WARHAMMER DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. MASS EFFECT DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. I THINK I NEED TO QUIT USING THE WARP, GUYS. PRETTY SURE MY HAIR SHOULDN'T BE BLEEDING OUT THE ENDS.

Shepard can't catch a break, can she? Well, obviously, there are no breaks in 40K, only war.

Star-Bound

Chapter 35

Ghosts

If Shepard had thought that the Imperial forces would be discouraged by the arrival of another enemy fleet, she was mistaken. The Guardsmen grimly reloaded their weapons and settled into their defenses, while the Mechanicus reset their combat protocols and calibrated their guns. The Reapers, Lamenters and Necropolis Hawks ceased their respective grieving for their dead, and prepared for battle once more.

Out of all of them, it was the Order of the Iron Tears and the Black Templars who actually showed joy. Not only would they be fighting on the site of a major victory, they would be able to bring righteous judgement upon even more heretics.

Shepard was—with some effort—able to remain calm, even serene, amongst a hurricane of activity. She moved from camp to camp, offering encouragement or leading short prayers; everywhere she went, her warriors were left with renewed vigor and resolve.

"Do you know what I hate most about heretics?" Shepard asked, after reading reports from both Vils and Blaise.

The two leaders shared a look of confusion. "I was not aware we needed reasons, Your Holiness," Vils confessed.

Shepard chuckled. "Good point. Still, I think I finally know what makes me so angry." She pointed to a pillar of smoke in the distance, where the humans had been burning Ork corpses. "We all know how dangerous this galaxy is. We know what kind of threat aliens like the Orks and the Tyranids pose, and we know that the best way to stop them is by working together. Even then, those daemon-worshipping sons of bitches decided to make things worse. Is it so much to ask that our enemies wait in line for us to fight them?"

"You would rather fight aliens than heretics?" Blaise asked.

"I'd rather there not be any heretics at all," Shepard said. "That way, we can focus on keeping people safe from the enemy without, and not worry about getting stabbed in the back."

Vils made the sign of the Aquila. "Then we shall endeavor to kill these heretics as quickly as possible, so that we can get back to doing just that."

Once Blaise and Vils were gone, Shepard sat down; her hand kept straying to a compartment on her belt, where Ashley's omni-tool was contained. She wished she could do another round of visits to her friends, but she needed to be here now, and they didn't need further distractions. She, however, was plagued by them.

How did Ashley's corpse end up in the Webway? Why had her omni-tool been scanning for so long? What was the connection between this galaxy and the one she'd originally come from?

Shepard wished she could talk to Revelation, but she could feel that the old man was just as confused as she was. She got the sense that he was pondering all they had learned, and was leaving the more immediate concerns to her. That was fine with her; the last thing she wanted to do was dig up old wounds like Ashley's death.

For some reason, the thought of old wounds made her shiver; she looked up, and wondered just what was coming for her this time.

…

High Admiral Dartan refused to let his fear show on his ancient features. Few survived an encounter with a Blackstone Fortress, and fewer also had to deal with an accompanying fleet of traitor ships.

If he was being honest, Dartan didn't think anything his combined fleet had could actually destroy the Blackstone Fortress. The other Chaos ships, on the other hand, were all essentially modified Imperial vessels, and the loyalists knew how to fight those.

"All ships, divide into battlegroups and engage the escorts," he ordered. "Maneuver to keep the enemy ships between us and the Blackstone Fortress."

Dartan didn't hold out much hope that those aboard the fortress would refrain from firing on their own. At the very least, splitting the fleet would present too many targets for the fortress to quickly destroy them all.

Part of him wanted to fall into despair, but the more he thought about it, the more he felt excitement and righteous fury. How often did a servant of the Throne have a chance to deny the enemy an asset as valuable as a Blackstone Fortress? As he had learned over the years serving with Saint Shepard, every foe slain was one more Imperial citizen who would not fall at those hands. How many countless millions might be saved if the Blackstone Fortress were to be destroyed?

"Patch me through to all ships," he ordered, and barely waited for the vox-officer to do his duty before speaking. "All vessels, this is High Admiral Dartan. Today should have been a day of celebration and mourning both; great enemies have fallen, alongside even greater heroes. Instead, what should have been our day, the Emperor's day, has been tarnished by the presence of more heretics. But this is not a time for lamentation, for our wrath and indignation has a target! Our enemies are here, practically delivering themselves to us! Our ships still carry fury within their hearts, and their guns will sing as they deliver these blasphemous traitors to the judgment they deserve! Fight, in the name of the Imperium, and the God-Emperor! Show these rabid dogs that it takes more than a few Orks and Tyranids to leave us broken for them to pick at!"

As Dartan finished his speech, he realized he'd risen to his feet, and was shaking his fist. His ancient body trembled with rage, and the adrenaline crystallized the plans already forming in his mind. As he sat back down, he couldn't help but grin madly. If he was to die this day, he would die spitting defiance at the greatest foe he'd ever faced, and he would not make it easy.

"All ships," he intoned, "fire when in range!"

…

"Have the landing parties been prepared?" Amalgamation asked.

"Yes." Huron Blackheart slowly opened and closed the Tyrant's Claw. "I have already calculated how long our fleet can hold off the enemy. Even with the Blackstone Fortress, I can give you no more than two hours once the battle begins. Whatever you have planned, you must complete it by then."

Amalgamation rose from its throne, and hefted its sword. Huron had noticed rapid changes over the last few months, as the power of Chaos began to alter Amalgamation's form. Its fingers were pointed talons, while its helm had morphed into a sculpted face, screaming in hatred and baring long fangs. Its breastplate now had a three-headed dog carved into the ceramite, and its shoulders were covered in thick, angular lines that glowed a baleful red. None of these changes had been voluntary, or slow; Amalgamation had simply strode into a gathering with those changes, when it hadn't had them the day before.

Lately, it seemed like many of Amalgamation's followers had also been growing in strength, as if mere proximity to such a champion of Chaos was enough to trigger the beginnings of apotheosis. Lortan could no longer remove his helm, and waves of cold air hissed from his armor with every beat of his hearts; when he walked, his feet froze whatever material he stood on, shattering a thin layer, and leaving icy footprints. Rinnik's jump pack had become partially organic, and had sprouted leathery wings that let him fly faster than a mere machine had ever done before. Maggotfather had grown to nearly twice his previous height, towering over even Amalgamation; it seemed like he was on the cusp of becoming a Daemon Prince. Amonhotep had lost his flesh entirely, becoming a construct of ethereal green energy, barely contained by his armor and his willpower.

Of Amalgamation's original council, only Khayon remained unchanged, though Huron wasn't sure if that was because the sorcerer's true loyalty lay with Abaddon, not Amalgamation.

Still, the forces of Chaos had power like few outside the Black Crusades, and Huron was confident that the Imperials were not prepared for their might.

…

The first sign of the Chaos forces on the ground came with the smell of ozone. Moments later, flashes of light heralded the arrival of Terminator squads across Fendatha; some appeared just outside of the dug-in Imperials, while others began their assault directly inside the fortifications.

Such an attack had been anticipated by everyone among the command echelon, and preparations had been made beforehand. Helbrecht had spread his Black Templars as thinly as he'd dared among the non-Astartes elements; some of his elite brothers were able to destroy the Chaos Terminators upon their arrival, but the heavier-armored enemies often killed just as many of their loyalist opponents. The Chaos forces didn't fight recklessly, and often teleported back out if their attacks faltered.

Those Black Templars who sacrificed their lives did not die in vain. They bought their allies time to fall back in good order when the enemy stood its ground, either to engage from new positions, or conduct fighting withdrawals until they could be reinforced with more Space Marines. In particular, Jaghatai Khan and the White Scars made all the difference in hunting down and forcing the Terminators to withdraw.

It was obvious that the Terminators were meant to keep the Imperials disorganized, so that more forces could be landed unmolested. Again, the Imperials were prepared; as soon as the Mechanicus detected the transports hurtling towards the surface, Shepard led the counterattack.

Knowing that the Chaos landing would be strong, Shepard had come prepared. Of the First-Blooded, only the Fiftieth Hecheron had been left in their defensive positions, but the other four regiments marched or rode to intercept the landing. The entire Seventh Deltic Scorpions raced ahead in a swarm of Valkyries, alongside five companies of Lamenters, and six of the Reapers, all aboard gunships of their own.

Shepard herself traveled with four Preceptories of the Order of the Iron Tears in a massive armored column. She and the Alexian Guard rode atop a pair of Rhinos, ready to take flight at a moment's notice, while speakers blared hymns of wrath from every speaker. Surrounding the pair of Rhinos were the Custodes grav-carriers that bore Shield-Host Shepard into battle; alongside the transports marched a pair of ancient Custodes Contemptor-pattern Dreadnoughts, each carrying a massive shield and sword. Towering over them all was Iron Fidelity, leading the smaller Armiger Knights like the lord it was.

The combined force riding into battle was powerful enough to conquer an entire star system in a matter of days. Still, Helmin had advised taking even more, but the Imperials were already stretched thin, and Shepard had refused to weaken one section of their defenses any more than she had to.

Despite their speed, the Imperials were unable to prevent the Chaos force from landing in the outskirts of the hive. Thousands of cultists and mutants had demolished several buildings, creating barricades and setting up defenses. Strutting among them were the Chaos Marines, lording it over the mortal soldiers like demigods. It was difficult to tell how many there were, but Shepard and her officers weren't planning on taking chances; even a small number of Astartes could cause heavy casualties among mortal soldiery.

Shepard held a brief council of war, as her ad-hoc army formed up. Darius was only there as her protector, but he had a spot; there was also Vils, Klinner, Sren, Losvor, and a captain named Ilia as the acting commander of the 1022nd Cadian Armored. Brol, as the highest-ranking Space Marine among Shepard's immediate forces, represented both his Chapter and the Lamenters' companies. Standing at Shepard's side was Canoness Evelina, the most senior Sororitas in the force.

Evelina was possibly the most intimidating woman Shepard had ever met. She had once been beautiful, but that changed during the war on Vigilus; she had been briefly captured by a group of Emperor's Children, and skinned alive, and then subjected to several different poisons. She had been rescued in time to save her life, but her injuries had been extreme. In order to keep her alive, her armor had been modified, and was now as much life-support system as power armor. Her helm had tubes connecting to her collar, and her voice was distorted by a vox.

What intimidated Shepard was that Evelina had refused any painkillers, and the poisons still coursing through her body kept her in constant agony. Rather than succumb, she used it to fuel her zeal, which spread to her entire Preceptory. Even more frightening, her iron will ensured that she didn't let that zeal overrule her common sense; instead, she used her pain to sharpen her tactical skills to levels that impressed even the Mechanicus.

"I see no reason why we should not use our standard tactics," Evelina said. "Disorient the enemy with rapid strikes from the Tempestus Scions and Astartes, then smash them apart with everything else."

"I agree with the canoness," Brol growled. "And we should move with speed. Every minute we delay gives the heretics time to complete whatever mission they have in mind."

"I've already begun deploying squads," Vils reported. "As soon as we're ready, we'll begin launching rapid strikes, but we'll need backup to keep up the momentum."

"You'll have it," Shepard promised. "Captain Ilia?"

The young Cadian snapped a salute with her bionic arm, which made a tiny clang when it connected with her bulky augmetic eye. "Yes, ma'am! We'll have squadrons ready to roll up as soon as the Scorpions wedge open the door."

Shepard grinned. "And you'll be there to blow it open all the way?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Ilia didn't smile back, but there was a fire in her remaining eye. "I'm looking forward to it, as well as watching the rest of the house get burned to the ground."

Sren chuckled. "I think it'll be a competition between us and the Iron Tears to see who can light the fires first."

Evelina shifted slightly in his direction. "Challenge accepted."

"While they are dealing with the fortifications, I will lead the attack against the traitor Astartes," Brol declared. "If there is to be a meaningful counterattack, it will be from them. Has there been any identification on them?"

Vils nodded. "Two groups have been positively identified. The first is…" He hesitated, then turned to Captain Arteth of the Lamenters. "It is the Red Corsairs."

Arteth had his hand on the pommel of his chainsword faster than anyone could blink. While he had never been involved in the Badab War, the outrage all Lamenters felt towards the Astartes formerly known as the Astral Claws was palpable.

"Leave them to us," he snarled. "Honor demands we slay them."

"As long as the job gets done," Shepard said, the steel in her voice forcing even Arteth to calm down. "And you won't go in alone. Colonel Klinner, can you divert some of your regiment to assist the Lamenters?"

Klinner looked Arteth in the eye. "Yes, Your Holiness. We'll make sure the traitorous bastards get what they deserve."

"I will also send some of my sisters," Evelina added. "Half a Preceptory should suffice, unless you have an objection, Captain."

"None," Arteth said. "I welcome any aid in destroying that blight on my Chapter's honor."

"Tempestor Prime, you mentioned that you'd identified a second warband," Brol said, getting the conversation back on course. "What about them?"

For the first time in all the years Shepard had known him, Vils actually looked nervous as he spoke to Brol.

"It's the Death Guard."

Whatever calm Brol might have had was instantly gone; the wrath on his face made even Arteth's seem inconsequential. He seemed to forget where he was, and the way he held his power scythe made Darius tense, ready to move to keep Shepard safe.

"Garask." Shepard stepped around the Shield-Captain and walked over to Brol. "High Commander!"

Brol visibly shook himself. "Yes, Saint Shepard?"

"I won't stop you from fighting them," Shepard said softly; she reached up and pointed at his head. "But use that before anything else. Fight smart, and don't give them the satisfaction of making a mistake."

Brol nodded. "Yes… yes, of course. My apologies."

Of those present, only Vils, Shepard and Darius knew the truth about Brol's reaction, and Shepard planned to keep it that way. Still, she could see the questions forming in the others' minds.

"As some of you know, High Commander Brol was not originally a Primaris Marine," she said, careful in how she explained this. "Before being renamed to the Reapers, his original Chapter… suffered at the hands of the Death Guard. I promised him that if there was a chance for him to get revenge, I would allow it—though you won't be going in alone, High Commander. Evelina, change of plans; I want you taking two Preceptories to support the Reapers' attack. I'll command the rest for the main assault."

"Understood, Your Holiness." Evelina nodded at Brol. "I will do everything in my power to see that your righteous anger is vented upon the traitors."

"My thanks." Brol tried to smile, but his scars twisted it into a scowl. "Forgive my outburst, friends. We have a battle to win."

As the situation calmed, Shepard couldn't help but worry; too many fights were becoming personal, and she wondered how some of her other friends might react.

…

Helmin had seen Space Marines angry before, but he had always felt a strange kind of satisfaction when it happened, because it meant that whatever enemy they faced would have a very bad day. There had been some fear, of course—no sane man wouldn't be scared of an angry Astartes—but there was something different about a son of Sanguinius when he fell into a rage.

It had started when he, Phoros and Zandtus were in the strategium, and a report had come in. Some of the traitor Marines had been positively identified as Red Corsairs; Phoros had immediately risen to his feet, apoplectic in his fury.

"Kill them all," he ordered. "Hunt them down, tear them apart, and rip off their eyelids to force them to look upon their transgressions!"

"Malakim—" Zandtus reached for his friend, only to lean back when Phoros actually took a swing at him.

"I want those traitors dead!" Phoros roared.

"And they will be!" Zandtus shouted back. "But we will not get anything done if we flail about in a rage!"

Helmin didn't realize he'd moved until he bumped his elbow against a wall; his hand trembled as it stopped drawing his pistol. The sheer aura of hatred pouring off the usually approachable Chapter Master made it hard to breathe.

After a moment, Phoros relented. "You don't understand, Raquilon… we were welcomed to the Maelstrom Zone as brothers. We were drawn into secession because it made sense. We fought that damned war because it made sense. Lufgt Huron… I considered him a friend, Raquilon! We planned campaigns together, celebrated victories, and mourned fallen brothers, and then he spat on everything we stood for! As long as he lives, my shame will never end."

Zandtus nodded. "I know, my friend, but you cannot allow your passions to cloud your judgment. You know Huron's skills better than any of us, which makes you our best chance to check his moves."

Helmin let out a sigh of relief when Phoros sat down, and returned to the more stoic demeanor he was used to.

"You are right, of course. For all that he has changed, he still uses many of the same tactics as before." Phoros glanced at Helmin. "Forgive my outburst, Lord-Marshal."

Helmin worked up a smile. "Nothing to worry about, my friend. Just… give me a warning if you're going to do that again, if you please. Now, why don't we start working on how best we're going to send these traitors to hell?"

…

Enginseer Theta-Iota-Alphus, now known as Tia, carefully examined the bolter in front of her. Her transfer to the Order of the Iron Tears wasn't official yet, but Josephine had already sent some of her sisters to her for weapon maintenance. One particular Sororitas had brought her a bolter, complaining that it kept jamming, no matter how she tried to appease its spirit.

"Forgive my unworthy grasp, O machine," Tia said, and her vox translated her words into binharic cant. "Inform me of your troubles, so that I might alleviate your pain."

As she spoke, her bionic eye scanned the bolter; in response to her prayers, the slide of the weapon was highlighted. With steady hands, Tia opened the slide, and held out one finger of her bionic hand; that finger split apart, and a mechadendrite slid out. It went into the innards of the bolter, and a moment later, touched something that should not have been there.

"My thanks, O machine," she said. "I will remove this aberration in your great workings, so that you may be pure."

After a few seconds, the mechadendrite withdrew, holding a small piece of shrapnel. It had likely become jammed inside the bolter during a previous battle. Tia scanned the shrapnel, trying to determine where it might have come from; she came to a seventy-three percent conclusion that it had belonged to an Ork vehicle of some kind. She logged her findings, and then tossed the shrapnel aside.

With the bolter's machine-spirit now appeased, Tia returned it to its wielder, who gave her a quick thanks before moving on.

Though the emotion was unbecoming of a Tech-Priest, Tia felt satisfaction. She had repaired eleven different weapons so far, and with ninety-six percent efficiency. She had been assigned to the Order of the Iron Tears—unofficially—for less than ten hours, and had already improved her efficacy by thirteen percent.

"You seem happy."

Tia turned, first with her head, and then with her torso, to face Josephine. "Satisfaction: I have completed all given tasks so far. Declaration: I am doing the Omnissiah's will."

"That's good to hear."

"Inquiry: Do you require my assistance, Sister Josephine?"

Josephine smiled. "No, I was just checking up on you. It's quiet right now, and I had some free time after prayers."

"Understanding: You have placed duties above all else. That is good." Tia carefully rolled up the sanctified cloth she'd been using to rest weapons on, and placed it in the bag at her side. "Discovery: I am also currently without an appointed task."

"Then why don't we take a walk?" Josephine offered. "If you're going to work with us, you should get to know how we operate while on campaign."

Tia didn't answer, but that was because she had seen something; her bionic eye detected a Warp-anomaly as it formed, mere yards away from her position. In the two seconds she had, she identified and catalogued the portal, as well as the traitor Astartes that charged through it. She calculated that, with her back to the traitors, Josephine had only a point-two percent chance of survival.

Tia found those odds to be unacceptable.

Without warning, her servo-arm grabbed Josephine and tossed her aside in an arc perfectly calculated to take her out of the line of fire. Then there was a loud bang, and Tia found herself on her back, because her left leg was no longer attached to her body from the knee down. Her holy implants shut down the pain in a moment, but that moment was still filled with agony.

Josephine shouted a denial, and bathed the heretics in burning promethium. One of the Chaos Marines, who was also carrying a flamer, abruptly exploded as his own supply of fuel detonated, but the rest fought through the fire and raised their weapons. Josephine ducked behind some rubble, and bolt rounds skipped across her cover, or dug large craters in it.

Tia heard more voices, and turned her head; other Sororitas were rushing to contain the assault, and the closest were peppering the traitors with bolt shells. Some of the Chaos Marines shifted to fire at them, while another moved to flank Josephine. He was huge, even for a Space Marine, with six eye-lenses and gnashing jaws on his shoulders. Tia noted that his path brought him right next to her, and she watched him level a bolter at her friend.

Tia calculated the odds of Josephine's survival, and again found them to be too low. As she drew her laspistol, she calculated her own odds surviving a fight with a Chaos Marine; they were slightly higher than if she'd merely lay there. That was acceptable.

She fired once, twice; the las-beams barely scorched the Chaos Marine's armor, but it got his attention. He stomped on her pistol, shattering the weapon, along with the organic arm that held it; a too-human scream of pain clawed its way out of her throat as her forearm was reduced to paste.

Tia realized she'd made a mistake; Josephine had all the flaws of an unaugmented human, which meant that she wouldn't use her flamer while her enemy was too close to an ally. Instead of burning both of them, Josephine dropped her flamer entirely, and jumped onto the Chaos Marine's back; he grabbed one of her arms, but by the time he broke her wrist, she had shoved a knife into his throat. He roared and shook, trying to free himself, but Josephine refused to let go; she stabbed again and again, until he tore her free and hurled her to the ground.

Josephine spat at him, then dove on top of Tia, shielding her with her own body. A moment later, the grenade she'd tucked into the Chaos Marine's collar exploded. Tia detected multiple impacts to Josephine's armor, but most of the damage was inflicted on the heretic. He wasn't dead, but he staggered back, blood pouring down his armor; instead of continuing the attack, one of his compatriots dragged him back through the portal, which closed a moment later. Only the Chaos Marine with the flamer had died, while the others had killed several Sororitas before withdrawing.

"Tia?" Josephine slowly got to her knees, cradling her broken arm. "Are you still alive?"

Tia looked down at her severed leg, and the ruin of her arm. "Statement: I am alive. Understatement: Ow. Query: Are you damaged?"

"My wrist is broken, but I think my armor protected me from the rest." Josephine gestured for several of her sisters to carry the injured Tech-Priest. "I suppose that walk will have to wait."

"Agreed."

"Thank you." Josephine reached out and took Tia's remaining hand in her uninjured one. "You saved my life."

Tia reviewed everything that had happened in the last few minutes. "Understanding: I believe we are even."

Josephine smiled. "Friends don't keep score."

"Noted." Tia calculated how much blood she had lost, and came to a conclusion. "I believe I am going to pass out now."

…

"Have you found her?"

"Yes, my master. She is just beyond our defenses, and will attack us soon."

"Excellent. Inflict pain among her followers; make her angry, and draw her away from her protectors. Remember, she is mine."

"As you command. What about the others?"

"They are of no consequence to me. Kill them however you wish."

"With pleasure."

…

Vils watched as the Chaos cultists completed yet another poorly-organized patrol. If they had been from his regiment, he'd have a Commissar execute the lot for such terrible discipline. As it was, he was glad they were his enemies, because now he had a perfectly reasonable cause to kill them all, and remove the affront to his sensibilities.

"All platoons have reported in, sir," a trooper with a vox reported.

Vils nodded, and held out his hand; he took the vox, and held it to his mouth. "All squads… take, take, take."

The night was suddenly illuminated by high-powered las-beams, and hundreds of cultists were pitched from their barricades. Covered by the squads that had opened fire, more units from the Deltic Scorpions surged forward, claiming the positions that had been held by Chaos mere moments ago. Surviving cultists rallied and counterattacked, but the Scorpions had the advantage of training, equipment and, with the barricades mostly under their control, a defensible location.

Vils followed in the second wave of Scions, along with a demi-company of Lamenters. They arrived at the barricades just as a tide of screaming madmen threw themselves at the loyalists. Vils took careful aim with his plasma pistol, and vaporized the top half of a man with a cobbled-together flamer. He watched with no small amount of satisfaction as the Lamenters butchered the rest with bolt weapons and chainswords. He had seen Astartes fight many times before, but a sight that he would treasure was when he saw a lieutenant plummet from the sky with his jump pack, crushing a pair of cultists, before splitting three more in half with a single swing of his blade.

"Sir!" One of his junior officers waved to get his attention. "Squad Eighteen reports heretic Astartes on intercept trajectory. They'll be here in less than two minutes!"

"All right, everyone, you know the drill." Vils began issuing orders. "Double-enfilade formations, don't let the bastards near you. Use cover, focus fire on the heads, and don't let them concentrate on one squad at a time."

The Lamenter lieutenant was close enough to hear him. "I was not aware you had tactics specifically tailored to fight Astartes."

Vils shrugged. "It's difficult, but not impossible. Besides, we've had years of experience to make sure we can handle anything."

When the Chaos Marines arrived, it was in force; ten squads of traitor Astartes came charging in, accompanied by several hulking monstrosities, impossible fusions of metal and Warp-flesh. The Maulerfiends bellowed and snorted, pounding the ground with their massive fists, while the metal tendrils sprouting from their sides lashed out like cobras at the air.

"Engage!" Vils barked.

Hot-shot lasguns hissed, punching into—and sometimes through—corrupted ceramite armor. Vils was thankful that these Chaos Marines weren't Red Corsairs, because that meant the Lamenters weren't fixated on them; instead, they focused their efforts on the daemon engines. A squad of Eradicators destroyed one with concentrated fire, while the others were peppered with bolter fire and krak grenades.

The Imperials didn't have it all their own way; traitor or not, the purple-armored Chaos Marines were still Astartes, and few fell to the Scorpions. They returned fire, bolt shells detonating inside of Vils' solders, blowing them into bloody chunks. Some got in close, and butchered the Scions as easily as the Lamenters had destroyed the cultists minutes earlier. Vils managed to avenge one of his men by blowing the head off his killer with his plasma pistol. That was all he could do before a squad of Chaos Marines punched through to his command squad, and he prepared himself for death.

Fate was kind to him that day, because the Chaos Marines were torn apart by thousands of bolts. Saint Shepard led the charge, flying alongside the Alexian Guard, while over a thousand Sororitas followed in her wake. Keeping up with them were the Custodes, a sight more glorious to Vils than even Shepard herself; here were demigods who had witnessed the glory of the Golden Throne with their very eyes, now fighting alongside him!

Between the Custodes and the Sororitas, the small number of Chaos Marines were slaughtered or routed. Shepard landed next to Vils and removed her helmet; she saw the bodies of the fallen Deltic Scorpions, and frowned.

"Sorry we're late," she said. "How many did you lose?"

Vils did a quick check. "Less than fifty in this sector, Your Holiness, but I imagine the numbers are higher across the theater."

"I know." Shepard sighed. "I'm going to the front. I want you to make sure this position is secure; take anyone from the Seventy-Seventh if you need more personnel. The rest of us are moving ahead to kill these bastards."

"It shall be done, Your Holiness." Vils watched as Shepard led the rest of her force deeper into enemy territory. "Give them hell."

…

Brol clenched his jaw so tightly that it was a wonder his teeth didn't shatter. He didn't care; the alternative was to scream in hatred until he had no breath in his lungs. Not even the severed head of the Death Guard at his feet alleviated his fury. All it did was make him eager to slay more.

The Death Guard had put up a stern defense; Brol could, grudgingly, admit that the traitors had maintained their skill over ten thousand years. They fought without fear, and refused to give ground. What worked against them was the sheer number of Imperials attacking them.

The Reapers chipped them apart, squad by squad, with concentrated waves of heavy bolt-fire. Accompanying the infantry were Gladiator tanks; Gladiator Reapers unleashed waves of shots, killing Death Guard by weight of fire alone, while the Valiant variants punished the small amount of armor the traitors had with las-talons and multi-meltas. Supporting the Reapers' flanks were the Sororitas under Canoness Evelina, the strength of their faith beating back the corruption of Chaos. Supporting them all were several mechanized companies from the Vigilant Guard, who unleashed waves of disciplined las-fire from the cover of their Chimeras.

Brol watched with some satisfaction as a squad of Eradicators destroyed a barricade, exposing a large group of Plague Marines. They attempted to fall back, but were either blasted apart by fusillades from the Sororitas, or burnt to a crisp by a squad of Aggressors. With every slain Death Guard, he felt a tiny fraction of his shame lifted, and he knew that his brothers felt the same. When this battle was over, the Reapers would tally the dead plague-worshippers, and host a grim celebration.

"High Commander!" A Techmarine, wearing Gravis armor modified to house his extra equipment, strode up to him. "We have detected a teleport signature in the area."

"Can you pinpoint the exact location?" Brol asked.

"Negative. The foul sorcery of the foe has disquieted the machine-spirits. The best we could do was calculate a general location."

"Was it anywhere near us?"

The Techmarine shook his head. "It is closer to Saint Shepard's position."

Evelina, who had been coordinating efforts with Brol nearby, growled. "We cannot divert forces to assist. Her Holiness would never forgive us if we sacrifice an area of the campaign for her sake."

Brol grunted. "Then we must have faith that she can handle whatever the foe sends her way."

Evelina signaled for another assault, and a trio of Paragon Warsuits loped forwards, their multi-meltas annihilating a captured Leman Russ tank in a fiery explosion.

"Faith," the canoness said, "is one thing we do not lack for."

…

The rocket strike was as fast as it was unexpected. Shepard had been standing next to a squadron of tanks from the 1022nd, observing as they bombarded an enemy strongpoint, when the rockets came screaming down.

When Shepard came to and tried to clear her ringing ears, the entire tank squadron was destroyed, with nothing left but burning hulls. She didn't see the Alexian Guard anywhere, but a pair of Custodes were at her side; one helped her to her feet, while the other kept them covered with his praesidium shield.

"This position has been compromised," the one with a guardian spear said. "We must relocate."

Shepard was inclined to agree, but an agonized scream got her attention. She moved on instinct, following the noise, with the Custodes right behind her. They burst into a half-ruined hab, where they saw a massive Chaos Marine holding the top half of an Alexian Guard in one hand, and her legs in the other.

"Alexia Shepard," the giant said, and tossed aside the remains. "I've been waiting for you."

Shepard snarled; part of her noted that the words were spoken with three voices that were eerily familiar, but she was too angry to care. "Kill him."

The Custodes were among some of the fastest beings in the galaxy; even Shepard, with her physical abilities enhanced by the Emperor, couldn't completely track their movements. Even so, the Chaos Marine stopped them; it caught the haft of the guardian spear before it could reach, and slammed its sword so hard into the shield of the other Custodes that he was smashed through the far wall.

The other Custodian was able to get off three point-blank shots, before the Chaos Marine grabbed him by the helmet and squeezed. Auramite screeched and crumpled; blood, bone and brain matter squirted out of ruptures in the armor as his head imploded.

The entire exchange had taken less than two seconds.

Shepard had already started moving, but was far too late to save the Custodes. Liberator swung down, but the Chaos Marine sidestepped, then brought a fist into Shepard's stomach; her breastplate cracked, and her ribs shattered. Blood spurted from her mouth, and she stumbled, but before she fell, the giant grabbed her by the face and hurled her into a wall. More bones broke, and she collapsed to the ground.

"I cannot tell you how much I've wanted to do that," the giant taunted. "Such dreams sustained us in our torment."

Shepard spat out blood and teeth; she struggled to rise as her wounds healed. "Do I know you?"

Before she got an answer, the other Custodian returned to the fight; his shield had been shattered, and he held his sword with both hands. Shepard felt a spike of hope when the Custodian impaled the Chaos Marine from behind, the blade going all the way to the hilt. However, the wound barely seemed to faze the monster, who grabbed the blade with one hand to keep it locked in place, and then pivoted to split the Custodian down the middle.

"You should know us. You killed us, one by one. But Abaddon revived us, placed our souls into this new body, so that we could get our revenge."

With a hiss of escaping gas, the giant pulled of its helm. Shepard stared at the silver skin, which briefly morphed into the faces of enemies she had indeed killed.

"We are Saren Arterius. We are Jack Harper. We are Henrietta von Carstein. We… are the Amalgamation of Hate."

Shepard stared up at Amalgamation in disbelief. Then, she began to laugh; it was loud and long and slightly unhinged, and it made Amalgamation take a step back.

"You… you fucking morons!" Shepard rose to her feet, and summoned Liberator to her hand. "You did all this over a goddamn grudge? I knew you three were petty, but now that you're one big fucker, it's even worse!"

Amalgamation snarled and stepped forward; it smashed aside Liberator, and wrapped its enormous hand around Shepard's waist. Bones cracked and organs ruptured as Amalgamation squeezed; Shepard fought through the pain, and raised a glowing hand, but Amalgamation grabbed her arm with its other hand, and tore the limb off at the shoulder. It then picked up its sword and hacked Shepard's legs off, and dropped her on the ground.

"Pathetic," Amalgamation sneered. "If I'd had this power in even one of my lives, you would never have succeeded." It knelt at her side, and reached for her belt. "Now, you have a prize that is of much interest to the Warmaster… wait. Where is it!?"

Shepard grinned, even as blood gushed from her mouth. "What? You thought I'd have it with me in a combat zone? Wow, you're dumb."

Amalgamation roared in fury, and brought its fist down on Shepard's chest, shattering her freshly-healed ribs.

"Then I will settle for killing you," it said, and aimed a bolter at her face.

Just as the trigger began to pull back, Darius arrived, crashing through a pile of rubble and severing the bolter in half. He then used the momentum of his charge to slash Amalgamation across the chest.

Darius made no stoic declarations, nor swore any oaths. He simply aimed his sword at Amalgamation, and spoke a single word.

"Engage."

What had been a one-sided fight in Amalgamation's favor quickly turned into a desperate struggle for survival. Eleven more Custodes arrived—two teams of three Custodian Guards, and five more in bulky Allarus-pattern Terminator armor, and armed with long-hafted castellan axes—along with one of the Dreadnoughts. The Custodes unleashed a blinding fusillade from their guardian spears and castellan axes, punching hundreds of craters into Amalgamation's armor. The Dreadnought swung its enormous sword down onto Amalgamation's shoulder in what should have been a kill-stroke—except that the powered blade halted halfway through its torso.

With a furious shout, Amalgamation grabbed the Dreadnought by the arm and hurled it back, then punched a Terminator ten feet into the air. It then turned and ran, firing its remaining bolter on the move.

"This isn't over, Alexia Shepard!" Amalgamation roared. "I will not rest, and I will not relent, not until everything you've fought for is ash on the wind! I will see you suffer a thousand times what I have suffered!"

There was a flash of purple light, and then it vanished, leaving only the smell of ozone in its wake.

"They always did talk too much," Shepard muttered, as her wounds finished healing. "Darius?"

The Shield-Captain was at her side in an instant. "Saint Shepard."

"I'm gonna pass out now."

Darius nodded. "I understand. Rest now; we will take care of everything else."

…

Four hours after they first arrived in the system, the Chaos forces retreated. Fifteen Imperial ships were disabled or destroyed, while twice as many Chaos vessels suffered the same fate. The Blackstone Fortress took some damage, but Dartan had mainly focused on destroying the lesser ships.

With the campaign on Fendatha now finally over, the Imperial forces all but collapsed from exhaustion. Even the Space Marines required rest, if only to repair their equipment and heal their injuries.

Despite losing thousands on the ground from the unexpected Chaos fleet, morale was still high. Ghazghkull and Khârn were dead, Jaghatai Khan had been found, and the second Chaos force had apparently been unable to achieve their objective. Even with the death of Commissar Yarrick, the campaign was seen as an overwhelming success.

Only Shepard's subdued nature had nothing to do with fatigue, and her advisors took several days to notice. Rex was the first to bring it up during the next war council.

"Your Holiness, has something gone wrong?" he asked. "Are you still dwelling on the abomination that struck you down?"

Shepard sighed. "Yes and no. Believe me, I've lost fights before; I'm not upset about that." She glanced up at her friends; even the Space Marines present seemed concerned. "I'll… I'll explain later. Right now, I want to get the Khan back to Macragge as soon as possible. The things I need to tell you about… well, Lord Guilliman can vouch for me."

"You think we would not believe you?" Blaise asked, a little hurt.

Shepard shrugged. "Honestly, this story is pretty up there on the weirdness scale." Still, she held up the deactivated omni-tool. "But I can say that it's related to this. It's what the Emperor said was so important about finding Jaghatai."

Xem-Beta leaned forward, his optics scanning the device. "I do not recognize that technology."

"I would be extremely surprised if you did." Shepard hesitated, then put the omni-tool on her wrist and activated it; everyone present, save for Jaghatai himself, tensed when the holograms appeared over her arm. "It's called an omni-tool. It was on the body of a friend of mine from a long time ago. Apparently, it's been scanning the Webway for who knows how long. I haven't had a chance to go through everything, but inside this little thing is something vitally important to the Emperor's plan."

If Xem-Beta still had the right parts, Shepard would have thought he was salivating. "Such a wondrous discovery. If I could but examine it—"

"Not yet," Shepard said firmly. "We can't risk the data being lost. Shield-Captain Darius, I'm going to place it in your care until I need it. Consider its safety a higher priority than my own."

Darius, who had become a figure of great respect among the Alexian Guard after he'd saved Shepard, nodded firmly. "I am certain that this task is one of the reasons the Emperor sent us to you. I will have ten of my brothers attend to the device's security at all times."

"Thanks." Shepard rose to her feet. "One more matter—that thing that calls itself the Amalgamation of Hate. Somehow, it was made from the souls of three people who hated me the most—people I killed decades ago. It wants nothing more than to hurt me in any way it can. That includes destroying everything I've worked to build. We can expect it and its forces to attack us again, probably when it's most inconvenient for us. Until these guys are put in the ground for good, I want all training regimens doubled; if these bastards want a fight, they're going to find us at the top of our game."

Helmin nodded. "It shall be done, Your Holiness. But, please, give us time to rest? This campaign has taxed us heavily."

"Of course." Shepard smiled. "Rest, and then work our people to the bone."

That got a few laughs, and the war council was adjourned. Shepard knew her friends were curious about her past, but they still trusted her enough to wait until she was ready to tell them.

She just hoped she was ready.

Sorry for the delayed update. As much as I like writing about fictional wars, seeing real ones going on with so many real casualties makes this seem… I don't know… in bad taste? If this chapter felt rushed, or just off, it's because of that.

Anyway, yeah, Shepard had her first brush with Amalgamation, and many of her soldiers have a few close calls of their own. Poor Tia the Tech-Priest; at least this will earn her more bionics!

I wanted to show just how much of a threat Amalgamation is, and having it kill two Custodes is a pretty big deal. It was too fast and too strong for Shepard, who had been fighting an entirely different war a day earlier, to reliably fight against, even with her powers.

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 to get the sequel finished, but life keeps conspiring to keep me from getting much done.

If you'd like to support me in other ways, I have a P-atreon account (link in my profile). Please consider donating, and if you reach a high enough tier, you can get a free PDF of my book, among other benefits.

Speaking of which, I'd like to thank the following patrons:

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

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Next Chapter: Another Primarch is brought into the fold, secrets are revealed, and the pieces start to fall into place…

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