[r4wr89]

“God-Emperor… damnation has found us…” Uriah whispered, sprawled on the floor, stunned from the quaking of the barge. Around him, the barge’s crew was still recovering, regaining their senses as the lighting flickered back to life. The explosion had rocked the barge violently, and as Uriah regained his footing he noticed the disappearance of the second ship on the tracking systems. Momentarily, his eyes widened. The Historian was gone, no longer appearing on the reading. Despite his shock, he couldn’t help but notice the space between the barge and the cruiser. The traitors were on his doorstep.

He took another worried glance at the dim screen, and then threw himself out of the command room, impatiently slamming the door as it hissed out of his way. Finding his way to the lower level, he searched frantically for Augustine. The black and purple armored giants in the corridors did nothing to aid him in his desperate search, becoming elephantine obstacles for the miniscule man. All around him, curious red lenses inspected him as the captain darted through the maze of bodies and crates.

“Augustine…Augustine!” he cried fruitlessly, collapsing from the trauma. Beside him, a marine took Uriah’s feeble body into his arms, cradling his head while searching Uriah’s expression for the origin of the captain’s distress. Augustine, having heard the captain’s cry, broke through the crowd of marines gathering around the scene. Finally kneeling beside Uriah, Augustine took off his helmet and swept his unkempt black hair behind him.
He leaned in to listen to Uriah, the man’s hoarse voice crackling into muffled sobs.
“The Historian is no more…the enemy is on our doorstep, prepare for boarding...” Uriah managed to say. The commander was taken aback, unable to imagine the destruction of the titanic barge, unable to comprehend the loss of a quarter of the entire chapter. Fury welled up inside of him just as Krath swept into the gathering of onlookers. Intrigued at his commander's kneeling on the cold tile, the chaplain stepped toward the huddle on the floor. Having seen the distressed Uriah in ceramite arms, a wave of understanding and suffering rippled across Krath’s face as he realized what had happened.

Augustine turned to the marine holding Uriah, and instructed him to take Uriah back to his quarters. Hardly able to restrain his bitter anger, he stormed out of the gathering, howling madly like a wounded beast. Krath, removing his skull helm and placing it on the ground, turned to face the marines.
“A prayer, brothers…for our fallen comrades…” The sterile light of the corridor streaked strangely across Krath’s saddened expression, long shadows creeping from his furrowed brow. Around him, helmets were removed and knees bowed, a disturbing wave of grief spreading across the corridor as the chapter realized its loss.
“Emperor, Father…”



Boarding had already begun. The first of three sets of bay doors were opened, inviting the chaos army into the barge. The boarding bridge was in place, viciously locking its mechanical teeth around the mouth of the bay doors. Cultists were gathering in the bridge, shepherding their converts towards the victim. At the end of the bridge, the somber shuffle of the converts became a dazed climb, as the converts and cultists scrambled up the smooth bay doors of The Courtier, becoming a mountain of flailing limbs. The converts groped at the massive entrance, struggling to find their way inside.

Behind the chaotic scrambling, Alpha Legionnaires were arranging themselves into their squads. Terris was at the end of the boarding party, no longer intending to lead from the front. No, he had a higher calling, a purpose even truer than stealing from the Imperium. Personal gain.



Augustine, in a raging fit, careened into the command room, knocking an unwary crewman to his feet. Too blinded by his rage to notice the surprised crewman, Augustine rushed towards the bay locks. He wanted retribution for the murder of his brothers. He needed retribution. Without hesitation, he threw the door locks open, then stormed right out of the helm. No force would keep him from facing the vile traitors.