The space marine leveled his bolter at the human before him. He was clothed in unfamiliar robes, seemingly unarmed, and truly a xenos sympathizer. Moments ago, the marine’s battle brothers had waded into the palace blasting aliens with high explosive rounds and sawing at their wildly varying bodies with chainswords. This man and his allies were seemingly outraged by the space marines’ attack. The language was strange to the Imperium translators, but they were clearly spreading out into a battle line.

“It seems these humans are so lost unto the ways of the Emperor that they’re willing to die for these vile scum,” the captain said into his vox, transmitting to his squad. “Let’s oblige them.”

“FOR THE EMPEROR!” the squad howled in unison, firing their bolters at the men.

They produced glowing swords of some strange technology to intercept the rounds, several of them becoming wounded by the resulting blasts. Then they moved like liquid, dodging and anticipating the shots.

“Psykers,” the captain hissed.