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A sea of heretics stood before Sister Agemana. Her bolter bucked in her arms as she laid down heavy fire, tearing through the toughest, carapace-armored cultists. She was not alone, but her allies were not of much use: the planetary defense forces assisting the forces of the Order of Our Martyred Lady were ill-equipped, and many former defenders had even taken up arms against the Emperor. When they turned heretic, they had taken plenty of military hardware with them. Though, that didn't matter much, this feel in the hive.
“Throne, they’re endless!”
This was the fourth such hive block they’d fought their way through, climbing over railings, pushing through rooms, and cleansing manufactorums.
Agemana’s bolter spit death and fire, bringing down even the most heavily armed heretics. What PDF soldiers were with her contributed their lasfire to the fray. By now, Agemana was conserving her shots. Her bolter could punch through even carapace armor with ease, but she has to carefully husband her ammunition. For the lightly armored heretics, the PDF lasgun fire was sufficient.
It was only when they had extended past the last hab block that they realized how cut off they were, and how dense the area had become with the foul scent of heresy.
It all fell apart in an instant. A dozen men in carapace and with lasguns engaged the PDF near her, and as she gave orders, a previously hidden autocannon emplacement opened up. Her Sororitas power armor, though well maintained and strong enough to shrug off a number of autocannon rounds, had seen hours of fighting. A solid autocannon round punched her in the side, blasting a hole in her side. In an instant, she was down, the blessings of The Emperor not enough to protect her here.
One by one, her companions fell, and the PDF forces with her were soon all slain, save for some who fled — the cowards — into the warren of tunnels and passages that led down into the underhive. The cultists would win back this hab block, and perhaps the manufactorum, and perhaps even more, unless Agemana did something.
She was too weak to stand, too weak to even talk. Her ammunition reserves had run low. Her power armor was damaged, and she could tell she was bleeding. The wound she had taken was almost certainly mortal unless she received Hospitaller attention in the next hour. And this far from friendly lines, she knew it would not happen.
There was nothing she could do. And so, Agemana prayed. She prayed and let her inner voice reach out to the Emperor, who she knew would always listen, who she knew guided and defended humanity.
The sounds of battle faded away, muffled under a heavy blanket. Dimly, Agemana knew that the sounds of las and ballistic weaponry had faded. The vultures now approached to pick their kills clean.
Footsteps: cheap boots against the ferrocrete floor of the hab block.
“What the karking hel? Looks like one’s still alive, boss?” said a voice beyond Agemana’s dim vision.
“Huh, given how many of us they took out, it ain’t right for one of them to live,” said another voice. “Best we take care of her, then.”
Agemana prepared for the death that surely would come, but she felt nothing. Then, a light, blazing bright, searing even through her closed eyelids.
The cultists yelled. They panicked. They fired las and stub and autocannon and then they died. Their screams of terror and pain finally ended, and all that was left was that radiant light, cleansing and hot.
It burned, but something seemed right about it. Scouring, searing warmth filled Agemana’s limbs, which had previously gone numb without her noticing. She opened her eyes, and looked upon the visage of Celestine. The Living Saint, in all her glory, her armor gleaming with otherworldly light, stood tall.
Saint Celestine pushed her face in closer, kissing Agemana on the lips. Agemana gasped in surprise, both at the shock of being kissed, and at the feeling of warmth that was spreading through her body. It wasn’t just the warmth of being kissed by a beautiful woman - she and sister Fortia had had their fun enough times, and this was more than that.
The warmth filled and suffused her, and she realized all the pain and shock were gone. She could move her legs again. She could feel her torso. She pressed her hand down on her side, and she could feel her skin through the hole in her power armor, unbroken. All her wounds, healed in a moment. All her aches and pains, purged by the holy fire of Celestine’s kiss.
Finally, after an eternity, the kiss was over.
Celestine gazed down at her, her expression unreadable. “Are you well?” she asked.
“I— you saved me,” said Agemana. She held her gauntleted hand up before her face. No blood. She truly had been healed. “You healed me. Thank you. And… thank you for the kiss. It was wonderful.”
“I will share more wonders than that with you tonight,” said Celestine. Then, light spread out her, her wings spreading, a dome of golden energy pushing away all the darkness, all the corpses and blood and signs of battle. They were alone, in a sphere of gold and yellow, and there was nothing but the two of them.
Agemana found she wasn’t wearing her power armor anymore, only the robes of a sister taking her leisure time. And Celestine, likewise, was in robes, barely covering her curves and her outstretched wings.
There was nothing else in the world, in that moment, but Agamana and Celestine. Agemana wanted more, but words failed her. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came forth.
As though sensing her desire, Celestine drew close. “Kiss me,” she commanded.
Agemana could taste the juniper flavor of Celestine’s lips, and then the hot feeling of her tongue pushing into Agemana’s mouth. Her lips parted and she sighed, leaning into the kiss. She felt her body heating up, growing anxious with desire. The kiss would not be enough. She needed more.
They both disrobed, and Agemana laid eyes on Celestine's body, thickly corded with muscles and just curvy enough to make her mouth run dry. She wanted more, she wanted to touch Celestine, but she did not know if she had the strength to do it, to mar such a perfect body with her mortal hands, even to give pleasure.
“Touch me,” commanded Celestine, and Agemana obeyed, and obeyed, and obeyed, until satisfaction, and then blissful sleep.