Here's section 2:
Azkaellon, a man in Sanguinius’ own guard, which did not have much use
To the Angel, who better than most could defend his own self from his foes,
Listened well to the speech that his leader was making, and roared his assent.
Those beneath him ignored Azkaellon, and he didn’t mind, for his lord
Was the one that he never would seek to control or betray in the Ninth.
As Sanguinius had helped him when he had the Faceless escaped, and had raised
Azkaellon beyond what a lot of the Changed had expected from him,
Now the Guard would repay yet the gratitude felt for being saved from being munched.
Thus he walked to his Primarch, as well as each other Sanguiniary Guard,
And saluted his lord, and again took up watch at his side in deep thought.
But that state did not last; for Sanguinius took action and helped with repair.
Thus he worked with the engines, without any praise to the Spirit Machine,
To the mind the Mechanicum saw in all things- and perhaps that was bad,
For the ship did not seem to obey the commands of Sanguinius, but shook.
In uncertainty, agony shook the Baal-Face and threw to the floor
Azkaellon and several others, the fury a thunder that rolled.
Azkaellon again the Mechanicum thought of and output a sigh,
As Sanguinius’ irreverence towards them was somewhat excessive and trite,
In a mind that was else quite uncluttered with thoughts that could hurt and not help.
True, as tools of the Emperor, they had the utter dislike by the Ninth,
But they had such experience that just denying it couldn’t help much.
Thus, Sanguinius was hurting himself- or he would be, if he knew as much
As his guard, but the Primarch of course knew far more than each other could guess.
Azkaellon, thus content, again picked himself off the floor and desired
To give aid to Sanguinius, and did, tweaking dials to bring it back in
And attempt to allow Baal-Face to return in full safety to space.
A Sanguiniary Priest walked to him, Azkaellon remarking at that:
“Well, there isn’t much room, but come on! There cannot be enough of us here!
If we don’t bring Baal-Face to safety, we’re doomed, all as one, save perhaps
Our most perfect of Angels, Sanguinius, which works with us now- do not fail!”
But indeed, Azkaellon himself felt the tiredness envelop his heart.
What was useful in this? Was it really correct for the ship to escape?
He pushed back those disturbing dark thoughts, as Baal-Face broke Warp-bounds again,
As Sanguinius rejoiced, lifting arms and his wings in triumphant success,
As the shuddering ship once again saw the stars that were not just a thought
Of the simple insanity that was the Warp and the monsters inside,
As the Priest Azkaellon had not quite convinced breathed and lowered his knife,
As indeed Azkaellon himself was content for a moment or two,
Right before once again a significant feeling of wrongness fought back.
He would live. They would live, and Baal-Face, despite the unfortunate name,
Would again bring them somewhere unknown in unending, uncertain, brute war-
That which gave them far greater abilities, now each was mightier yet
Of the Changed, for although implantation was painful and lasted for years,
It was worthwhile in full for the power and lifespan the gene-seed could give.
Many didn’t survive, Azkaellon could not pity them- they had failed.
So with that, Azkaellon bowed down to his master, as much as he could,
As his improvised armor still rested on him, and restricted his acts.
As the ship broke again into freedom, Sanguinius retreated to walk
To the bridge, Azkaellon immediately feeling a need to be there,
And while waving a hand in a motion to make the Sanguiniary Guard
Follow him and the Primarch, he set an example by rushing himself.
Thus they walked, with the jump-packs the Guards carried- few had endured on Baal,
But the Guards had them still- like the wings of Sanguinius, disturbing the air.
As the ship passed below, quite intact even though it had weakened in flight,
Azkaellon was second, a second behind his Sanguinius, his Lord.
This most honored position was followed by seven Blood Angels, and then
Strode high Ntolian, both Azkaellon’s commander, oppressor- the lie,
He who’d always opposed Azkaellon’s ability, ruthlessness, might.
And the last- last, a new one, Yelxeter, who’d turned a Blood Angel last year,
On the visit the Legion had paid to their homeworld to get newer tanks.
On the bridge, the control room, Sanguinius looked down at the Captain in doubt.
“Are you certain the main Navigator is blameless from major mistakes?
You know well that although they are mutants, a lot in my father have faith
And prefer to confer with his horrible self, and betray me and us.”
But the Captain, Lefreden, replied: “No, the fault did not flow from the bridge.
It was something mechanical- even the best Navigator could not
Make explosions the size of the blow that was heard by us all, in the hold.”
As the Primarch was content, the Guards saw no reason to doubt the account.
They were scattering slightly, to gaze from the windows outside Hijerull,
That new world that they’d heard traded, having technology plenty for- what?
Azkaellon did not know Sanguinius’ most secretive thoughts, nor his plans,
And did not truly care for the reason the world Hijerull had to fall.
Thus Sanguinius himself walked, and looked out the windows, and down at the world,
And declared, Azkaellon completely entranced by his words: “We will drop.
Yes, this world- I have doubts we can talk to this world. We will drop, we will kill!”