The two soon joined the others. McKenzie wanted to start Johnny's training right away, just to make sure that he would be able to resist the temptations from deamons, which they probably would encounter. The training consisted of mind focus mostly, i.e. to be able to hold things in mid air, stop flying objects etc. The others watched with interest as McKenzie taught Johnny step by step how to tap into the Warp, use its power and, most importantly, control it. Johnny was a quick study, to McKenzie's relief. It was easy to make Johnny focus, to teach him to control the powerful Warp magics and to make him hold objects in mid-air. Johnny trained with a candlestick out of brass, which McKenzie thought was good enough. As Johnny learned to lift the candlestick, McKenzie picked it out of the air with his fist, gave it Johnny and told him to throw it at him.

"But, I'll hit you!" Johnny protested.

"Just throw the candlestick, Johnny!" McKenzie ordered and stood himself a bit away from Johnny. Johnny hefted the candlestick in his hand, for weight measure, before he threw it straight towards McKenzie. The candlestick slowed down and stopped a few inches from McKenzie's face. He picked it out of the air and told Johnny what to do.

"Everything is relative, including speed and mass. Imagine it to be a none moving feather, and you will be able to stop it Johnny." McKenzie said and thre the candlestick towards Johnny. The poor lad tried to imagine that the heavy thing was a light feather, almost succeeded and had to throw himself clear of a candlestick that moved slightly slower than before. McGranth caught it behind Johnny. The Grand Commander threw the candlestick back to McKenzie.

"Johnny, we'll go this over and over, until you get it right, see?" McKenzie said and threw it again. Five times later, Johnny could brake the speed of the candlestick enough so that he could pick it out of the air. As he took the candlestick, McKenzie walked over to him.

"Just one final thing," the Master Lexicanum said, "I want you to bend the arms of the candlestick, so that they point downwards. Alright?"

Johnny looked up at McKenzie. "I mean it. It's not so hard. Use your mind Johnny." McKenzie urged.

By now, Edd stepped up. "It's actually quite easy Johnny. Remember when we saw 'The Matrix'? To quote: 'There is no spoon'." Edd blinked towards Johnny. "You bend yourself, not the candlestick. Believe me, it's how it works." Johnny nodded his approval and focused on the candlestick.

"There is no spoon... " He mumbled under his breath. This made Edd smirk. And wouldn't you know it? A few moments later, the candlestick arms hung like rubber. McKenzie gave Johnny a hearty slap on the back, a slap that made Johnny drop the candlestick. The arms of it clanged against the stone floor, still in the bent position, as hard as ever.

A bit away from the others, Rolf was standing all alone, watching the fledgling psyker train. He was happy for Johnny's part, but one part of him despised what Johnny was; a psyker, a witch! He knew what part. It was the part that once had belonged to an Imperial Hero: Commissar-general Rolf Yarrick. The man had been a good friend of McKenzie, but he'd despised all other psykers. Hypocrisy, maybe, but he couldn't stop the feeling of chill inside him as he watched Johnny bend the candlestick arms. He didn't notice when Nazz walked up to him.

"What is Rolf?" she asked softly.

Rolf turned his face to look at her, his green eyes meeting her blue. "You wouldn't understand," he replied sadly. Nazz put her hand on his arm, leaning closer to him.

"You can tell me," she urged. Rolf got out of her grip.

"I said you wouldn't understand, and that is final."

"It's Johnny, right?" Nazz said, crossing her arms over her bosom and cocking her head, as she looked the tall and sinewy young man that Rolf was.

Rolf sighed. He might just as well tell her. "Yes, it is. I'm glad that he has a hidden talent. But, I am sickened over the fact that it had to be psychics." Seeing Nazz's quizzical look, he decided to explain. "I share a soul with another man, Nazz. And this man was trained to destroy untrained psykers and other mutants and humanity’s enemies. It was his duty, his work. It turns my gut to see that Johnny might even outclass such a powerful psyker as McKenzie, and he's still at the tender age of 14!"

"Oh my." Nazz gasped lightly. "Why? Why do you despise psychics so, Rolf, they haven't you, have they?"

"Oh, they have. For a start, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for psychics, none of us would. Secondly, what do you think deamons are? They are nightmares given form, and they come from the place that psykers take their power from, the place known as the Warp. So psykers can easily be attacked by deamons, and deamons want to destroy everything mortal. Understand now, Nazz?"

Nazz nodded slowly. "I believe I understand... " With that, she left Rolf alone to join the others. They started to gather madrasses so they had something to sleep on. One by one, they all went to sleep. Not before Johnny had gone to bed and was fast asleep, did Rolf get out of the coat and go to sleep he to, but it was wretchedly he slept.

McKenzie awoke. He simply threw his eyes open, his mind scanning the surroundings. It was in the middle of the night. McKenzie threw an eye towards one of the many windows around him. The moon was in the first window. Just after midnight then. He got up and walked softly out of the main hall. He felt that someone was missing, but couldn't really pinpoint whom, yet. It was someone in deep contemplation though. He followed the trace of the mind, a non-psychic obviously, and found himself walking higher and higher in the circular construction that was the Death Angel Fortress Monastery. He came out on one of the fine marble balconies, one of the few still alive. The climbing-trees that hadn’t been tended for had grown just as wildly as the Hadesian crystal oak. They had grown so much that one could sit on branches far out in the air, if one felt for it and weighed just beneath 60 kilos. McKenzie guessed one could reach the ground with one of those now. He'd used them for climbing when he'd been a neophyte, but often got punished for it.

Out on a stone-bench, Rolf was sitting all alone, resting his head in his hands, and looking at the stars in the far horizon. He seemed oblivious to McKenzie's presence. McKenzie walked forward, his armoured boots clanging melodiously and quietly towards the marble floor.

"I admit the stars of Ichar's night-sky are beautiful, but shouldn't you try to get some rest?" McKenzie said softly, his voice not more than a whisper, but still carrying clear. He was startled that Rolf didn't move at his sudden coming. The young man had removed the sword from his back, as well as the peaked cap, and let the cool night breeze blow through his blue hair, the camouflaged greatcoat buttoned up to his chin. It was a bit cold, McKenzie had to admit. Rolf just turned his eyes to McKenzie, and smiled as he spoke.

"Ah, McKenzie, come sit with me." McKenzie did as he was told. He couldn't really relax as Rolf had, because of his backpack, but he tried.

There were a few moments of silence. McKenzie now too felt the chilly breeze in his hair. Rolf looked around a few times before he turned to McKenzie again. There was sorrow in the lad's eyes.

"I am troubled, my friend." Rolf said as he leant forward once again, this time dropping his hands between his legs.

"How so?" McKenzie asked.

"Over the past few years," Rolf spoke softly, which actually unnerved McKenzie, "I have noticed a change in myself, not only the changes that come with puberty and growing up, but changes that disturb me a lot.

"You have said that Rolf Yarrick is gone from me now, except some of his memories. That's what you said a few years ago, but I believe there's more left of him than I want. I have found myself behaving and reacting like would've. Sometimes, I wake up early in the morning, convinced I am still on Callidus. And that's only the beginning. I have tried to remember the village I was born in and spent my early childhood in, but I can't. Even now, as I try hard, I can only remember the Callidussian village that Rolf Yarrick was raised and lived in until..." Rolf's voice trailed off. He started on a new track. "Anyway, I feel that I am losing myself, McKenzie. As time goes by, there is more the Imperial Hero Commissar Rolf Yarrick, and less of Rolf, me.

"I am afraid, McKenzie. So afraid... That I might lose myself altogether."

McKenzie didn't reply immediately. He'd listened intently, and was trying to find an answer, that wouldn't scare the boy too much.

"You did absorb his spirit when the Spirit Ball malfunctioned and broke down. It took you, cause you were his doppelganger. There are many reasons as to why you change. One is that there is a struggle in you, and only one soul can inherit a body, and it seems Yarrick's is prevailing. The other reason I can think of is that Yarrick never was done with this world. He died with many things undone. He didn't want to rest. And now, he's been given a second chance in you, and has taken it. It's my mistake, perhaps. I should've let him die there on Callidus..."

McKenzie went silent and then spoke again. "The simplest solution is to give in Rolf, how little you like it. Let Yarrick take over, and when you die, so does his soul, with you. You'll never know, maybe you can become an officer in the Army, eh?"

"I don't know," Rolf replied, shifting uneasily.

"Either that, or you'll remain slightly schizo the rest of your life. I don't know really Rolf, I'll have to study this..."

McKenzie snapped his head up sharp. He'd heard something.

"What's wrong?" Rolf asked, genuinely confused.

"Quiet, there's something in the tree." McKenzie hissed. "Stay here."

Rolf watched McKenzie move. The psyker blended with the shadows in a way that shouldn't be possible with his bright red armour. Rolf concluded to himself that McKenzie simply had wrapped the shadows around himself. He barely saw him, and the movements were ginger and feline. Suddenly, it seemed, McKenzie had leapt at something in the tree before him.

Rolf heard a heart-piercing shriek and flew to his feet. McKenzie unravelled the shadows around himself, and walked towards Rolf, holding a creature by the collar of its shirt at arms length from him. It was small and wiry, around 1m60, with a disproportionally large head. It had elongated ear, black eyes and green skin; a Gretchin. The little Gretchin, or grot as they were called for short, Rolf suddenly remembered through Yarrick, was shouting something with its strident voice, something in Orkish that Rolf didn't understand at all. And it was probably best so, because whatever it was, it sounded very rude and very obscene. McKenzie put the Grot down and Rolf instinctively pulled his newfound friend, the bolt pistol. He hadn't that one away. The Grot understood this very obviously and remained very silent, and very still, until McKenzie had gone back to get McGranth and Charleston. McKenzie told Rolf to get to bed, and at least TRY to sleep. Rolf resisted a while, but McKenzie was adamant, and Rolf finally gave in to pure exhaustion.

As Rolf had left, the three Marines loomed over the poor Grot. The look on its face said that it wanted to be somewhere else, like another planet for example. But it was also halfway through being indignant at the same time as it wanted to run for its own miserable life. McGranth bent down, his armour whirring as he moved and got so close to the Grot's face so that he almost could brush the creature with his moustache.

"What do you want?" McGranth asked as threatening as a knife.

The Grot gathered himself together and took all his courage to him that he could. It wasn't much. He tried to stand upright, but it was impossible due to one part of him was scared white, or at least a pale hue of green. He opted for the mode, which would be described to us as 'South State Afro-American Slave'.

"Please surr, I not bovver anyun, I is jus' skout. Dere a report uv oomans in big bilding, dere be no humans on Eekar for long time now. So, I come ta see if it true."

"Where's your, whaddya call it, Waaagh? Is it near here?" McGranth asked. His voice had lost a tad of its threatening edge.

The Gretchin snorted. "I, Wizznag, is not membur of Waaagh anymore, I is membur of da Gretchin Revulutionaree Committee."

McKenzie looked ponderous at this. "Gretchin revolution. Sounds like Sebastian to me. He always had his ideas about Orks... "

Wizznag looked up at the tall, slim Marine. "I'se no idea 'oo dis Sebbastiun is, but I'se do know dat da founder uv da GRC wos named Mosgit, an' Mosgit claimed to 'ave served da Bale Eye, before 'e wos killed by da big demun."

Charleston looked puzzled. "Bale Eye. Where have I heard it before?"

"It was a nickname the Orks gave Sebastian after he lost his eyes and had that implant, remember?" McKenzie freshened Charleston up. "But, GRC, was Sebastian Yarrick behind that?"

"Ah, now I know wot you mean. Yarrik, why not youse say so? Yes sur, 'e helped us Grots create the GRC. We Grots wos tired uv bein' treatud like animals. So, we escape, unner Mosgit's lead, and we work togevva for Gretchin rights!"

"That still doesn't explain why you're here!" Charleston growled as his right hand traced down to his holstered plasma pistol.

"I wos brought as slave, sur," Wizznag whimpered. He knew what a plasma pistol could do. "Two Waaaghs come; Waaagh Nazdreg and Waaagh Ghazghkull, after da humies left, dey both claim wurld and fite over it."

"I thought you said there weren't any Waaaghs here." McGranth said, looking suspicious.

"Dere isn't sur, not anymore. Strange metul men come, Orks fite, but metul men fiit bevvar, losta Orks die. Den, dis huge metul man come, 'e must be boss uv metul men, calls his self Metallix. Anyways, he comes, want ta fite with warbosses Nazdreg an' Ghazghkull. Dey both fite very good, but metul boss fite bevver. 'E kills 'em, metul men den kill all Orks. Some uv us Grots escape, hide. The Gretchin Revulutionaree Committee come, find us. Dey says we free now."

Charleston had a dark look on his face. "Necrons... how dare they set foot on Ichar!"

McGranth, on the other hand, looked puzzled. "You said the humans left, Wizznag. Where did they go?"

"Dey run away sur, away from metul men. I hear some uv dem say, dat dey go to place called Call-ee-dus. Dey think dey'd be safe dere, some humans disagree, stay and fite. But metul men kill dem sur. Not all wos killed though, metul men take some alive, maybe make slaves uv 'em."

Wizznag looked up at McKenzie, who'd been quiet for a long while now. Something seemed to go up for him.

"Youse odd-boy, am I not rite, Bluddy boy?" Wizznag asked, having lost some of his innate politeness. He fumbled his pockets for something.

McKenzie looked down on the creature. "Yes, I'm a psyker, why are you wondering?"

The Grot finally found what he was looking for and pulled out a slightly dusty and rusty Imperial data-slate and handed it up to McKenzie.

"See, a long time ago, Mosgit got dis from da Bale Eye. Bale Eye wanted Mosgit to hand it to da tall, thin odd-boy wiv a tatoo over 'is eye. Dat's you, no? Now, Mosgit, never got to that, so he passed da slate on, and now it wos in me hand, so I'se wos jus' lucky ta meet you." Finishing that, Wizznag grinned. He'd been a good Grot, fulfilling his duty to the GRC's founder.

McKenzie had flipped open the old data-slate. The information was still readable, only a few letters missing. The battery wasn't low, it hadn't been opened by any curious grot or anything, it seemed. He read it through. He read it through again. It seemed to be the lyrics for a song. Charleston was suddenly at McKenzie's side, reading over his shoulder.

"Looks like the lyrics for Number of the Beast to me... " Charleston muttered. He'd heard McKenzie play that particular song many times. "Half of it is the same any way."

"We already have encountered genetical copies of ourselves Ed, so why not songs?" McKenzie said as he snapped the data-slate shut. "It's a great, big universe, and we're really puny."

McGranth looked down on Wizznag. "You, get out of here, and tell this Gretchin Revolutionary Committee of your, that this place is off limits. In clear text: Don't ever come here again. Other ways, I'll blow your green arse into the next world myself, capisco?"

"Yes sur, I tell 'em!" Wizznag replied, saluted clumsily and jumped up into the tree by the balcony. You could hear his shuffling as he made his way back down. There was a chattering far down, indicating that he hadn't been alone and the sound of running feet. Then there was silence.

McKenzie broke it. "So, they were going to Callidus. It makes sense. The Necrons must've started their attack on the fringe to the north, thus forcing people to flee further south into the Imperium, herding them together like sheep." McKenzie made a short pause. "Secondus is where we should go next..."

"Why not Callidus?" McGranth asked.

"I have this itch..."

"I don't know, McKenzie..." Charleston said and scratched his rugged chin. "I and the lieutenant commander didn't find too much fuel. So, I’m not sure we have enough to make it too Secondus... unless we want an ungraceful landing."

"We'll have to try, Commander." McGranth said and patted his big friend on his shoulder. After that, he yawned. "Urgh! Let's go back to bed."

The next day, they all made ready early to leave. McGranth explained the situation to them. After this, he sent Charleston to herd them back to the Night Hawk and strap them in, while McKenzie and McGranth went through most of the Monastery. They locked every single door they could find. McKenzie even flooded the underground tunnels, which actually were home to many Orks who still lived, but no one would notice their passing. As that was done, McKenzie and McGranth bid one last farewell to the place that once had been their home and went up the many stairs to join the others in the Night Hawk.

The Night Hawk lifted from the platform and left Ichar's surface behind it. As it was a quite long way to Secondus, even with the Imperium's superior technology, it took several hours for the trip to pass. This trip would with our simple technology taken a year, but none-the-less it became boring for the thirteen Imperial Warriors. Each and every one tried to find a way to distract themselves. McKenzie toyed with an Imperial Galaxy chart, Kevin counted stars, Rolf tried to suppress Yarrick's memories as they became too unpleasant and the Kankers played some guessing game. Charleston was preoccupied with guiding the Night Hawk. It travelled at a speed of nearly 175 000 kph, and thrusters blazing. As they approached Secondus, Charleston struck the retros. Too steep dive and they'd be incinerated. The passing through the atmosphere was harmless, due to Charleston's skill, but as he turned on the inter-atmospheric drive, a lamp started to blink on the control panel and a buzzing sound was heard.

The buzzing sound woke Eddy, who'd been dozing off. "Now what?" he asked curtly.

"We're low on fuel," Charleston replied incredibly calmly. "I'll be able to land us, now we're through the atmosphere, but we have no brakes whatsoever, so it's going to be a bumpy landing!"

McGranth planted his feet firmly on the deck plate. "Brace yourselves!"

Charleston threw a glance out the vision slit. He was shocked to see that it was engulfed with flames. He'd forgotten a crucial detail: Secondus atmosphere was thicker than Ichar's, due to the fact it was closer to the star Betelgeuse. As they hit the upper layers of the inner biosphere, they cold air superheated around them, causing 'dents' in the air. The Night Hawk skipped and rocked violently, so violently Charleston was thrown out of his chair. He soon got back into it though, throwing a glance backwards, seeing that everyone was bouncing around, bar himself, McGranth and Eddy, the other two due to the weight of their armoured suits.

Kevin smacked his back into the roof and landed on the floor with a thud. As he regained his breath he cursed and spat at Charleston: "Haven't you people ever heard of seatbelts?"

Charleston turned to look at the young man. "Look, this is not the time... huh?" This last remark was aimed towards what Charleston saw through the flame licked vision slit. Both Kevin and Charleston gaped at what they saw through it, then, they screamed. They were heading straight towards the very solid side of a mountain! Charleston grabbed hold of the control stick and yanked it towards himself, sending prayer to the Emperor and all his Saints that their speed was enough to make the flaps work. It did. The ship slowly rose, higher than the mountain, but it wasn't enough. The tail of it smacked against a ridge, destroying one flap, half a wing and two engines. The ship careened towards the ground, turning over end.

After a minute of free, uncontrolled crash-diving, the Night Hawk finally hit the ground in a spray of dirt, rocks and various parts of it. It flipped over end again one, two, three times. It finally came to rest three kilometres from the first crash site, skidding to a halt. The Night Hawk was caked in dirt, wings missing, missiles gone, every centimetre of it burnt and blackened.

Inside, the group was picking themselves up and together. McKenzie got up and made a quick count of people. He turned to Charleston.

"I'll say this my friend; you're a great pilot, but you really need to work on your landings."

Charleston glared at his friend, but McKenzie just responded with a big, gap-toothed grin. "Oh, like you could do better?" Charleston snorted.

"Cut it, you two." McGranth cut them off. "Is everyone alright?"

"I'll live..." Kevin groaned as he got up. His back was sore after the bouncing around. He thought the armour was meant to protect, but he'd felt every bounce.

"May, get off me!" Marie said as she tried to wriggle out underneath he sister.

"Aw, quite whining!" was May's curt reply as she got up and recollected her flamer.

Edd motioned to Ed that they'd had to help Eddy up. In the crazy dive, Eddy had fallen off his feet and was having trouble getting upright. He felt like a turtle on its back. Charleston saw what was happening, went over, and lifted Eddy easily to his feet.

Edd looked around, concerned. "Where's Johnny?"

Suddenly, as if on que, a door to a small compartment came open, smacking Kevin in his head in the process, and Johnny rolled out of it, Plank in tow. "Woohoo! That was fun!" Johnny exclaimed happily. "Can we do it again?"

Everyone else just stared at him.

"What?" Johnny asked sounding genuinely confused.

McGranth was first to recall from this. "Come on," he said and gestured towards the exit door. Charleston and he meddled with it for a moment until they fianlly got it open. It opened the wrong way, it seemed on them, which confirmed their thoughts on that they were upside-down. McGranth jumped out first, followed by McKenzie, Charleston, the Eds, the girls and Johnny. Rolf was nowhere to be seen, but no one seemed to bother.

"I'm starting to feel grateful for this armour." Nazz said silently as she stroke the Rosarius on her chest.

"Okay," McGranth said, rubbing his hands together. "We need to find people."

"I don't think that should be a problem..." McKenzie said sheepishly as he gazed down the barrel of a hell pistol. The hell pistol was in the hands of a young man in a black uniform with blue trims on coat and peaked cap.

The others looked around as well. A collection of roughly thirty men and women in Imperial Guard issue uniforms was surrounding them. They were obviously led by the commissar cadet who was pointing his gun at McKenzie's face. The men and women were all holding lasguns or autoguns, the muzzle of each weapon aiming towards the Marines and company.

"And here, I thought hospitality was dead," Eddy remarked politely.