The Humbling of Sicarius

   Cato stared down at the rusted floor of the abandoned space station, silent save for the creaking of ancient adamantine warping in the gravitational tides of the backwater colony it orbited. It was soaked in blood. Some of it was blue, and some was green. A lof of it was red.
   The Orks had surprised him, just as he had surprised the Tau. He hadn't seen them coming. It could have been arrogance. It could have been his over-reliance on the augurs of the power-armor he no longer had. It could have been his fault, or it could have been bad luck, but it didn't really matter when his hands were the only thing keeping his torso from springing open like a Cegorach surprise-box.
   His vision was blurry. His leg had been torn free at the hip, but the severe blood loss had given him the final mercy of making visual details indiscernible. He frowned. Celestine, he thought, I should have said... anything. Something.
   His self-pity was interrupted by the smell of gunsmoke and a flash of fire. "Unfortunately, Sicarius, I am not the bountiful-bosomed angel you are looking for. I'm the grizzled old bastard you need." Cato's frown turned into an involuntary grin as he recognized the voice. Stood before him was the smoldering, smoke-stuff shape of Sidonus. Cato tried to say his name, but only gurgles and bloody bubbles managed to pass through his torn-open throat.
   "No need for that, Captain," Sidonus said, reaching out a hand of flame and faith. Flesh reformed, as smooth as a newborn's, where the searing heat should have left burns. Cato sucked in air like a drowning man breaking the surface, and his vision started to clear. The ragged stump where his left leg had been was gone, his limb reborn. His torso was whole once more.
   "How..." Cato asked, struggling to find the words as he stood, bracing himself against the station's millennia-old bulkhead.
   "The Emperor protects, brother," came the veteran-sergeant's reply, "but he also speaks. Lies are a cross-fade, and truth is sobriety. Honor, courage, and honesty are what makes a marine, not strength, glory, and savagery. Remember this, for our Liege will not grant you a second pardon."
   Before Cato could reply, Sidonus was gone, the smoke and ashes blowing away in a wind that never was.