Editing Toyhammer (section)

=Chaos Epilogue=

"Rhak'ha that was one hell of a battle."

"Many surprises, indeed."

"Who knew the Orks... well, anyone could work together?"

The Terminator shrugged. The Tau battle-suit shrugged as well. Madork Gunna looked up from reloading his WAAAGH!-Gun.

"We'ze all bleed red." He answered, almost philosophically. "'cept you greyskins. You bleed blue, don'cha?"

The battlesuited commander cocked his battlesuit's helmet to one side. "I do not intend to find out the difference in the color of our blood. The sight of my own blood tends to make me squeamish, Ork."

They laughed, in the laughter of soldiers desperate to forget the battle that had just been fought. Except for Madork. Da Big Scrap at Mikkey's Place was something that would be talked about amongst the Orks for a long time.

A cough, and Trooper Vekt tried to sit up.

"Stand down, trooper! You must rest!"

Black armored, the blood-caked gauntlet pressed against his chest, pushing him back down. A Sister of Battle, tirelessly attending to the faithful. And the xenos, too. The Tau Fire Warrior - Talon - gave him a grim smile as he moved supply boxes of medicines to where the were needed.

"Rest, Sohm. You will need your strength. For her."

He glanced up, and Sohm followed his gaze. Meliya was asleep, having allowed herself to finally collapse with exhaustion - with permission from the Canoness, of course - on the chair beside Sohm's bed. Her pale arms were all she had for pillows, resting at his side.

The man smiled, faintly, and brushed his fingers through her hair.

Thank the Emperor. He didn't lose her.

She sighed, as if about to awake.

Thank the Emperor, I didn't lose him.

"Losses?"

"Most of C-Company has been lost. The survivors are being amalgamated into the other companies. A-, B- and E- Companies are going to be back to full strength, but it cost us D-company as well."

"How are replacement promotions?"

"We have achieved seventy four acts of valor in this battle, including one brave soul who managed to... well, as the Terrans would say it: waste a trio of Raptors, at least. He - and the others - will be awarded with promotions."

"Understood. Armor and supplies?"

"Taxed, but the Cog-boys are dealing with it. There's talk about... talk about hybrid vehicles being made. Some scrapped tanks, for example, are being turned over to the xenos for repair, in exchange for parts from them... I'm not sure if that is quite... possible."

"If anything, the Emperor shall will it. Eldar, Tau, Ork and Human have just worked together as a coherent army without divine retribution. If anything, their machines could, too."

A grin. "I suppose that will mean you won't be shooting yourself for faithlessness?"

"How are the Psykers?" Asked Tomas, dodging that question as he turned around to face the priest. Jeremiah sighed. He knew what Tomas was really asking about.

"She's fine, Commissar." He smiled faintly. "In fact, other than a few tired muscles, I'd say she's better than ever."

"Really?"

Jeremiah made a sharp side-step, which was why Tomas didn't hit him as the excited Sanctionite tackled him from behind, bearing him to the ground with her hug.

"See for yourself." Chuckled the confessor. "And stay safe, you two. If you can't stay safe, however, make sure to name it after me."

But they weren't listening, he knew. A dazed smile on his face, Tomas felt warm. Maybe it was just his imagination, but he swore he could feel her heart beat through two layers of armor - hers and his.

"How are you?" Asked the giant little girl.

"Better." Replied the Grey Knight Justicar. "Thank you..."

"Emma."

"Emma." He confirmed, his gaze panning out to the dozen wounded and barely-walking Grey Knights, now returned to their full strength and allotment of limbs. "Thank you for your assistance."

He stood up on her palm, which had - only a minute before - been glowing with a divine light. The Grey Knight was not usually an optimist, but...

"May I ask you a question, Emma?"

"What is it, Mister Knight?"

"Are you the Emperor? I could swear that you are... well, perhaps a previous incarnation?"

"No. I am not the Emperor."

He sighed. So it wasn't true. Somehow, the Knight must have bee-

"Yet."

His heart soared as two eavesdropping Sisters fainted. Samisha was going to go ballistic.

"Losses?" Her voice was monotone, flat. Controlled... for now.

"Twenty eight percent, across the Coalition. We got off lightly, all considered."

"Our losses?"

"... Almost forty percent of our original force."

Zara dropped her head down into her hands, and sighed.

"Stones?"

"All collected, milady."

A nod. Good news, at least.

"Seers?"

"Lucian, Bezel, Hast and... Leonael" The Councillor ecalled

"Their spirit stones have been recovered, as has all the others."

"How many bonesingers in our number?"

"We have begun raising the Wraithguard already, L-"

"Good. Leave. Now."

The black robed figure left the room. Zara curled herself up in the corner, and began to cry.

So many. So gods-damned many.

Do not cry, daughter of Rekanel. Do not be sad... the dead... the dead shall rise again.

Chaplain Morteus closed the eyes of the Marine, and laid him to rest. Their bodies were not yet cool, yet they were already burying them, taking apart their armor, pillaging their ammunition... he kept the bile in his throat, although it meant that he would punch a hole in a wall to relieve his anger. Drawing his fist out of the cracked ceramics, Morteus sighed. This was wrong. But still, it was necessary.

Emperor forgive me. He prayed, as the Techmarines got to work, taking apart Brother Malakai's armor.

The Apocetharion as he pulled his gauntlet out from behind the Marine's neck, the flask of preservative fluids bubbling as the last of the air flowed out of it. Another fallen's progenoid glands had been successfully harvested. The Marine sighed, hating this ugly task as he moved on to the last of the fallen; the Commander's body lay on his back. His genes would be harvested, and his armor dismantled. It would be necessary, to recover from their losses.

Nodding to his aide, Apocetharion Thanatos knelt down as the young scout readied himself.

"Shall I speak the Final Rites, Brother-Apocetharion?" Asked the Scout, already recalling the ritual to his mind.

His jaw was strong, which was why it didn't break as Eziak's right fist connected with his chin.

Seizing the unfortunate scout's armor by the collar, the shattered throat of the wounded Commander growled his defiance.

"That... will not be necessary."

The shock was apparent as the white-armored Marine began shouting. "APOCETHARION! Wait a tick. I am one. SOMEONE GET ME A MEDIKIT, NOW! Oh, here's one..."