Editing The Times and Trials of Klightus (section)

====Epilogue====

Klightus slammed his shoulder into the door, helped by three others. The first impact nearly sent them all sprawling, but a Sister joined them. "Novice!" he bellowed loudly. "Get." He paused from an impact that rattled him. "The." The door shuddered with another impact, a howl of fury on the other side. "Block!"

What the novice lacked in initiative, she made up for in speed. Within moments, the block was in place, allowing them at least a few moments of respite from the savage horde. Klightus looked to the one who helped them, only to find Sister Ephrael moving off.

Almost immediately, Sister Amaia was upon him, grabbing for his hands. In recent years she'd taken to counting his fingers -- a small ritual to assure herself that he wasn't trying to perform his various duties while injured. Again. He waved her off, though. "Cordelia."

Amaia put her hand to his chest to stop him, but he pushed on. Everybody was too quiet. He moved quickly to the rest of the squad surrounding the prone form, pushing his way through. The sight that greeted him...

The Sister Superior hated losing members of her squad. She was willing to sacrifice them in the name of the Emperor, but she'd always hated any loss. She'd provided covering fire for everybody from the first time he'd been in battle with her. When she'd given the order to fall back to the church, the only building with the fortifications to allow them to regroup, she'd once again taken the rear, ensuring that everybody else could get inside. She was the last one through the door...

...and had received a round to the face for her loyalty.

Klightus stepped back, taking a deep breath. He shouldn't let this shake him as much as it was. He couldn't do anything to help her now; she had earned her place with the Emperor. But he could do something for the rest of them. When in doubt, make yourself useful. His hand went to his right ear. "Namah Six-Seven, this is S-Sigma One. Do you copy? Over." He paused a beat, biting his lip.

"Namah Six-Seven to Sigma One. We read you. What's your status? Over."

He let go of a breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Sigma One to Namah Six-Seven. We found the bulk of the xenos f-forces in sector t-twelve, just outside the city of Ayin. We have fallen back to a church inside the city p-proper and are under attack. Can you assist? Over."

"Sigma One, confirm sector? Over."

"Namah Six-Seven, sector twelve. Over."

There was a long pause before there was an answer. The voxman sounded worried. "Sigma One, we have no assets in your area that we can commit to engagement, over."

Oh, no. No, the Commander was trying to let them rot, to let the liaison unit die so that he could have more freedom to act as he wished. Klightus' jaw tightened. "Namah Six-Seven. N-need I remind you that I am in direct contact with Inquisitor W-Wiprecht Eigen and speak under his authority. Please inform your commanding officer that I n-need conformation on what assets you can provide, over."

Each tick of the chrono that went by only fueled his anger that much more. He was putting a lot on a simple hunch. There was the possibility that there were no local assets that could assist. But with each tick, the chances of that being the case drew more and more slim.

"Sigma One," the voxman said at last. "We can have our Leman Russ', six Chimeras of troops, and two Hellhounds in your sector within an hour. Over."

"Namah Six-Seven, may you m-move with the Emperor's guidance. Sigma One out."

Klightus took a deep breath before touching his left vox-bead. "Klightus Gramon to Inquisitor Wiprecht Eigen."

"Lieutenant!" The Inquisitor sounded pleased to hear from him. "Have you found the heretics?"

Klightus had to remind himself once again not to use the Guard war cant. "No, sir. I'm afraid that we have f-failed to find any sign of them. However, we're trapped in a church in Ayin. It does not appear defiled." He looked back towards the door. At least the Guardsmen in his retinue were working on fortifying it. No telling how long it would last, though. "We found the b-bulk of the xenos horde."

"Show me Ayin on the map," the Inquisitor barked to somebody. Then, back to Klightus. "And the townspeople?"

"Sent to the Emperor." He heard a noise of displeasure on the other end. "S-S-Sister Superior C-Cordelia has been sent to His Embrace as well." It hurt more to say that out loud than he cared to admit.

"Gah!" Now the Inquisitor was getting upset. "Can the Guard help you?"

"I h-had to invoke your name, but they are sending armor. An hour, they say."

"I'm sending forces your way. The Seraphim squads should get there before the rest of us." His voice said that it would take time.

"The dome is shattered, s-sir. That will be their best entry point into the church."

"May the Emperor preserve you and grant us speed."

"Ave Imperator."

Klightus lowered his hand and took a deep breath. All that they had to do was hold their position until reinforcements arrived. They were, in essence, the bait for a pincer attack. That would work, at least. As he looked around the church, though, he realized it would be harder than just the fighting.

The Sisters, as well as the two novices, were clustered around Cordelia's body. None of them were saying anything. It didn't take much to figure out what was wrong -- their morale was broken. Cordelia had lead the squad for years before he'd even encountered them. She was loved. And now she was gone. Their loss was echoed in the few Guardsmen with them.

And if they were to have any chance of surviving, of destroying these foul xenos, they needed to pull back together. His mind went back to the Jingur Third. What would the Commissar do? They weren't fleeing or showing cowardice.

A speech. But that wasn't exactly Klightus' specialty. His brain worked furiously, trying to come up with something, anything that might pull them through this. He reached farther back, to his childhood. What would Sister Kandra do when he lost his will?

In that, he found his answer. He closed his eyes, and let his voice do the work.

"Praise, Mankind, the Throne of Terra;
To His feet thy tribute bring.
Fortified by his dominion;
Evermore His praises sing:
Ave Imperator! Ave Imperator!
Praise to the Immortal Emperor!

"Praise Him for His grace and favor
To Humanity in distress.
Praise Him still the same as ever,
His sacrifice, we do bless.
Ave Imperator! Ave Imperator!
Glorious in His faithfulness!"

Voices joined him now, resonating within the church as if joined not only by the sisters, but some invisible choir as well.

"Fatherlike He tends and protects us;
Well our feeble frame He knows.
In His hands He gently bears us,
Rescues us from all our foes.
Ave Imperator! Ave Imperator!
Widely yet His wrath flows.

"Frail as breath on the air we flourish,
Blows the wind and it is gone;
But while mortals rise and perish
Our Emperor lives unchanging on!
Praise Him, Praise Him, Ave Imperator
Praise the Immortal God Emperor!

"Mankind, help us to adore Him;
Yet behold Him face to face;
Stars and Void, bow down before Him;
Dwellers all in time and space.
Ave Imperator! Ave Imperator!
Praise with us the Emperor of grace."

Klightus looked amongst the assembled. The Guardsmen had their hands folded in the aquila, still seemingly lost in the hymn. The Sisters, though, had all joined in. Even Sister Ephrael. Their resolve had returned. Now they stood with purpose.

"Sister Ephrael," Amaia barked. "Move Sister Cordelia's remains to the alter! Nyze, Quintilla, move these pews. When they come through the door, they'll move down the hall. Use those to slow them down."

Klightus, meanwhile, was removing his pack to rummage through it. "Guardsmen!" They hurried over. "Sister Quintilla is a master of timing. Prepare your grenades. She will order one through f-four at specific intervals. When she does, cease fire and throw a frag at the door. Get it as c-close as you can. That's our choke point. Remain in cover, but affix b-bayonets just in case." He looked over his shoulder. "Sister Quintilla! Thirty second delay between grenades!"

Two bolt pistols, but only three spare magazines. He could have sworn he packed four. "Novices!" They moved, apparently happy for any guidance. He offered each one a bolt pistol and a spare magazine. "Make each shot count. The one with the m-most kills gets the spare mag. When you're out, switch t-to your las." He shoved the spare mag in his pocket and double-checked to make sure his melta pistol was at his hip. That confirmed, he pulled the Hellpistol from his pack and donned it again.

There was the sound of wood splintering. "To cover," Amaia shouted. Sister Nyze and Quintilla stopped carrying pews (only four, Klightus noted) to run back. Two Guardsmen took the closest positions to the door, only for one to be roughly yanked away by Sister Ephrael.


"You, you! B-behind those pillars!" The two Guardsmen moved quickly, not having to be told twice. Having Ephrael closest to the door made sense: it was hard to charge through a column of flame.

"Nice to see that you aren't planning on dying," Amaia mused, joining Klightus behind a pillar.

"C-can't let you die," he said with a smile as he drew the power saber. "Bethany would have my hide."

As the heavy door began to fall under savage xenos blows, all of them took up aim. "Funny," Amaia mused to herself. "I was going to say the same thing."