Editing Republican Commando (section)

===(35) Grand Skyfall===
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Once again, the Blade of the Long Watch is en route to the world of Femor and its quiet Agri-Moon. The living crew is rushing about in preparation, while the Support Crew are in the Manufactorums.

Cortain has been in deep contemplation over the stakes on Femor. The Invictus is missing, and this concerns him deeply, even moreso than the idea that the Hellstar found Femor. Brynjol is spending much of his time in the apothecarion deck, running countless neurological tests on himself, nerve biopsies on his leg and hand, and stress-testing the limbs. To his relief, he finds no damage or ill effects from losing a leg in the future and reverting to the past. His legs are okay. The only thing that could make things better is if he had gained brouzoufs. Cyril is taking advantage of the transit time to train obstacle courses with his new leg, while Temur supervises ship component restructuring.

Rockfist, O'malley, and Executor Thexus are supervising temporary deconstruction of core components of the port sunhammer lance, while Rose is engrossed over a workbench, the Tripodon at her side. To address some of his concerns, Cortain takes a moment to review the reports of the previous time the Commandos visited Femor II. The world itself is a large gas giant, the second moon holding a populated Agri-World. It is a a warm world of savannahs and ravines, and the Commandos now know the people get their quotas in on time due to Dark Age of Technology swarm-drones still providing gear and seed after 15,000 years. They also have that bizarre little local legend about Mount Oculus Aquila, but there is a bit more to worry about than myths.

"The farmers have a saying - when the world is in danger and all seems lost, an Angel of the Emperor's Fury will burst forth from the mountain, and defend the world from evil..." Cyril recites to assist.

"Lads, we've almost finished storin' away the key parts of the lances," Rockfist voxes, "The Blade should handle a little better now, combat worthy at least."
Temur wordlessly nods, ordering the parts into the storage bays until a time they can be offloaded.
"Anyway," Rockfist says, "We've put in the Teleportarium as well, should be ready fer action. Jus' be careful with it."

The Blade begins to shudder and shake as the Support Crew finish their work. The familiar tear back to the Materium allows the Blade back into reality, from the purple mists of the warp. The bridge crew puts all power to the plasma engines, rushing through the void as fast as possible. It is fast enough, but it is still half a day. Cyril concludes his workout and takes a half-day rest, before gearing up with standard gear and heading to the bridge. 

"Any word from the planet?" Cyril asks, "They should have figured out the communications gear we left them by now."
"We hold no Squat Hold here," O'Malley says gruffly, "The people here are a secondary concern, but may be in grave danger. We have not heard word yet, but we still have time to reach the world's vox belt, beardlings."

The Blade of the Long Watch finally reaches a stable orbit over the second moon. The augurs pick up no directed vox traffic.
"That's a...bit worrying," Rockfist says.
"Indeed it is. Keep augurs active for vox traffic or signs of the Hellstar."
Brynjol brings a fist down on the scanner table, but very gently. The vox-guildsmen look at him expectantly as he tunes the augurs to wide-range, searching for any vox-traffic. He turns the dial on the logis-targeter's augurs to "receive."

He picks up a lot of screams. The Commandos also hear, in the corner of their ears, a buzzing, ringing, KEENING noise, getting ever louder.

"Yup," sighs Cyril.

http://picosong.com/xYms

As the Gas Giant Femor turns, the reddish-black surface of the Hellstar begins to crest, its singular eye focused on the gas giant, the great beak extending from its mouth. The beak sinks into the gas giant, and idly begins to dig and sift about.

"It is here. Sooner than I had expected, given Ramsestron's mention of our disappearance coming slightly before..." Cyril pauses, "It saw our time travel."
Brynjol grits his teeth, "We need Invictus for this. I'd go out and nut it myself, but I fear it wouldn't listen."
"We can at least destroy the lesser forms if it is foolish enough to manifest them where collateral will not be unacceptable," Cyril suggests, "Weapons hot, and synchronize orbit with Oculus Aquila!"
"We're roughly over'em, lad," Rockfist says, "Should we prepare a transport, or will ya be testin' out yer new toy?"
"Pound it. Get its attention," Brynjol orders to the bridge crew.
"Time is short," Cyril notes, "We will teleport, but ready a craft in case we need to call down assets."
The bridge crew look to each other, before aiming weapons at the creature. Given how it is almost a quarter the size of the immense gas giant, the Bridge Crew wonders what effects the weapons would have, but resolve to carry out the order.
"Do we want its attention?" Cyril asks, "I would rather catch it unawares should we find something that can harm it."
"If it does what it's come here to do, everything has been in vain," Brynjol insists, "We need to at least slow it."
Brynjol exhales, annoyed.
"Where in the name of Asrheim is Crusader Invictus when you need it..." Brynjol turns, giving a final order, "I want you to make it furious. Everything we have, right to the fa-...pupil."
"The less time we take, the better," Temur states, "Brothers, would vorax help in our search?"
"We will go down first," Cyril nods, accepting Temur's suggestion, "Thexus, dispatch a Vorax maniple to the Teleportarium in case we have need of them."
"ACKNOWLEDGED, PRAETOR. AUTOMATA ASSETS SHALL BE READIED," Thexus blasts.
"This way, lads," Rockfist beckons, heading to the Teleportarium.

Cyril heads to the Armorium to grab his Photon Thruster, combat shield, and cryo pistol before regrouping at the teleportarium. Temur selects a plasma pistol and inferno pistol, and selects a relic heavy bolter. Brynjol grabs his Valkyris jump pack, as usual, while Cortain grabs a Volkite Culverin and a relic bolter.

The Commandos follow Rockfist to the Teleportarium, charged up and ready for action.
"It hurts," Brynjol says, uttering a prayer for warp travel, "But I have walked the void many a time, and fear it not."
"Dunno if ye've ever used a teleportarium before, but there're a few things ta remember," Rockfist begins, "Ya need a refresher, or are ya good?"
"A refresher would be appreciated," Cyril suggests.
"The first thing ta remember, is that without a locator beacon, or Brynjol there, teleportin' down is a 'rough estimate,' you'll appear NEAR where ya want," Rockfist says, "We can't teleport ya past void shields, an' we can't teleport ya in and out immediately. Ya find yerself in a bad spot, you'll have ta hold out for a bit until we recalibrate things."
"Send me down first, then," Brynjol offers.
"That will only send us to wherever you end up," Cyril points out, "We go down together, with jump packs to move swiftly."
"Just do what you can to put us close to start with, Rockfist," Temur requests.
"With a Nuncio Vox, Locator Beacon, or Brynjol's Void Walker Warlord trait, we can get a smoother fix," Rockfist continues, "But there's still a bit of a cooldown between uses. Sorry, lad, but this thing is temperamental, and needs as many runes of protection as we can give it."
The Commandos nod, even the Squats suffer with such delicate Archeotech.
"Luckily, for this outing, we took detailed location data last time we were here," Rockfist concludes, "So sendin' ya down now shouldn't be an issue. But keep in mind for the future things won't be as precise or fast..."
"GIVE THE WORD, PRAETOR, AND YOU SHALL BE DEPLOYED," Thexus yells, "RESTORE THIS WORLD TO FULL COMPLIANCE."

The Commandos gather in the Teleportarium. They decide a Rite of War is in order. Naming Brynjol squad leader, they declare the Rite of Executioners, which will grant them a free charge if they kill an enemy. They select Furious Charge and Tactical Spacing as their squad modes.

"Beardlings, I'll have a squad of my Hearthguard readied for when you require them," O'Malley states, "Make the Ancestors and the Emperor proud."
Rockfist says a quick prayer to the ancestors, and presses the button.

The world goes white, and then purple for the briefest of moments as the Commandos are shunted through the Warp. With a *pop* and the burning smell of ozone, the Commandos find themselves on the surface of Femor II, within the central square of Oculus Aquila. Things look a bit different. There is a translucent blue weed growing everywhere, and there is snow falling, giving off its own pale light. The occasional slug just slugs about.

"Those weeds look unusual..." Cortain begins, then stops. He remembers that the same weeds were growing on the Blade until the creature hanging off the prow was destroyed.
"Glowing snow?" Cyril exclaims, "That just is NOT RIGHT."
"Ohhhhhh..." the voice of an old woman sighs, as the source, an old woman, rounds a corner, bouncing swiftly away. Behind her are a large cluster of hound creatures, that the Commandos are quite familiar with now.

"Charge," Cyril declares. Brynjol is immediately on it, tricking his claws to hordebuster mode, but before he can reach, Temur is fastest on the uptake, raising his bolter and blasting the area with metalstorm rounds. While this does shred the unaware hounds as expected,  some shrapnel hits the Old Woman, and though not at a distance to be lethal, she does trip up and fall over.
"Ohhhhh..." the Old Woman sighs forlornly.
Cyril hurries forward, "Hello, ma'am. It is good to see you again." He helps the Old Woman to her feet.
The Old Woman slowly gets up, taking a small napkin and rubbing her eyes.
"Apologies on the firing," Cortain states, "These menaces have been harder to take down."
"Oh, goodness, you've returned," she says, getting up slowly, "Welcome back."
She brushes herself off, dust and blue tendrils falling away, before she takes out a small rag to wipe a dust-blemish on Cyril's armor, "My, you've changed."
"How long has all..." he motions to the Hellstar fuckery around him, "THIS been going on?"
"Has...what, dear?" she asks, staring out across the fields, "The crops are in season, so for a few months now?"

"Were you just fleeing something?" Cyril asks.
"Oh yes," she smiles, "Those strange beasts appeared a few weeks back. Terrible things, they are, the poor enforcers can't even get close without shaking. We've just stayed inside until they passed."
"Have you any clue where they seem to be heading?" Cortain asks.
"Hmm...well, the screams were getting louder, and those two objects in the sky were getting larger," she says, "So, I was heading to the Chapellum, where everyone was taking refuge to pray. Would you like to accompany me there?"
"Gladly, but we cannot stay long," Cyril says, "I believe the key to making them go away lies beneath the mountain."
"You're such dears, true heroes," the Old Woman nods as she begins to slowly shuffle her way deeper into the city, "As long as we pray, everything will be okay. As long as Mount Oculus Aquila stands, so shall our world."

Glacially but confidently, the Old Woman begins to shuffle as fast as she can. Every so often, she spares a concerned glance at the Hellstar orbiting the gas giant Femor, and another glance off to the side.
"Now THAT, dears," she says, pointing at the Hellstar, "It was the first to arrive, a few days ago. When it stares, I feel so...so empty. It hurts so much. But as long as it's not staring, we pray for deliverance."
"Would you mind being carried, elder?" Cyril insistes, "One of the objects in the sky is rather concerning - yes, that one - and we aim to deliver your world from it."
Cortain lowers the Abeyant. "Hop on."
"No, no of course," she says, "And what did you make of the second?"
Cyril lifts the woman onto the Abeyant. "Can you point out the second one?" By now, the Chapellum of the Emperor is in sight.
"It should be...right there," she says, pointing at the sky, "It arrived a day after the terrible eye did."
The Commandos look up, at the sky. And that's when they see something else in the sky. It appears to be a twin-tailed comet, glowing red and white, streaking down, the core burning white-hot, the twin tails leaving a trail of red sparks behind it.

Cyril checks his Memorance Implant's logs for such a thing. Total Recall doesn't seem to turn anything up.
"That...is new," Cortain admits.

With the Old Woman on the abeyant, the Commandos are able to travel MUCH faster. Approaching the Chapellum, already from a distance they can hear the sound of joyous prayer raised on high to the Emperor and his Saints. Stopping by the richly carved door, the Old Woman carefully hops off the Abeyant.
"Come along, dears, the congregation would love to see you again," the Old Woman implores.
She leaves a shuffled path through the snow, as a slug falls on her, though she seems none the wiser. Cyril gently brushes the slug off and fries it with the Serpenta. The Old Woman looks at him, unsure of what he is doing, but resolves that the methods of gods are incomprehensible. The Old Woman carefully pushes open the door. Despite the snow still falling indoors, it feels noticeably warmer in here. Brynjol keeps his silence, merely following. His claws twitch in their housings, rattling gently.

Every pew is filled, so the Commandos estimate about 200 people in here, where a pair of missionaries are announcing the Emperor's benedictions. To one side, in a small annex, the Commandos can see a rather curious shrine.

It's them. A carved statue of the Commandos lays in the center of a shrine annex. Purity seals hang off it, and prayers written on parchment slips are lain about. Cyril reads the prayers briefly. There's an engraving, "Honored Republican Commandos, who dispense the Emperor's Justice, who hath delivered us in our hour of need, carry our prayers to He on Terra, and do not forget us." Cyril makes note, to recite the prayers should he ever stand before the Golden Throne.

Brynjol walks over, and looks at the shrine solemnly. He reaches down to his belt, snapping off one of his diminishing supply of wolf teeth/kraken fangs/wyrm claws/narwhal horn aphrodisiacs and drops it by the alter, carefully Cortain considers dropping off an issue of the Ledger, but considering the whole time-shift, he has none available at the moment. He instead settles with a prayer and another random shard of metal from the Real Shady engraved with icons of Omnissiah-worship.

To the other side, near a confessional annex, the Commandos can see a room closed off with a carved screen door. Flickering blue flashes emanate from the other side. Pushing back the screen, the confessional is lit by a dull blue light. On the other side, where a deacon usually waits, they can see a shadowy shape.
"Got a selection of good things on sale, stranger..." the Merchant rasps.

The Commandos consider their options. They consider that replacing the lances on the Blade for space reasons should be good, and resolve to do so after picking up a few things. As a team, the Commandos upgrade their VF/SS anti-voidship Type 17 lances to Tier 1 Type 18's, granting improved damage and an extra hit at high DoS. Cyril and Cortain select Godsbane Lances to rebalance the Blade. Temur picks up Hex Wards for everyone, while Brynjol puts his luck into picking up the Pinpoint Storm Field for Crusader Invictus, granting the Crusader Sword Tearing. This synchs with his Flesh Render talent, boosting the effectiveness even further.

"Heh heh heh, thank you," the Merchant hisses as he closes the shutters of the confessional. The Confessional is quiet, beyond the flickering blue light. The constant of Prayer echoes from the main chamber. Great storms seem to peal outside, though the farmers seem to give it no mind, as the Commandos hear their tone remain relatively constant. Brynjol stands, watching them silently in their worship. Cortain keeps his eyes on the windows. Something's bound to come up soon...

A few local farmers pause, looking behind every so often. That is when they see the Commandos.
"The Commandos!" one yells, "The Commandos have returned!"
"Honored Commandos, once more you come to deliver us," another says.
"The Emperor's will overtakes all evil!" another yells, prostating himself.
"Indeed. We are told the Hounds have plagued you for weeks now?" Cyril asks.
"Yes, my lord Praetors," one woman says, "Their screams, they would echo in our minds, and the buzzing...the keening would never stop..."
"Oh, it will," Cyril mutters grimly.
To the terror of the worshippers, but perhaps to the Commandos' expectations, it is now that the stained glass windows blast inward. It is swarms of Hounds at first, but something is wrong. They are covered in eyes, and twitching.

Cyril nods in resignation and raises his boltguns. "Same song, fourteenth verse. It could be better, but it shall be worse."
The Hounds  all fall to the ground, twitching as if in seizure, pale blood spraying everywhere. Further legs appear out of the creatures, now resembling more insects or spiders than dogs.
"No...this is different," Cortain states.
Crystal shards are next, reforming themselves. No longer disorderly shards, they are now perfect octahedrons, glowing with a faint light. It is finally the Descendants of before that land last, but even they rip themselves apart in gore-soaked expansions. While some look like giant bipedal flies, expanded heads covered in compound eyes unblinking in every direction, others' brains burst forward, a single eye staring out. These last ones begin groaning, but it does not seem disorganized. It almost sounds like singing.

The Commandos raise their weapons, firing into the Hordes. It's go time.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SIB4kae-mP4

The floating mono-eyed brains begin to glow. The Commados feel as if a thousand knives are stabbed into their minds, and determine they need to solve the problem quickly. Two hordes of the spider-like creatures approach from each side, while the Octahedrons, Flies, and brain-like creatures begin to advance. Brynjol calls Furious Charge, rocketing himself into one of the brain-like creatures. 

"ON ME, CHARGE!" he yells.

Brynjol barrels into the first brainlike creature. As he charges, they stare, his headache growing larger. Though fighting through a natural shield and dodge, a strike lands true, ripping the brainlike creature apart into white dust. This is enough for Executioner to trigger, sending him into another. Temur moves to attack another Brain with his Paragon Blade, though the creature's defensive field tanks them. Cyril moves forward, finishing off the second brain and Executionering himself into the third. Cortain moves to assist, scoring some heavy damage against the final brain. Having resolved Squad Mode, Brynjol charges himself once more at the final brain, but fails attacks to shield.

The flies begin to circle Brynjol and Temur, before swooping down to attack. Coming from above, the Commandos work to parry as many as they can, trusting in their wargear to shield the rest. Temur resumes the attack, scoring a lucky fureh on the final Brain, cutting it into dust. Temur then turns his attacks to one of the Flies. The creature makes him think of a garden, except of eyes. Lucky for you, the garden of eyes wilts with the final strike.

The Spiders, apostles of a nightmare made flesh, have eyes on the worshippers. Notomok stands between the Spiders and worshippers, growling as his heavy cryosprayer rumbles to life. The Spiders begin to swarm forward. while one swarm begins to flow over Notomok, the second goes directly into the terrified crowd. One of the Deacons draws a mighty hammer, trying to motivate the faithful. They won't break because the Commandos, particularly Cyril and his Paladin of Glory Warlord Trait, are nearby, but they ain't doing too hot. Cyril swings about at the Flies in melee, while Notomok helps crowd-clear the many spidery creatures. The Commandos are technically outnumbered, but Cyril has a plan.

"Rockfist, please send down the Hearthguard and Vorax," Cyril voxes, "An Arlatax would not go amiss either."
"Acknowledged, lad!" Rockfist says, "We got an augur fix, sendin' down yer zoo!"

Once more the burning smell of ozone echoes through the air as Cyril passes his Command Tests. The Squat Hearthguard, 30 squats strong, appears within a few meters of Brynjol. The Arlatax and Vorax teleport in a little further behind.

"WE STAND READY, PRAETOR!" the Squats yell in unison.
"Charge the beasts behind you! Defend the civilians!"
"For the Holds!" yells the Hearthguard Champion, "For the Commandos!"

The disciplined Hearthguard charge in, and begin their work with their power axes. The Arlatax and Vorax also charge in, sending spiders into the sky, partying hard. Horde vs Horde slam into each other, and begin to down numerous spiders, though some Squats and Automata fall as well. 

The Octahedrons float in, ready to pepper Temur, who has done a fair amount of direct damage. Some shards get through, and Temur feels the pain in his head spike. Cortain orders Ordeci to attack the Octahedrons in response, striking it with mauler bolt cannon shots.

Brynjol goes back to the tried and true tactic of clawing everything around him. Downing the two remaining flies with his claws, Brynjol surges into the Horde, tricking his claws into hordebuster mode and cutting a swathe through spiders. Temur turns to cover Brynjol, firing Vengeance rounds at the Octahedrons with his heavy bolter, shattering one Octahedron. The Spiders, in turn, swarm over the zoo and Brynjol, though they hold fast, losing some Squats and Automata. A counter-attack from the zoo further thins the horde, while Cyril turns his two bolters to the final Octahedron, blasting it apart. He then calls Furious Charge again, charging into the Horde, and igniting them with soulblaze. Brynjol decides to charge out of combat, into the horde Cyril, Notomok, and the Arlatax Automata are in. Luckily, he is able to blend them, and trigger Executioner back into the original horde. 

Brynjol howls with laughter as he dances through the heart of the horde, his claws flicking open veins and puncturing skulls in a curiously controlled frenzy of economical slaughter. His claws now horrifically fed from hordebusting, he is then able to down the second horde as well, though he has almost gone full Wulfen as a result.

The people, however, are screaming. The enormous, lithe form of the Hellstar presence is holding one of the deacons, caressing him tightly and holding him to its chest as it hangs off a wall, upside down, like some sort of land-raider sized gecko.
"YOU," Cyril growls.
"It's not here," the Presence says, "You need not worry. We will find the way home eventually. Then we shall spread, far and wide."
"Do you ever get tired of this?" Cortain quips.
Brynjol feels the mechanical thrum of his false-heart, brought back to his senses at the thing's words, "This thrall will meet its reckoning."

The Hellstar Presence gingerly places the now seizuring deacon down, before crawling through a window, "We'll find what we need. You barely even serve to delay us..."
"Bryn, the deacon..?" Cyril asks. He sprays a few halfhearted shots out the window.

Brynjol extricates himself from the pulp, trotting over to the deacon and ministering to him The deacon continues to twitch and squirm. His scalp is beginning to bubble and grow.
"He is... gaining insight," Brynjol mutters. Fumbling for a brief instant with the unfamiliar straps, he draws his bolt pistol from its little-used holster, and lays it gently beside the Deacon's head.
"The Emperor's Peace, for you."
Brynjol picks up the bolt pistol, stands up, cocks it, and puts a shell into the deacon's bubbling forehead. Cyril sings an excerpt from a traditional dirge. The Deacon's head explodes outward, the bits of skull flying off, the eyes lining his brain all stare at Brynjol and Cyril before rolling into their sockets, disintegrating into the same white dust everything else did.
"Your Deacon requires burial, citizens. We have other business..." Cyril says.
"The Emperor shall sheperd his own," Cortain states.

The ground, however, begins shaking. Out in the sky, the Commandos can see more Octahedrons, the size of voidships, floating through the sky. The keening echoes loudly.

"Lad, we're trackin' that comet!" Rockfist says, "It's coming ever closer...It's...IT'S GOING TO IMPACT!"
"Brace!" Brynjol drops low to the ground. Cortain floats low, to secure himself on the ground.
Cyril jets to the doorway and grips the frame, "Estimated time to impact?!"
"Two minutes...one minute...It's...accelerating," Rockfist says in shock, "Lad...that's no comet..."
"WHAT IS THE CORE?" Cyril yells.
Brynjol can see outside, through the wreckage, the twin-tailed comet growing ever larger. It's target, it almost seems as if it's...Mount Oculus Aquila.
"We need to get there IMMEDIATELY!" Cortain yells
"Wait for the impact," Cyril commands, "We have braced, to move now would risk being blown away and losing time."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bZZE4_RqL4M

The air begins to superheat as the sky itself begins to rumble. The Twin-tailed comet surges across the sky, a second sun illuminating all in blinding light, impacting the mountain with the force of uncountable atomics.
The wind itself surges out, as pieces of the mountain falls as meteors from the burning hole in the sky, and yet the comet's twin red tails do not falter.

Instead, they bend back.

Through the dust and wreckage, a singular sound blasts through, over all.  A war horn mixed with a beast's roar. Brynjol laughs, a hearty laugh that everything's gonna be good now.
"RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAURGH!" Cyril yells triumphantly as he fires his jump pack, flying like a missile from the doorway to bound across the planes. Brynjol rockets after him, heading straight for the helm, grinning.

Glowing red eyes pierce the dust as the Heavensward Wings reassemble, Crusader Invictus rising, standing tall.
"I FETHING KNEW IT!" Cyril yells.
"Wait..." Cortain blurts, "WHAT?"
"Lads...I have an augur lock," Rockfist says, "Are ya ready?"
"Do it!" Cyril yells.
"Could it be... that a piece for it was hiding here the whole time?" Cortain considers, "In that mountain?"
"I'm on my way," Rose says.
Temur shakes his head as he follows, "The more we find out, the less what we know seems to matter..."
"Commandos," the Squat Hearthguard Champion says, "We'll guard the locals."
"Do so," Cyril says, "Automata, obey the Hearthguard."

The Commandos' world goes white with a flash, as the smell of ozone greets them. They find themself within the bridge of Crusader Invictus, Rose rising up in her place. Brynjol stands forward, assuming the helm. The old wooden ship's wheel extends to his waiting hands. Cyril seizes the macrocannon controls with excitement, murmuring a prayer of aggression over Octavio's Burden, while Cortain takes the Techpriest's Shrine.

Mount Oculus Aquila lies shattered, Crusader Invictus standing in the impact crater. The God Machine draws the Crusader sword, extending out against the dust, coalescing into a misshapen blue creature, the melted stump of its head covered in eyes.

"I feel them...all around," Rose says, looking around, "They're waiting for the command..."

The misshapen creature rushes forward to charge, raising its arms forward.
"Annihilate them," Brynjol declares, "Bring the fury of the Allfather!" He cocks his arm back, blade level with his shoulder.
The creature is swings its arms down at Crusader Invictus, aimed at the burning turbine that is the Heart Invictus. Brynjol decides to Parry, and Rose instinctively brings her arm up, Crusader Invictus doing the same. Out of the dust, the Comamndos see a tiny flash of silver. One of those maintenance drones.
"Oh..." Cortain realizes, "OH!"
"MY FRIENDS!" Cyril bellows, his Chapter's accent slipping through.

The Dark Age Maintenance Drones swarm around Crusader Invictus, like the eye of a hurricane, before one grabs onto the arm. Another grabs on to the first, and another, and another, linking in a spiral. The Drones combine in seconds, until Crusader Invictus holds a perfectly rounded shield. Brynjol has barely time to test the weight of it, rolling his arms as the Buster Aegis swings around in a wide arc, slamming past the creature's arms with a clanging sound, opening up for a perfect counter-attack.

"The many join together as one, an unbreakable aegis..." Rose muses.

Executing a near-perfect parry, Crusader Invictus stabs the Crusader Sword forward, causing white blood to leak everywhere, scoring a double fury killing blow. The God Machine kicks the disintegrating corpse away. However, all around, the Commandos can see more dust storms. The real fight begins as four of the creatures, identical to the first, materialize in. These numberless kin are on the attack.

"Something tells me that we will need more than just one good swing to hurt them..." Cortain states.
"The enemy are many... BUT SO ARE WE!" Cyril yells.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NiboHWwr12M

Two of the numberless kin are advancing forward, their arms raised. Two of them raise their arms, and summons great orbs of energy. While Crusader Invictus counter-attacks effortlessly with the Buster Shield, hurricane-force winds forming in its wake, the endless orbs of kosmic energy seem to find their mark, washing over the frame and inflicting damage on the hull. All across the world, people kneel, their prayers to the Emperor doubled, prostating themselves to the Commandos and the God Machine. The time has clearly come -  the Angel of the Emperor's Fury has arrived.

"I can feel the maintenance drones," Rose says, "It's not just a shield...they can do more! I think you can also configure them to Bombers and Fighters as well if you need them."

Cortain Arc Charges the Crusader Sword, readying a Zandatsu attack. Executing it, however, one of the creatures manages to parry a good number of the attacks, to Brynjol's horror. He laments that he forgot to make the attack unparryable and undodgable. He consoles himself with an uppercut, Crusader Invictus's mighty fist dusting one of the creatures. Magna-Cannons burst through a Kin's simple void shield, and opens the way for a shot from the World-Burner Lances. Bombardment Torpedoes slam into a Kin even further, and Crusader Invictus braces for further attacks.

One of the giant disfigured Kin begins flailing wildly, though its uncoordinated attacks are easily parried. With a pair of counter-attacks, the first strike staggers the creature, the second slices it through, into translucent blue dust. As if propelled by fate, a quick burst from the Heavensward Wings, and Crusader Invictus narrowly dodges the kosmic barrage from the other Kin. However, out of the dust, two more of the creatures manifest, the kin all raising their arms simultaneously. The four creatures raise their arms as the Hellstar's eye turns to Crusader Invictus. The sky itself turns dark, the dust and light of stars now fully visible in the firmament.

The Hellstar shrieks, great shards of itself surging forward down. Though dozens of these shards are falling to the surface, the Commandos note at least six are heading directly to Crusader Invictus. They are travelling slowly but inevitably, reminiscent of torpedoes.
"Shoot them down!" Brynjol yells.
Cyril laughs viciously as he targets the torpedoes. Remembering what Rose said earlier, Cyril barks a command to destroy the incoming kosmic asteroids. Crusader Invictus extends its arm. The Buster Aegis dismantles into its core components, which promptly reform, heading towards the incoming targets.
"Combination achieved," Rose says, "Fighters on approach." 
"Does that count as shooting?" Cyril guffaws uncharacteristically.

The drones, now combined into fighter-like arrangements, begin gunning down the incoming asteroids as best they can. They are able to gun down five, though one gets through, impacting Crusader Invictus back a bit. Now once more on the attack, however, Cortain arc charges the shields, and Crusader Invictus flies over the spawned in Kin to attack the ones flinging kosmic energy. Starting off with a bombardment from the torpedoes, Crusader Invictus charges into combat. The Heavensward Wings spread out, glowing bright red as the hardlight solidifies. The shards of hardlight surge out from the wings, impaling the numberless kin. The shards impact into the creature, the superheated light burning it away. The creature disintegrates into dust, which is spread as Crusader Invictus lands a devastating hit with sword and fist on another Kin.

The numberless kin continue their attacks, with Crusader Invictus barely able to hold on. A strong counter cuts deep into a kin that charged, its kosmic blood leaking everywhere. One creature begins to reform off to the side, while the last begins to fire more orbs, though Crusader Invictus flies out of the way.

With hurricane speed, Crusader Invictus rolls through the attacks, in the perfect place to strike back. Weather patterns on this planet are going to be heavily changed. Cortain Arc Charges the drones themselves, while Crusader Invictus downs a fourth Kin with sword and fist. 

"You're making progress," Rose says, "It's taking longer and longer for them to spawn back in. They may not have much more fight in them.

Cortain bombards a kin with the torpedoes, but it does manage to dodge. Now with an opening, and curious as to see their effect, Cyril sends the drones out with a Command test. With a wave of the arm, the Drones form into Bombers, and are on their way, surging a red trail behind them. Their bombs look far more potent now, and with every hit the Kin rails and shudders. The arc-charged bombs seem to ignore the kin's armor, though its innate toughness holds. The one Kin in melee begins to attack, slashing away, but the Aegis reforms just in time, to swat away the attack, just enough time to stab forward, disintegrating the Kin.

Kosmic energy impacts all around. However, as the fallen Kin recompose in a great group, they raise their arms up high. One kin takes terrible feedback, disintegrating as another takes its place. The kosmically-charged Asteroids under the Hellstar's vision are coming down once more, as the sky and the kosmos become one. Opting to dodge, Crusader Invictus weaves and ducks through asteroids. Two, however, find their mark.

Taking a moment to review the battlefield, the Numberless Kin are all equally spaced. Crusader Invictus blasts out a roar from its warhorn, and raises the Crusader Sword high.
"Commandos, look!" Rose yells, "I...I see an opening! Try to Arc Charge!"
Cortain rushes to the terminal, setting the power just in time.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V5T50wYCxMM

Out of Crusader Invictus's back bursts the burning red cape as it tosses the Crusader Sword in the air. The Drones attach, forming a great haft which Crusader Invictus grabs, twirling it forward. Bursting ahead at lightning speed, Crusader Invictus swings, swings, swings again. It is impossible, even for the Commandos' enhanced senses to keep track - One moment, Crusader Invictus stabs a Kin, the next, it is in front of another. The afterimages finally begin to fade, as Crusader Invictus kneels, the Drones retreating into hidden compartments. All four of the Numberless Kin fade simultaneously, the skies clouding above, then clearing once more. As the clouds clear...the Hellstar is gone.

"What...was that..." Rose coughs.
"I seriously want to study that," Cortain announces, "SO. MARS. DAMN. MUCH."
"We moved so fast..." she coughs, "Things were moving so slowly..."
"Lads, we're not picking up any sign of the Hellstar..." Rockfist says, "It's gone for now."

All on Crusader Invictus's vox, the Commandos can hear the cheering of the world's survivors. Brynjol smiles softly, releasing the wheel. Rose is breathing heavily. It's evident she's quite exhausted.
"Lads, the Inquisition will return to pick up Crusader Invictus," Rockfist says calmly, "We're ready to pick you up when you're ready."
Cortain puts it into consideration to devise more training regimens. "Very well. I will be sending them a message asking to look into this...new experience as well."
"Aye..." Brynjol says, "Come get us."
"Lock achieved, lads," Rockfist says, "Bringin' ya back."

A flash of light, the burning scent of Ozone, and the Commandos find themselves in the Blade's Teleportarium.

"Ye've received new messages on the Holomap, beardlings," O'Malley nods, as he retools the Teleportarium to retrieve the assets, "Ye did well."

Though Femor II may have lost its holy mountain, and its ability to provide fresh food to the sector will suffer somewhat, the world is still standing, and sometimes that is all that can be said.

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