[Necris]

++Astropathic Duct Open++
++Emergency transmission++
++Vid Uplink confirmed++
++Audio Uplink confirmed++
++Message Begins – Live Uplink Confirmed++

An officers face loomed into the lens of the streaked in sweat and dirt the lighting blinks behind his head as he slowly removed his peaked hat and wipes his brow, his face was weary and filled with dread.

“My lords, Krass V has fallen. Rebellion has take a foot hold across the whole system and beyond and we are ill equipped to prevent it, our last lines of defence have fallen and the Capital is being over run we will only be able to hold the Imperial Palace for a short while before we are over run. We need help we need reinforcements from the Imperial Guard and the Astartes, the PDF is not enough to retake this world.”

A series of explosions echo from behind the officer the lights flicker and he turns looking over his shoulder.

“Oh God Emperor they’ve breached the gates, seal the doors!”

He turned back to the lens.

“ Though we know that we will have given our lives before any aid arrive we know that we fight for the Emperor’s glory.”

Another explosion draws the officers attention and he turns fully striding away his voice carries.

“Stand too do not let them through!”

Las retorts drown out all noise as a fire fight erupts the officer strides back a las pistol in his hand.

“Emperor protect us the enemy are astartes...”

A loud thunderous boom takes the officer from his feet and a giant armoured figure strides into the view his voice is as thunderous as the bolter in his hands, his armour is midnight blue, fringed with golden decoration a star of chaos emblazoned across his chest.

“The Emperor has abandoned us all.”

The vid link dies as he fires the boltgun into it the sound continues for several minutes as screams of the dying fill the chamber.

++Message Ends++

[jakob]

The midnight blue armoured marine loomed large and terrible as he stared into the vid screen.

“The Emperor has abandoned us all.” He boomed, his voice as loud as thunder. He fires a bolter round into the screen. Static first before the image cuts to black, engulfing the small chamber into darkness. The audio from the vid continues for a moment, sound of gunfire and screaming and dying before it too cuts out.

Silence hangs heavy in the darkness of the chamber for a few moments before the strobe lighting flickers back on. Blinking in the light the figures seated within the chamber turn as one towards the robed man at the head of the table, waiting for him to speak first.

The man takes a luxurious puff from his Thuban cigar before leaning back on his leather seat. He blows an impressive smoke ring which drifts along the length of the table before dissolving against the vid screen monitor.

“ ‘The enemy are astartes’,” the man repeats, making no effort to mask the weariness in his voice, “and to think I woke up today thinking I was going to have a good day.”

Another man dressed in priest’s robes smiled wryly as he shook his head, “The Emperor (may He rule forever) is not without an odd sense of humour.”

“That marine,” ventured another man from the table, a heavily scarred ex-arbite, “Is he a Nightlord?”

“No, I don’t think so,” answered the figure at the head of the table, “Judging from his markings I would say he was of the Knights of Deliverance though I could be mistaken. I have had no dealing with them directly so I am unsure of their motives. Is this some mindless raid or invasion or are they after something more specific?”

“Is there anything of importance in the Krass system?” inquired a woman. This was replied with an angry retort from Tioss, the youngest member present in the chamber.

“Anything of importance?” he snapped, “what, aside from the billions of lives being butchered as we speak?” Tioss was the most recent addition to the Inquisitors entourage and while his potential was undeniable he was still far too idealistic. Experience had yet to shed him of his naivety.

The inquisitor at the head of the table raised his hand to silence him. “Peace Tioss. I have already forwarded this message to the nearest Fleet. I have no doubt that a relief force is being conscripted and mobilised this very minute. However,” he turned to the woman, “there is indeed something of importance within the system. Whether our traitorous friends are aware of this I cannot be certain. But it would be a dereliction of duty to assume their ignorance on the matter. Aside from an admirable supply of Guard recruits the Krass system also holds the tomb of the mummified Saint Authus.”

“Saint Authus?” asked the priest, “I thought his body rested in the Silverus system?”

“And so believe the rest of the Imperium. However the body held within the Silverus cathedral is not the real Saint Authus but a decoy. As you know the mummified Saint has been the target of several raids intent on its theft. Even the Eldar have made an effort to acquire the body once. Thus it was decided by the Silverus Conclave that a decoy would be held within their system while the real Saint would rest within a hidden tomb in the Krass system. I am unsure if the Knights of Deliverance have grown wise about this ruse or not. Never-the-less I believe it to be in our interest to relocate our dearly departed mummy to a more secure location.”

The Inquisitor turned to the woman at his side, “Eliz,”

“Yes, sir?”

“I want you to head this mission. Take the SunBird ship, speed and stealth is called for.”

Eliz bowed her head before standing up and making for the door. The Inquisitor then turned to the priest. “ You go with her Priest. Where there are traitor marines there is warp sorcery. I pray your talents will not be needed but better safe than eternally damned.”

The priest bowed also as he got up from his seat. Before Eliz and Priest left the chamber the Inquisitor called out one final command. “Eliz and Priest, I want you to take Tioss with you.”

Tioss’ eyes lit with excitement at his inclusion. He stood up and bowed low, “Thank you master, I will not let you down, I swear it.” Tioss failed to notice the discreet glance shared between Eliz and Priest.

“May the Emperor’s blessing go with you three on this quest. But should He in His wisdom decide to move in mysterious ways then I wish you all the best of luck.”

The three figures bowed once more before leaving the chamber to begin preparations.

The mission was on.

[coloneltea]

True Tomb of Saint Authus, Krass System

Long years of service to the God Emperor, to the Order, and to the dessicated corpse lain before her had been weighing heavily on her mind since the final message from Krass V's Pontifex Mundi had ended with the poor sod'a head being pulped by one a traitor astartes.  A tall, athletic woman knelt before the bier of Saint Authus in prayer. 

These worlds were in for a bloody war; she had spent enough time here studying in the libraries, guarding the Saint, to know they were a resilient people.  A half dozen times before she had witnessed the shattered worlds and broken people born of resilience.  The Imperium would come, guided by his own hand.... they would not arrive in time of course.  He had to fight the Great Evil to even allow the fleets to move under normal circumstances; if the fallen astartes were here the ruinous powers were serious about their invasion.  This time she would experience resilience first hand, instead of the final blow being delivered at the order of an Inquisitor.

Scholastica had no choice but to be resilient, for she could not fail in her duty to protect the tomb of the Saint from those who wished to (for lack of a better way to phrase it) make off with the corpse.  As hard as the Drill Abbots and her own Order's instructors had tried to hammer the propensity for slang out of her, it still slipped into her thoughts at least.  She hadn't spoken in years.  Not having bothered to move from her kneeling pose before the fallen Saint she was acutely reminded that she had not another sister within two systems.  The nature of her assignment meant one sister and one sister only had been detailed to keep watch over the long years.  Scholastica had watched, from here as well as her nominal post as a researcher from the Order of the Lexicon.  Without her armor, it would have been hard to tell which order she hailed from.

Clad once again in the deep green and white of her order's armor, golden torch with it's painted rays glinting dully in the low light reflecting from her shoulders.   Scholastica finally felt comfortable for the first time in years as she called upon the God Emperor to aid her struggle for him, "Sweet God-Emperor, forgive your servant her sins, and remember I am just a woman."

She was going to die.

Her voice still fell short of the ideal the Ecclesiarchy sought for it's female warriors, no matter how much force she put into her prayers.  Then again, she'd never been the perfect sister; no mere mortal could match that lofty goal.  Scholastica rose,  ignoring the divot in the stone left by the chainsword's blade as she returned it to the scabbard.  His imperfect servant would die here  in the dank underworld of a wretched planet far from anywhere.  She would pile the bodies around her own at the gates to the library, after sealing the tomb away as her orders directed.  The Inquisitor would find it nice and safe when they arrived.  Her lips curled in a snarl at the thought of one of the, Emperor forgive her, sanctimonious bastards finding her final report; recorded with all due ceremony as the traitor Guard rained down onto the city. 

For the Emperor, for mankind, for some small hope that what she had long read of could be forestalled, she would sacrifice her useless body.

Brushing her bangs out of her eyes, Scholastica was finally at peace.  Banishing the few remaining fragmented memories of her childhood in the void, days playing Sororitas with her scholamates, her final training, the campaigns, dead friends, presumably alive friends.  The Emperor's forgiveness had been begged for a poor, imperfect sinner.  Swinging the meltagun up from the floor she began the trudge to the stairs leading into the library proper.  Keeping a quick pace, the hall and stairs were cleared in almost no time at all.  As the armored figure stepped through the blessed shield that hid the opening when it wasn't sealed, the woman paused long enough to hear the blast door crunch into position.  Down the hall she had traveled more obstacles would lower from the ceiling, traps would arm, and the bier itself would return to it's bunker.  She could no longer turn back.

If the civilians and PDF taking refuge in the library complex were surprised to see a fully armored member of the Adepta Sororitas appear from nowhere Scholastica didn't notice.  They moved out of her determined path through the trembling main building, through the courtyard, to the main gate.  Here, as she paused, the woman found to her great surprise a mixed platoon of soldiers had clustered around her with whatever heavy weapons they'd been able to scrounge being placed in position behind the crumbling walls as fast as possible.  It had been her intention to make a last stand alone, she mused, instead an army had mustered to her.  A ghostly smile passed over her lips; an army.  Certainly all that was left within marching distance.  A girl of no more then sixteen with half her face swathed in bandages was directing the library's defender's around her position in the middle of the gate.  She was, of course, the key.  Even with just a cursory glance it was clear the situation was every bit as hopeless as advertised.  Traitor dropships dotted the skies and lasgun fire echoed in her ears.  The first wave was drawing close.  It would be infantry first no doubt, and she set the melta at her feet.

"Sister."

Being addressed directly snapped her out of the reverie.  Scholastica looked down to find the young officer saluting her with the hand not holding her own lasgun.  Calmly raising an eyebrow, she blinked slowly, "Yes, my child."

"Ensign Graer, sister, Northern District Military Academy Company No. 2," It was odd that the girl continued to be calm even as the sound of boots could be heard on the road outside the wall.  Continuing on ignoring any response from the taller woman the PDF officer continued, "I just wanted to say ma'am, it's an honor to die beside a true soldier of the God-Emperor.  We won't let you down."

"Of course not Ensign.  The Great Enemy draws near, you should return to your men," that time her voice sounded more even, soothing Scholastica thought.  The girl scampered back to her vox operator, whatever good the man could do when there was no one else on the net, with a hasty salute before fleeing the shadow of her armor.  Naturally they would let her down.  After all, they were part time soldiers with no protection beyond their flak armor.  She would not fault them their valiant effort, and in her prayer sought the God-Emperor's consideration for their bravery.   A fool wearing a caricature of a Guardsman's uniform charged around the gate with a shout.  In one swift move she drew her chainsword, thumbed  the weapon on, and cleaved the man's head cleanly from the neck.  Blood pattered against stone, dripping down the blade over her own gauntlet clad fist, and down her arm as she brought the melee weapon back up for another blow.  Sister Scholastia Lethe, Order of the Golden Light, would bleed the bastard astartes and their worms until one of them turned her into pulp.

[jakob]

There were thirteen racks in all in the iron dungeon though only five of them held bodies still breathing. Of those five bodies, only two remained in a state capable of speech and conscious thought. The thirteen bodies had undergone torture and interrogation in the dungeon for an undeterminable length of time. Had a century passed the prisoners would not be surprised. All they knew was the darkness, the chocking fear and the pain which bit deep into their very being. Every breath they took was thick with chemicals, of blood, piss, sweat and the heavy stench of each other’s fear. Death had become for them their final hope.

“The Krass system,” spoke one of the bodies, barely a whisper “he rests within the Krass system. Emperor forgive me.”

A voice answered from the darkness, the voice of their torturer. The only other companion the racked bodies had.

“Thank you, bishop. Thank you.”

The voice was as smooth as velvet, as smooth as the blackest oil. Into the dim light the voice strode. He was a creature of horror, a giant, larger than any man, in cased in blue-black armour. As the single lamp spluttered the tortured victims could make out the eight pointed star upon the chest plate. The giant stood beside the bishop who had spoken. “I commend you on your resilience, bishop. Do not hate yourself for your betrayal. Your breaking was inevitable. Should your Emperor care then I am sure he would be proud you held out for as long as you did. Go now unto death. I hear by release you.” And with that the giant brought down his axe blade, severing the bishop’s head from his shoulders.   

The Giant then turned towards the remaining figure. The racked man’s body was broken beyond repair, his breathing shallow and laboured. Yet strength still shone in his eyes. This man, however broken his body was, was still strong in spirit. He glared in hatred as the marine strode up to him.

“Your friend has spoken of the Krass system,” began the torturer, “I trust he spoke truly. I doubt he had the will left in him to deceive me.”

“You have the name of a system, warp spawn,” answered the prisoner, “You may do what you will with it.”

“Oh, I intend to, believe me. My only question now is what to do with you. As strong as your friend was you are stronger. I believe my methods have finally met their match in you. You will die before you break, I think.”

“So kill me, traitor, and be done with it.”

“Such strength in you, such devotion, such faith. It would be a waste to simply kill you. No, I have another idea entirely. Tales have been told of those who exhibit such piety that they have the strength to defy even deamons from possessing their bodies. Such an occurrence is rare to be sure. In the many years I have yet to witness such an event. But now I believe I have found one whose devotion is up to the task. Consider this one final test of faith. You may pray.”
. . . .

The torturer marine, The Warlock, now knelt on one knee, head bowed in reverence as he addressed the three Lords who sat before him upon their granite thrones.

“My Lords, the prisoners spoke of the Krass system. I believe they spoke truly.”

“The Krass system?” began one of the lords, “I find that hard to believe. It is not the Imperium’s way to rest one of their saints in such an insignificant dust cluster.”

“The insignificance may well be the point.” replied the second, “It is unlikely indeed and thus a likely place for the Imperium to implement deception.”

The third lord now spoke, he who sat centrally, his dreadnought armour adorned with a hundred runes,

“You believe in your prisoner’s admission, Warlock? Is the Krass system the true resting place of Saint Authus?”

“I believe so my lord. My interrogation techniques were thorough.”

Silence for a moment as the lords pondered. Then the central lord spoke.

“Then to the Krass system we shall go.”

He turned to the two who sat beside him,

“Muster your Knights, my brothers, and ready your ships. Deliverance shall be granted upon the people of Krass.”

“We ride to war.” 

*****

The crew of the SunBird assigned themselves to their stasis chambers as all systems within the ship deactivated leaving only the bare essential life support. The SunBird now drifted in orbit around Krass V. It was defenceless but also invisible to enemy radar and probes. It would register as simply another cold wreckage from the planet’s destroyed defence fleet. It was a risky tactic but one which had proven itself effective in the past. Unless the traitors got close enough for a visual it would remain insignificant. The landing craft that detached itself would simply show up as debris falling onto the planet surface.

Once the landing craft touched down the Inquisitorial task force split themselves into two teams. Eliz, Priest and Tioss would advance towards the objective on the ground with a fast and mobile armoured jeep and truck loaded with heavy troopers while a Valkyrie gunship took to the air to provide recon and covering fire. The planet had yet to fall completely, though fall it will. As such there were still strong points occupied by the loyalist defenders which drew the attention of the invaders and traitors thus leaving open blind spots. With speed and luck the task force could claim their objective and escape the system facing minimal resistance. The team had long ago given up on expecting such missions to proceed as smoothly as planned however.   

[coloneltea]

The girl peeked over the windowsill and scanned the street outside the walls, "They've stopped tryin' to break through.  That's not good, is it?"

"They aren't Khornates or Slaaneshi.  It was inevitable that they would stop throwing themselves into our guns," Scholastica had propped herself up against one of the standing inner walls while she reloaded her bolt pistol.  Along with the PDF troopers she'd held the gate against the first few hours worth of infantrymen, who'd fallen before the massed fire of the heavy weapons surrounding the gate.  The library complex's wall had done it's builders proud resisting the attempts of a few audacious Chimera attempts to breach it.  For their trouble, she had cordially introduced them to her melta.  Eventually, the massed soldiers had proved too much for the lightly armored soldiers as they had brought up a few rocket launchers.  The explosives had collapsed part of the archway down on the men, more infantry had swarmed forward.  Scholastica had still been fighting primarily with her chainsword up to this point, however in the face of long range weapons the Sister had decided it was wise to retreat to the main building and settle in for a siege.

None of the traitor astartes had shown up, not terribly surprising this wouldn't be high on their list of priorities to search.  Sheer numbers made it unattractive to simply stand and fight it out without allies as she had discovered.  Slinging her melta before picking up one of the discarded heavy stubbers the PDF had been manning, Scholastica had been surprised to find the plucky young officer cadet rallying her survivors at the main entrance.  She'd stepped through the entrance before any of the tainted guardsmen dared stick their head through the gate.  The woman had, to her credit, brought a rocket launcher with her.  One she put to good use by firing it at Scholastica's back.  As far as she could tell from the PDF's panicked cries.  They'd went high, bringing down part of the facade instead of blowing her to chunks thank the Emperor.

That had been days ago, she thought.  That first night most of the troopers had melted away into the night, either to join the invaders or attempt to return home before dying.  In the end only a few scribes, the vox operator, and Graer had remained.  Besides herself that was.  She finished the ritual of loading and thanked the machine spirit for it's continued cooperation.  Today she had conducted service to help the scribes avoid damnation.  They had been weak, but in the face of certain she was not surprised lesser men took their own lives rather then submit to the Great Enemy.  Especially when they were powerless to fight back. 

"What?" the girl was back flat against the floor across the hall, not wanting to suffer the fate of her platoon sergeant, a quizzical look on the unbandaged portion of her face.  Scholastica sighed, silently bemoaning the fact most Imperial citizens did not know the multitudinous threats that lurked under the umbrella of Chaos.

She shook her head with finality, heaving herself up off the floor, "Never mind, it would take too much time to explain.  You saw no one alive?"

"No," Graer clutched the grenade launcher to her chest with the one good arm, "Not even the outposts you spotted earlier.  I-It's like they've disappeared."

"Then I would imagine," she stepped up to the damaged window, looking out over the streets with her own eyes; the bionic seeing far more then the organic allowing her to confirm the disappearance of the guardsman who had occupied the houses across the street.  Turning her gaze to the alleys between the still largely intact structures, Scholastica's lips tightened as several large blobs of heat stomped into view opposite the gate, "That our time of greatest trial is at hand Ensign."

"The corrupted astartes? Emperor guide and protect us!" unarmored, the girl fumbled to check her grenade launcher while the Sister simple stood watching, waiting.  The squad halted out of her view, one of their number separating from them and continuing on towards the gate.  The bastard son stepped into the open in front of her, it's armor covered in blood from crunching across the carpet of dead guard; it was a Sergeant.  A Sergeant who had in his arrogance discarded his armor's helmet.  He looked about the courtyard, not up at the windows where the buildings sole survivors lay in wait.  Scholastica smirked, and lifted her bolt pistol up, "Sweet Emperor, guide this missile into the head of Your foe."

Arm steadied by her armor's mechanisms, the heavy weapon did not waver.  Her target's head exploded from the explosive force of the projectile.  Graer gasped from below her as the behemoth toppled from the fallen masonry he had been standing upon.  Scholastica spat out the window, "They are vulnerable to our fire, those who have fallen from the Emperor's light.  They will overcome us, but they will not defeat us Miss Graer."

[jakob]

The town was once prosperous, situated as it was upon one of the major highways. Merchants mingled with local farmers, business men came from across the region to ply their wares. There was life here, families and wealth and culture and security. Then from the sky came the drop-ships. And the bombs began to fall.

Those few civilians who survived the initial bombardments, those bloodied, terrified few, grabbed what belongings they could and fled for the city. By the time the last civilian had escaped the town had already transformed itself into a military fortress for the newly arrived PDF fighters. The market had become a barrack while the town hall gave way for a command centre.

The orders given to the PDF were simple. Hold the town against the enemy at all cost. Not an inch of ground was to be given. The casualties did not matter. The blood flow did not matter. The carnage and the horror did not matter. The town must be held and the enemy denied. Their lives would be given up as sacrifice for the Imperium; for the Emperor.

.....

The town was once prosperous. A shattered husk was now all that remained.

Raptor marines on jump jets leapt upon the building roofs, those that still had them, and bore their chaotic flags and icons aloft. The roar of bikes could be heard as they circled the town like packs of feral dogs. Proud and triumphant was the land raider tank as it drove into the town centre. Its monstrous bulk cast all about it in shadow. Into the town it drove, grinding to a halt before the town hall amid a chocking dust cloud. A screech of ancient metal against metal then as the frontal ramp lowered. The hulking armoured forms of the marines then strode out of its dark womb. Adorned with twisting runes and trophies from the slain they came, each one more brutal than the last. Like beasts from hell.

It was not fear the PDF commander felt, it was weariness. He was weary physically and mentally. No energy left for fear. He looked at his men who stood to attention around him; each looking as exhausted as he, as defeated as he. What few survivors were left, he mused, barely even a quarter of the men he had started with. Surely those madmen from the pulpits were right after all; for Man’s sins the Emperor has turned away. The end was nigh.

‘Bow To Your Victors!’ This marine was larger than the rest, no doubt some form of leader. A sword was clenched n one armoured fist, the blade the size of a man. As one, the PDF survivors bowed low upon the dirt, each knowing that such humiliation was nothing compared to what was soon to come.

‘Rejoice, Ye Servants Of The Corpse King, For We Have Arrived To Grant Thee Deliverance And Shall Offer Thy Souls Unto The Light Of The Gods.’

Then from the darkness of the land raider came another marine, this one larger still. A great golden star was emblazoned across its chest. This giant emerged from the tank in slow, regal movements, its gracefulness at odds with its intimidating size. Now the other chaotic marines bowed their heads in respect.

‘Warlock,’ spoke the sword wielding marine, ‘We Have Complete Control Of The Town As I Promised.’

‘Thank you Champion,’ replied the Warlock, ‘You and your knights fought with great skill and valour. The gods are pleased’

To the ears of the PDF commander, this Warlock spoke with an intoxicating allure. The voice was smooth, almost hypnotic; a contrast to the barbarity of the other marines.

Now the Warlock turned to him. Held within the gaze of the marine’s visor, the PDF officer was rooted to the ground.

‘So Commander,’ spoke the Warlock, ‘Your men held this town for several days. You have shown great strength worthy of respect. And so I was dissapointed to learn of your surrender. You fought like true warriors yet you lack the courage to die like them. Where is your honour?’

The commander glanced towards his men for a moment. The men were pleading with him, desperation written upon their eyes. Their fate now rested with him.

‘M-my Lord, Sire,’ stammered the commander, ‘We h-have no desire to fight for the Imperium. It has done nothing for us. We would rather join with you where we c-could fight as t-true warriors.’ Pleading to the marine’s warrior nature was a gamble certainly but the commander could think of nothing else.

Hidden behind the helmet, the Warlock’s expression was unknowable. Painful silence followed. The Warlock then raised its gaze up towards the roof of the town hall.

‘I see that several men disagreed with your notion of surrender.’

The commander followed the Warlock’s gaze up towards the hall. From the roof of the building hung the corpses of several men, dressed in the uniforms of the commissariat.

‘T-those men were w-weak. They blindly f-followed the Emperor. They were foolish men who could n-not see that you served g-greater gods, more powerful gods. You h-have shown us the truth.’

‘And in return you wish for me to spare the lives of you and your men?’

‘Y-yes, sir-my lord, sire. We will fight for you. We will be loyal to you. I swear upon my soul.’

‘ ‘You swear upon your soul’? Ha! Clearly commander, you were not born with much wisdom. You are a dog; a tool. You were a tool of the Imperium and now you wish to become a tool for chaos.’

‘W-we will fight for chaos. Kill for chaos. If you will have us, sire.’

Another painful silence followed as the Warlock pondered the fate of the commander and his men. Moments, which felt far longer, past before the Warlock came upon his decision. He looked upon the PDF officer.

‘Very well commander. You will fight for us. And you will be loyal to us. For remember commander, you swore upon your soul. And the gods you now always collect their due.’

Then raising his voice the Warlock addressed the assembled chaos marines,

‘Rejoice, my brother Knights. For this day our Faith has received fresh believers eager to appease our masters!’

The ensuing cheering and chants of celebration chilled the commander to his bone.

And now, thought the Warlock to himself, now we advance upon the real prize.

[Ulgavitch]

They had killed three of the traitor Astartes, two more after Scholastica had felled their sergeant. As the tired sister looked around her, she realised what had truly happened. She had killed three of the Astartes, and everyone else had died for her to do so.

Terrifyingly accurate bolter fire ripped up the position she was hiding within. Her white armour, already dirtied from the battles before, was scratched all over from the stone fragments that ricocheted from the traitors fired.  Ensign Graer looked back at her from where she lay, twitching and unable to speak, her life ebbing away through the hole in her chest.  Scholastica just shook her head and then winced as the unremitting bolter fire chased down another of the hiding PDF soldiers. His shriek of pain was quickly cut off.

'In my time of need, protect me' Scholastica prayed to distract herself from her terror 'In my time of trial watch over me.' 

She stood up once more, the stone deflecting enough fire for her to see the foe. Several of the traitor Astartes were advancing implacable, spraying fire in all directions, and the front  of the library complex was disintegrating under the rain of explosives. Two of the monstrous dark clad figures saw her rise, and bolters chattered their song of war. At that very same moment, Scholastica let rip with the melta gun.

It wasn't designed as an antipersonnel weapon, but she wasn't shooting at people. These dark clad warriors were demons, dredged from nightmare and myth. Her shot missed, but the blast struck the wall next to one of these renegades. Collapsing masonry fell implacably upon her foe as he was quickly buried beneath the torrent of stonework.

'Four' she thought before a bolter shell hit her in the chest. It threw her clean off her feet, crashing to the floor with the meltagun landing far, far away. After a stunned moment staring at the dirty sky, Scholastica checked to see if she was dead. Her amour, it's paintwork now ruined, was intact though badly cracked. Her chest felt as if an Astates was sat upon it. Cracked ribs, she knew, possibly a broken sternum . Every breath was now desperate agony.   

She could the booming footfalls of the traitors as they approached, and Scholastica tried to clamber back to her feet. There was no return fire anymore, the chattering voices of bolters had silenced all her comrades. There were now merely corpses, and her. She could hear bestial voices from the marines, speaking some language of the damned. The booming footsteps were approaching, and with a final desperate effort, Scholastica wrenched herself to her knees. She screamed at the agony of it, and then ran.

The servo's assisting her armour were the only thing that kept her going. Every step tore her chest like a sword blade within it, and screaming as she went she managed to make it through the library entrance. She turned to see her pursuers in the gloom, looming like ancient monoliths of the Ruinous Powers. A second bolter shell caught her in the thigh, and this time she knew she would go no further. Over the noise of the explosion and her armour cracking, Scholastica felt her thighbone shatter.

The Sister of Battle fell with a loud shriek, her head spinning, the pain igniting within her like wildfire. In horror, she looked down and saw the blood leaking from the large cracks in her power armour. Her leg was at an unnatural angle to her body, canted to one side. Dark red blood flowed over white ceremite with ease, pooling beneath her shattered body.     

'Emperor', she prayed, tears of agony in her eyes 'I am just your lowly servant but grant my strength to do your will.'

Ahead of her, the wretched armour of the marines could be seen as they fired through the library entrance way. Bolter fire whistled over her head and tore up the floor around her. Scholastica knew she did not have long, so hanging onto her fading consciousness with desperation, she thumbed one of her krak grenades. Rolling it with the last of her strength, she watched the little cylinder as it traveled across the broken marble floor. Scholastica muttered a prayer, the prayer she never knew she'd need, the Litany of the Damned.

'All Father, in your grace' A traitor was approaching across the threshold, his armour as cold and black as death. Scholastica hoped that he would finish her quickly. 'Take my soul and keep it, giving me the chance to die well in your eyes. Guard my passage to the next world so I shall know no fear. lend me your strength to make you proud so I can meet your eye.'

The grenade went off. Miraculously, it had rolled against the entrance way supports. The entire library frontage came down in a huge roar of sundered masonry, filling the library with a great wave of dust that rolled over her. She coughed, and looked up again. The entrance way was blocked by huge chunks of heavy stone. The traitors were outside and she was within.   

It was a temporary reprieve, she knew. They would just get digging equipment and breach the gap once more. She lay back, unable to move, racked by agony. Above her, the impassive Imperial Equilla looked back, the symbol that had dominated Scholastica's life and faith. And so, knowing little else to do, she prayed. She prayed as the last lonely subject on a damned world, she prayed for forgiveness and faith, for life and death and that she would soon be delivered from her agonies. 

Scholastica never thought her prayers would be answered.