise, and then there was a blinding flash of light. When it faded, Shepard looked up… and up, as the biggest Ork she had ever seen loomed over her. His armor was more like a massive exoskeleton that let him tower over even a Dreadnought; one arm was covered by a quad-barreled gun, and the other hand ended in an enormous power klaw, each finger of which was nearly as long as a Space Marine was tall.

Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka smiled as more and more Orks were teleported to the surface. He raised his arms to the heavens, and roared.

"WAAAGH!"

Okay, so we found Jaghatai, which is cool. He did accidentally kill Shepard, but death is an inconvenience for her. And now we have a three-way melee between the Imperium, the World Eaters, and the Orks.

For those of you who don't know, Lotara Sarin is canon. She was the captain of the Conqueror, and possibly one of the most badass humans in the last ten thousand years. She commanded respect from almost the entirety of the World Eaters Legion, to the point that Khârn once killed another World Eater after that unfortunate moron insulted her. There's no record (yet) of her ultimate fate, but I like to think that she merged with her ship, where she continues to criticize the various World Eaters she carries to war.

Also, Artin is dead, which kinda sucks. He's been around for a long time, going from a lieutenant, then a Dreadnought, and now, dead at the hands of Khârn the Betrayer.

But we got a new character, because I like introducing rookies to the Crusade: Tia the Enginseer! She is adorable, and I decided to give her the same speech pattern as HK-47. I immediately like her, which means I will have to make her suffer horribly, because this is 40k, and anyone the author likes must be miserable.

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 as an eBook or physical copy. I'm trying really hard to get the next book finished, but I've now got three jobs, and barely have any time to myself.

If you want to support me in other ways, my P-atreon (link in my profile) is the place to be! Donations at the higher tiers get you chapters early, and even a PDF of my book! Every little bit helps!

I'd like to thank the following patrons for their unwavering awesomeness:

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

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Next Chapter: The battle reaches a fever pitch as Imperial, heretic and xeno alike fight for ultimate victory on Fendatha, and not everyone will make it out alive…

For the Muffin-Emperor!