Progenia

When you’re lying prone in the freezing mud and the night’s wind is lashing foliage across your back, your mind tends to drift to thoughts of roaring fires and crisp amasec. Our instructors had been scrupulous in bashing this instinct out of us but every now and again I’d think of my classmates that got funnelled into the administratum and wonder if pushing a pencil wasn’t the better path. I had been sent out to the observation post forty five minutes ago with instructions to continue the surveillance of our target and pinpoint their sentries, patrol routes and infiltration points. The team had been at the task for two hours before my rotation on stag came up and my partner on the duty was beginning to get impatient. I couldn’t blame her. We were close enough to the enemy to have to move by inches and verbal communication was out the window so passing the time came down to noting the various patrol routes that the enemy sentries were taking and the order in which they shifted them. If that was sending you to sleep you could always mix it up and attempt to root out their camouflaged observation posts. The first two were easy finds; with our thermo-optics the enemy heat signatures stood out like the hat on a commissar. But the heat from the target building was obscuring our visual on hostiles nearer the installation and that meant doing things the old fashioned way. Watching for glints of scopes or gunmetal, unnatural or symmetrical shapes, a lack of wildlife and, of course, waiting for some dumb gak conscript to sneeze.

Kuhrt, my fellow scout, signed to me that she had spotted another enemy OP. Third gantry, right hand side. Two shooters. I acknowledged the mark and sent the information back to the Lieutenant along with my mapping and attack routes. Another ten minutes of surveillance kept us out in the cold but soon enough the LT brought us both back in and assembled our team for the final briefing.

“Listen in troopers,” The LT didn’t raise his voice. We were in the field but even in a crowded ballroom he could have whispered into his micro bead and we’d have all got the message. “Intelligence seems to have got the job done right for once. Our OP’s have confirmed what we were told and added in the enemy defence protocols. The Imperial advance is going ahead in thirty minutes whether we hit home or not but its going to be a hell of a lot quieter for our boys if we can knock out this auspex station first.” Faces were nodding around the LT but I suspected they were mostly concerned about being the only advance element in the strike force that didn’t accomplish its objective.

Imperial Storm Troopers are a proud sort.

When we moved in I was part of the assaulting fire team whilst Kuhrt was placed into the overwatch team where her talents with a sniper rifle could be put to proper use. Kuhrt was paired up with Briant, the other sharpshooter and together they made for reassuring angels on the battlefield. Krentz and Sekunda were backing them up as close protection which left five of us and the LT going in for the knife work. I didn’t mind; I was no slacker with a rifle but up close and personal is when superior training really gives you the edge. A fifteen year old can get a lucky shot off at a hundred yards but when you breach, bang and clear only a soldier with true grit is going to be able to keep a hold of his weapon and point it in the right direction.
We crossed the point of our OP just as Kuhrt confirmed the first hidden enemy position cleared. We didn’t hear a thing. The needle rifles the LT had procured for the mission were as close to silent death as mankind could offer. We had noticed the sentries vox checking every five minutes so the clock was now running down until they’d start to get suspicious. But the other two enemy positions were down and out in under one. That gave us about four minutes grace with the patrols if we didn’t get unlucky and one of those bastard traitors didn’t feel like swapping a joke with his mates.

“Let the first patrol pass. We’re moving in under their noses. Save the clean up for after the station is down.” The LT had a flare for stealth work and never passed up an opportunity to get the job done quietly if he could. This put a fair amount of pressure on us troopers not to gak up and give the game away by snapping some wretched twig but I’d take a little stress over a fire fight in the open any day.

The enemy patrol was quiet enough. As far as intelligence knew they were just PDF troops but they were holding onto this installation with the sort of tight protocol I’d expect from the Imperial Guard. They were decent soldiers but not one of them even paused as they passed us by. Our uniform camouflage was fairly standard issue but we had modified our kit and vests with cuttings of local foliage and our camo cream was applied with the intent to conceal rather than in the ridiculous war paint styles you mostly find in the guard. They wandered off into the night before we started inching forwards again but we were moving with a lot more urgency now we knew the next patrol was going to be arcing round towards us soon. Its a strange thing to crawl using only the tips of your toes and the arch of your back and still then be ordered to do it quickly and invisibly. A lot of guard soldiers would call it impossible but they’d be wrong; its barely possible and that is what Storm Troopers deal in.

As we neared the edge of our covering foliage the LT bounded up to the station’s doorway and turned around to cover our approach. One at a time we followed his exact path up to the steps of our target building. As I made my run I noted the slumped bodies of the sentries who had been posted in the main guardhouse; not one of them had had time to reach for a weapon.

“Stack up. Auto pistols with suppressors only, Tuplin you’re on point.”

I nodded to the LT and took my post up front. On a quiet breach the key is to get the door opening before anyone on the other side realises what’s happening but you can’t just kick it in or you’d be announcing the whole parade. Normally we’d have cut the power and stormed in with nightvision and grenades but the LT wanted to take the building without having to engage the patrols so I reached over to the handle and turned it firmly but slowly until the door began to hinge silently inwards. The muzzle of my pistol lead the way in as I checked off the corners of the entrance hall. Luckily it seemed like the man in charge had wanted his soldiers on the outside of the building.

“Floor by floor sweep. No survivors.”

I acknowledged and lead the team on in single file up to the first door. This one we swept into with a great deal more haste. No grenades but it took four seconds for the team to pour in and execute the desk jockeys and techies that were working away through the night. Our pistols carried heavy calibre rounds so it mostly only took a single shot to the chest of an un-armoured man to put him down. We repeated the procedure in several more rooms on that floor then again on the second. When we reached the third floor Kuhrt had chimed in with a report on erratic behaviour from the roving patrols. LT didn’t waste any time and got us out onto the roof and into ambush positions immediately. Our over watch took the first patrol whilst the LT and myself hammered the second with grenades and fire from our hellguns. From our elevated position it was a grox shoot; their standard pattern PDF formation making it all too easy for me to pinpoint their locations and pour fire on. I didn’t see the third patrol go down but Wiesehofer reported the all clear a second or two after I had.

Then the LT called for reorganisation and we barrelled back inside and down the stairs. Along the way we set our demolitions and did a second sweep for intelligence. By the time we had reassembled on our original OP the auspex station was a flaming ruin and our ammo packs were considerably lighter. LT ordered us back into the forest before any enemy quick reaction force could turn up to spoil our morning and we bounded quick smart into the waking darkness.

I didn’t think about the men and women we had killed. In the service of the Imperium I had shot, stabbed, exploded and immolated far more humans than I had Xenos. It got to be the way of things. It even got to be preferable. We knew all about human warfare and we used that information well. But Astartes... Well, its what you don’t know that kills you.

This was a great read, well done. When can I expect more?

Thanks man! Hopefully i'll update about once a week.

Nice, lets hear more from the kill team soon.

1

I never wanted to be a storm trooper. Back in the Schola Progenia I didn’t much think about anything that wasn’t getting me out of the masters’ bad books or into some more trouble. We knew what was expected of us, of course. Our masters would prattle on endlessly about our future as the elite of the Imperium; be it in war or peace. They even had a way of making bureaucracy sound positively heroic if that’s where your talents lay.

The Schola Progenia gave us lessons on everything from basic maths and combat training to the Imperial Creed in an attempt to get the best out of its adopted children. Not everyone was suited to the polymath’s lifestyle and plenty of our chubbier classmates came to hate the weekend exercises in the same way I couldn’t stand our endless physics lectures and logic engine training. Only a bare few of us actually fit the regime with anything resembling comfort but even then it was hard to get any enjoyment out of the place. The Girls were all earmarked for the Adeptus Sororitas and that made it a trial of cunning and trickery to even catch a glimpse of something worth dreaming about. That left you with the relentless company of teenage boys and crotchety school masters that didn’t take kindly to boys who day dream.

“Tuplin! Get your head off the desk and give me an answer.” Master Thurm had been rambling on about some sort of Imperial virtue that sent me swiftly to sleep. I still contend that any man with that sort of whispery, lullaby voice should reconsider a career in teaching.

“Sir, might you repeat the question for me?” I watched Thurm sigh and in his glassy eyes I could see that he had given up on me long ago.

“The class and I were discussing the virtue of fighting and expending resources on dissident elements of the Imperium rather than abandoning or destroying them outright. Perhaps you would like to explain why we endeavour to bring the traitorous and blasphemous back into our great society?”

“Well sir...” I delayed as I tried to marshal my thoughts. “It seems to me that letting them go would be an admission of weakness and destroying them would be an admission of failure.”

“Oh it seems to you this way? It seems to you this way because that is the explanation given in your textbooks. But I am asking you to consider the question more deeply. How can the lives of traitors be worth the lives of honest fighting men and women? How can we waste away our strength battling ingrates when we have legions of vociferous foreign enemies plotting the destruction of the Imperium from without?”

“I... I can’t say sir.” I finished lamely.

“Of course you can’t!” Said Thurm. “You’re children not generals. But one day you might be. One day you might be called upon to make the sorts of decisions that shape the fates of billions. That is why you must consider the very nature of the Imperium, what it means to rule and what it means to fight for what’s yours. You must consider these things deeply if you want to make yourself a citizen worth the education we’re giving you.”

That was the way they spoke to us; always emphasising what we were expected to become. Nobody cared until our sixteenth year came about. You see that was when you graduated from the scholam and were packed off to wherever the schoolmasters thought you would serve best. We were given the opportunity to put forward our preferences but really that was just another way of testing us. I heard tell that they don’t accept anyone into the Storm Troopers who didn’t volunteer for the duty but that ain’t the truth. I didn’t have much of a clue what I should do with myself but my closest friend in the scholam was bucking for a place with the Inquisition so I figured I’d follow suit and try my luck. Looking back on it the examiners must have thought me a royal fool. The tests were the same for everyone no matter what you were aiming for but the Inquisition only took candidates who aced every challenge. That wasn’t me; no not by a longshot. My Mathematics, deduction and technical abilities were never going to be up to scratch but the one that really got me down at the time was the green stamp at the bottom of my form that read ‘negligible psychic potential’. I felt cheated back then but having seen what becomes of psykers in the guard I’ve come to appreciate my blunt sixth sense. I reckon I must have done alright in the rest of the exams since the Storm Troopers don’t admit the weak or stupid. If you really gakked up then you’d end up behind a desk in some soul grinding administratum warehouse, checking off supply crates and order numbers for the rest of your life. Not exactly glamorous but if there’s one thing the Schola Progenia could do it was find you a job and give you a start in life, the rest was up to you.


I never appreciated the Scholam more than my first week at boot camp. I was still a little nervous that the Stormies even wanted me and my fellow graduates who were to become my squad mates wasted no time in retelling the horror stories they had heard about the drill instructors. Most of the kids that I entered boot with had been clamouring for grunt work since they were old enough to hold a rifle. Only myself and a couple of others had ended up as recruits because we didn’t measure up elsewhere. We even had a couple of girls deemed ‘unsuitable’ for the Adeptas Sororitas join up en route to our new home. They kept to themselves though and so did we; this was near enough the first time I’d seen a teenage girl up close and it was as terrifying then as a lot of the more grizzly things I saw in action.

Nothing prepares you for boot, really. Maybe on Cadia but then childhood on Cadia is boot. Either way, nobody gets through the Schola Excubitos easily. Our troop was nothing special and when we met up with the rest of the recruits that would go on to form our drill platoon I was none too impressed with them either. We were all kids, barely enough facial hair in the whole company to make a single decent beard. Not that recruits get grooming allowances; we didn’t get any sort of allowance for months. They stripped us down until there wasn’t an ounce of individuality left in the company. We were apes now or maggots sometimes grox or whatever the drill sergeant deemed appropriately insulting. The whole experience was simply nerve wracking for the first few weeks. Military life was forced upon us and you either adapted or you were declared unfit for service and shipped off for menial labour in some hellhole forge world. The motivation to succeed as a fresh recruit was fear. Failure meant a lifelong punishment in the long run but having to face the drill sergeants first was still somehow more gruesome a fate.

“Tuplin! Do you think I can’t see those pathetic excuses for push ups!?” Drill instructor sergeant Kamov had a talent for conveying absolute rage with a precision and economy of movement that seemed entirely at odds with his disposition. He had caught me half heartedly performing the platoon’s punishment for a slower than expected combat march and was now bearing down on me with horrifying intensity.

“When I tell you to give me fifty I do not mean fifty half push ups I mean fifty push ups, maggot! Like so!” Kamov extended one of his huge paws and grabbed the yolk of my webbing. He then proceeded to single handedly lift me up to hip height and then slam me back into the ground. “Start again, maggot. Fifty real push ups or you’re out of my platoon!”

Hearing that threat got me up and into it like nothing else. I had already seen one recruit flunk out that day in an exhausted but ill conceived surrender to fate. Henklemen had passed out during a combat fitness test and even though squad mates had tried to carry him forward he shrugged them off and sagged to the side of the road. In a way I hated Henklemen in that moment; we didn’t have that much further to go and he was certainly tripling the punishment he would receive as a result of his giving up rather than forcing himself on (A punishment that inevitably over ran onto the entire platoon). We found out later that he was bucking for a commissar’s position due to his proficiency on his scholam’s debating team but even those rigid, black hearted executioners have got to march, dig and fight with the best of them. You can’t go dreaming of that tall hat and fancy sash if you don’t have the steel to get through storm trooper boot.

We lost a lot of recruits in the first month and we never really stopped losing them even in the days leading up to our graduation. Of course then it was due to live fire and hostile environment exercises rather than giving up or poor fitness. The instructors never called a recruit casualty an accident, even as a result of a negligent discharge of a weapon. They told us we were expected to face death in our training and after a while it just got to be the way of things. It got to be that we didn’t even really make friends within the platoon. Recruits would either die, wash out or, if we did graduate, we would be split up and sent to reinforce different Storm Trooper companies throughout the galaxy. Regimental command would never send out an entire company of green troopers. Even after boot on Terrax we were still just new fish in the world of war. They sent us out to veteran companies so we could keep learning out in the field and if we survived a combat mission then, and only then, could we call ourselves Storm Troopers.

Really well done mate, loving the character, story, and prose, you have a natural talent!! Keep it up, can't wait for more!

Good new addition but I think you need to realize Cadians are the best of the best, but you still make a good point. Nice story as always

This gets better nice job, can't wait for the first mission.

2

The Lord Dubois was the first warship I ever set foot on. It was a Dominator class cruiser named after some long forgotten planetary official who probably financed the construction. Navy vessels either have grandiose titles intended to intimidate or they’re a list of names and designators intended to boost the ego of some layabout prince somewhere. You wouldn’t say that to a navy man though, not unless you were actually intending to spark up trouble. Even the poor bastards slaving away on the engine decks would sooner lose a finger than speak ill of their ship. I was told this before we even left the surface of Terrax but I didn’t understand the level of reverence a man could have for a ship until we were lucky enough to get a look at the cruiser on our approach. Our pilot patched his nose feed through to the screens in our compartment and any talk of navy booze was stunned into silence by the brutal majesty of the Lord Dubois. The endless rows of broadside batteries give the ship a cruel preference for close quarter salvoes whilst the huge nova cannon mounted on its prow offers unbelievable firepower at the expense of such great recoil that the only way to compensate is with the cruiser’s own gargantuan engines. We were in love. A soldier couldn’t witness a structure of such barely restrained violence without wanting to see it unleashed. Of course this was well before we learned that naval warfare was largely spent waiting around in your crew bays without the barest hint of what was actually going on in the fight. But in that moment we felt about as invincible as a foot soldier can be.

We had graduated from the Terrax Schola Excubitos only a few days prior to our assignment and we had spent our time either proudly strutting about the adjacent township or snidely eyeing up the fresh batch of recruits that was being brought in after us. Graduation itself had included a short ceremony with dry speeches about duty and brotherhood; the only highlight being the minute modicum of respect that the drill instructors showed us now we had managed to make it through their regime. As I said, they wouldn’t start giving us the time of day until we were proven combat veterans like them. We expected the same treatment from our new unit and, truth be told, I was nervous about impressing them. I had been assigned to the 1313th Storm Trooper Company along with two other graduates from Terrax, Farrok and Sekunda. They were capable troopers, all graduates are, but I didn’t know them all that well and I was glad to see that they were at least talkative. It meant they were as scared as I was.

“Either of you hear much about the 1313th?” Asked Farrok.

“Nothing” snorted Sekunda. “Could be a bunch of apes for all we know.”

“They’re a Storm Trooper company, genius,” I laughed. “They get the job done, any job.”

“Woah, Woah! You sure you’re on the right boat Tuplin? The Commissars Academy boat leaves next week!” Said Sekunda.

“Are you kidding me?” I replied. “I don’t go in for speeches, friend. My knife does the talking.”

“Yeah well the enemy might hear you a bit better if you use your gakking gun!” Farrok joined in and we all shared a laugh.

By now our shuttle was making its final approach and our pict screen had gone dark leaving us in the reddish brown low-light of the personnel bay. Three Storm Trooper hopefuls amongst a motley collection of engineers, crewmen and various adepts. We landed and let the civilians trot off first as we gathered our gear up. No weapons of course, not on a navy vessel, but even without a rifle, sidearm and knife our full pack was a hefty load to carry. We were a fine sight as we tramped through the hangar with our webbing, bergens and duffel bags full of spare clothing and equipment. These days I can fit all the essentials for extended operations in just my bergen but we were still rooks and thought everything on the list was required packing. It only took a single campaign to figure out that whoever wrote the operational equipment list was clearly a desk jockey adept who’d never set foot in the field. That’s the guard for you though, either you learn it first hand or you meet the Emperor.

Our fellow passengers seemed to have effortlessly melted into the workings of the cruiser as soon as they stepped off the shuttle but we were lost the second we cleared the hangar floor. I kept my eyes open for a petty officer or crew chief but navy rank insignia had been pushed out of my head by months of combat and survival training. In the end it didn’t matter as we were eventually approached by a squad of black armoured Naval Security troopers and asked for our order papers. They kept their visored helmets on and spoke in clipped tones through their vox grills. An uncomfortable sight at the best of times with their matte black weapons and sinister uniformity. We’d all heard the stories about the sorts of hard bastards that Naval Security took on and nobody wanted to test their patience; not when they were the only ones with the guns.

We got escorted through the bowels of the ship in silence. Well, we were silent at any rate but we could hear clicks coming from the helmets of the Nav-Sec boys that told us they were chatting on some private channel. Besides that the ship’s operation churned out an overwhelming symphony of mechanical and organic noise throughout the artificial day night cycles. For the first couple of days I had to fashion some earplugs just to get a semblance of sleep but when we translated into the warp I was far more concerned with keeping myself awake. Warp nightmares are pretty nasty, lets just leave it at that.



When I first met the Lieutenant he was sleeping, the whole team was out for the count. It didn’t take long to figure out that Storm Troopers spend most of their down time either sleeping or eating but at that moment we were a little underwhelmed. Looking around we didn’t much know what to do with ourselves so I figured I’d just follow suit and do as the Terrans do. This proved to be a mistake.

“Trooper! Get that lazy green arse out of that cot and stand to attention!” All I heard was that booming voice before my bed was overturned and I was launched onto the deck. When I peeked my head over the edge of the bedframe I was still half hoping that Farrok was playing some kind of prank on me but to my horror I was looking straight at a staff sergeant.

“Do my eyes deceive me or did you turn up to your unit’s posting and choose to go to sleep instead of reporting to your commanding officer?!” The sergeant didn’t look as though he was screaming but the volume of his voice completely drowned out the inner workings of the ship’s machinery every time he roared at me. He was a pug faced brawler by the looks of things with a shaven head and forearms like a greenskin. I had made a bad first impression but by the horrified expressions on the faces of Farrok and Sekunda, they had too.

“Get yourself in order and report to the Lieutenant before I cut your throats and tell the Schola your shuttle had an accident.” I didn’t say a thing. That sergeant looked like he meant every word so we just made ourselves presentable whilst he tramped off muttering curses to himself.

“Fugging juves ain’t worth Gak... Supposed to be Terrax graduates...”

By the time we were standing before the Lieutenant I felt two inches tall and stupid as a bag of sand. The Lieutenant sat in silence as he read our papers and time stretched out as I waited for him to slap us about for messing up the very first thing that we were supposed to have done as Storm Troopers.

“I am Lieutenant Kaleb. You will refer to me as ‘sir’ but no salutes. Not ever. I don’t want you in the practice of making any sort of signals that aren’t coded so keep your hands down. Seems you boys were caught sleeping on the job this afternoon. That’s quite a hefty breach of code for your first day. The Primer states thats an offence punishable by death. Death in the manner of the presiding Commissar’s choosing if I remember correctly.” Kaleb spoke softly but every word out of his mouth sounded lethal.

“Sir, the Primer also states that failure to salute an officer is punishable by flogging.” Sekunda blurted out and to this day I’ve no idea what compelled him to do so. I had to clench my teeth to keep my jaw from dropping; once when Sekunda spoke up and a second time when, in an instant, Kaleb was standing over Sekunda while the fool rolled on the floor in agony.

“I like you Sekunda, you’ve got stones. But talk back to me again and you won’t get back up. Kuhrt! Patch this juve up whilst I finish my briefing.” Kaleb chuckled to himself as a wiry female trooper sauntered over and dragged Sekunda to his feet.

“Idiot” I heard her say under her breath.

“Well it seems there aren’t any commissars around today so you boys can live to fight another day. If you’re wondering what the correct course of action was it was not to wake up your CO and shove order papers in my face. Don’t think you’ll ever be waking me up for anything that isn’t important. The only thing that would have made Staff Sergeant Tarleton happy would have been for you to remain standing at attention by my bedside until I awoke. Since you failed to do so you can enjoy a healthy afternoon of physical training with the Staff Sergeant. He does enjoy his PT so don’t go collapsing before the drills are done. You supposedly graduated from Terrax so I’m working on the assumption that you aren’t complete morons. But I’ve been proven wrong before so don’t think you’re going to coast along here now boot’s done. Boot was the easy part, boys. We hit our theatre of war in two weeks and you’re going to be fighting the worst possible odds with the least possible support. You come through you might even grab a medal; no certainty on that one though. The only thing the Storm Troopers can actually guarantee you is a body bag.”

This really was a great read, your characters are sound and they come across as believable. Well done

Thanks a lot guys!

Getting back into some killy action with the next section.

Ok no first mission yet but still a great read though. More please.

Thanks mate. Don't worry, they're on mission in the next section!

No pressure, I'm sure I'l like it.

I demand moar! The Emperor wills it!

This is completely epic, can't wait to see more!

3

The first time we walked into a Navy fighter pilot’s ‘Ready Room’ I felt like an officer. From the way they swaggered up to their leather chairs I could tell Sekunda and Farrok were feeling the same way. We had been loaned a briefing room by one of the cruiser’s squadron commanders in recognition of our needs. Storm Troopers aren’t part of the Navy but these briefing rooms had hololiths, access to tactical databases and luxury seating for our precious behinds. That day we were sitting pretty but I’ve had my fair share of mission briefs delivered on flight decks, maintenance bays and once even a latrine.

The rest of the team ambled around the room and joked with each other as we waited for the briefing to start. When Lieutenant Kaleb walked in I straightened up but none of the Storm Troopers offered more than a nod in his direction or a casual greeting. Kaleb returned their nods and sauntered over to sit next to Staff Sergeant Tarleton. As soon as Kaleb sat down the team fell silent and hopped into their seats; something was up. I didn’t have long to wonder as a few seconds later Tarleton was on his feet and bringing us to attention. Striding into the room was captain Jarritch, commander of the 1313th company of Storm Troopers.

“At ease troopers, we’ve got these plush navy chairs for a reason so park your arses. You new boys weren’t expecting this huh? Not after Terrax I’ll bet. No. Alright, listen up its time for work.” The captain spoke with clarity but at a pace that made you concentrate just to keep up with him. He was an older soldier, one of the few Storm Troopers that ever actually managed to achieve grey hairs and his shaggy beard was riddled with them.

“Eyes front fellas, you too Kuhrt, Markov bring up the first projection.” Jarritch gestured to his adjutant and the lights dimmed as a blue planet flickered into life above the hololith. “This is Narbo. They’ve been battling a heretical insurrection for the past fourteen years. Last year the insurrection was upgraded to a planetary campaign when five regiments of guard were sent to reinforce the planet’s PDF and bring them back into the fold. Simply put they aren’t getting it done. Now we haven’t been called in to come and win any wars so don’t go designing your own statues just yet. We’re here on a kidnapping mission. Markov?”

“Sir.” The adjutant said as he manipulated the hololith’s controls. The planetary image rotated and zoomed in on its largest continent.

“Naval Intelligence has it that the insurrection is being commanded by a number of rogue planetary officials and PDF commanders but more importantly a cell of heretics that have been operating all over the sector has surfaced here.” As the captain pointed to the hololith, the projection zoomed in on a facility in the upper reaches of the northern hemisphere. “Naval Intelligence believes this cell is behind the corruption of this as well as multiple other planets in the sector. They also think they’ve found their hideout. Now we could just lance the site into dust but the brass wants to take these scum bags alive for interrogation. If we can break one of them we could get our hands on the whole damn network.”

The captain had slowed down to give us the details of our mission and that let us analyse the projection of our target buildings. There were three snow-dappled structures, two storeys likely with basements and a perimeter fence that the aerial reconnaissance photos showed were heavily guarded.

“Now we can’t risk letting them know we’re coming and giving them a chance to bolt so a full on assault is out of the question. That’s why General Ortum came to me and that’s why I’m coming to you. I want a team within that perimeter fence before any of these sick traitor bastards even realises something’s wrong and you cut-throats were the first names that came to mind.” Jarritch smiled as the Storm Troopers laughed darkly. “Now you’ve probably already guessed it but I’m going over it anyway so listen in! We’re translating in near enough six hours then making for minimum safe distance from Narbo’s apparently active planetary defence lasers. You’re being loaded into a modified Arvus lighter and shuttled down to 35,000 feet where you will execute a high altitude, high opening grav-chute jump. The jump will take place approximately 42 miles east of your target area. That’s over 100 miles from friendly lines so don’t expect any help out there. During the jump you’re going to drift in to within 2 miles of the target facility and then infiltrate the area on foot. Get in, grab the targets and then we will begin the extract.”

The captain paused for a moment to let the information sink in and I was glad he did. I had performed three HAHO jumps as part of my training but I didn’t exactly enjoy any of them. Between the half an hour of breathing exercises and the freezing cold temperatures on the way down there was barely enough time to worry about the decompression sickness or hypoxia. Unpleasant but not impossible, why call us for anything else?

“Okay you’re probably wondering who or what your targets are so lets bring up what we’ve got on them.” Markov switched over to a different console and the wall mounted pict screen lit up with several grainy images of haggard men. “These four gak stains are the precious cargo I want you to bring back here in one piece. I don’t mind a few bumps and bruises on them but they will need their heads intact. Questions?” Jarritch looked up expectantly and a range of enquiries ran through my head but before I could decide if they were important enough for the Captain’s attention Kaleb had raised his hand.

“Sir, does intelligence have any information on the likelihood of enemy psykers?”

“As far as we know the four targets are blunt but we don’t know much about the company they keep so you’re just going to have to keep your eyes open.” Said Jarritch.

“Sir,” Tarleton spoke up. “What sort of tech are the heretics running in this area and what can we expect in the way of roving patrols?”

“We’ve noted rotating patrols using various different routes and that information is noted on the hololith for you to study but as far as enemy equipment goes we only have Imperial Guard reports that the heretics are largely former PDF soldiers and rag tag militia groups. In a facility like this I’d expect PDF grade weapons and troops that know how to use them. Given that the targets are known to operate off world you could be looking at heavy weapons, mercenary bodyguards... maybe even technicals so bring something that can punch out light armour but I don’t want you getting bogged down in a fire fight. Rockets should do the trick.”

“Sir?” I asked tentatively. “How are we extracting from the target facility?”

Jarritch paused as he considered me. “Good question new blood. I’ll bet you’ve figured that an airborne extraction is far too hot and you’ll be too far from any friendlies to get out on the ground. Well there’s a reason we’re planning this mission aboard a Dominator class cruiser.” At this several storm troopers cursed under their breath but I was still mystified as to how we were supposed to get our prisoners out. “The only way to get you back here with a chance of being in one piece is with the ship’s teleporters. Now I know some of you haven’t trained with them but you’re only using them on the way out so feel free to pass out or vomit on your return trip. You won’t need to do anything except activate your homing beacon when you’ve secured the prisoners.”

“Yeah that and pray you don’t end up materialising halfway inside a bulkhead.” Whispered Farrok.

“General Ortum didn’t believe you ought to know this but he’s never had to make a HAHO jump so here’s the catch. The Admiral has explained that he won’t risk moving into safe teleportation range unless you actually have the prisoners secured. So if the plan goes to hell your best bet is to identify bombardment targets and attempt to slip back to friendly lines.” Jarritch paused again to look us in the eyes. “Have faith, stay focused and I’ll see you when you return to the ship. In the mean time I want you to study these maps until you can draw them by memory and predict which patrol routes are rotating up next when you’re down in the powder. Good luck, the Emperor protects.” Jarritch saluted as Tarleton brought us back to attention then marched out with Markov trailing behind him.

“You heard the captain” barked Lieutenant Kaleb. “Nobody leaves this room until everyone knows the job back to front.”




Kaleb was true to his word and as we sat in the Arvus lighter’s cargo bay I found myself endlessly repeating the mission template in my head. Even as I checked my chute for the third time I was visualising the final approach to the perimeter fence and counting the beats between our bounding runs. I was sitting on an ice hard bench along with the rest of the team trying to make the most of the time we had before our oxygen masks would go on and we began to purge the nitrogen from our respiratory systems. Mostly this involved the older members of the team cajoling us new bloods and trying to scare us with teleporter horror stories.

“First time I teleported I puked my guts out” laughed a skinny trooper named Krentz. “Once for the jump and again when I saw the jumbled mess that used to be our sergeant!” Everyone in the shuttle was laughing and I told myself that was because the story wasn’t true. I really hoped it wasn’t true.

When the shuttle left the Lord Dubois and our masks went on I busied myself with going over my weapons checks for the hundredth time. When we had been marched into the armoury the Storm Troopers had dispersed like juves in a toy shop, grabbing at all manner of pistols, explosives and rifles. Staff Sergeant Tarleton had walked over to us recruits and told us that eventually we might be trusted to pick our own gear but for now he’d be handing out our ordnance. Each of us had been given a hotshot laser carbine, a compact laspistol, a grenade belt and a standard issue bayonet.

“Nothing heavy and nothing fancy for you today boys. If we get into a fight its probably all over anyway so we’re travelling light” Tarleton had said. “Our secondary is to cause as much trouble as possible if the primary goes to gak so if we’re rumbled you three are going to be covering the team whilst we set charges and identify targets for the Lord Dubois to obliterate. Yes Sekunda that would put you on point for our break out so grab as much ammo as you can.”

On the way down to Narbo we had plenty of time to think about the risks of our operation and the incredible pressure not to scupper the mission by giving our position away. The guns of the enemy didn’t scare me, we were taught that death was part of the job but failing was a shame that terrified all of us. Not just failing to measure up either, there was a feeling that you simply would not let down the men and women who were deploying with you.

That’s a feeling that never goes away. Not even when the lights blink green and the rear hatch of your shuttle begins to yawn open. Tarleton had us up and to the rear straight away and whilst the Lieutenant waited for final confirmation from our pilot we checked each other’s chutes one last time. We were wearing so much thermal gear that it made it pretty tough to pat down and check the cinches but it was a life or death precaution so we took that one pretty seriously. Soon enough Kaleb nodded to Tarleton and the Staff Sergeant lead us out of the hatch and into the icy atmosphere of Narbo’s night sky.

We kept a tight formation as we fell through the darkness but after twenty seconds we fanned out and activated our grav chutes. We kept each other within line of sight as we drifted west miles above the battle lines that raged on the planet’s surface. ‘Cold’ doesn’t quite convey how we felt. Even under all that thermal gear my fingers were going numb so I made a point of balling my fists over and over again until I could feel my blood return. We were in the air for hours so this got to be very uncomfortable but it was worth it to insert so close to the enemy undetected. With our loose formation it became practically impossible to pick us out of the night sky, even with instrumentation. So we sailed through the black in silence with only gradual shifts in bearing to keep ourselves occupied. Eventually the ground rose up to meet me and the team landed, with a rough wedge formation, in a small clearing of a pine forest. The snow was hardly a comfort after having fallen through the chilling atmosphere but getting my legs on the ground and moving around certainly felt good.
We busied ourselves hiding the grav chutes as soon as we hit the deck and whilst I quickly dug a hole for the contraption I listened in to the Lieutenant’s confirmation call back to operational command.

“Op Com this is ST actual, radio check.” Kaleb was scanning the tree line as he waited for a reply. Our communications were being routed back and forth through an Imperial Guard command bunker in friendly territory up to the Lord Dubois via Astropath. Communication was slow but we would be operating with radio silence for the most part anyway. Eventually Kaleb signed off and switched his frequency over to the squad’s channel.

“Begin.”

Very nice, the flow of the story was faultless, well done and can't wait for more.

Thanks man! I'm actually working on it now.

Oh now this was a fine Sunday read, well done.

I'm very grateful for all the comments guys. I hope you enjoy this next section!


4

We spent the next hour inching closer to the target buildings. We hadn’t landed much further than a mile and a half out from the enemy facility but when you’re traversing hostile territory you damn well make sure you aren’t being watched. Our team was strung out in a staggered line formation with near to fifteen metres between each trooper. Thanks to our night vision goggles we were able to space out and mask our unit profile properly. We were moving under a thick forest canopy for the most part and if you took your goggles off to have a scratch you wouldn’t have been able to see your own hand in front of your face. The Lieutenant didn’t let us slack off though; he knew full well that the enemy would likely be operating with sensory equipment every bit as advanced as ours. So our camouflaged thermal gear had been coated with various reflective substances that some red-robed cogboy had assured the Munitorum would keep us invisible to most auspex devices. Even so, there’s no substitute for good field craft so we bounded through the forest with the same level of care as if it was broad daylight and we were wearing penal battalion overalls.

Four or five times we had to hit the deck and freeze, in more ways than one, whilst we waited for a patrol to pass with our faces in the snow. But I was feeling better and better about the mission as we neared the perimeter fence. None of the patrols had managed to spot us and now we had line of sight to the target buildings no alarms had been raised. Our camouflage had been doing the trick but once we infiltrated the well lit facility we would have to rely on our ability to sneak around quietly. The Lieutenant brought us up into a skirmish line once our lead scout, Wallinga, had signalled the halt. The team was now fifty metres from the fence line and concealed in the last vestiges of foliage that the forest was offering us. As I scrabbled forward into my position I took in the view of our objective with increasing exhilaration. The fence itself was a chain link construction topped with razor wire and patrolled by roving squads of infantry. Not being a military installation prior to its takeover it didn’t have any guard towers but several checkpoints had been set up. Our approach had placed us equidistant between two such posts so with the Emperor’s guiding hand we would be able to sneak through the fence undetected. I must admit that the procedure seemed to be a lot simpler when we were pouring over the hololith; down on the ground the guard posts seemed a lot closer than I had imagined.

I remember being eager to get the operation underway, just lying there in the snow so close to our targets was excruciating for a new blood like I was. But Lieutenant Kaleb was nothing if not meticulous in his infiltration protocols. The team observed and marked enemy positions for the next half an hour for the LT to collate so that when the time finally came and he called the manoeuvre, we had a working database of enemy patrol timings.

“Alpha fire team, begin breach.” Was the call we had been waiting for. As soon as the order was given Krentz, the joker, had swiftly crawled up to the fence and produced a pair of bolt cutters. He neatly cut himself a way in then slipped inside and crawled out of sight. Our point of insertion faced the rear wall of one of the main warehouses in order to minimise any time we spent in the open but this meant we also had to keep a watch for any enemy activity in the building’s windows or on its roof. So whilst I waited for my turn to make the bound I kept my eyes on the warehouse. When the LT called my name there were still 82 seconds left before the next patrol would pass by but I was the last member of alpha fire team and that meant I would be the last man through on this patrol rotation. I crawled forward at an awkward but effective speed until I reached the patrol route. Here I had to hop up and carefully step across the pathway using the footprints that the enemy had been making. It was all standard enough when we were formulating the plan but moving any which way that doesn’t involve keeping your head down is absolutely terrifying on a stealth operation. I bobbed across the path like a juve in the schola’s playground all the while expecting a spotlight to hit me followed by a volley of lasfire. The Emperor had his eye on me that time though and I made it across and through our hole in the fence unscathed. Before I crawled forward to join my fire team I had the task of attempting to hide the fact that the fence had been breached. This was not in itself an impossibly difficult task since the patrols were generally focusing their attention in the opposite direction and all I had to do was shift the links into rough cohesion. But I was now attempting this with less than 60 seconds before the traitor bastards walked by and being up by the fence all by my lonesome wasn’t exactly relaxing. I did my best but the worst feeling so far was waiting for the wretched soldiers to pass by knowing that if one of them raised the alarm it would be my fault. Enemy action was still second on my list of terrors that night.

Thankfully, Bravo fire team made it in without a hitch and I found myself stacked up against the rear wall of the first warehouse whilst Wallinga poked a micro camera under the doorframe of a service entrance. This was where the operation started to get thorny. We had zero intelligence on the interior of the buildings beyond some ancient schematics for the building’s layout. We had no idea what modifications had been made to the structure or how many heavily armed scumbags would be waiting for us. This meant a snail’s pace room by room search where I would be unable to fire my weapon or risk throwing the whole gambit. I had asked Tarleton why we weren’t being issued with suppressed auto weapons and the bull necked bastard had slapped me upside the head before telling me “You new kids aren’t trusted to take point until you’ve really earned your place. This mission goes well, you won’t be firing a single shot.” So Farrok, Sekunda and I waited it out in the middle of the tactical column whilst the rest of the team fixed suppressors and assigned their targets.

It was a little galling to know that we were being coddled but I got a real sense of perspective when the LT signalled the breach. Wallinga inched the door open slowly at first but as soon as the hinge began to swing he swept inside with his rifle high. Kuhrt was on his six like stink on a greenskin and Krentz was on hers just the same. I didn’t see how it went down but before I’d gone three steps I heard four swift shots and an ‘all clear’ on my micro bead. When I got into the building there were four fresh corpses waiting for me. Well near enough... the first shots had taken them well out of action but Krentz was finishing the job with his black bladed knife. As soon as they were confirmed killed we dragged the bodies out of immediate sight and prepared to scour the building. We were standing in some kind of minor loading bay. There were two levels to the room and a few exits so we set to hiding the bodies as quickly as we could. It wasn’t the first time I’d laid hands on a cadaver but it was the closest I’d ever been to an enemy combatant. My guy didn’t look like much; just a PDF trooper told to guard a building by his higher ups. The only things that marked him out as a heretic were the defaced Aquilas adorning his gear. I started wondering if he’d even wanted to go down the traitor’s path and by the time I’d dragged the wretch behind cover my hands were shaking.
It only took a look from the staff sergeant to snap me back though. I felt his eyes looking right through me, assessing my mettle and starting to question if I had what it takes to join the 1313th. I straightened up and got my hands back on steel in time for Tarleton to nod at me and gesture over to the ground floor exit.

“Bravo fire team take the second floor, Alpha fire team stack up here” called Kaleb. The LT only ever spoke in short bursts when we were on mission. He was all business until the moment we called end ex and put our safeties back on. I’ve seen guard sergeants since bellowing profanities at the enemy or mustering up bravado for their men but Lieutenant Kaleb didn’t need to raise his voice for anyone. On the one hand we were storm troopers and not the sorts of soldiers that require grand standing encouragement. But really it was because, to us, Kaleb was a legend. After the first day assigned to his team I had already heard a dozen stories about him and Farrok and Sekunda had heard a dozen more each. The man was a ghost; lethal and, if the stories were true, nigh invisible. The only trooper to serve with any length of time with the LT was staff sergeant Tarleton and that son of a bitch wasn’t exactly one for conversation. I don’t know how many of the tales were grox gak but I do know that Kaleb’s body was a mess of scar tissue and lean muscle. Frankly I don’t think he earned them serving in the rear echelon.
I stacked up in the middle of Alpha fire team again and waited as Bravo took their positions above us. I cursed as one of my vest’s ammo pouches clanged against the wall and I earned myself a stern look from Kaleb. Throne! I vowed I’d never make that mistake again right there and then! When Kaleb was satisfied that I looked appropriately ashamed of myself he reached up to his micro bead and called the op.

“Sweep the whole floor and meet us at the walkway to the next building. No traces, no noise. Call it in if you bag a target.” And that was it. Tarleton led Bravo fire team forwards and we began our ground floor sweep. It was quiet for the most part; the sub level housed a series of storage rooms with nothing pertaining to our mission so we cleared them and moved on. Kaleb must have thought the situation was under control because he called me up for the final room clearance.

“You’re on point for the breach” he told me. “Krentz has eyeballed two more rebels in there and I want you to deal with them. Take my pistol, safeties off and there’s a round in the chamber. Krentz will be right on your six so relax and get it done right.” With that he handed me his auto pistol, patted me on the back and took my place in the line. He whispered something to Krentz as well but the bastard never told me what it was. I was paying too much attention to the heavyweight handgun I’d been given, trying to get a feel for its balance. When I stepped up to the doorway Krentz showed me the feed from his micro camera so he could point out the enemy positions. I asked him to do it twice because my heart was pounding like a jack hammer and I wasn’t sure I’d got it right away. It wasn’t that I was about to take a life it was that, again, the mission’s success was riding on me and messing up even slightly could see us all dead. Still gives me the jitters now.

These silent breaches are the toughest to pull off. Without grenades or photon flash bombs you only have the enemy’s reaction time to get in and nail that perfect shot. I rehearsed the manoeuvre in my mind a couple of times before Krentz tapped me on the shoulder.

“Don’t try to visualise it too perfectly, mate. It never goes the way you think it will. Just bust in quietly and let your training do the rest for you. Trust your instincts... and if that doesn’t work I can take them both myself anyways.” This was the nicest thing a storm trooper had said to me since I had met them and I had to suppress a chuckle at the thought of it. The absurdity of laughter at that point in my life has never left me but I’ve since seen hysteria and adrenaline do a lot of weird gak to soldiers in the field.

In the end I didn’t have to pick the moment. Kaleb called “Begin” and my hands reached for the door handle without a second thought. I’ve heard troopers talking about time slowing down in a fire fight but I’ve always found the opposite to be true. I swept into the room with the long dark suppressor of my pistol slicing through the air ahead of me. In less than a second my sights had aligned on the first man’s head and I pulled the trigger without even thinking about it. My gun was already on the move before he hit the ground but Krentz had downed the second rebel before I could train my sights on him. When their bodies hit the deck... that was when time slowed down. That’s when you go over what just happened and wonder if you’re dreaming. I knelt there in the doorway for a few seconds blinking away the daze until the LT reached over and took his pistol back from my hands. I didn’t let go at first but when I looked over and saw who it was I damn near dropped it.

“Nice shot, kid” Kaleb said. I just nodded my thanks and began to wander over to the man I had killed. He didn’t look scared or angry, just vacant.

“Quick death” Wallinga spoke as he sidled up beside me. “That’s about the best these bastards can hope for.”

“How many have you killed?” I asked, my hands like lead weights.

“Don’t know... been doing it a long time. Who cares eh?” Wallinga’s clipped accent accentuated the murderous venom of his words.

“Does it get easier? The killing.”

“Yes” he said, turning to face me. His dark eyes unblinking. “Killing's the only thing’ gets easier. Everything else is hard. Always dark, always hurting. Taking a man's life seems less and less important every time you do it. Then, at the end, its just a job.” Wallinga reached over and laid a hand on my shoulder. “You do it well, new blood. You belong with us.”

As I watched him walk away I wondered what it meant to belong with these cut throats.


It took me a moment to realise that I was smiling.

Very well done as always, I like how you manage to make your rawhide seem so well afraid to describe it in simple terms.

Also if I may, check out my work for inspiration if need be. Same goes with the work of LoneLictor and Necrogoago

Thanks man! I have actually being enjoying yours and everyone's work here but I must remember to post some encouragment of my own!

I know what you mean, and glad you like my work

Nice job, you didn't let me down with the first mission . Is there more to come?

Really great again! Really nice sequence, especially liked breaching the room and his first kill.

Themanwiththeplan wrote:Nice job, you didn't let me down with the first mission . Is there more to come?

Thanks, i'm glad you liked it. there is indeed more on the way. The next section should see Tuplin through to the end of his first mission and then i'm planning on having the team spend some peace time in transit to get some more fluffy characterisation in before the next batch of tactical carnage.

Spaced wrote:Really great again! Really nice sequence, especially liked breaching the room and his first kill.

Cheers buddy.

Ohh yeah!

Very nice, all stealthy like , can't wait for the next part!

Damn Rez I hadn't seen this before, but I liked the title and the first few lines sucked me in. This is a very compelling read mate, well paced and thoughtful too. I read the whole four sections in a row and want more. Now I want to use my storm troopers a lot more! As a former English teacher I would rate your writing as exceptional! Keep it up!

Wow! Thanks guys!

I'll get to work on the next section then!

You better!

I'l look forward to it then.

5


Bravo fire team checked in as we were doubling back to the stairway. They had cleared the first floor and managed to bag one of our targets in the process. Tarleton didn’t sound happy though and Kaleb spelled it out for us when we linked up at the buildings’ connecting walkway.

“That’s one but we’re running behind schedule and this whole warehouse is a graveyard. Dawn isn’t far off and sooner or later someone’s going to miss a check in or find a bloodstain. There’s still two more warehouses to clear and now we’re dragging this heap of gak along with us it isn’t going to get any easier.” Kaleb kicked the bound and hooded man laying at his feet for emphasis. “We can’t call it a day with just one of these scumbags so lets move.”

Tarleton bent down and hauled the prisoner to his feet. The staff sergeant gave him a couple of swipes to the head with his free hand as he shoved the cell member towards me. “He’s been dosed with kalma so he shouldn’t be a problem but you’re going to have to wheel him around for us. I hear you’ve already gotten your hands dirty so you won’t mind taking care of the baggage. I don’t mind if he picks up a bump or a bruise but if he ends up dead so will you.”

Tarleton’s stony gaze lingered on me for a second before he sloped off to confer with Kaleb. The prisoner just swayed slightly as he stood in front of me, waiting to be manhandled any which way we pleased. There were stains on his hood from where he was undoubtedly bleeding underneath it but he didn’t utter a sound. Kalma is a powerful drug, particularly the Administratum grade dosages we had requisitioned. He wouldn’t need to be dosed again for hours and the chances of medical complexities were much slimmer thanks to the lack of impurities in our batch. The only danger was from troopers stealing vials of the stuff to sell back on our ship. Pure kalma can be gold dust to a guard regiment destined for the trenches and a man can make a nice pile of credits if he knows how to steal just the right amount to stay off the grid. Not that I ever indulged in the practice but every Adeptus has its hucksters and thieves.

I soon found myself in the middle of the column again where I could protect the captive. ‘Precious cargo’ felt like far too much of a compliment for that heretic so we just called him ‘that bag of gak’ if we had the time. At first I was pleased to have Tarleton give me guard duty since he must have heard something good about my room clearance but it didn't take long to realise that my captive wasn't capable of moving with anything approaching stealth. He would walk when encouraged but I couldn’t make him crouch on the move. It was either stand, walk or lie down. Not so bad when the point men are ruthlessly clearing the path ahead but if we got into a fire fight I’d end up dead trying to shift the fugger instead of looking out for myself.


“We’re making good time but there’s still too many dead bodies. This isn’t a stealth op anymore sir” voxed Tarleton from the rear of the column.

“No gak, staff sergeant but this is the only way” Kaleb sent back. He could have kept the vox conversation private, he could have reprimanded Tarleton for undermining his position in front of the team. But Kaleb didn’t need to prove anything to us and he didn’t need to hide the facts either. We were all fugged if things went sour and we all knew it before we even dropped. Even so, I did start to feel the pressure as time went by and the second warehouse got its walls painted red. That’s the trouble with solid slug rounds. They can be effectively suppressed and there’s no beam of light to tell you where the shooter is but they do make a mess when they hit. After the first few rooms we stopped hiding the bodies; anyone who had managed to follow our path would have raised the alarm halfway through the first building. Now it all came down to how quickly we could find the rest of the cell leaders.

By the time Wallinga signalled target acquisition I was drenched in nervous sweat. From my position in the column I could look back on the hallways we had covered and count a lot of corpses. It was a lucky break to catch two of our objectives together. But the elation didn’t last. All of a sudden Wallinga backed off from the door and signed ‘hostile close’ and before he could draw his weapon the handle turned and a lank soldier walked out into the corridor. I’m not entirely sure if I froze up in that moment or if Kaleb was just that damned fast but I couldn’t blink twice before I’d seen the lieutenant surge up at the PDF grunt and lodge his warknife in the man’s throat. All of this while drawing his pistol with his free hand and firing three shots into the room. I saw him wrench the knife out of the gargling soldiers neck in the same moment that he lunged through the doorway at his next man. The team followed him in wincing at the sound of the enemy’s screams. It was over in a few seconds and I arrived to find three wounded men sprawled on the floor of an overseer’s office. Two more corpses were slumped on the desk and leaking enough blood to re-colour their uniforms. Knife wounds aren’t pretty.

“How did you shoot so fast? Wallinga never said where they'd be...” I found myself asking, completely in awe of what the LT had managed to get done.

“Uniforms, kid. That and these PDF grunts are too young to be our men.” Kaleb said as he cleaned his knife and checked himself over.

“Here's one” called Tarleton as he smacked a man’s head into the floor and administered a dose of Kalma.

“Got the other” said Kuhrt as she placed a knee on the heretic’s neck to keep him down and jabbed a syringe into his thigh.

“Who’s the last then” said Kaleb.

“Looks like a junior lieutenant” said Wallinga with his knife to the terrified man’s neck.

“Not worth it. Kill him.” The officer had half a second to scream before Wallinga’s blade cut him open.

Kaleb didn’t even deign to watch, he was already heading back into the corridor to form up the team and move on. Kuhrt and Tarleton were busy patching up the holes that Kaleb had put in our prisoners. The LT had managed to miss hitting anything important but his pistol was a high enough calibre to induce considerable damage from hydrostatic shock and the last thing we wanted to do was explain target deaths to Captain Jarritch.

“Uh LT we have a problem” called Krentz from beside the office window and suddenly the welfare of the prisoners started to take second place to our own chances of survival. “At least two of the roving patrols are converging on the facility.”

“Hmph” grunted Kaleb. “Could have been that racket, could have been the trail of blood we’ve been leaving. Either way we got sent down here to bring four of these heretics back and there’s still one of them running around out here. Move out, Wallinga on point and towards the third building, Tarleton tell OpCom to stand by for extraction.”

“Sir” Tarleton rumbled as he dragged the captives to their feet and handed them off to Krentz and Briant. We still didn’t know if the enemy were converging on that office so we barrelled out and after Wallinga with more haste than I care to admit. I was forcing my prisoner ahead of me with my carbine resting on his shoulder until Kuhrt stepped over and kicked me in the shin.

“You’re the expendable one not him, rookie. Command will take a dead storm trooper over a failed primary any day of the week so do your job right and protect his heretic hide until we’re clear.” As she pushed past me I noticed she had her captive's right arm linked into her left so that she could lead him on whilst simultaneously maintaining her firing position. I quickly followed suit, forgetting the earlier praise that I’d been given and rightly remembering that I was still green. As I pushed on I heard Tarleton cursing over the vox.

“Sir, OpCom is asking for confirmation that we have all possible targets before they begin extraction. The bastards won’t risk moving in and waiting to see if we can grab the last man.”

“And, of course, they won’t move in for just for the three if there's still a chance of four. Navy suits have no fugging clue what we’re doing down here...” Kaleb joined the several curses that flooded the team’s vox net. “We don’t give in just because the mission gets tough. We’re not compromised yet so keep going till we hit trouble. Then you can call it in.”



It didn’t take long for us to hit trouble. A minute or two after we entered the main warehouse floor Wallinga called “hostiles incoming” and the column fell into firing positions as quickly as they could. I put my prisoner face down behind a stack of palettes and got my rifle into my shoulder just in time to see Kaleb sign his orders and note that he wanted us on night vision. There was a patrol advancing on us from the other end of the room so I pulled my goggles down fast and immediately winced at the glaring white light coming from the ceiling luminators. The discomfort only lasted a moment though as our point men calmly blasted out the lamps with their pistols. The warehouse was near pitch black in seconds and the approaching squad of hostiles faltered in their advance. They had just about heard the suppressed shots but couldn’t place the shooters and in that moment of confusion we had them cold.

“Go loud” voxed Kaleb and the team opened up on them with lethal precision. I took two more lives in that lightning fast moment and the din of our rifles left my ears ringing. “Confirmed hostiles down. Bravo move up and check the bodies, we might have killed our last man.”

“Shall I put in the call sir?” Tarleton voxed as he led his fire team towards the massacre.

“Keep them updated, staff sergeant. We’re not crying for papa just yet.” I couldn’t see Kaleb’s face under his night vision but he sounded calm as a drink of water. “If we shoot and move fast enough they won’t pin us down. Alpha prepare to move on Bravo’s signal.”

But Bravo never gave the call. They hadn’t even made it to the slew of corpses before the doors were flung open on the other side of the room and enemy troops surged inside. Their torches made it difficult to gauge their numbers but in a flash we realised it didn’t matter. The unmistakable hulk of power armour loomed behind a flurry of hostiles for a second before the giant began to thrust its way forward with the inevitability of a juggernaught.

“Mission compromised! Call it in and fall back, Tarleton!” Kaleb’s demeanour took an instant turn for the frantic but his rifle stayed rock steady. “Alpha deploy grenades and prepare to fall back on the double!”

Our fire team cast a hail of explosives at the enemy in an attempt to keep their heads down but I don’t think any of us were under any illusions about stopping the walking nightmare that was bearing down on us. At best we were going to slow him down and taking advantage of half a minute’s grace was all we could pray for. Unfortunately I was far too focused on throwing grenades to notice that alpha was almost up and ready to join bravo’s retreat. My prisoner was still on the floor and Kaleb was already ordering us back. My heart was racing as I bent down to haul that bag of gak up and my carbine was swinging in its sling as I desperately scrabbled backwards. Lasfire was beginning to streak past my head and I could feel the cold threat of an enemy Astartes scything towards me. In that moment I felt hands on my shoulders hauling me up with my prisoner and I looked into the face of Farrok as he pushed me back towards our retreating line. I threw my captive ahead of me and didn’t stop sprinting until I heard the chilling sound of a chainsword revving up. I turned my head in time to see Farrok being lifted up by his throat and eviscerated. The monstrosity made no sound as he carved across his belly and watched the intestines spill out onto the floor. For a split second I felt our eyes lock and my legs threatened to give out but Tarleton dragged me through the nearest door and back into the complex of office hallways.

“Focus lad, three minutes before we’re in range. Just focus.” The staff sergeant had his hands on my prisoner now and I doubted I’d be getting him back in a hurry but no one seemed to have any glares for me.

“Wallinga, keep us moving, we can’t get pinned down in a fight. Tuplin rig the door then double time it after us, you’ve got seconds.” Kaleb handed me a krak grenade and then followed the retreating team down the corridor. I didn’t waste any time thinking about what had just happened and I suppose that was Kaleb’s trick. I just primed the grenade for proximity, tossed it at the door and ran faster than I’ve ever run since. I got twenty metres before the grenade went off but I heard no screams of pain or shouts of surprise. There was simply a hail of bolts that presumably wrecked the door and set the trap off. We were being hunted by an Astartes; cheap tricks were never going to win the fight.

Wallinga had us winding through the building in a bid to escape the tightening noose of enemy patrols but there was no way to slip by all of them. I caught up with the team as they finished off a pair of hostiles leading a heavily muscled mastiff. The noise sent up shouts from nearby and I barely had time to catch my breath before we were off again.

“How much longer?!” Gasped Krentz with his eyes dancing back behind us.

“Not close enough for us to relax. We’ve put some distance between us and the threat but we can’t stop” panted Kaleb.

“Yeah and what happens if there’s more than one of them?” Sekunda asked.

Kaleb never got a chance to answer as Wallkinga shouted back at us. “Gakking exit’s covered. No chance.” We slowed to a halt around the final corner to the building’s exit and silently formed a defensive circle around our captives.

“Beacon’s activated. Fortify this position and prepare to repel hostiles” said Kaleb.

“Wait sir,” Tarleton offered. “Melta charges on the walls?” Kaleb nodded in a heartbeat and gestured to Briant. They placed their charges on a short timer whilst the rest of the team covered the hallways. I was jittery with adrenaline and seconds before the charges blew I began to hear the thundering crash of power armour moving at pace.

“Sir...” I began as the melta bombs detonated with their customary hiss.

“I know trooper! Get moving!” Kaleb and I were the last through the breach and the enemy were already firing on us. Cover was sparse on the outer wall of the warehouse and Kuhrt was already hit. Tarleton dragged her into the shadow of a heavy duty waste container but lasbolts were beginning to pour in from every angle and the brutal clang of the hulk that was stalking us had gotten loud enough to eclipse the frenetic thud of my heartbeat.





Then it was over.





You can’t explain teleportation to someone who hasn’t been through it. Not properly, not by a long shot. I barely know what happened myself. I didn’t even regain consciousness for three hours and I spent the next two vomiting into a bucket. All I really remember is a brief moment of absolute nothingness followed by searing white light. The rest is a jumble of disorientation and sickness. They say you get used to it over time and that must be true because the only other troopers in the infirmary where I woke up were Sekunda, who was still out cold, and Kuhrt who was picking at the dressing on her shoulder. After a couple of false starts I managed to sit up and it wasn’t long before Lieutenant Kaleb walked in with a man I had never seen before.

“At ease trooper,” said Kaleb. He was a little paler than usual but he seemed to be handling the jump well enough. “Normally I’d let you get some well earned rest but things took a turn for the worse down there and you’re the man who got the best look at him. I’ve brought someone to see you, he’s from naval intelligence and he wants to ask you some questions.” Kaleb gestured to a distressingly gaunt man in a dark suit who proffered a hand to me.

“Pleasure to meet you, sir” I began. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“No,” he replied. “You didn’t. Now lieutenant Kaleb’s report indicates that you came into contact with renegade Astartes on this mission. Is that correct?”

“Yes sir, we only saw the one but who knows how many are down there” I rasped.

“Right and I’ve been led to believe that you got a good look at the Astartes in question...”

“That’s correct, sir” I nodded.

“Describe him to me.”

“Well he was tall as they say” I began as the man scribbled into his notebook. “The armour wasn’t like what I’ve seen in the Imperial Annals though. It was... twisted... somehow.”

“And the colour? How was it decorated?”

“I’m afraid I can't say, sir. I was wearing night vision at the time.

“And did you notice any heraldry? Any symbols adorning the armour? Particularly on the shoulders?” I noticed the man's eyes widen with anticipation.



“Nothing that I recognised, sir. The only thing that stood out was some kind of strange snake. A snake with three heads.”

Alpha Legion! Now this is shaping up to be more than interesting trooper! I must say your work maintains a high standard. Well done

Seconded, well done.

Very awesome indeed .

Thanks a lot guys!

I've re-edited the last section to clean up the flow of the narrative and darken the tone slightly.

Ossum-sauce once again! Alpha Legion!

I'm loving this, its so different

Rumours are of another chapter, can we have a due date?

lol Its almost done. Thanks for the interest!

I'll try and have it finished by tonight.


Edit: Writing is hard, yo.

6


I spent the next couple of hours in the infirmary getting my bearings but it wasn’t long before the sterile indifference of the sick bay began to get claustrophobic. To our shame, Kuhrt was up and about before either Sekunda or me. We ended up stumbling out together after sluggishly signing whatever the orderlies put in front of us. I thought I was feeling a lot better about retaining the contents of my stomach but as soon as my feet hit the laminate floor of the infirmary I realised my balance was shot. I couldn’t bear another minute of cold glances from medical staff though so we just forced ourselves into the, still filthy, fatigues we had worn on mission and staggered towards the doors. By the time we had left the infirmary complex we were supporting each other’s haggard gaits and attempting to stay out of the way of the navy personnel rushing about the ship. Until I came to a depressing conclusion.

“Where the hell are our barracks, Sek?” I panted as we leaned up against a wall.

“I don’t even know what ship this is.” Sekunda sighed with his eyes on a passing troop of naval security.

“We could ask the doctors?”

“No way. There’s no way I’m going back there to ask for directions. They’ll call it disorientation and have us back in one of those cots. You know they will.” He said, shaking his head.
I nodded in understanding and looked around for some sort of signage. Just then we heard a familiar voice speaking in a very unfamiliar tone.

“There you are!” Boomed staff sergeant Tarleton. “We heard you finally got out of bed. Its a good thing too, the Lieutenant was starting to think you’d caught a taste for hospital food and easy living. I knew better though lads, I knew you’d be stumbling around somewhere lost rather than spending another minute in death’s waiting room.” Tarleton had strolled over and hauled us both to our feet together. The grey bricked cliff of his face was carved into a smile and this was somehow the most uncomfortable sight of all.

“Are we still on the Lord Dubois staff sergeant?” I asked, too unnerved to manage anything else.

“Yes lad, you haven’t gone far. Lets get you back to the Lieutenant so we can begin the proceedings.” Tarleton was still smiling as he guided us back to our billet. We were too relieved to start worrying about what he meant by “proceedings” but when he marched us through the doors and up to Lieutenant Kaleb I started to realise what was going on.





“Well well, look who decided to report for duty?” Kaleb was also sporting a curiously genuine smile. “How are you boys feeling?”

“We can barely stand, sir” said Sekunda with a grin.

“Good! Get used to it soldier. You’re not cadets anymore.” The LT opened his palm to us as he spoke revealing our Schola Progenia graduate pins. “These are meaningless now.” Kaleb tossed the silver badges away and nodded to Tarleton.

“Platoon, Attention!” Bellowed the staff sergeant and the dark shadow of what a squad might have been called in any other regiment stalked to the ends of their beds and formed up. It took me a second to realise that I was also required to stand to attention and I did my best to remain vertical whilst keeping an eye on Sekunda.

“At ease, you’ve earned it” began Kaleb. We sank back into more comfortable hunches but noted that the rest of the storm troopers remained at rapt attention. “You came through alright. Storm Trooper mortality rates are at their worst on their first deployment. You can train with the best for years but when it comes to the real thing there isn’t a VR simulation or live exercise in the Imperium that can prepare you for life or death violence. There’s barely much of a science to knowing who’ll be able to hold up and who’ll freeze at the critical moment. That’s why no one who bears the rank of Storm Trooper is a combat virgin. It means something to carry these pins.” Kaleb reached into a pocket to show us three soot black rank pins in the shape of a dagger. “We don’t present these to men wearing dress uniforms or to the sound of a regimental band. You earned these in the dark and that’s how you’ll keep them.”
As he spoke, the Lieutenant walked up to me and fixed the first badge to my collar then moved on to Sekunda.

“You didn’t just survive down there; you did your jobs and proved your instructors right. I’m proud to welcome you to 3rd platoon, 1313th company, Storm Troopers. Enjoy this moment, as we all do. But as we welcome new brothers we must also give tribute to the fallen.” At this the silently jubilant mood of the room fell to deep contemplation. “Siangh Farrok fell to the enemy in the line of duty. He did so with bravery and selflessness. He will not be forgotten for he will be remembered as a Storm Trooper of the 1313th. This last pin is held in remembrance of trooper Farrok; for he will receive no grave but that which we make for him in our hearts. Honour his memory as we honour all of our fallen brothers and sisters. In the field, in the face of the enemy. That is where we celebrate the lives of our lost. By the blood of our enemies will we anoint their passing.”

My blood ran cold at the eulogy for Farrok. Knowing his life was given for mine placed inevitable guilt on my shoulders and in that moment I felt certain that justice was cruel to spare me and take the braver man. I did my best to hide my shame before the whole platoon but I could feel them staring right through me.

“Platoon! Our Honoured Dead!” Roared Tarleton and we all saluted as one.



The next hour or so was filled with unprecedented levels of conversation with the other storm troopers on the team. Where once they had been cold and distant they were now, at least slightly, willing to speak to me. I had gotten the measure of half the team already; Kuhrt, Wallinga and Krentz had been on my fire team and therefore given me something to work with. But the remaining troopers: Briant, Wiesehofer and Nylander had been with Sekunda and kept their distance from me. I was given various pats on the back and darkly humorous anecdotes about what to expect on future assignments until Kaleb approached me and waved the others away.

“Things are different now trooper,” he said. “You’ll find out soon enough that we don’t really fit in anywhere but with each other. That’s a tough thing to understand at first but there are certain perks when it comes to Guard or even Navy regulations. But listen to me now and listen well. If you overly abuse the leeway that we’re given as Storm Troopers then I won’t be able to help you. Even we have a line with the powers that be and any of us can cross it just the same as a gunnery serf or conscript guardsman. Don’t forget it.”

“Yes, sir” I started, still unsure as to what he meant by ‘leeway’.

“There’s more.” Where Kaleb was stern his features now turned dark. “Any soldier who’s been through what you have will blame himself. It‘s just in our nature. In time you’ll understand the truth of it; you’ll see that there is no call for guilt. But until you get there I need to know that you’re going to be able to keep a clear head. All that talk about honouring the dead wasn’t for show. You honour Farrok by doing it right when we get back on mission. And as you honour him you will see the truth of it, I promise you that.” Kaleb patted me on the shoulder. “We’ve got our debrief tomorrow morning so get some mess hall food in your belly then get some rest. You’ll want to be sharp for the Navy brass.”







A short while later I found myself in line with Sekunda at one of the deck’s mess facilities. The slop that the Navy catering corps produced barely classed as food but it still beat several shades of warp out of the nutrient paste we were forced to shovel down at the infirmary. I was simply looking forward to a meal of solids and was hoping we weren’t about to get a bowl of soup.

“Any idea what’s on the menu, mate?” I said as I tapped the navy armsmen in front of me.

“No idea...” he began as he turned around. “Been having...” The man paused as he looked us over then tilted his head to the side. “Been too long since you had grox steak and wine eh glory boy?”

“Uh I... we haven’t had anything but guard rations for...” I began in confusion.

“Yeah whatever, mate. Just keep your gak hole shut in our mess hall.” The armsman spat and turned back to his laughing friends. I still wasn’t sure what we had done or why he seemed to have a problem with us so I turned to the gaggle of guardsman behind us.

“Can you believe these navy boys? Think they own us just because we’re riding on a ship?” I asked.

“Fug off” one of them growled. “Why don’t you go eat with the rest of the big toy soldiers?”

“Easy now” I said. “We’re just here to eat like everyone else.” But the guardsman had already turned back to their conversation leaving myself and Sekunda looking blankly at one another.

“Were you planning on stepping in there at any point?” I asked, half joking.

“You looked like you had it under control” he smiled. “At any rate, lets leave our insignia in the billet next time we go for a stroll, eh?”









By the time we sat down for our debrief I was about ready to call myself ‘recovered’ and it was just as well because the briefing room we were assigned was already awash with tactical hololith projections and data feeds from a dozen cogitators. If your head wasn’t swimming before you walked in it damned well was afterwards. This was a serious step up from the pilot’s ready room we had been given the first time and that instantly set the team abuzz with anticipation. There wasn’t much time to guess what we were in for though as Captain Jarritch blew into the room almost immediately.

“Damn fine work on the surface lads... and miss. Heard you took one in the shoulder?” Grinned the captain.

“Be right as rain in no time, sir” Kuhrt returned the smile.

“Kaleb,” Jarritch nodded to the lieutenant. “Heard you lost a cadet down there too.”

“We lost a storm trooper, sir,” Kaleb affirmed.

Jarritch nodded again and they both intoned “Our honoured dead.”

Following behind the captain was his ever present adjutant Markov but last to enter the room was the stalking whisp of a man that had visited me in the infirmary. The sight of that willowy, navy suit sent an unwanted shiver down my spine and I doubt I was the only one who felt it.

“Well then troopers let’s get down to it.” Jarritch began as soon as he reached the podium. “Your raid has been affirmed as a mission success by General Ortum himself. Don’t beat yourself up over missing the last target, plenty of Brass didn’t think you’d manage one let alone three. Your efforts are appreciated and the fruits of your labour are already being enjoyed by our friends at naval intelligence. That’s why we have a guest this morning. He has no name, no rank and no serial number, or so I’ve been told. So you don’t have to call him sir and on the rare occasion that you do need to speak to him you can refer to him as Mr Black.” Jarritch gestured to the man and stepped away from the podium in silence. After a pause Mr Black took his cue and paced over to address us. Meanwhile I sat there feeling like an idiot for just assuming the intelligence operative out ranked me.

“Thank you Captain. I have been informed that you do not require an extensive debrief so I will get straight to the facts. Your raid has given us two critical pieces of intelligence so far. The first is the visual confirmation of renegade Astartes in the Narbo system, namely those of the Excommunicate Traitoris Alpha Legion. The second, compounded in importance by the first, is a list of heretical informants operating within our very ranks. The prisoners you brought in resisted at first but our psykers broke their mental shielding in good time and have ascertained a laundry list of imperial officers that are in fact working for the enemy. This is exactly the sort of infiltration and espionage that the Alpha Legion has plagued the Imperium with but thanks to your efforts we’re a step ahead of their game for once.”

As he spoke the cogitator monitors began to flicker through the file photos and profiles of the imperial traitors. When the image of a commissar flashed up we all heard Tarleton snort with what could only be grim satisfaction.

“This is not a de-briefing gentlemen. This information is our best chance to derail the Alpha Legion’s intelligence operation and we need it done fast. Your team has a well deserved reputation for getting things done quietly and that is what I need from you once again. We can’t go through the usual channels and have these men arrested because making too many official waves could give these heretics time to bolt. We’re hoping that we can catch them before they even realise their cover is blown and that means that apart from yourselves, no one outside of naval intelligence will be aware of this operation.” Mr Black was forced to pause as various murmurs of ‘black ops’ and ‘knife work’ were passed around by the team.

“Your mission will be to deploy to Narbo and execute the enemy operatives as quickly as possible. Officially you will be deploying for a raid on an auspex station that will precede a major assault by Guard forces on the front lines. But after the facility is silent you will split up and make for your individual targets. We have nine informants operating on the surface and nine Storm Troopers cleared for active duty so I’ll leave your Lieutenant to assign the right men for the right job...”

This time it was Kuhrt’s turn to snort but there was no satisfaction in her grunting as she stood up. “My arms a little stiff but I’m still more than up to the task. Tell him LT!” Kuhrt’s protests earned a half hidden smile from captain Jarritch while Kaleb turned around in his chair to face Kuhrt.

“If you’re gakking me just because you don’t want to be left out I won’t be best pleased trooper.”

“No sir, I’m combat effective.” Kuhrt stubbornly held her ground whilst Mr Black helplessly looked on.

“Fair enough,” Kaleb said after scrutinising the wounded trooper. “Sekunda will go with you though.” Sekunda managed to turn to Kuhrt just as she rolled her eyes and collapsed back into her chair. Kaleb just chuckled and turned back to the briefing. “Carry on Mr Black, we’re all ears.”

“Right, well as I was saying... the mission requires a great deal of delicacy as we cannot risk the traitors realising their game is up. Unfortunately this will mean that we cannot inform any of the Imperial Guard assets in your mission area of your presence... and as such this will likely mean that you will be fired upon on sight or captured and executed as an enemy combatant. Naturally naval intelligence won’t be taking responsibility for you if you do end up in a brig. Our Adeptus profits from as little official record as possible.”

“So if the guard don’t kill us, you will?” Asked Tarleton.

“Essentially yes, staff sergeant. Although I can assure you that would be a highly undesirable outcome.”

“Ah, well that’s alright then” laughed Tarleton mirthlessly.

“Indeed... your mission secondary will be to ascertain, if possible, what sort of information these agents were transmitting but the primary should over ride this concern almost entirely. Do you have any questions?” Mr Black finished with the barest hint of a human smile.

“Are any of them psykers?” Asked Kaleb almost instantly.

“Imperial records state that none of the targets register psychic ability. But Alpha Legion operatives have been noted in the past to often be completely unaware of their traitorous heresy which implies either some form of hypnotherapy or psychic possession. Whilst the targets themselves are not psychic threats the hand of sorcery cannot be discounted and you are instructed to prepare accordingly.”


“How do we do that?” I whispered to Wallinga.



“Say your prayers” he replied with a dark look in his eyes.

Great job on this chapter, I like the feel you are building up to!

The change between locations was very smooth and the briefing believable, great job. I look forward to when the metal meets the meat.

Awesome .

oohhh fantastic! Love it. More.

Rez would it be OK if I posted your work in another forum?

Of course mate!

thanks for all the comments, guys. I really appreciate the feedback!

7

Attacking the auspex station went about as smoothly as anyone could have hoped; no casualties and a green light for a Guard assault to proceed under the radar. But knocking out an enemy facility without the alarm being raised was just a warm up. The hard work came next as we split up and began our lonely treks across Narbo’s war torn landscape. Sekunda had told me he was jealous I got to ‘ghost’ on my own; I think he was scared of Kuhrt. Either way, striking out all alone wasn’t exactly my idea of a treat. This would technically still be my second mission and whilst we had run countless escape and evade exercises in training there was still something un-nerving about infiltrating a friendly camp. Mr Black had told us we wouldn’t face retribution for Imperial Guard casualties if it led to mission completion but I still couldn’t picture myself pulling the trigger. The thought just left me with a dry throat and shaking hands. It didn’t seem to bother anyone else...

My target was sitting pretty in no less than a regimental headquarters three miles south of our secondary rendezvous point. He was a communications officer in the Valhallan 402nd light infantry and his file photo made him look like a school boy. Kaleb had noticed my expression when the pict flashed up. He told me that ‘death knows every man’s name and so do we.’ I think he gave me that target as a test.

I had plenty of time to think about it on the march to the forward base. Other than the fighter squadrons that occasionally zoomed overhead I was left to walk the no man’s land of the Narbo forests alone. It wasn’t exactly a stroll in the park though, at the time I had no idea if there were patrols in the area, friendly or enemy. With no team to cover all the angles it was a very paranoid scramble through the dark until I finally reached the Valhallan lines.

I thanked the throne when I recognised 5th company markings on the Valhallan equipment and insignia. That put the regimental HQ directly behind their position. This still left the 5th company for me to worry about but at least I was in the right place. Before I could even think of scrabbling across the open ground between the tree line and the guard trenches I had to make it past the forward sentries that the Valhallan officers had undoubtedly posted in the forest. Those icy bastards might not know the first thing about cooking a decent meal but they fight smart. Lucky for me I was fighting with the best tech Naval Intelligence had to offer. Thermo-optics made spotting their positions easy enough and after analysing their line I spotted a gap between two squad postings that a savvy trooper might squeeze through.

I counted three squads in my vicinity with what must have been a command group roving along the length of the line. But halfway between the second and third postings was a small ditch covered in patches of scrub that could conceal my approach. I didn’t waste any time but that didn’t mean I was rushing forwards either. I was near enough thirty metres from their observation posts and whilst they lacked my fancy optics they weren’t slouches. I was belt buckle down and moving at a snail’s pace for the next five minutes until I managed to sink into the gully that would take me past the watchful guardsmen. The climate was a little warmer down at the front lines than the snowbound warehouses where I’d taken my first lives. Even so, the mud was still frozen solid here in the south and that made for an uncomfortable landing. I couldn’t complain too much though; ice is a lot quieter than fresh slop.

I made enough progress in the next five minutes to get within earshot of the Valhallans. They weren’t stupid enough to be idly chatting on duty but their platoon leader was doing the rounds and I caught the tail end of a few bad jokes here and there. I took this as a good opportunity to speed up a little under the cover of their distracted attention but I had gone less than a foot before a chance ray of moonlight caught a length of wire inches from my face. I was too shocked to move for the first minute. After my heart had slowed down I carefully looked around for any secondaries then let out a breath and inched backwards. The wire was linked to a clutch of grenades that had been artfully concealed in the scrub above me. Icy bastards.

They couldn’t watch the ditch so they trapped it; it made sense. Lucky for me the trap was just a jury rigged surprise. Anything with a motion sensor or failsafe system and I would have been just another dead trooper. The explosives trick was crude but effective enough; it relied on the target putting pressure on the wire which would then pull the pin off one of the grenades in the bundle. This meant I could simply cut the wire and slip by un-noticed. Like I said, lucky.

After that close call I crawled along even slower than was completely necessary but it got me past the sentries. That made the next stage of the infiltration a little easier. It’s not supposed to happen but frontline troopers are usually staring into space rather than watching the line if they know they have forward sentries posted to raise an early warning. Getting by the sentries meant that I only had to worry about guardsmen who were only technically on duty. This still makes it seem easier than it was. I was forced to cover fifty metres or so of open ground at a snails pace, dodging searchlights or freezing in place for minutes at a time until I finally reached the lip of a trench. Mr Black had been very forthcoming with information of the defensive preparations that the guard had implemented on this stretch of the line so at the very least I wouldn’t be getting lost.

By far the most useful piece of kit the Navy had procured for us were the personal auspex devices we had been issued. Mr Black had told us they were miniaturised versions of the handheld sensors that the Adeptus Astartes used. The range was far shorter but you could strap it to your wrist rather than your back so none of us complained. In the trenches that gadget was the only thing that got me through. It pinpointed a suitably quiet area for me to roll in and mapped out the drainage tunnels that could take me through the trench network unseen. It was a tight squeeze but short of murdering half a company of guardsmen it was the only way across the front line. So with my shoulders tucked in and my rifle long since discarded I shimmied into the filth encrusted darkness and tried to make my way south without gagging on the myriad stenches that were assaulting me. Halfway through the first tunnel I got my first vox transmission. My earpiece was embedded and barely gave off a sound to the outside world but I got the message loud and clear.

“Progress report, spare the code, this channel is heavily encrypted.” There was no mistaking Kaleb’s stern demeanour, even over the vox.

“I’m currently passing through the Valhallan 402nd, 5th company lines. No alerts and no traces. I had to leave my rifle in the dead ground but its been dismantled and scattered as per SOP.”

“You’re running behind, kid. My man’s down, same with Kuhrt, Krentz, Weisehofer, Briant and Nylander. Wallinga and Tarleton are approaching theirs so pick up the pace. If you’re too slow he’ll bolt when the news gets round about the others.” Kaleb stated.

“Yes sir” I voxed with anxiety building in my guts. The Lieutenant hadn’t lost his temper but I would be damned before I let him lose his trust in me. “I won’t waste any time.”

“Good. I need you to move fast but don’t move stupid. Call me on this frequency if you need any advice but maintain vox silence with the rest of the team.”

“Understood,” I replied.

“The Emperor Protects,” Kaleb intoned and then clicked off.

That call put fresh fire in the forge. There was a small comfort in knowing that Tarleton and Wallinga, of all people, were also yet to make their kills but I was convinced I’d be dead last now. I struggled on until I could make out the grey haze of moonlight on mud and as I approached the tunnel’s exit I heard voices and picked up the scent of Valhallan tea. After crawling through a drainage ditch it smelled better than Elysian wine but it probably had twice the kick. My auspex told me there were three guardsmen enjoying the brew but I had to peer out from the tunnel mouth to double check their positions. Any other regiment would have had three shivering troopers huddled around their fire but winter on Narbo was still warmer than any Valhallan summer. These guardsmen were casually sitting around with a frustratingly professional field of view. More than likely they were set up to watch out for approaching officers or worse, Commissars, but their vigilance was just as effective at holding me up. The path left was clear of soldiers but until the tea drinkers shifted around I wouldn’t be able to slip away unseen.

I lay in the mouth of the tunnel exit for a moment as I weighed up my options. Simply shooting the soldiers could get me by but there was too much risk of one of them raising the alarm. Exiting the tunnel wouldn’t exactly be graceful either and I was no Kaleb. Even if I could pull off three silent execution shots as I scrabbled up from the mud the signs of struggle and missing troopers would still send up the alarm eventually. That left me with trying to cause a distraction or simply waiting it out. Knowing that Tarleton and Wallinga would have their targets down soon put a lot of strain on the decision to just wait for an opportunity to move, but in the end it really was the only option. Causing a distraction isn’t as simple as just throwing a rock or throwing your voice. Back on Terrax we were relentlessly reminded that military sentries are always suspicious and anything out of the ordinary will put them on a higher alert. If you throw a rock they are going to wonder where it came from and they aren’t just going to let it go. Nine times out of ten the best move an infiltrator can make is just to lie still and wait for the right moment to advance. It took them half an hour to decide to play a game of cards during which Kaleb called me twice for progress reports and all I could do was click back ‘negative.’ When I finally got myself out of that drainage ditch and back on my feet my heart was pounding with nervous excitement.

The guardsmen thankfully kept their backs to me as I darted left and into the rear of the trench network. I was getting close. My target was off shift and, being an officer, almost certain to be asleep in his own billet. Dietrich Dostoy, twenty nine Terran solar years of age and condemned to death as a traitor to the Imperium. I realised I was getting ahead of myself as I rounded the first corner and caught sight of the regimental HQ. This close to the trenches they weren’t worrying too much about hiding any more sentries and a quick sweep with my thermal goggles down seemed to confirm it. The HQ was situated in an abandoned power station, now repurposed to provide a modicum of shelter from the elements and the illusion of shelter from enemy fire. Lucky for me I wouldn’t have to worry about trying to sneak around inside; the building was undoubtedly jam packed with guardsmen ready to shoot first and follow procedure later.

I was heading for one of the surrounding buildings in what was a former industrial sector on the outskirts of one of Narbo’s larger cities. The HQ complex was lit up like Emperor’s day on Terra by a multitude of roving spotlights beaming from standard template guard towers. The brilliance of the light display was a little surprising at first but after I caught sight of the hundreds of Hydra flak barrels pointed belligerently at the sky I realised the Valhallan colonel had very little to fear from enemy air strikes. With that much firepower covering his camp the Valhallan 402nd were practically daring the enemy to attack. This colonel was flamboyant and reckless. Undoubtedly cast as a dashing warrior in the officer’s mess it seemed obvious enough to me that he was the sort of officer that would sacrifice good men for medals. This wasn’t exactly a shocking occurrence in the Imperial Guard, or so I had been told, but in truth I was simply frustrated at the delay his searchlights would add to my mission time.

The dilapidated and often half destroyed buildings that made up the Valhallan camp gave me enough cover to avoid the stabbing lights that were sweeping across my path. My patience was wearing thin but it would all be for nought if I mistimed a sprint and brought the whole base down on my head. I was only a short dash from Dostoy’s billet and crouching down in the rubble of what looked like a fire station when my vox crackled online.

“Report, and tell me what I want to hear this time, kid.” Kaleb sighed.

“I’m metres from the target building. ETA to mission completion, two minutes.” I replied, frustrated that the call had ruined my timing.

“We’ll see. You're last on this one so just get in there and make sure your target hasn’t bolted before you go giving me mission completion times.”

“Acknowledged, sir” I said through gritted teeth.

“Don’t lose your cool, Tuplin. You’re kept to high standards for a reason. Just get it done calm and quiet.” Kaleb clicked off before I could reply and left me to control my breathing and wait for the searchlights to move on.

When my path fell dark I slinked forwards as quietly as I could until I was at the target building’s door. It had remained relatively untouched by the ravages of war and as such was perfect for housing officers whilst the guardsmen got tents. I understand that rank has its privileges but Storm Troopers are used to a different breed of leaders than the rank and file guardsmen. Earning a commission in one of our companies is a brutal and testing business whereas we had all heard of guard regiments that allowed their commissions to be purchased by the nobility of their home worlds during their founding. Knowing our own officers as we did, it made it hard to view rank as something that outright deserved respect. Fortunately our postings almost always placed us outside the traditional chains of command and there was very little a guard lieutenant could threaten us with. Dietrich Dostoy, a communications officer, was about as low down on the threat scale that an enlisted man could get and I took comfort in the thought that I was now at the easiest part of my mission.

I scoped out the entrance as best I could through the keyholes and cracks under the door, silently reminding myself to pack a wire camera on the next operation. The hallway was clear as I slipped inside and hurriedly shut the door behind me. It was a relief to get out of the open and all I had to do now was head for room 1-D. The designations had been scratched into their doors, presumably by their occupants, so fortunately I wouldn’t have to check every room. The floor creaked uneasily as I sneaked through the hallways making me wince with trepidation. Thankfully I didn’t hear anyone moving around in response but in that moment every breath I took seemed as loud as a hurricane. As I approached room 1-D I drew my pistol and reached for the suppressor in my vest pouch. The thread had been oiled on Tarleton’s advice so that it made no noise as it attached.

It was only as I reached for the door handle that I began to worry that I might have been too late. The thought of Dostoy getting some coded message to bolt and fleeing Imperial justice thanks to my sluggish approach knotted my stomach in an icy grip. But as the door swung inwards I was greeted with the snores of a heavily sleeping officer. My relief was enough to warrant an audible sigh when I flicked the safety off my pistol and got a good look at the man’s face. It was Dostoy alright; sleeping like a baby after a day of subverting the efforts of the men who guarded him in the night. I felt my mouth form a snarl as I took aim for the betrayer’s head. One more heretic to meet the Emperor tonight...

But I never pulled the trigger. Whilst I savoured the feeling of delivering justice the unmistakable whine of an alarm began to screech throughout the HQ. Foolishly I immediately assumed I was the cause and rushed to the window to see if the building had been surrounded. But I had left no trace! I hadn’t been spotted and I had left no bodies! Then, whilst I anxiously considered what I had done wrong I made the actual mistake of forgetting the whole point of my mission. I was rudely reminded of Dostoy by the sound of him stirring awake and my heart skipped another beat.
His eyes opened just in time to see me lunge at him and bring the butt of my pistol down on his head.

“Shut your mouth!” I whispered, feeling like a fool as I realised the man had been knocked back unconcious. I decided not to waste any more time and put the barrel to his head but in the same moment that I pulled the hammer back I received a transmission from Kaleb.

“Abort! Abort! We’ve been had, kid. If you haven’t already killed him leave Dostoy and get out of there. We were tricked...”

Oh dear...this dose indeed look grim, I hope they get away but I dare not have high hopes.

A great read and very well paced!

Great as usual. That poor communications officer , well, looking forward to seeing these events unfold .

Very nice discription the whole way though, you character is growing great. More soon please.

Thanks fellas! The next section ought to be an intense one!

Just sat and read all of this and I have to say...I've read BL stories that don't flow as well as it. At times it's like reading a genuine war memoir. Your knowledge of the lore is obvious but kept subtle enough to feel like a natural part of the world, rather than overshadowing the story and I always find it more enjoyable to read about Imperial troops who act like professionals than the “raaargh bury them under mountains of dead Guardsmen” silliness. Also love the attention to detail, and your dialogue feels really natural to read.

So in other words, sign me up as a fan...!

Those are very kind words and I greatly appreciate them

What Fezman Said! Awesome, really good pace, no reliance on hyperbole to get a point across that a lot of authors use. Well done mate!

8

The blaring siren’s ascension in pitch and volume cut through the night and straight to my guts; the only benefit being that it covered my stream of curses. But I didn’t have time to wallow in fear and self pity, Kaleb wouldn’t let me.

“Where are you, trooper? What’s your situation?” He demanded.

“I... I’m in the target building, the target room... Dostoy’s alive but the whole base is standing to. What the fug happened? How did they find me, sir?”

“It’s not you they found, kid; we’ve got far bigger problems than that. But right now that means they still don’t know you’re there” said Kaleb.

“They will when Dostoy wakes up” I replied guiltily.

“Then kill him or bring him with you. Choice is yours trooper but if you want to live you’re going to need to meet me at the south west refinery and you’re going to have to do it fast.” Kaleb cut the transmission leaving me with a harder choice than I was prepared for.

I had no idea why the Lieutenant was so close to my position instead of marshalling the team at our rendezvous point but in that moment he seemed like the only safe bet on the planet. I walked over to Dostoy, the hammer on my autopistol still back and straining to bolt free. I stared at the man, contemplating his fate whilst my beating heart and ringing ears screamed at me to run for my life. But when Dostoy began to whimper and come around my arm sagged with the weight of my gun and I knew I didn’t have it in me to execute the poor bastard. Still... I couldn’t have him ruining my escape either.

“Listen to me Dietrich Dostoy and listen well” I hissed as I jammed the pistol’s suppressor into his forehead and locked eyes with him. “You’ve seen my face so the by all rights I should kill you here and now. But I’ve a soft heart and a very pressing need to get off this base quietly so you are going to help me and in return I’m going to let you live. Do you understand?” We stared at each other for a second before the sound and steam of warm piss in a cold room interrupted my glare.

“Ah! Throne! Are you serious?” I grimaced. “Get up and keep quiet or I’ll change my mind and your friends can find out you wet yourself before I shot you.”

“Who... who are you!?” Dostoy stammered with the good sense to whisper.

“Until you get me out of here I’m the Emperor as far as you’re concerned.” I replied as I threw him his uniform.

“You tried to... kill me?” Dostoy exclaimed as it started to come back to him.

“I was going to kill you; I was ordered to. But it turns out some Navy fug made a mistake so my orders were rescinded. You ought to count yourself lucky.” I whispered back, but from the look on the man’s face I could tell he didn’t agree. Despite his incredulity he was, at least, slowly complying with my demands. By the time he was dressed I could hear the building's occupants scurrying around in the hallways, cutting off the main exit and severely limiting my options.

“Is there a quiet way out of here?” I asked, pistol still in hand.

“Uh... you... you’re uniform” Dostoy was pointing at me from the corner of his room with a look of fear in his eyes.

“Don’t test me, Lieutenant. Just because you’re no longer a primary that doesn’t mean I don’t still have the authority to kill you” I snapped back at him. It was only then that I realised what Dostoy’s problem was. I hadn’t told him a throne damned thing that explained whose side I was on! My uniform was stripped of all insignia and even our weapons were exotic as far as a guardsman could tell. Dostoy, a solider fighting on the front lines, had made the very logical assumption that a man who had tried to kill him was fighting for the enemy. He thought I was some sort of heretic assassin and I hadn’t done much to prove otherwise.

“Listen, Dietrich I’m an Imperial soldier just like you. Bad intelligence placed you as a traitor and I was sent to silence you but it turns out you’re clean so we aborted the mission. Now I’m in the gak because someone’s raised the alarm and they’re going to be after the suspicious man in black who doesn’t fit in with the Valhallan crowd. If they catch me I’m dead but if you help me escape there’s no harm no foul ok?”

“I want to believe you...” Dietrich started. “But I don’t want to be hanged for aiding a fugitive!”

“Do you want to get shot?” I retorted, my attempt at conciliation having exhausted my patience. “I’ll take your silence as a no. So start helping, my auspex says this building has a basement but you need to tell me if they’re keeping any munitions down there? Anything explosive at all?”

“Why?” Dietrich asked as he watched me reach into one of my pouches. “Oh!” he gasped as he saw me place the melta bomb on the floor.

“Now’s a good time to start talking, Dostoy” I said.

“N.. no its just the bombardment shelter. There’s food but not much else.” He replied as he backed himself up against the room’s far wall.

“Ok now we’re talking” I smiled. “So this shelter, does it have an emergency exit? Any windows or cellar doors?” I asked praying for some miraculous escape passage.

“There’s a door” nodded Dostoy.

“Good” I grinned as I primed the charge and joined the Lieutenant over by the wall. “Shield your eyes, sir.” I told him, remembering he still, technically, out ranked me. The melta bomb began to hiss a few seconds later and even with my eyes closed I could sense the room flashing white for a second. There was a mild crash as the floor gave away but fortunately the cacophony of the bases’ alert sirens and shouts of the Valhallan sergeant majors were all that could be heard outside Dostoy’s room.

“Move now and do exactly as I say” I told the terrified officer. I Had made my threats and he would either believe them or not. Now I just had to press on and hope I’d made the right choice. We dropped into the makeshift shelter and felt the heat from my breaching charge even through our boots but time was running short. It would only be a short while before someone noticed Dostoy was missing and came to his room. Better he was shambling around in the dark with me than waiting to tell the ice warriors who to look for. I glanced at Dostoy for direction and he pointed away to the left, past a palette of rations, to a set of double doors at the head of some steps. Emperor be praised they were at the rear facing of the building where the visibility was far poorer for the guardsman manning the searchlights.

“What’s your status, son?” Kaleb’s voice stopped me in my tracks as I reached for the door handle. “I can’t wait out here all night.”

“I’m about to make my move, sir. We’ve found a quiet way out of the building and should be able to make the next few hundred metres on foot” I winced, knowing what was coming.

“We?”

“Yes sir” I sighed.

“Wouldn’t have been my choice but carry on, trooper.”

He didn’t sound happy but something told me I wasn’t the problem this time. In any case we had to get clear and it came down to simply making a break for it. I dragged Dostoy close and lifted the door slowly enough to make sure the coast was clear. We hopped out of the basement a second or two later with myself leading the way. I didn’t let go of Dostoy, especially when the sound of his billet’s occupants mustering on the other side of building sailed through the night.

“No time now, Dietrich. After that searchlight passes on we’re going to run towards the refinery to the south west. Stay low and move fast until I tell you to stop.” Dostoy didn’t argue, thank the throne, so we set off into the darkness and away from the hornet’s nest of pissed off, bleary eyed Valhallans that I had woken up. We paused at several ruins along the way to avoid squads rushing to the front line; fortunately they had abandoned patrol protocol to move double time. We had the refinery in sight after a few minutes and Kaleb pinged his position to my auspex after we entered range. We were moving through built up city grids by this point where supply, logistics and engineering corps were stationed as well as a smattering of civilians too destitute or stubborn to flee. A military curfew was in place that kept the streets relatively clear but fifty metres shy of Kaleb’s hide a jeep had pulled up with two soldiers who presumably drew patrol duty for this district. They mostly seemed to be concerned with chain smoking as much as is humanly possible; no different to most sentries, mind. But they didn’t seem to be going anywhere either and that worried me.

“Lieutenant,” I voxed. “They’ve set up a guard post between us, two soldiers in a light vehicle but the engine’s off and they look like they’re in for a long night.”

“Take them out,” Kaleb replied instantly. “By the time anyone realises they’re dead we’ll be long gone.”

“... Yes sir.” I knew he was right and the unlucky sods were even parked facing away from me but killing a man in your way isn’t the same as shooting an enemy soldier. Unfortunately, a soldier will almost always rationalise the orders he’s given if they keep him alive and I was certain those guards would shoot me dead in a heartbeat. I reached for my thigh holster with grim determination as I poked my head around the street corner to get a good look at my approach. But as my hands gripped steel I felt Dostoy tugging at my assault vest.

“What are you doing?!” He gasped. “You said you were an Imperial Soldier!”

“I am, Dietrich. But right now those guards are in the way of my Imperial mission. Let go of me, you’re almost home free.” I shook off Dostoy whilst simultaneously burying the knowledge that Kaleb might well end up executing the communications officer on the spot anyway.

“There has to be another way” he pleaded. “You can’t be older than 20 solar, how can you be so eager to murder?”

“I’m not eager, Lieutenant” I said as I turned to face him. “This is simply the last option available.” I stared at his desperate features, wondering if this military officer had ever fired his weapon in anger. He stared back for a moment before replying.

“You didn’t kill me. It would have been easier for you but you didn’t. Why?”

“I... You weren’t...” I trailed off guiltily, knowing where he was going with his point.

“You’re not a murderer. We can find a way past them.” He placed a hand on my shoulder intending to reassure me but really only made me uncomfortably aware that the frightened man I had been threatening was several years my senior.

“You’re no infiltrator” I started “and this vest isn’t some box of magician’s tricks. I’m carrying lethal weapons and interrogations equip...” I sighed and stared at the floor for a second. “I have Kalma. We all took Kalma in case there was a chance we could get the targets out for interrogation.”

“Alright!” smiled Dostoy, “no one has to get killed.”

“I don’t know why you’re smiling” I replied. “You aren’t going to like the plan.”






I sent Dostoy out into the street with his hands up. The guardsmen, to their credit, noticed him almost immediately and rushed over to him with their rifles raised. So far so good. Dostoy’s uniform had bought him a questioning rather than a hail of lasfire. They were a little rougher than I had planned for but no one was dead so it was an acceptable trade. Dostoy barely had to say a word before he was collared as a deserter and as they turned to bundle him into their jeep I crept out from behind the corner and stalked up behind them. In each hand I held a hypodermic needle loaded with enough Kalma to make sure these boys had a pleasant evening and besides the moment where I jabbed the steel points into their necks they enjoyed exactly that.

Dostoy helped get them back into their seats and after they were back where they belonged we sprinted over to the alleyway where Kaleb was hiding out.
“That was quite a performance” He said as he materialised from the shadows. “And you brought a friend too?” Kaleb regarded Dostoy with a half smile that seemed more than threatening to the quivering man.

“Dostoy helped me escape, sir.” I said with a sinking feeling.

“You haven’t escaped anything yet, trooper. Someone’s brought the whole damned planet down on us and you’re the only man left on the team that I know is alive.”

“Sir...?” I asked, agape with fear and confusion.

“I came looking for you instead of heading to the RV. You were running last and a regimental HQ is no easy nut to crack so I came in to lend a hand. But just before the alarm went up a transmission came through on every public information terminal I could see. Throne it looked like every damned monitor in the city was playing the same message.” Kaleb paused as he rubbed his temple. “The message displayed pict recordings of our kills. Kills which included Nylander shooting the city governor in his damned bed whilst recanting the Emperor’s benediction, You saying out loud that you’re an Imperial soldier and me dressed as a Mordian Captain cutting the throat of a fugging priest,” Kaleb finished.

“I... Gak” Was all I could muster at first. Kaleb nodded at me and continued.

“It gets worse, kid. First they played the recordings then they played their message. ‘The Imperials are butchers!’” Kaleb imitated. “’Rise up and take back your planet before they come for you!’ and so on and so forth.”

“How did they get us on camera? How did they broadcast the message?” I stammered. There was no way Dostoy’s billet was covered in surveillance gear; I had seen nothing.

“Throne” Dostoy exclaimed. As we turned to him I could see he was operating a personal data slate and the blue glow of the screen was illuminating his features in the dark alleyway. “The message has been uploaded to my slate.... That’s you killing the old man?!”

“I was there, son I don’t need to see it again” Kaleb snarled. “We’ve got bigger problems than figuring out how we got burned. I’ve lost contact with the rest of the team... a few minutes after the alarm went up they all stopped responding. Most of them were safe at the rendezvous so if they went dark then that only means one thing...”

“Sir?” I closed my eyes and shook my head as I waited for his reply.


“The brass is cleaning up its mistake.”

Poor Storm Troopers, all that kit and training and just to be as explainable as the rest of the Guard.

Time to find Mr Black me thinks.

If you're reading this then thanks for giving it a chance. Criticism is greatly appreciated!

9

It took me a moment to come to terms with the fact that we were being hunted. The Imperium had given me everything; I was a child of its institutions, a product of its training. Ever since I was old enough to learn about the world beyond my Scholam the Imperium was my shield against the horrors of the galaxy. Now my protector had joined the, already large, ranks of people who wanted to kill me and it felt like the sky was falling.

Kaleb was pacing back and forth ominously whilst I did my best to control my breathing and Dostoy was staring at the both of us and twitching with what must have been an uncomfortable urge to ask if he could leave. I don’t think either of us gave a gak about the communications officer anymore but that didn’t mean that Kaleb was going to let him go and tell his CO where he’d been.

“Alright, get it together Tuplin we’ve got work to do.” Kaleb hissed. “The Alpha Legion just played Naval Intelligence like schoolboy fools and now the only way to way to limit the damage is for our ‘superiors’ to claim its a lie and hunt down the idiots in the pict casts.”

“So what the fug are we supposed to do, sir? There’s no one left on the planet... in the sector even! That doesn’t want us dead...” I bleated.

“First thing is for you to calm down, son. Panic is death to soldiers” Kaleb warned. I managed a nod and subconsciously brought a hand to the hilt of the knife strapped to my shoulder; holding the blade centred my thoughts and slowed my breathing to a steady rate.

“Right... Right, what’s the plan, LT?” I asked.

“The rest of the team aren’t responding to comms but that’s no surprise given that Naval Intelligence has our channel codes. Emperor willing they’ve dispersed and disappeared into the city until I sort this gak out. It wouldn’t be the first time...”

“Uh Lieutenant...” Dostoy began. “You might want to see this.” The Valhallan handed his data slate over to Kaleb and I craned my neck to get a look at the pict cast that was playing. Kaleb’s knuckles were already white with tension when I saw the close up shot on the grim face of Tarleton, bound in chains and being displayed on a floodlight stage. Briant and Krentz were standing either side of him and in front of the three captives lay the bloody remains of Nylander and Weisehofer. We watched in mortified silence as a Commissar read out the charges brought against them and denounced our comrades as agents of the arch-enemy.

"Your crimes are indefensible. Your guilt is beyond doubt. For the murder of Imperial officials there can be only one punishment. The heretical lies and blasphemous slander against our great Imperium will not go unanswered! The people of Narbo will see revenge! The brutal killing of Narbo Primus’s city governor must be met with public justice!” As he spoke Briant was pushed forward and, with his legs in manacles, he fell to the floor. “In the Emperor’s name!” the Commissar cried before he drew his laspistol and shot Briant through the head. Then Krentz was kicked in the back of his legs and sent to the ground but he made no whimper as the executioner stepped forward and fired his pistol. The guardsman standing behind Tarleton was unable to force him to his knees so The Staff Sergeant spat on the ground and stepped forward to look down on the Commissar, casting an unflinching gaze of quiet disgust right up to the point where the man in black put the barrel of his pistol on Tarleton’s chin and pulled the trigger.

No one spoke for a while but I could feel Kaleb’s seething anger through his heavy breathing and white knuckle grip on Dostoy’s slate. It infected me, inflamed my own enraged sense of betrayal and grief. I don’t know how long we stood there for but I know the only thing I cared about in that moment was revenge. I wanted Mr Black’s blood to stain the floor and I wanted to see it done by my hand. As treasonous as the thought was the blasphemy of sedition seemed so insignificant compared to the primal urge to avenge my kin. Tight lipped, aggressive and competitive as they were the team was the only family I had left after a childhood reared by the Imperium. I had no parents, only my CO. I had no siblings, only my squad mates. I could never start a family; I would only have new recruits. Now I had watched five of my brothers die at the hands of those we had shed our blood for. I think if Kaleb hadn’t slapped me I would have stayed in that rage fuelled trance for hours. He told me later that anger was almost as bad as panic. That you had to find a place deep within yourself where you could keep it boxed away and under control. I never saw him shed a tear for those he had lost; he had mastered himself, harnessed his emotion and used it for fuel rather than letting it cloud his judgment. I still had to learn how.

“Eyes front soldier!” Kaleb snapped with his hands on my shoulders. “Wallinga, Sekunda and Kuhrt were missing! Throne knows where Wallinga's stashed himself but the other two were at the rendezvous point when I left so they must have escaped the ambush. I don't plan on letting any more of my troopers get rounded up and shot so we're going to comb the RV until we find them or we find the sons of bitches that did this to us. We’ll mourn our honoured dead when we’ve secured our fugging living!”

“Understood, sir...” I spoke with a broken voice “Lead the way”. Moving towards the rendezvous point where our team had been ambushed wasn’t exactly the smart move if we wanted to stay alive but in that moment I would have charged an Astartes if it meant rescuing a comrade.

“We just have to tie up this loose end first” Kaleb said, gesturing to Dostoy. The Valhallan’s eyes widened as he considered what the LT had meant.

“I’m sorry about your friends!” he pleaded “I didn’t have anything to do with any of this!”

“I know” Kaleb calmly replied.

“I don’t want to die” sobbed Dostoy.

“I know” said Kaleb as he reached for his pistol.

“LT, wait” I started, surprising myself. “He’s a comms officer right? Maybe he can get a message to Captain Jarritch?” Kaleb paused as he considered the point.

“You were off duty tonight?” He asked Dostoy.

“Yes!” he replied desperately.

“The officers in your outfit go to a brothel or a bar in this town?”

“Yes...” Dostoy returned with a little confusion.

“Then you sneak back to your billet and you tell them you were getting your money’s worth when the alarms went up. You’ll get chewed out but you’re an officer so chances are you won’t end up too worse for wear.”

“I also put a hole in his floor, sir” I added.

“Old buildings on the front lines fall apart all the time, son” Kaleb replied without taking his eyes off Dostoy. “Now you listen here Lieutenant. The only reason you are alive is thanks to trooper Tuplin over there. You owe him a severe debt and you’re going to repay it right now. You go back to your post and you return to your life. You do not mention us, you do not mention anything about the attacks. But what you will do is deliver a message to Captain Jarritch of the 1313th company, Storm Troopers. Its very simple, you just tell him to contact me on a secure channel. I can’t give you the frequency in case you get caught or decide to turn us in so you just tell him to remember the Persepolis gambit. He’ll figure out the rest. Now I don’t care how you get this done but you will swear, now, to do it or I will kill you.”

“I swear! I can do it!” Dostoy stammered.

“Alright then” Kaleb smiled and turned to walk away. “But if you try and screw us over we’ll make sure you suffer for it. Tuplin found you before and he can do it again.”

I glanced at Dostoy for a moment before I turned to join Kaleb on the hunt for our comrades. The Valhallan was terrified and looking back on it I probably should have given him some encouragement but I don’t think I could have mustered up anything worth listening to. Kaleb might have had some superhuman ability to master his emotions but I could barely focus on anything but the knife that had found its way back into my hand again. Dostoy was long gone before I got the urge to look back for him but I hoped he wouldn’t get strung up. Not just for our sakes... He was the first man with a conscience I had met in a long while.





The rendezvous point was due east of the industrial sector we had wound up in. We had planned on regrouping and signalling our evac from a clearing in one of Narbo Primus’ surrounding forests. The isolation was supposed to keep us safe but it ended up keeping the team somewhere quiet where they could be ambushed in the dark. Throne knew how Sek and Kuhrt had made it out or which way they had fled but Kaleb was confident that our short range burst communication would still be functional. We had set off in silence and the patrol had stayed that way as we bounded between the urban detritus that slowly gave way to country lanes and thickets of vegetation. With almost every rifle on the planet classed as a hostile and dawn fast on our heels we weren’t breaking focus for a warp damned thing.

That was until we heard gunfire. The crack of a lasgun’s discharge sounds pretty similar to a length of wood being snapped in half. Back in the Schola Progenia we had made use of the similarity to terrify some of our jumpier classmates on occasion. But after going through boot on Terrax and firing a lasgun every day you pick up on the subtle whine that precedes the snap to the point where you can even tell what sort of charge is being fired just by sound alone. When Kaleb held up his fist and brought us down we both knew in seconds that there was a firefight taking place in the woods to the east. Dawn was colouring the night a dour grey but under the forest canopy darkness still prevailed for the moment and every few seconds a stitch of light could be glimpsed streaking through the trees.

“That’s got to be them” I whispered, hoping against hope.

“Could be” conceded Kaleb, “But we aren’t charging in without knowing for sure.” Kaleb put a finger to his micro-bead and adjusted his frequency to the squad channel. “Tredecim” intoned the Lieutenant. We waited with baited breath for agonising seconds whilst shots intermittently fired back and forth in the dark.

“Tredecim Vincent!” Blustered an exhausted but unmistakably relieved Sekunda. All together the phrase meant “thirteen thirteen conquers” in high gothic. The benefits of a Schola Progenia education meant that there wasn’t a storm trooper alive who couldn’t speak a rudimentary amount of the formal language. We couldn’t use it for actual battle cant since the risk of an educated enemy was too high but as an ident code it did a good job of masking our company motto.

“Crow delta. 262” Kaleb voxed before turning to me. “Sounds like there’s at least a platoon after them. We don’t want a fight, execute fall back pattern delta.”

“Acknowledged” I said with a grim smile. There was every possibility that the men hunting us were listening in to our radio transmissions and a smart man could likely guess that the numbers in our battle cant were used for bearings but no platoon officer was going to put that together and no radio officer was going to have time to even let him know a vox transmission had taken place.

I was wearing a stupid grin by the time Sekunda bolted past me with the ice cold sniper, Kuhrt. Kaleb and I were hidden in a patch of undergrowth that overlooked the outskirts of the forest. It wasn’t long before the shapes of hostile guardsmen began to coalesce from the gloom but the first two to actually venture out of the woods met with deadly accurate and suppressed auto fire from Lieutenant Kaleb’s heavy duty side arm. I took the third in the chest and the fourth in the shoulder as he tried to dive back into cover. Four quiet shots with no tracers is all it took to make that platoon gak themselves and hide in the woods instead of rush us. For all they knew the two of us could have been a whole damned company but we didn’t stick around to let them in on our secret. Kaleb signed to me for frags on proximity and we lay a few extra surprises on the road for when those fugs eventually restarted their pursuit. But by the time they had sheepishly stuck their necks out from the trees we had been sprinting for minutes.






The real problem was that there was nowhere left for us to run. The city was an Imperial stronghold with fortified positions all along the northern borders and the eastern forest we were running through was crawling with guard soldiers on the hunt for us. It was a small mercy that the gear we had been equipped with for the mission kept us practically undetectable to auspex sweeps but there wasn’t much we could do if we got pinned down by boots on the ground and we knew it.

“Its damn good to see you, sir and I don’t mean to sound ungrateful but where are we going? What the hell even happened?” Sekunda asked after we had stopped in a patch of bracken to regroup. The sun was up by now and casting its accusatory light on our backs, ushering away the protection of the darkness.

“The whole mission was a trap and Naval Intelligence just sold us down the river to clean up their mistake. They jumped our evac point hoping to knock us all out at once and they came fugging close.” Kaleb spoke quietly as he thumbed more bullets into his pistol mags.

“Nylander and Wesiehofer...” Kuhrt murmured, looking away.

“Its worse than that, Sara - ” Kaleb began.

“I know, sir! They took the others... Tarleton, Krentz... and Briant” Kuhrt spoke the last name softly. “We tried to stop them, sir I swear it but we were separated. We have to go back for them! Wherever they’re being held we have to bust them out!”

“You’re damn right” Sekunda joined in. “Bastards betrayed us after what we went through! Nylander and Wiesehofer are dead!”

“They’re all dead” I cut in and everyone fell silent. Kaleb turned away to focus on his equipment whilst Kuhrt and Sekunda stared at me in disbelief. “They were executed... I... they’re gone.”
I could barely speak the words aloud myself.

“What? No that can’t be. Why would they take them alive just to go and kill them anyway...” said Sekunda.

“It was a public execution” said Kaleb, picking up where I had to stop. “The men we assassinated were loyal and images of our kills were used to incite revolt against the Imperium. Now the Imperium needs to demonstrate that we aren’t working for them so they had themselves a broadcast of their own.”

“Pierre...” Kuhrt whispered and sunk to her knees.

“I know it hurts, Sara” Kaleb spoke as he padded over and laid a hand on Kuhrt’s shoulder. “But we can’t fall apart now. I’m talking to you too, son” Kaleb looked to Sekunda. “If you grip that rifle any tighter its going to snap. Now I need the both of you focused and alert if we’re going to get through this.”

“Get through this?” Sekunda asked. “There isn’t a man on this planet that won’t put a bullet in us or sell us out the moment we turn our backs. The best we can hope for is avenging the team before we’re sent off to join them.”

“You’re not wrong there” I added. “I’m thinking we pin our company colours to Mr Black’s corpse.”

“You got a shuttle hidden in your webbing you weren’t telling us about, Tuplin?” Kaleb snapped. “You leave the plotting and the scheming up to me and we just might get back to our company. When the dust has settled and the weapons are lowered... then you might get a real chance to slit the right throats.”

“Honestly, sir I’m thinking we’re going to need a gakking miracle, fresh from the Golden Throne, to see our company again.” I started, knowing full well I was being petulant but before I could continue to whine a grizzled voice crackled through our vox sets.

“Tredecim.”

A fine new entry I must say, poor sarge though, I kind of liked the guy.

Not much else to add but sorry on the late post and keep it coming.

Thanks for your interest! I'll certainly keep this up.

If you don't mind me asking, did you find the reaction to the deaths of those troopers by the rest of the team to be believable and sympathetic?

Sorry for the delay in reading and commenting the story, I liked it and the feeling of despair where rather fine.

On the team question I think it was somewhat similar to what normal men do when comrades die.

^Agreed.

Thanks guys!

The pleasure is all mine

It's never a chore reading this thread so don't mention it.

10

“You son of a bitch what kept you?” Kaleb replied with the first hint of a smile I’d seen in a long time.

“Well so much for protocol then... its good to hear you’re alive Lieutenant. How many of your troopers made it out with you?” Captain Jarritch’s voice was a welcome sound to hear and the first buds of hope began to twitch in my gut. We kept silent whilst the officers spoke but couldn’t help giving each other wide eyed looks of anticipation.

“I’ve lost too many soldiers today... I can’t say more on the vox. But I do need to know what the fug happened up there and what we’re looking at down here. We’ve been running blind just trying to stay alive but I need intel to patch this gak up.” Said Kaleb.

“Its no easy fix, son...” The sombre tone of Jarritch’s voice sent shivers down my spine. “This trap goes all the way back to your first mission on Narbo. The prisoners you kidnapped gave us the intel for the assassination black op you just completed and those cell leaders were interrogated by sanctioned psykers as well as the usual knife-men. The intel on the traitors was cleared as sound. There’s no lying to a telepath...”

“Like fug was it sound! Have you been asleep for the last few hours?” Kaleb spat.

“Pay attention Lieutenant” Jarritch warned. “You might be in a tight spot but now is not the time for whining at your CO like a gak stained boot. The intel was sound because, as far as the prisoners knew, your targets really were traitors. They didn’t lie to us, somebody lied to them and I’ll stake my commission it was one of those Alpha Legion dogs.”

“The cell leaders were supposed to get captured...” I said aloud without realising it. Kaleb glared at me to keep silent and I chided myself for adding another voice to the vox transmission log. You never know who’s listening.

“We have a winner” Jarritch grimly jested. “The legion bastard running the enemy outfit knew we would jump at the chance to get inside their intelligence network so he offered up a platter of poisoned treats that was too good to refuse. The Alpha Legion painted targets on loyal Imperials by handing us prepared prisoners and then they surveilled our inevitable retribution so they could turn more of the populace against us.” Jarritch finished his explanation with a snort of derision and defeat.

“So Mr Black fugs up and then he orders a kill or capture on my team to try and minimise the damage...” Kaleb was beginning to seethe with anger again.

“That’s the long and the short of it my friend” Jarritch answered after a pause. “I tried to stop him but I don’t have any operational jurisdiction on this one. General Ortum’s backing Naval Intelligence’s damage control...”

“And you can’t very well go and knock him off...” finished Kaleb.

“I’m not saying I can’t... but I won’t” Jarritch returned. “Listen, there’s still a way out of this but its a real longshot.”

“Its either your longshot or a stowaway trip off world and into the life of a mercenary so I’m all ears, sir.” Kaleb said, revealing the extent of our predicament had Jarritch not got in contact.

“You need leverage. You need something that Mr Black and General Ortum want more than your deaths on a pict screen. Lucky for you I’ve been paying attention to this gakstorm so I’ve got just the ticket. The enemy plan all comes back to the first operation where we kidnapped the marks. So the informant who gave us the intel on the cell leaders has to be a traitor. You find him you might actually have someone who really does know a thing or two about the enemy intelligence network. You take him alive and you just might get General Ortum’s attention. Now I know Mr Black and he’ll offer you a pardon then shoot you in the back after he’s got his prize. Oh he’ll tell you he’s sorry about it and he might even mean it but he’ll kill you just the same. You need the General to call off Naval Intelligence and with the right cards you can make it happen.”

“Sounds simple enough” Kaleb grunted. “Who’s the traitor then?”

“Genor Dacker was a low level Naval Intelligence operative under Mr Black’s command; or so we thought. It seems Dacker was a legion plant all along; according to his field reports the intel he gave us was firsthand and precise. You might call that too good to be true but it seems NI had their noses out in the cold for too long. They jumped at it and you’re paying the price.” Said Jarritch

“That’s not an entirely new experience, sir.” Said Kaleb.

“Indeed,” Jarritch snorted. “But finding Dacker will be. His last transmission came from Narbo Primus but he’s no doubt made his way North by now to shelter with the enemy. He might just have been a field grunt but NI agents are slippery fugs and Dacker will have figured that his cover would get blown by this op.”

“You got anything else for us to go on, sir?” Asked Kaleb.

“I had to go through some very unsavoury channels to get you that much, son. You’ve got to get through the city and look for the easiest way to pass through our lines. Dacker’s got a head start on you but he’s no soldier; he’ll make for the safest road north and that means the thinnest Imperial stretch of defences north of the city. By my count that’s the Mordian regiment stretched to breaking point on the Jocasta ridge. The city’s had its hands full with insurgents and its only going to get worse now so you best take advantage of that fact and get your arses in gear.”

“Thank you, sir. We’ll get it done.” Kaleb said.

“When you’ve got the traitor, make contact. Until then you won’t hear from me... Fug, if anyone is listening to this you won’t hear from me anyway. You bring those troopers home, son... Over and out.” Jarritch clicked off and we stood in silence for a moment. I had somehow expected jarritch to find out we were in trouble, send a simple vox transmission to clear up the misunderstanding and bring us all home in a shuttle. It really does take a while to let the magnitude of hard-nosed Imperial retribution sink in.





“You heard him,” Kaleb started. “We’re heading through the city for the Jocasta ridge and every second we waste gives Dacker a chance to slip further into the enemy’s reach. Ditch your weapons, your gear, anything military. Broad daylight in a packed city is no place for the likes of us so we’re going to have to pass for civilians. When we hit the Mordian line we’ll procure on site as per Vermillion SOP. Any questions?”

“I’ve got one” ventured Sekunda. “Where are we going to get civvies?”

“There’s a farmhouse on the other side of these woods. We can take what we need from them and head into the city disguised as farmers selling our winter stockpile.” Kaleb replied.

“And what do we do if the farmer and his family are eating breakfast when we arrive?” I asked.

“We’ll figure something out, son.” Kaleb gave me a look of reassurance as he replied. “If we go murdering civilians just to cover our tracks we’ll end up deserving the bounty that’s on our heads... there’ll be plenty of killing when we reach the enemy lines. So let’s just keep it clean for now.”

That put my mind at ease some. We were still fugitives being hunted through a warzone but I didn’t want to have to add child murderer to my list of accomplishments. It occurred to me that Kaleb’s sudden bout of pacifism might have had something to do with the fact that now we could actually see a glimmer of light at the end of our tunnel. That was an undeniable relief but it brought up a few questions about what dark methods we would have ended up resorting to if we hadn’t been handed a lifeline by Captain Jarritch. We’re killers. I accept that. But I’m not a man that relishes answering the question of how far I’ll go to get the job done. Nor do I relish contemplating how far I’ve been...

Kaleb moved us out after we had buried the offending items of gear that marked us as soldiers. We kept our knives and fatigues but that was about it. I didn’t mind too much; as a storm trooper you’re taught not to get too attached to weapons. They don’t sit you down and tell you not to cozy up to your rifle and give it a name. The thing is that you never really spend too much time with any one tool to think of it as a possession in any kind of way. You head to the armoury before an exercise and you check out one of the lasguns, you check it back in after the exercise is over. You might even repeat the same fire drill tomorrow but you’ll check out a different rifle every time. The next day is pistol training, then its demolitions, then its driving courses or amphibious assault exercises. The way we train you never get to keep anything so you never worry about handing it back.

When you deploy its a little different. The Storm Trooper billet where we had spent our downtime during warp transit was littered with various souvenir weaponry. Kuhrt’s bunk had a semi-automatic handgun with, Helsreach industries: Armageddon stamped on its slide, strapped to the underside of the mattress. I once saw Tarleton twirling around a huge jagged axe whilst he watched Briant and Wallinga play cards. I didn’t know it then but he’d taken that fugging massive blade from the cold dead hands of a greenskin. After a little while you get to know how to keep these things hidden on a ship and since Storm Troopers are given a wide berth by pretty much everyone we tend to amass bigger collections of illicit weaponry than anyone else. There was one thing I had noticed though. Only Sekunda and myself were carrying bayonets back then. Every other Storm Trooper had an individual combat knife strapped about their person that I was nigh certain had been hand-forged. As fresh meat we learned pretty quickly that the more ritualistic something seems the fewer questions you should ask about it so we kept our mouths shut and hoped someone would tell us when the time was right. The only problem with that plan was that the people who knew the answers to the knife question were rapidly getting killed.






We weren’t too far from the farmhouse so I didn’t have a chance to bring the issue up before we began to approach the edge of the tree line. There was a truck parked out front which was something of a mixed blessing for us. On the one hand that meant there was a vehicle we could use to ride into town with but it also suggested that the owner was at home.

“Are we just going to try and steal it?” I asked, nervously.

“We need clothes first” Kaleb replied. “And this damned winter means no one’s drying their laundry outside. Fug. We’re going to have to go in. I don’t want any killing but there’s no way were going to be able to sneak in and out of a house that small without running into someone.”

“So we barge in and ask nicely for their clothes and their vehicle?” asked Sekunda.

“And some produce to sell” added Kuhrt.

“Seems about right” Kaleb began. “We’ll take one of them hostage so nobody alerts the authorities and when we get where we’re going we can send the prisoner back with their truck... Its risky but the best bet short of killing them all.” Kaleb nodded to himself and took a breath. “Ok, troopers knives up and on the double!” He declared before bounding towards the back door of the house in a low crouching run. We caught up to him at the porch and the four of us kicked the rickety door right out of its frame. I was the first into the house, checking the rooms with my knife at the ready but seeing nothing but bookshelves and wardrobes until we rounded the first corner and rampaged into the kitchen. Waiting for us was a solitary old man in his underwear, sitting at his table with a mug of recaff steaming away and a spoon full of nutrient soup halfway to his mouth. Not knowing how to react he simply froze in place as Kaleb paced over to him and we checked the last rooms of his home.

“All clear” I called after we met back at the kitchen.

“You all alone, sir?” Kaleb asked the old man as we walked back over.

“All alone” he replied, almost in a daze with his spoon still raised in the air.

“There are multiple bedrooms here” Kuhrt said.

“Where’s the rest of your family, sir” Kaleb asked with a measurably calmer tone than I was used to.

“I’m all alone...” The man repeated and his eyes sank along with the spoon he was holding. I looked around and found an image stuck to the man’s refrigeration unit. A father and two sons, working in the fields.

“You have two children?” I asked as I handed him the image.

“My boys... My boys went off to fight... with men like you. Who are you?”

“We’re soldiers, sir. Like your boys” Kaleb replied. “And we need your help today. We’re not here to hurt you we just need to borrow some clothes and use your truck.”

“You kicked in my door and now you want to take my livelihood.” Snapped the man, clearly coming back to his senses.

“I apologise for that but we’ll leave the truck for you in town. Kuhrt, Sekunda. Repair that door!”

“You soldiers are all liars. They told me my boys would come back heroes but I haven’t heard from them in years. I can’t run this farm without them... without my Elle... You’ve taken so much from me already and now you’re here for the rest... Just kill me and be done with it. Its either that or I wait for the cold to come for me anyway.”

Kaleb sighed quietly and put his knife away. This was a side of war that I had never thought I’d see and it made me uncomfortable. I tried to look away to take my mind off the man’s pain but the dilapidation of his home didn’t offer any respite.

“I’m sorry about your troubles, old man” Kaleb said as he reached into his trouser pocket. “If you can find somewhere to sell this it ought to get you enough to retire with. Take it for the door, some clothes and the loan of your truck. We’ll leave it near the Jocasta ridge and tape the keys under the front right wheel arch.” Kaleb finished and set his personal auspex device down on the kitchen table; crafty fugger had kept his one.

“Just take what you want and leave. Leave me alone... all alone.” The old man looked over the deactivated auspex, trying to assess what made it so valuable and waved us away with his other hand.

“You heard him. Get what we need and assemble in the truck.” Said Kaleb.

We bustled our way through the vacated rooms until we came across what must have been his sons’ wardrobe and set to exchanging our camouflaged fatigues for the dusty leathers and dungarees of farm hands. We kept our boots though; quality footwear is a throne assured rarity on most Imperial warzones and its twice as useful. It didn't take us long to swap out our gear but we were still waiting on Kuhrt in the next room and nobody liked giving the LT any excuses. I put an ear up to the door but I couldn't hear much other than some muffled gibberish but from the tone it didn't seem as though Kuhrt was too happy.

"Just open the door and see whats taking her so long" Sekunda said when he poked his head out of the sons' room. I didn't reply; all I could muster was a look of skeptical apprehension. "Oh fine then you big juve." Sek pushed me out of the way and managed to get the door halfway open before Kuhrt was bearing down on us.

"The fug do you think your doing?!" She snapped before slamming the door back on us.

"Its a good thing you were here to take charge of the situation" I laughed as Sekunda turned to face me, eyebrows raised. "What the fug was she wearing anyways?"

"No idea, mate. Looked like she was trying to turn some kind of dress into a floral version of combat fatigues... What's her problem anyway? We've all seen each other naked a hundred times" Sekunda asked.

"Well yeah but that's just when we have to. You don't walk around the barracks starkers do you?" I pointed out.

"Wallinga does."

"Fair point" I conceded. "EIther way lets just go wait by the truck."

We took a moment to compose ourselves and hid our knives under our jackets before we stepped out to see Kaleb putting on a leather duster and heading for the door.

“Much appreciated, sir. Lets go boys.” Kaleb called as he headed out into the cold, patchy sunshine. We followed him out and walked up to the Truck’s cab but Kaleb turned around and stopped us. Sekunda you’re riding up front with me and Kuhrt, Tuplin you get in the back and mind our cargo. We need a cover story so you two are my sons understood?”

“Yes, sir” we chorused.

“Maybe stick with ‘Pa’ for now, lads. Oh and Sekunda you can say hello to your new wife and pass the plan along to her whilst we’re driving alright?” Kaleb smiled.

I busted a grin as I watched Sek’s face turn red with embarrassment then white with fear as he saw Sara Kuhrt the professional killer emerge from the farmhouse in her new garb. It seemed that nothing the old man had kept of his wife's clothing was small enough to stay on Kuhrt's wiry frame so she had been forced to turn a long flower dress into a makeshift jumpsuit by strategically ripping and re-tying the fabric.

"Not a word" she barked as she stomped past us and into the truck's cab, grabbing the jacket that was lying on the seats.

I laughed as I hopped up into the back and sat down amongst the cold produce. Whatever that farmer was growing was hardy as ceramite to be sprouting in this winter but I doubt its survivability matched its taste. Either way I kept my smile as I pictured the road ahead.


We had the scent of blood.

Oh how a true band of devils your characters are evolving into. I like that. Well done

Thanks!

It seems a bit out the frying pan and into the fire for our band of hero's. Hunted, tired, and virtually alone, do they have the grit to survive I wonder? Only time will tell. May the Emperor guide them in their quest.

You're right about that! But we ought to see a few patches of sunshine in the next section when I finally get it done!

As always, thanks for reading and commenting. It really means a lot to me

Great progression, can't wait for them all to be done so I can sit with a glass of amasec and enjoy it in one go!

We need more of this divine goodness! Dont keep us waiting!

Ha! Thanks guys! Funnily enough I was planning on getting the next section started today.

Shouldn't be too long to wait

11

The morning sun kept climbing as our truck rattled its way through cratered country lanes with tree branches whipping at the windshield and making me jump. The loud snap was far too similar to the discharge of a lasgun for my liking and, despite being tossed around with the cargo in the back, I was glad the others couldn’t see me flinching. It had only been a couple of hours since the mission went south and I was only just regaining my composure. All sorts of obvious questions started to come back to me. Food, shelter and weapons at first; survival training never leaves you. But then I remembered something Sekunda had said and a wave of panicked shame overcame me. I rapped on the partition that separated me from the drivers cab until a slat was pulled to the side and Kuhrt’s face greeted me.

“Kuhrt, LT” I paused for a second to scratch at the stubble that was forming on my chin. “Where the fug is Wallinga?!”

Kuhrt just smirked and looked over to Kaleb. “Don’t you worry about Wallinga, son” Kaleb laughed as he drove, his eyes remaining firmly on the road. “If they couldn’t catch him when his guard was down they don’t have a prayer now he knows he’s being hunted. I don’t know how far off from the rendezvous point he was when Naval Intelligence hit us which means we’re going to have just as hard a time finding him as Mr Black is. So we’ll go and get the job done and he can have himself a rest until we get the all clear from the captain.”

“Yeah,” Kuhrt chimed in. “He’s the lucky one in all of this. You just stay focused on yourself; sooner or later Wallinga always turns up.”

“If you say so” I replied. It felt odd to just assume that Wallinga was fine but the confidence in Kaleb’s tone told me that this wasn’t the first time he’d lost contact with that murderous shadow of a man. Wallinga cut a keen, dark profile in my mind and the image of him sharpening his soot-black combat knife with a genuine tenderness would have sent chills down my spine if the shaggy haired killer hadn’t been so damn congenial to me. For all his field craft and apparent enjoyment for the bloodier elements of our duty it didn’t seem to stop Wallinga from laughing as hard as the rest of the team at Krentz' jokes or sharing a smoke here and there. Truth be told I was a little ashamed that I hadn’t thought of his safety sooner but there was an odd sort of feeling that he would be fine even before the LT had said anything.

In the end it didn’t really matter because Kaleb was right, we’d never be able to find him quickly enough to catch up with Dacker and there was precious little I wanted more than a chance to pay him back for the comrades he had taken from us. Thoughts of vengeance were building up a pool of rage inside my chest that was slowly overpowering the shock and fear of the situation and the more I visualised the righteous punishment that we would be delivering the more confident I became that we could get it done. Dacker was going to suffer.

After a while the country lanes we had been bouncing around evened out into properly paved roads and we started to glimpse a little traffic here and there. Lucky for us it seemed like there were a fair few farmers selling their produce in the town so at least we wouldn’t stick out if we kept our story straight. The wagons of vegetables were a welcome sight but for every civilian vehicle there was a truck load of soldiers being ferried about and this only got worse as we drove closer to the city. It wasn’t long before the traffic started to pile up and that meant only one thing. Checkpoints.

“Alright lets all just stay calm and act like this is just another normal day” said Kaleb. We pulled in behind the car that was currently being inspected and watched the soldiers check the vehicle over. They were a Kolstec regiment I think; this far from the front lines my knowledge of Imperial Guard dispositions started to get a little hazy and they were too far away to make out any insignia. Wherever they were from they clearly weren’t in any hurry to win medals. Their rifles were slung, they were spread out with no thought to their fields of fire and best of all they didn’t seem to be looking too closely at their targets.

This was all great news for us but even so this hiding in plain sight lark wasn’t something we had been trained for and that’s an uncomfortable feeling for a soldier. I was pretty sure Kaleb was going to end up doing most of the talking and that suited me down to the bone. I’m sure Naval Intelligence operatives get taught all sorts of accent mimicry and rapport building techniques to get them through questioning but the only things I really knew how to do were hide in the dark and kill you when you weren’t looking.

“Alright, Showtime” Kaleb mumbled before we drove up to the checkpoint and wound the windows down.

“Mornin’ sir. What’s your business in town today?” The bored looking guardsman said whilst absent mindedly tapping away on a dataslate. His lasgun was slung down and being used as his armrest. Sloppy...

“Selling my Turkha at the Jocasta market” Kaleb replied quietly.

“Hmm, ok. Who’s travelling with you?” The guardsman gestured his slate at us.

“My son and his wife” Kaleb said and Sekunda held up Kuhrt’s hand in his with a deranged smile that I was sure was going to get us killed. “And in the back is my youngest.” Kaleb jerked a thumb in my direction cueing me to poke my face up to the tiny window and proffer a stupid grin of my own.

“... right” the Guardsman said and mumbled something undoubtedly insulting to the country dwelling folk of Narbo to his squad mates. “Well lets see your ident papers then and Serko over here is just going to check the back.”

There were two raps on the back door to the truck and I moved over to open the door for the next bored guardsman. He nodded to me as I stepped out then poked his head inside for a few seconds to make sure our cargo wasn’t lethal. I couldn’t hear what Kaleb was saying but I was damn sure hoping it was good since none of us had anything remotely resembling a valid identity on this planet.

“Are you Gakking me...” the first guardsman said with more frustration than anger and my instinct to reach for the knife strapped to the back of my belt subsided slightly. “That’s the fifth one in a row, Serko. Why are we getting orders to check for ident papers if none of these hicks fugging have them.”

“Throne, I don’t know man. There’s more of em without than with. They ain’t carrying nothing dangerous just send em in with the rest and let the clerks worry about it.”
It was a struggle not to breathe a sigh of relief at Serko’s glorious incompetence and I just about managed a simple smile before I hopped back in the truck and shut the doors. I could hear the first guardsman sighing with the inevitability of a man doing a bad job because he doesn’t care about it and I kept myself out of sight so I could grin.

“Well go on then, sir but just you make sure to pick up your papers whilst you’re in town today or next time you won’t be able to get through.”

“Appreciate it, mister” Kaleb replied and went to start up the van.

“Hold on there, pal” the guardsman warned and I froze with anticipation. “You’re not from these parts now are you? I know that accent.”

“My father, he was a Cadian; Mustered out here. I guess I picked up his way of talking.” Said Kaleb whilst I prayed the explanation would land.

“Ah that’s it!” The guardsman exclaimed. “I don’t forget an accent... Hell I should have known by your eyes. Didn’t figure you for a military brat but I guess we can’t all be soldiers eh?”

“I suppose you’re right” Kaleb replied.

“On your way then, sir. And don’t forget your papers!”

We pulled away from the checkpoint and drove for about a minute in silence before Sekunda and I burst out with laughter. I had managed to sweat through my shirt and by the sounds of it Sekunda had done the same to Kuhrt’s hand; a hand she took no time to smear back onto Sekunda’s jacket.

“Laugh it up you idiots, get it out of your system” Kaleb interrupted. “The Jocasta checkpoint is run by Mordians; they live and die for paperwork so you better start working on how we’re going to talk our way through.”

That shut us up.




But I couldn’t think of anything that would explain our lack of papers and throne knows Mordians won’t even take a gak without the right authorisation. I peered through the window slat to get a look at the town but it was mostly grey brick with the occasional bombed out building blocking the usual concourse. There weren’t many people out on the streets and I suppose that made sense; why risk leaving shelter if you didn’t absolutely have to. Sure, Narbo Primus was a fair distance off the front lines and the intervening guard regiments had AA emplacements set up but their position was stretched at several points and from what we’d heard the Navy fighters were having a tough time holding onto their air superiority. Apparently there was a renegade fleet operating within reach of the system and Narbo would periodically lose swathes of its air protection whenever the Navy cruisers were required on a patrol.

As far as we knew the Lord Dubois was still on station so the commotion of an air raid was unlikely to give us the opportunity to get through the town undetected. You catch yourself sometimes, when you’re hoping to get caught in an airstrike, and wonder what it would be like to serve as an Administratum clerk filling out quota reports and deciding which colour ink to use...

A rapping on the truck cab’s partition brought me out of my daydream and back to the task at hand.

“Checkpoints up ahead, Tuplin” called Sekunda. “10 guardsmen, emplaced heavy bolter covering the approach and barricades on all the roads except the way through. Aren’t you glad we held onto our knives?” In that moment, with my hand on the blade’s hilt to calm my nerves, I truly was. A good knife can solve most of your problems; you just have to figure out where to apply it.

“We’re pulling over” Kaleb grunted as he shunted the truck onto the curb. “We kill them and NI finds out within the hour and then we’re dead. We try to run the blockade and if we survive NI finds out and we’re dead. We could masquerade as guardsmen but when the squad we jump doesn’t report in NI will find out and then we’re dead. We need a distraction that can’t be traced back to us.”

“LT...” I ventured, nervous about what I was thinking. “What if we caused a civil disturbance. Forced the Checkpoint off their position and snuck past in the confusion.”

“You’re talking about treason!” Sekunda exclaimed.

“He’s talking sense” Kaleb snapped and Sek dropped his glare. “The legion put us in this mess by trying to start a revolution. We may as well make the most of it; a little riot might be just what we need.”




Half an hour later Kaleb and I were walking into the city sector’s marketplace behind Kuhrt and Sekunda. Sek and Kuhrt hadn’t been caught by the Alpha Legion surveillance due to the sniper’s predilection for long ranged kills so they would be taking the lead on this scheme. Kaleb and I had donned enough foul weather gear to hide our faces and hope for the best. At first I thought it was strange that there wasn’t an obvious manhunt underway for us but Kuhrt pointed out that the last thing NI wanted was for Narbo to think that the Imperium hadn’t had its full revenge. Years later I began to appreciate what Kuhrt was talking about; nobody tells you about half of the horrors that are running around out there until they’re right on top of you. Naval Intelligence would notify the nearest Guard assets of hostile agents the moment they pinpointed us but until that moment they’d never even hint that there was a problem. That suited us fine.

As we walked towards the sector square we noted the scattered guardsman on every other street corner but not nearly enough to throw a wrench in the works since the frontlines were so stretched. These troopers were Kolstec, probably the same regiment as the squad from the first checkpoint and every bit as disinterested in their job.

Putting soldiers on peace keeping duty is a bad idea. Sure they’re intimidating but soldiers are trained to fight; keeping the peace is almost the opposite of what we’re bred for. The tools and skills needed to assuage an angry civilian or moderate a dispute are an entirely different set to those that a Guardsman is given and trying to get one to do an Arbites’ job is just asking for trouble. But when the manpower runs dry every governor’s first and usually only bet is to put a man with a gun out in public and hope that scares the civvies into shutting up.

By the looks of things the Kolstec guardsman seemed to have the populace keeping their heads down but it didn’t take too long to start overhearing the grumbles and resentment of frustrated civilians ready to vent their anger on something.

“This was Krentz’ line of work” Kuhrt mumbled as she pushed her way past a couple of scrap metal traders.

“That boy could have been a commissar” Kaleb added.

“Fug Commissars” I spat. “Krentz was no executioner.”

“Damn right” Said Sekunda.

“Every man has his job” Kaleb grunted and we turned to him in surprise. “Understand me, boys. That black-heart Commissar ended the life of my oldest friend. My gut wants him dead as much as you but the reason that the executioner pulled the trigger is because the Alpha Legion orchestrated a situation where that would have to happen.”

“Lt’s right” said Kuhrt. “The man who’s going to pay is Dacker.”

“Course I’m right, lass. But stop calling me Lt” Kaleb replied.



By the time we had finished squabbling we were just nearing the central market stands where a couple of surly Kolstec boys casually sized us up. Kuhrt didn’t waste any time and marched straight towards the guardsman with an expression of outrage whilst the rest of us hung back and kept watch.

“You louts call yourselves guardsmen!? What were you guarding last night whilst our people were being butchered?” Kuhrt had got herself right in the faces of the two young soldiers and was screaming at them loud enough to start drawing a crowd. Kaleb and I started to help things along by yelling cries of agreement and spreading the disturbance further.

“Stand down, mam” one Kolstec barked as he unslung his rifle. “You need to back away right now.”

“Or you’ll murder me too?” Kuhrt wailed, every inch the ignorant and disgruntled civilian. “That’s right you curs, either you’re too incompetent to protect us or the broadcasts were right and you’re the ones butchering us!”

That set them off. The second guardsman unslung his rifle at the same moment that the first swung the butt of his lasgun into Kuhrt’s stomach. The fool telegraphed his attack so blatantly that I was sure it hurt Kuhrt more to actually have to take the hit than the physical pain itself. Either way she hammed up the drama and fell to her knees coughing whilst Sekunda ran over to her.

“That’s my wife you monster!” He pleaded with a surprisingly convincing outburst of emotion. I had been contenting myself with yelling affirmatives and shaking my fist but those two were actually whipping the crowd into something resembling a mob. As the citizens of Narbo Primus began to close in on the commotion the guardsmen did exactly what an Arbites wouldn’t and started pointing their rifles at the approaching citizens. By now the two Kolstec boys were cut off from the rest of their squad mates and this only aggravated the situation as the other scattered guardsmen began to panic.

This was our cue to melt away and let human nature run its course. Kaleb and I grabbed Sek and Kurht as the crowd surged around us and together we pulled back out of the throng and towards the edge of the market. We hadn’t got far before the first shot rang out and the mob began to explode with panic and fury. By the time we had reached our truck there were soldiers sprinting towards the disturbance, including Mordians. It was a tough call risking the lives of civilians and guardsmen alike but the further we sank into desperation the more I realised that being a Storm Trooper meant serving in situations that require grim deeds and a cold heart. I don’t know how many casualties were recorded as a result of that riot but when the remaining Mordian frantically waved us through the checkpoint I only felt relief.



Guilt, much like courage, comes after you need it.

Another fine chapter Rez, keep up the good work.

Thanks man!

Oh very well done, noting like a bit of stirring up the local folks to help in ones escape to safety

Cheers buddy!

And for some shameless self promotion! Read my own work

Shameless, utterly shameless. Asking him to read Ashild when he knows he should be reading about my Panthers instead (read it! read it now!). I would never do such a thing.

Sorry guys, I do feel bad for not being able to get around to your work lately.

I'll get on the case!

Don't worry about it rez, get to them in your own time. I'd much rather you keep churning out the goodness then read mine tbh. I recommend Trondheim's stories though.

Wow certainly alot of reading material here, pretty jealous of your productivity. The strongest part of this for me is the large amount of character in the protagonist, i find i have a good sense of him as a real human being.

I have read up to and including part 6.

I do struggle on the whole with both first person and highly technical military fiction, so i perhaps didn't enjoy the story as much as i might.

However the one problem i found with the writing was the sometimes overly long sentences. IIRC first person writing should rely on shorter kinda 'stream of consciousness' sentences. (For posterity i might add that Stream of Con. writing often doesn't have any punctuation whatsoever (including apostrophes lol) but if you read a piece you'd see that technically it's loads of short sentences, for (extreme) examples see Ullyses or certain passages of 'Gormenghast'.

A good example of what i really mean would be Chuck Palahnuik's 'Fight Club' or Irvine Welsh's 'Trainspotting'). Loads of short sentences and few commas.

Of course sometimes they are necessary, sometimes a large amount of information needs to be delivered quickly.

This weakness is most obvious in the very first entry. I didn't feel as engaged as maybe i should, i felt a little lost. The action writing was at it's best for me during the passage when they are trying to get through the fence if that's any help.

Overall i thought part 3, the first briefing, was the finest writing here. The dialogue was excellent and got me far more engaged in the military fiction. Infact both the briefing scenes are very good.

Thanks so much for taking the time to do this. That's a lot of really useful criticism i'll be sure to take on board as I go forward.

Cheers again!

When do we get more of this goodness?

I shall begin the next chapter today so it won't be too long my friend.

12

Jocasta was a dump. In truth the whole city was a dump and probably had been since before the war but Jocasta had really taken a pasting and it showed. We left the truck near the so called market which consisted of a vegetable stand and a juve pushing a trolley full of pornography. This sector was mostly populated with rear echelon guardsmen so no prizes for guessing which business was raking in the thrones.

The winter snows had been turned to grey slush by the urban heat and relentless trafficking of soldiers on broken roads. My Boots kept the damp out but I couldn’t help looking at the filthy sludge as a corrupted version of the white powder we had landed on in the far north. The snow, it seemed, was whiter on the enemy side.

Not that the northern countryside held any particularly fond memories for me. But it was where we were headed and excepting the thought of cracking Dacker’s jaw bones I needed something to look forward to. Vengeance was only a cold comfort since there was no certainty we would catch up with him and even less certainty we would actually be able to take him alive.

In order to achieve anything we would need weapons and supplies. Our disguise had gotten us to the rear of the Mordian defensive perimeter but they wouldn’t be letting civilians stroll into no man’s land so it was time to drop the act.

“There’s a supply dump two blocks from here” Kaleb mused as we trudged away from the market. “We ought to be through the Guard lines before the hour’s out so we can afford to break in the old fashioned way.”

“You think we’ve got the numbers for that, LT?” Sekunda asked.

“Rear Echelon personnel are first reserves in a civil disturbance, kid” Kuhrt replied with the hint of a sneer.

“Kid? And how many missions have you run?” Sekunda pouted.

“Enough...” Kaleb grunted. “Kid.”

That was that. There was no hiding the fact that Sek and I were growing into our roles as Storm Troopers but the loss of half the team kept anyone from enjoying it. We walked the rest of the way in silence until we hit the Supply dump. As far as we could tell it was just a small and relatively intact storehouse with two Mordians standing to attention outside in their bright blues. Our little riot had practically cleaned the rest of the streets of troops so it wasn’t too much trouble to take two guardsmen down quietly. If we had had the time we might have attempted to sneak into the building via the roof but the angry mob we had summoned wouldn’t rage forever and every minute that went by saw Dacker track closer to safety.

“Nothing fancy this time troopers. Straight up the middle and follow my lead.” Kaleb started off down the road and didn’t even look back to see if we were following him. I was half tempted to stay put and just watch him deal with the problem by himself but my legs were moving involuntarily. You find that after a while in the Guard you tend to respond to orders before you’ve even started to think about them. Its unnerving but it gets the boys up and over the trenches...

In the end I barely had to do anything. Kaleb walked right up to the door with a smile and asked the guardsmen for directions to the market. The Mordians glanced at each other for a second and before they could look back at us Kaleb had landed a fist in each of their throats. Not enough to crush the windpipe completely but it knocked them senseless long enough for us to secure their trigger arms and find something hefty on their webbing. They were out cold quick enough and now we had two lasguns and a front door key.

“Probably looking at a quarter master with one or two assistants, might have side arms so don’t take any chances but we’ll try and take them alive if we can.” Kaleb took point on the door and we stacked up behind him. He unlocked the door with one hand and led us in rifle first with the other. His duster swept up in the draft of the doorway and obscured my vision for what was normally the most vital second but when my line of sight cleared I almost laughed. The place was deserted.

“Things must be worse than I thought out here” said Kaleb. “Clear the rest of the rooms, I’ll bring in the two meatbags and stash them somewhere safe.” There weren’t any surprises hiding for us in the tiny storehouse but there wasn’t a great deal of materiel to be had either.

“It’s not exactly a Navy vault, sir” Sekunda quipped. There was a running joke among Storm Troopers on board Imperial Navy vessels that Naval Security must be sitting on a hive lord’s ransom in exotic confiscated weaponry. Several abortive attempts to actually figure out where such a stash might be kept had left me with an unshakable desire to own a needle pistol. It wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that I might be issued one at some point but its not quite the same when you know you have to give it back.

“So you don’t think I’ll be finding my pistol today?” I laughed.

“There’s a box of stubbers in the corner, maybe she’s hiding under one of the revolvers” Sek replied.

“They’ve got fatigues and rifles, that’s enough for me” stated Kuhrt as she grabbed at the stacks of clothes and scooped up a lasrifle.

“That’s enough for all of us” barked Kaleb. “Get yourself into some Kolstec greys and take a lasgun, you ought to be able to pick the rest of your kit yourself by now.”

This would have been something of a treat for Sek and I had the armoury not been so woefully under equipped. Grey fatigues were a sure bet, as were the lasguns. They might not make the most subtle weapons but they get the job done when you pull the trigger. Not having to lug around a case of ammo so you can, at least, move with some speed is a nice bonus. Other than that we were treated to a basic webbing harness, fragmentation grenades and the choice between a stub revolver or a laspistol. It didn’t seem like much of a contest to me; six shots compared to eighty? The stub guns were left to rust for a reason.






We assembled outside the supply dump looking a little more like soldiers and feeling a lot more comfortable. We were only a short distance from the outer perimeter and that meant a return to the shadows. This section of the Mordian line was stretched pretty thin but they still had their eyes open. Technically speaking we were still in disguise. Our uniforms marked us out as Kolstec grenadiers but that wouldn’t do us much good in a Mordian emplacement. The name of the game was sneaking so we stuck to the alleys and picked our way through the smouldering wreckage of fallen tower blocs until we hit the front line.

Approaching the Mordian positions from the rear made it a damn sight easier to spot them, especially since our sensory equipment was buried in a hole in the woods. Their blue uniforms baffled me at first. They looked like they were getting ready for a parade rather than a city fight but their trench system kept them fairly well concealed from the enemy point of view. Still, it didn’t seem too wise to give hostiles any help with spotting you and a blue dress shirt with gold epaulettes just seemed like a ‘shoot me’ sign.

“You think they’d be having so much trouble on this planet if somebody taught them about camouflage?” I murmured. Kuhrt laughed quietly as we overlooked the Mordian trenches from the fourth floor of a bombed out scholam.

“You ever seen a Mordian firing line?” Kaleb asked without taking his eyes off the guardsmen. “Course you haven’t. They don’t fight like us but that doesn’t mean they don’t fight well. They wear that dressy uniform because it instils martial pride and a fear of disgracing the regiment. Believe me, when you’re firing by ranks into a horde of greenskins you’ll need every ounce of courage you have not to take a step back. Pride is simply one of the best shortcuts to bravery.”

“Why do you think so many guard regiments insist on carrying their colours into battle?” Kuhrt added with a wry smile. I nodded and turned back to look over the trench network. It was true I’d never seen a Mordian regiment fight but I was starting to get a feel for how it might look. After a few minutes of mental mapping we crept back from the lip of the rubble and made a small replica of the trench network in the dust and rocks of the floor.

“What do we think?” Kaleb asked and I spoke up first.

“They’ve positioned themselves for maximum firing arcs on their heavy weapons but they’ve left small gaps in their line of sight on their left flank. There’s a sinkhole between their line and that manufactorum. Looks like a tunnel collapse, probably into a sub-level tram system or somesuch.”

“Right, the enemy couldn’t get a platoon into position through there so the Mordians won’t spare men to watch it” said Kaleb.

“We can approach from the south, sir” said Kuhrt. “We’ve got ruins all the way to the edge of the line and they won’t be looking our way.”

“Dacker must have come through here, its perfect” Sekunda growled. We nodded in silence and flicked the safeties off our rifles.

The descent back through the scholam didn’t take long. It was somewhat strange to see what a provincial education looked like. There were still Emperor’s Day catechisms and Aquillas adorning the walls but the preponderance of colour was unnerving. The Schola Progenia was almost entirely gunmetal grey. Steel desks, steel chairs and identical stationery packets were our daily tools but here there were displays of student artwork and smashed cabinets where, presumably, athletic trophies had been exhibited. If it weren’t for the burnt out classrooms and caved in ceilings this place might have seemed friendly. But, hell, at least our scholam was still standing.

Making our way through the ruins was simple enough. No patrols back here and enough cover to avoid the gaze of any Mordians who were pining for the safety of the city centre. Occasionally we would have to sprint, one at a time, between buildings or across road sections that hadn’t been cluttered with debris but the Imperial lines were so undermanned it was hardly a struggle.

The trouble started when we neared the sinkhole. Three Mordians sneaking off for a lho stick wasn’t in our calculations and they were sitting right on our point of entry.

“What the fug happened to the Mordian fetish for rules and regulations!?” I whispered.

“They’re still guardsmen” Sek replied.

“Not for long,” sighed Kaleb. “Ready knives.”

“We’re just going to kill them?!” I found myself asking.

“We can’t let Dacker gain any more ground on us, son; so we can’t wait for them to leave. We can’t risk one of them getting a shot off or calling for help so we can’t use anything less than lethal force. They’re in the way of your mission, trooper.” Kaleb scrutinised me with a stern look whilst Kuhrt and Sekunda slung their rifles and drew their blades. I knew he was right. I knew what had to be done. But my head was swimming as I unclipped my knife from its sheath.

“Kuhrt, you cover our approach from here. Make sure it goes smooth. I’ll take the left one, Sek you’re on the right. Tuplin you take out the centre man.” Kaleb’s gaze lingered on me for a moment and despite what he was asking me to do I still felt a very real sense of shame for raising his concern.

“Begin.” Was the last thing he said before we stalked out of the shadows and towards the three guardsmen. They were sitting on the edge of the sinkhole, sharing a smoke and some laughs. I felt sick. We were silent as the grave on our approach and I could hear the soldiers’ conversation. Something about a secret bottle of booze stashed in their billet. We were on them now, three daggers raised in cold unison, straining to fall.

But I hesitated. Kaleb and Sekunda moved on their marks with one hand over their unsuspecting mouths and a knife driven straight into the neck, severing the jugular. Half a second behind them, I saw my target’s hands reach for his rifle and plunged my blade into his neck. The wretched Mordian managed a gargled cry but it was barely a whisper on the wind. He spasmed in my arms for a moment then went as limp as his friends.

“Good work,” Kaleb grunted. “Throw them in.” The bodies tumbled into the sinkhole with a muffled thud as they hit the floor. As my victim tumbled away from me I noticed my right hand was entirely covered in rich arterial blood. I shook the worst of it off and watched it stain the rocks at my feet without saying a word.

Kuhrt was loping up towards us but stopped when she saw me and took a breath. “You did good” she said. I didn’t reply. I threw up.

“Easy, son” Kaleb intervened. “We didn’t have a choice. But now we have to move or it’ll be for nothing.”

I nodded in silence. There wasn’t anything to say. I hadn’t refused the order or even suggested an alternative. I had been ordered to kill so I killed. Killed a man who had committed no crime; he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. The chill of it was that now I could see Kaleb and Kuhrt looking at me with more respect.

And I began to savour it.

Sneaking about, murder and breaking intoa Mordian armory! Now this was a good read, shamelss praise aside I like how your characthers have develop as of late. Well done

Yes the maintain character is slowly becoming a silent cog in the machine. I'm sure his inner disgust at his actions will ease soon.

Good job.

Yes, hopefuly he will become a silent and mercyless servant of the god Emperor soon! Mercy and pity is for mere civilan rabble!

Thanks guys, i'm glad you're enjoying it!

13

We padded into the wild as quickly as we dared. The snows started to build back up almost as soon as we hit no man’s land but the powder wasn’t slowing us down anywhere near as much as the insufferable daylight. Most ops are over in a matter of hours and we almost always choose to strike during the night so fighting or sneaking around in broad daylight isn’t exactly our SOP. You’d have to search fifty warzones to find a Storm Trooper with a tan and a hundred more to find one who enjoyed the fact.

Still, it was good to get back to field-craft. All that hiding in plain sight made me nervous and having to fight honest guardsmen wasn’t making it any easier. Our quarry now was a stone cold traitor on the run; bringing him to justice was going to be a satisfying experience.

After twenty minutes or so of bounding between the husks of hab blocs the deserted suburbs looked to be giving way to countryside once more. Getting back into the cover of a woodland canopy was a reliving prospect and we began to pick up the pace. But before we could make a dash for the tree line Kaleb signed ‘halt and down’ in the shadow of a crumbling chapel. At first I was confused as to the purpose of our hold up but I knew better than to mouth off. Even Sekunda kept his mouth shut as we tried to figure out what was wrong.
Then we heard it too; a whine on the wind, rising in intensity. The unmistakable screech of a heavy speeder’s engine.

“Into the chapel, secure fire-points and stay out of sight” ordered Kaleb. We didn’t need telling twice and bolted into the derelict shrine as quickly as we could. As it turned out there wasn’t much point in keeping our heads down. From the way the speeders circled our building and set up their holding pattern it was pretty obvious they already knew where we were. It was about now that I truly started to lament the abandonment of our jamming gear.

“This isn’t good” I breathed.

“No gak, Gideon” replied Sekunda as he flicked his fire selector to ‘auto’.

“Stay sharp and gather intel” whispered Kaleb over the vox. “We only have seconds before they make their move so lets figure out who they are so we can predict what it’ll be.”
I was posted up by the shrine’s altar, under the wings of the hand carved, wooden Aquilla’s wings and near enough to a shattered window to catch a glimpse of our assailants.

“Two Black shuttles. Transports for near ten to fifteen men each. No markings, no weapon mounts.” I quietly relayed what little I could tell every time one of the speeders flew past by my view point. It wasn’t much but it seemed enough for Kaleb.

“Sounds like Naval Security. These must be Black’s attack dogs come to bring us in nice and quietly. I don’t think we’ll let them.”

“Near twenty of them out there, sir and this isn’t exactly a bastion” pointed out Kuhrt.

“They’re dismounting” added Sekunda.

I wanted to believe that the gunmen outside were used to brutalising unarmed malcontents and entirely unprepared for a real fight. But in my time aboard the Lord Dubois Staff Sergeant Tarleton had made sure us FNG’s were aware that the security forces dressed in black were to be respected. The average Naval Security trooper might well spend the majority of his career breaking up inter regimental fights, a task which is in no way easy itself, but his duties also involved patrolling the ship during warp transit and hunting down anything unsavoury that might turn up in the depths of the ship’s bowels. That’s work for an iron will and sharp reflexes, no mistake about it.

“They’d have bombed the site if they didn’t want us alive. That means they’ll have to come inside so watch your sectors and make them pay for every yard.”

“Yes sir!” We chorused. Naval Security wasn’t exactly the institution that had gotten us into this mess but they were close enough for us to begin to relish the prospect of handing out some pain. On the other hand taking us alive meant that they would have to incapacitate us in some manner and every second that went by as we waited for the assault to begin had me running through the variety of biological weapons they might try to use on us. Normally we’d be well equipped to withstand gas or blinding attacks but our only options now were to grin and bear it or attempt a break out. Now we had gone through chemical endurance training back on Terrax and the idea of remaining combat effective during a gas attack seemed like a myth the instructors were making up. Even if you don’t gak up and make sure to control your breathing your eyes are streaming so much that you can’t see straight and the instant any physicality is required your breathing gets deeper and the chemical agent does a number on your lungs.

It was as I ran through the possible list of incapacitating gases that we heard from our attackers. Not with the snap of shots fired in anger or the dreaded thunk of gas grenades being launched but from a familiar voice on a vox amplifier.

“Storm Troopers of the 1313th, I request parley.”

“What’s a parley?” Asked Sekunda “Is that Navy talk for surrender?”

“Shut up, Sek. I know that voice” I hissed as I turned to regard the lieutenant.

“Its Black” he snarled, shaking his head. “That gak stain’s got some brass ones coming down here in person.”

“Now’s our chance then” snarled Kuhrt. “Just let him pop his head out of cover and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“But what if he wants to reinstate us?” Asked Sekunda.

“That fugger is the reason half our team’s dead. You want to go out there and make friends with him?” Kuhrt replied.

“No one’s going out there” Kaleb cut in. “But we’ll hear what he has to say for himself. In here... if he has the mettle for it.” The lieutenant took a breath as he surveyed our position then slung his rifle and cupped his hands over his mouth. “If you want to talk you can come inside, but don’t be bringing any of your friends with you or things are going to get messy.”

I didn’t much regard our position as one to drive a bargain with but the lieutenant had an uncanny habit of being right all the time. “He won’t go for it” I muttered. “No intelligence officer gets out from behind a desk to talk nice with men he ordered killed. Not when they’re still armed, no way.”

Wind whistled through the cracks of the dilapidated shrine as we waited. The only sound I made was the absent minded click of my fire selector going from ‘semi’ to ‘auto’; one of my least professional habits. Eventually, to our amazement, we spotted a lone figure approaching the building.

“I would request that you hold your fire until I’ve had a chance to speak” Mr Black’s voice sailed through the entrance before he dared to expose himself. “I’m coming in alone and unarmed as requested.”

“You’re safe to speak your piece but I’m not promising anything after you’re done” called Kaleb.

“I can’t ask for anything more than that, Lieutenant” smiled Mr Black as he walked into the chapel with his hands in the air.

“Well don’t expect a salute, Black. Out with it” I snarled, surprising even myself.

“Of course, trooper Tuplin. I expect you’re very much looking forward to pulling that trigger. But I’m here to give you a chance to kill the true enemy. That is unless you’ve developed a taste for murdering Imperials...”

“How’d you find us” Kaleb cut in before I could respond.

“Ditching your tracking gear didn’t make it easy but when an MIA report came in from the most exposed part of the northern lines and there wasn’t a peep of enemy action it was just a matter of locating your heat signatures.”

“And you didn’t lance us because...?” Sekunda asked.

“You’re going after Dacker correct?” Black paused to consider our expressions. “I thought as much. I want him. Alive. And you’re the best assets on the planet to get the job done. Bringing in any of the other 1313th teams would give Dacker too much time to disappear and besides that you’re supposed to be the best.”

“Flattery? Really?” Kuhrt Mocked.

“I’m being frank my dear. You bring Dacker in and you’ll be re-commissioned as Imperial soldiers. Not reinstated mind, we’ll have to find substitutes to die in your place. The Imperium doesn’t make mistakes after all.”

Nothing quite felt right at that moment. We all wanted to blame this navy REP for what had happened to us; that’s Rear Echelon Prick for you civvies and REP’s. But he was also offering us a solid way out and he was doing it whilst our guns were pointed squarely between his eyes.

“I’d say take your time to think it over but we both know that time is a luxury hunting Dacker will not allow.”

After a moment Kaleb shifted his weight and replied. “What can we expect in support.”

“The works, lieutenant. You’ll be given an official Storm Trooper assignment from General Tay himself, under a different company’s colours of course. That means your pick of the equipment we brought and limited support from friendly forces.”

“Limited?” I interjected.

“A flight of Marauders has been preliminarily assigned to your mission but I can’t promise they won’t be re-tasked at a moment’s notice if enemy activity picks up.”

“Yeah, we’ll be going it alone” Sekunda spat.
Kaleb quietly nodded to himself for a moment before he cut in. “Not good enough, Black. I’ve yet to hear a single thing that makes me want to trust you.”

“How about a gift?” The navy spook muttered a string of code words into his suit’s cuff and before we could begin to wonder what he was planning we heard the hiss of a speeder’s cargo hatches deploying. “An unarmed man is bringing over my peace offering Lieutenant, I beseech you not to open fire just yet.”

“Eyes on, troopers” was Kaleb’s only reply.

I half expected some kind of surprise attack and I could tell the rest of the team was just as on edge. After a tense few seconds the hairs on the back of my neck started to prick up as I noticed there were two pairs of footsteps padding towards us.

“Sir, there’s more than one of...” I started.

“Relax trooper” Kaleb cut me off. When I jerked my head nervously to check his order I noticed the old man was smiling.

“What the...” I started to mumble before I turned my head back to the chapel entrance and saw who was standing in the doorway.

“Ave Milites” grinned Wallinga, no doubt attempting to prove some sort of academic superiority over his gaoler by using High Gothic. “You wear these worried faces for me? Not LT, he knew I’d come back to save you no doubt.”

The collection of curses that passed between our team made for an expression of collective relief and, I have to admit, mild disappointment that he had managed to get himself caught. Wallinga was cuffed and a little bruised but largely no worse for wear. He, at least still retained his Storm Trooper’s unmarked fatigues but the bloodstains on his jacket hinted at the difficulty Naval Security must have had in grabbing him alive.

“You see gentlemen and miss; if I wasn’t serious about making amends for this mess I would have killed the lot of you. You must understand that the decisions we made were the only ones open to us at the time. We had to mitigate the damage that was done by the traitor’s broadcast immediately or we would have lost the planet. Now there’s a chance to catch the double agent who started this and bring you troopers home.”

There was an edge of humble contrition to Mr Black’s plea that made it difficult not to believe him. Of course the Naval Security operative was almost certainly trained in rhetoric and manipulating information so that was hardly surprising but the truth was that I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that we could go home.

“Un-cuff Wallinga and we’ll start talking seriously” said Kaleb.

“You sure about this LT?” Kuhrt kept her rifle trained steady on Mr Black.

“Black’s the only one that’s smart enough to want Dacker. If we kill Black there’ll be no one left to bargain with.”

“That’s very astute Lieutenant.” Mr Black nodded as he lowered his hands.

“Go fug yourself, Black” Kaleb cursed and the navy man visibly reeled. “We’ll take the job but don’t think that makes us grateful. You get us back into the regiment and then you get us posted somewhere far enough from your sorry outfit that no one has to worry about another murder case.”

“Splendid” Black bowed. “But for now let’s get professional. I have weapons and gear aboard the speeder so get kitted up. As for intel I’m afraid I don’t have much to go on. Frankly I’m rather interested to hear why you chose to head north from Narbo Primus.”

“The less you know, Black the better I think our chances will be” Kaleb replied. “Just give me a frequency to call in the cavalry when we have the mark and you’ll get what you want.”

“So much for professionalism then. Fine, there’s comms with the rest of the gear so hop to it troopers.”

And with that Mr Black turned his back on us and sauntered out into the snow. We hesitated for a moment, the soldier’s natural instincts to stick to cover overriding our new mission’s prerogatives.

“Its ok, friends” Wallinga chirped as he rubbed his wrists. “They’re not so bad out there. Talk a lot of gak though.”

“You’ve been fraternising whilst we’ve been getting shot at?” Sekunda asked as he climbed out of a makeshift turret.

“I’m good at making friends” Wallinga replied.

“Come on then you juves. Nice and easy but keep your safeties off, eh?” Smirked Kaleb as he led the way out.

We emerged into the cold sunlight to face a platoon of Naval Security troopers in black carapace ringed around the chapel entrance. Their guns weren’t up but it didn’t look like it would take much to get them there. As we paced closer I couldn’t help visualising the barrels of the shot-cannons swinging up and wiping us out but the order never came. Assistance never came either. The surly troopers just stood there, their helms clicking with vox traffic as they watched us unload the crates of equipment Mr Black had procured.

Un-marked and properly camouflaged fatigues, Hotshot rifles, carbines and even a long las. Auspex, vox casters, grenades, optics and det packs. The works. The atmosphere didn’t much lend itself to conversation so we geared up in silence until I heard one of the Nav Sec grunts take his helmet off and call over to us.

“Make sure you get your fill of our gear, glory boys! From the looks of things you’re going to need all the help you can get!” We couldn’t hear his comrades laughing but the chorus of vox clicks told us thereabouts the same thing.

Not one of us replied to the glorified security guard but Kaleb quietly nodded to me. I smiled, relishing the fact that I got to deliver our message whilst the others had to watch. I didn’t say anything on the way over; I just padded towards the un-helmed Navy boy and watched him joke with his comrades as I approached. He was nervous, looking to them for reassurance that he wasn’t standing alone. Right then I didn’t care how many black armoured sociopaths were watching.

“Got something to say big man?” He joked with his arms spread wide and his blue eyes darting to my weapons. “What are you gonna do take us all...”

I landed a punch right on the tip of his nose. I find this to be the most theatrical of facial strikes as the compression of tissue and cartilage creates a considerable amount of blood. The poor fool never saw it coming because he was used to picking on unschooled Imperial Guardsmen and cowering Navy serfs. Oh I’m sure the trooper was handy on a warp patrol but crowd control duty is just idle bullying for those fuggers.

His friends didn’t take well to me flooring their spokesman and I had gun barrels pointed at me before the boy started staining the snow red. But Naval Intelligence doesn’t go through a planetary landing, hauling gear and munitions to the surface to reconcile a rogue asset just to have them shot over a fist fight and we knew it. I didn’t even put my hands up. I just lent down to the groaning trooper and reached into his tactical vest.

“That’s great advice there, chief. We really are going to need the works to get this done so I’m taking this fancy revolver of yours. Awful nice of you to offer it and the whole team really appreciates Naval Security’s assistance.”

There was a great deal of clicking coming from the helms of the Nav Sec grunts with their guns on me as I walked back to my team but nothing came of it. In fact its fair to say that Mr Black probably saved my life out there.

Oh damn! This was a great read, I do say however Mr Black dont strike me as particulary friendly

Cheers Trondeim! We're moving into the endgame.





14

Kuhrt was smiling when I got back. “Nice punch. You know you were only supposed to call him a jerk right?”

“I’m sure he got the message” grunted Kaleb. “But we’re wasting time here. Wallinga get out there and find me a trail.”

“Sir” Wallinga nodded and jogged away towards the northern forest. He was out of visual remarkably quickly but I suppose I should have been used to that by then. It took us a couple more minutes to set our gear before we could head out after him. Kuhrt had extra checks to make on her long las whilst Sek and I still weren’t as quick off the block as the veterans. The Lieutenant had stepped off to pour over dataslates and hololilths with Black. You could tell he didn’t enjoy having to talk to that snake but a Storm Trooper never passes up intelligence.
There was a lot of gear to choose from. A lot. The myth about Naval Security’s secret stash of confiscated weaponry never seemed more plausible than when we started cracking open those munitorum crates and unloading all that firepower. First thing I went for was the rack of Locke pattern boltguns. While they weren’t exactly going to cut an Astartes in half there were few ‘rifle class’ weapons in the Imperium that had such a high damage output potential. Bolt rounds are expensive and of all the weaponry we trained with on Terrax we got the smallest amount of time on the range with the bolt variants. That just made the glorious mess we were able to make of our targets even sweeter and, soldier or civvie, anyone who picks one up knows its a very difficult thing to put down. But Kuhrt wasn’t having any of it.

“Hey Sly,” she barked. “We’re not going out there to take the damned army on single handed. Ditch the bullet magnet and pick your weapons like a real Storm Trooper.”
She was right, of course. Bolts are rocket propelled and the propellant leaves a trail as it burns. They’re also notoriously difficult to silence due to the noise of the round in flight as well as its explosion on impact. This is less of a problem if your aim is on and the round detonates inside your target’s chest but if the proverbial sun is in your eyes and a round flies clear its a damn clear signal to whoever’s listening that there’s a party in progress. Staying out of sight and keeping quiet rules out most Imperial Weaponry bar solid slug throwers. That was all well and good but in that moment , as I shuffled in the snow and toyed with the fire selector, I just didn’t want to give the beauty up.

“If we’re keeping our heads down what do you think that Long Las is going to do when you start lighting up the show?” I attempted.

“This is a precaution,” she jerked her thumb at the rifle slung on her back. “This is for work” she held up a suppressed SMG. “You have to earn the right to take precautions.”
I grunted in disapproval, wondering exactly what it would take to actually prove myself in this outfit or if it was even possible. You could tell Sek was disappointed too since he was halfway over to the crate of bolters when Kuhrt gave me what for. But a battlefield isn’t the place for juve tantrums over toys. So we passed over the bolters and the hotshots and loaded up on the, admittedly high quality, auto guns we had been used to carrying on Narbo.

Kaleb was soon walking over with a data slate in hand. The slate gave us detailed maps of troop movements and force dispositions but the real slice of Terra was the image of Dacker that had been attached to his file.

“I know this man” I found myself mumbling with eyes aghast. “From the Scholam...” Herud Gathis had been a friend and classmate of mine and the sole reason I had volunteered for inquisitorial service. Since I never heard from Gathis after the trials I had always assumed that he had been accepted into the Ordos. Now his dagger thin eyes were staring back at me from a file marked ‘traitor’.

“Small Galaxy eh?” Laughed Wallinga but I didn’t join him. Knowing my own file undoubtedly retained the same stamp on it turned my stomach. It wasn’t a sense of personal betrayal or unease at having to hunt down a former friend, it had been years since we had last spoke and since Progenia classmates almost never get posted to the same location you don’t exactly forge the strongest bonds at the academy. But seeing a former colleague turn traitor, knowing I had been branded with the same mark and for following orders at that! It was a grim revelation that the Imperium did not stand on the rock solid foundations of Truth, righteousness and honour. Our beloved empire was held together with haphazard bureaucracy, ceaseless toil and rivers of blood whilst even our own were ready to turn on us. I knew to survive in darkness we had to become one with the night but it took me until Narbo to realise how tenuous humanity’s grip on the galaxy was.

After taking a moment to collect myself and double check the gear we padded off along Wallinga’s path without a word to the Nav Sec brigade that had been standing watch over us. Emperor knows they didn’t deserve the courtesy and we didn’t have the time. If we could catch Dacker alone in no man’s land our chances wouldn’t look half bad. But if the bastard made it to enemy lines he’d either be dug in tighter than an Armageddon tick or squirreled away by the thrice-damned legion cell network.

Despite the fact that our prospects looked considerably brighter with Naval Intelligence supposedly backing us we didn’t speak. This was contested territory and we were back on a combat operation. A commissar once told me that noise discipline makes some soldiers nervous with a sense of disconnect and solitude. He said that fresh soldiers often need to talk tough in order to be tough and he seemed a smart enough officer to know what he was talking about. But out in the snow-covered wild the silence was as sweet to me as a well placed shot on the range. It was the claustrophobia of crowds and the noise that went with it that got my nerves firing. The regimented life of a Schola Progenia educated soldier doesn’t prepare you for the sorts of organised chaos that civilians seem happy to endure. To a Storm Trooper, the sort of soldier who’s used to carefully planned and strenuously practiced missions, even the chaos of the battlefield has a certain framework of rough rules that can be observed.

You take away that familiar framework and your world starts to get uncomfortable fast. I couldn’t speak for Kuhrt and Kaleb since for all I knew they might have been disavowed hundreds of times. But Sek and I hadn’t been enjoying the rogue agent lifestyle. Now we were so close to Imperial sanction we could taste it and I admit the pressure got me a little jittery.

It was a few minutes before Wallinga returned to us and from the gloom of the white-dusted canopy it almost made it seem as though he appeared out of thin air.

“Got a trail but its cold. No trouble if we move it but he’s got ground on us.” You could tell Wallinga had been running but only from his flushed cheeks.

“Understood. Set the pace Wallinga; 200 metre clearance. We’ve got you on auspex so don’t worry about losing us. Move fast but stay out of sight and vox if there’s trouble.” The LT barely finished speaking before Wallinga darted back north. Kaleb clearly wanted to close the distance but the only way to make sure we didn’t all run head first into an ambush was to get a scout out and ahead of us. It wasn’t exactly glamorous work for Wallinga but the man had good eyes and a talent for staying alive. As much as it troubles the cog boys to admit it we aren’t the only ones that know how to fool an auspex but chances were Wallinga could spot trouble before it spotted him.

Progenia training taught us not to think about our prospects whilst on mission. This was probably for the best as a sober appraisal of our actual objective leaves me wondering what the throne we thought we were doing out there. At the time I believed luck, or the Emperor, was with us for once since we didn’t sprint right into an enemy offensive. I found out later that a major Imperial breakthrough had occurred on the western front although I still don’t feel up to thanking Naval Intelligence for that kind of foresight.
It was a thankfully quiet few minutes until Wallinga called us up to his position on the edge of the enemy lines.

“Trails picked up but we weren’t fast enough, LT.” Whispered Wallinga.

“I noticed. Auspex is clear?” Kaleb replied.

“Crystal. But I don’t like tramping through enemy ground like a carnodon, eh boss?”

“On me” ordered the Lieutenant. “Combat patrol, staggered formation, 25 metre spread until we hit the first outpost then form up on Wallinga. Our target can’t be too far ahead of us now and after he clears the first of his defences he’ll probably slow down.”

This was the closest thing to normality any of us had experienced in over 24 hours. A simple combat patrol through enemy territory had somehow become a welcome comfort and though we were exhausted, paranoid, bruised and technically still heretics; we were finally soldiers again.

We caught wind of the enemy before long. Auspex gave us a pretty clear heads up which was damned fortunate since the trees had been getting thicker the further north we got and that tanked physical visibility. But as happy as we were to have avoided strolling into a killbox the fact that we hit the enemy before we reached Dacker was brutal news. The traitor had returned to his masters and that meant prowling into the lion’s den after him. After all, turning back empty handed was a death sentence.

Kaleb didn’t need to tell us this simple truth. None of us needed convincing. All we wanted to know was our approach and our rules of engagement. Fortunately this was something the LT was happy to provide for us. The auspex gave us around 300 metres warning of a hostile position and the clustered nature of the enemy life signs suggested they had occupied a building. This was, in theory, a rare breed of good news. A building suggested the slim possibility that Dacker might be sheltering inside but it also takes 15 men and disperses them with lines of sight that don’t entirely overlap. If they had been strung out in an entrenched line, like the Valhallans back in Imperial territory, we would have to have figured out a much more complicated head on approach or wasted time finding a way around. Of course all of this depended on the physical layout of the building but I have a habit of savouring the optimistic possibilities in dire situations. I’ve been told its what keeps me alive.

We sneaked the next few hundred metres until we could get our eyes on the enemy position. Normally we would want to avoid notice and bypass the hostiles in order to keep their alert status low. But with the possibility that Dacker was still here and the certainty that he had passed through we had to clear the building and take steps to find out where the bastard had run to.

“Looks like militia, can’t see much PDF equipment on them.” Sekunda remarked as he studied the idle guards posted at the main entrance. The building looked to be some form of hunting lodge or holiday cabin. Just a simple two-storey, wood built structure with a road leading towards the nearby lake. It hadn’t been marked on our map but the lodge was hardly worthy of an Imperial ordinance survey update. This close the auspex had given us decent coverage of the enemy positions inside the building and the haphazard scattering of personnel told us that either these rebels weren’t expecting company or they were too stupid to realise that’s what they were supposed to be doing.

This was as close to good news as the LT thought we were going to get and he didn’t waste any time forming us up for an assault. It was a simple strategy; suppressed weapons down the perimeter guards before we sweep and clear the building from the inside. The lack of discipline our new targets were displaying meant that the countdown to discovery after the first hostile got dropped would be considerably longer. No radio checks or roving patrols as far as we could tell; just tired men and women who had likely been promised something along the lines of an end to tyranny.

Kaleb and Kuhrt took the guards on the door. Two clean headshots from 100 metres. Nothing any Progenia graduate couldn’t manage but satisfying nonetheless. Before their bodies hit the ground we were up and bounding towards the entrance with Wallinga out front. He was at the door with his camera in place by the time we had stacked up behind him. Kaleb, myself, Kuhrt and Sekunda guarding the rear.

“Four hostiles. None of the match Dacker’s pict. Two clustered at your 11, 5 metres. One on your 9 at 7 metres and the first is at 1 o’clock. 4 metres.”

“Breach.”

Kaleb hammered the door open and I was moving without realising it. I stepped in to the building as Kaleb fired two shots into the chest of a ragged looking boy holding a bolt action rifle. My sweep took the sights of my carbine to the two heretics sharing a smoke in the centre of the lodge’s reception room. I fired two bursts that punched through the targets like sacks of meat. With solid slug bullets tearing through their necks they took a little longer to die but without their vocal chords they weren’t in any position to raise the alarm. The last man had just enough time to unsling his shotgun before Kuhrt put a single shot between his eyes. We froze for a second after the last body had dropped, waiting to see if anyone was going to come running. But Wallinga gave us the all clear after consulting his auspex.

“Nine left, sir. Three up, six down. All holding” whispered Wallinga.

Tuplin, secure this room and watch the stairs Kaleb signed. Everyone else on me. Clean sweep. No survivors this floor.

I took up a post behind a heavy wooden desk and trained my rifle on the stairway. After a moment I started to hear soft, muffled thuds coming from the rear of the lodge and waited with baited breath for any signs of movement upstairs. But the walls of the lodge seemed thick enough to absorb the noise and it wasn’t long before the team padded back into the reception hall.

No joy signed Kaleb as he directed me back into the column. We moved for the stairs next with Wallinga on point. He had his carbine in one hand whilst the other kept his auspex raised to eye level. He knelt down at the first door we reached with a grin on his face. He showed us the auspex screen and saw the reason why. All three of the remaining hostiles were gathered in the same room and that made for a far easier play.

Take them alive. Debilitating wounds only if they resist. Was all Kaleb ordered before he kicked the door in and advanced on the wretches.

“Down on your knees! Down on your knees!” He screamed whilst manhandling the first of the traitors that crossed his path. The three men were hunched over a table when we breached but jumped at the sight of us and surrendered almost immediately. The cowards were gibbering as we cuffed their hands and lined them up against the back wall. Dacker wasn’t here but if Wallinga said that he had passed through this area then one of these heretics was going to tell us which way he had gone. Eventually.

“Don’t look like much, eh?” Snorted Sekunda. “Which one do you think breaks first?”

“They’ll all break” barked Kaleb. “Tuplin, search them.”

“Sir.”

I slung my carbine and patted the first wretch down whilst trying to ignore the smell. They must have been out in the field for weeks if the filth was anything to go by. He had no weapons and no documents hidden away, to be truthful I doubted he even knew how to read. The second man was just the same; dishevelled, weary and frightened. But the third was a different story. He wasn’t shaking like the others and his eyes were fixed on Kuhrt. He barely seemed to notice me rifling through his clothes and patting him down but he was clean so I chalked it up to the sniper’s good looks. It was only after I stood back from the prisoners that I noticed there was frost on the windows. On the inside of the lodge’s windows.

I turned to the LT with a look of confusion on my face and saw danger written on his eyes but it was too late. In what felt like slow motion I saw Kuhrt raise her sub machine gun and fire a three round burst directly into Sekunda’s back. Her vacant eyes drifted over to Kaleb and her gun barrel swung with them in an arc of horrifying finality but the LT had reacted far quicker than any of us and jerked one hand to the barrel of kuhrt’s gun whilst the other slammed into her throat and, coupled with a sweep of his leg, took her down.

Lieutenant Kaleb emptied the rest of Kuhrt’s magazine into the grinning psyker before he had a chance to speak.

Ooooo psyker! Now this was tense, and I also as always enjoyed the interaction between the characthers

 Trondheim wrote:
Ooooo psyker! Now this was tense, and I also as always enjoyed the interaction between the characthers

That's a plus 1^^

14


“Oh Throne no... Throne no” Kuhrt dropped to her knees and quietly stammered to herself whilst the two other prisoners had begun to chitter with glee.

“This is funny?” I heard Wallinga hiss before he began to beat the hapless traitors with the stock of his carbine. I was at Sek’s side desperately trying to stop the bleeding but he wasn’t moving.

Kaleb tried to say something to me but the din of Wallinga’s brutality and Kuhrt’s rising despair drowned him out.
“Silence, the lot of you!” He roared when his patience ran out. “Stand down Wallinga, we still need them to talk. And Kuhrt...”

“I’m sorry sir I...” She began to plead.

“I said silence curse you! You understand I’m supposed to shoot you where you stand for what you did to Sekunda?!” Kaleb bellowed, throwing Kuhrt’s empty weapon to one side. “Quiet yourself before I...”

“He’s dead.” I spoke the words to no one in particular but they silenced the room either way. That was until the bloodied heretics began to snigger again. This was too much for me to bear and I rounded on the dishevelled wretches with my knife. “You will tell me everything you know about the man that passed through here right now or you will tell me after I’ve removed your fingernails.” I began to edge the blade of the knife under the nail of his right index finger but the scum continued to laugh at us.

“It doesn’t matter! He’s gone down to the river but the masters are coming for you!”

I looked back at Kaleb in confusion and I could tell he had more bad news.

“This wasn’t an outpost... This was bait. That’s why they had a telepath” Kaleb gritted his teeth and slapped a fresh magazine into his pistol. “We’ve got the trail but if we don’t egress soon this place is going to be a killbox. Let’s move.”

“Sir!” I nodded. “What about these two?”

“No one’s coming for them” Kaleb snapped and put two rounds into each of their chests.

“And me, LT?” Kuhrt whispered, still on her knees. “I’ve been warp touched...” I held my breath as I stared at Kaleb. The LT was still brandishing his smoking pistol and it looked as though his arm was wavering towards the kneeling sniper’s head.

“I’ve lost too many troopers in the last 24 hours to start killing them off myself. Pick up your weapon and move out.” Kaleb holstered his pistol and I let out a sigh.

“With respect sir I think I’ll stick with my rifle” Kuhrt’s eyes lingered on Sekunda’s prone corpse as she spoke.

“Roger that” Kaleb grunted as he turned over Sekunda’s rank badge in his hand. “Let’s just get moving before we have a whole division coming down on us.”






When we got outside the sun was already beginning to set and snow was beginning to fall from Narbo’s grim sky. The road leading down to the river was worn out to the point that it barely qualified for the name. This was a fairly reliable indicator that the hostiles that had been posted to spring the trap on the lodge would be coming from another direction. But at the time the only thing we could be certain of was that staying put was suicide so we sprinted for the river and hoped for the best.

“Wallinga get on the vox,” Kaleb called as we ran. “Call in the air support on our co-ordinates and the rest of you activate your Infra-red strobes. With any luck the flyboys will keep their eyes open and we won’t get glassed with the rest of the enemy.”

“Understood boss” Wallinga replied.

I didn’t much savour the thought of calling in a danger close fire mission. Truth be told the inter service ties between the Guard and the Navy aren’t exactly rock solid and it wasn’t unknown for airstrikes to hit the wrong lines. Not out of malice, of course, but simple carelessness gets more soldiers killed than most people imagine. In the thick of a fire-fight it isn’t always easy to make out the IR strobes of friendly elements, or so the pilots tell me. All I know is ‘Danger Close’ is a damned accurate term.

We were well out of sight of the hunting lodge when we heard the resounding crash of a demolisher cannon round detonating a structure and stopped in our tracks. The Lodge had gone up in a single shot and the plume of smoke from its wreckage was far too close for any of our liking.

“Enemy armour” I said redundantly.

“Where’s that air support Wallinga?” Said Kaleb.

“En route, LT but Black’s claiming they were mobilised before we called it in and their eta is over 15 minutes...”

“Fugger” Kaleb cursed. “Alright lets move. With any luck we slipped by them and they’ll waste their time searching wreckage instead of chasing us.”
We set out again at a swift pace, hoping to reach the river before Dacker could find a transport vessel and make his getaway. But however fast we ran we couldn’t escape the unmistakable noise of the enemy brigade. They were on our trail.

“It’s no use, sir” I panted. “They’re onto us. I don’t want to say it but...”

“Keep moving, trooper” Kaleb snapped.

“He’s right, LT. I’m tainted and they’ve got the trail” Kuhrt cut in. “Anyway, without air support someone’s going to have to slow them down so the rest can make the grab and egress safely.” The sniper slowed to a halt and un-slung her long las.

“Sara...” Wallinga started.

“I’m right damn it!” She cried, locking eyes with Kaleb. “Get the target and get home” she said as she unclipped her rank badge and tossed it to the lieutenant. He caught it without breaking his gaze and crushed the pin into his palm with cruel force.

“Carry on trooper” he replied before pocketing the badge and leading the way down the road. Wallinga managed a nod before he set off after Kaleb and that left me speechless and refusing to move.

“Get after them, Tuplin” she said softly. Even over the noise of the encroaching armour I heard her clear as day. “The LT needs Storm Troopers.”
I didn’t say anything. There was nothing left to say. I just forced myself to turn away from her and clenched my jaw in anger as I ran after what was left of 3rd platoon, 1313th company.






It wasn’t long before the first shot rang out. I didn’t need to wonder whether Kuhrt had hit her mark; the storm of return fire had the staccato rattle of confusion to it. A few more paces down the road and a second sniper shot was fired. The rhythmic crack of Kuhrt’s rifle was the last link of contact left to us, every round she fired a twisted parody of a life support monitor. I don’t think anyone appreciated the irony at the time. Even now, with a belly full of scran and a roof over my head its not easy to reflect on the finer points. When Kuhrt’s gun fell silent we all knew what it meant and we all kept moving.

There’s no time for grief on the battlefield. Sekunda and Farrok had been the closest thing to old friends I could imagine; we had come up through the academy on Terrax together and within the space of a few days they had both been killed in action. One cut down in defence of my life and the other shot in the back by a psyker’s puppet. A part of you wants to scream and give in to misery when you see them fall but that’s a voice that Storm Trooper instructors teach you to ignore. They take that part of your humanity from you; they train you to believe that your grief and your despair are weaknesses that serve no purpose. Anguish becomes hatred. Dejection becomes bloodlust. And all the while you forget that you were afraid of being the next one to fall. A storm Trooper has no roots, no home world to miss and no future to build for them self.

There is only the team. Those we fight alongside and those we fight to honour. Our honoured dead.



I wasn’t grieving as I sprinted down that snow covered pathway and wove my way through the towering pine trees. I wasn’t despondent when I joined up with Kaleb and Wallinga and realised there were only three of us left. But I almost tripped when I caught sight of a figure scrabbling its way through the woods ahead of us.

“Target sighted” Wallinga blurted out in disbelief.

“He’s alone!” Kaleb growled as he surged forwards. “On me. No shots unless you have to.”
We didn’t need telling twice and despite the severe punishment our bodies had taken over the course of our cursed mission we managed a burst of speed after the traitor.

I couldn’t see much of him through the trees and he still had a good hundred metres on us but the fact that he was running scared gave a grim sense of delight to the chase. We were gaining on him, as you’d rightly expect, and Dacker had realised we were on him but the trees were thinning out too quickly. Before long the river was in sight and the bastard was heading for an old boathouse.

“Sir I can take him in the leg on the open ground!” I shouted once we had cleared the tree line.

“Negative Tuplin. You aim off by an inch and put a round through his femoral artery then this is all over” Kaleb replied.

He was right of course but with so long spent being hounded on all sides I was desperate to lash out at a straight forward hostile. It was tough to watch Dacker reach the door to the boathouse and duck inside. I hated losing sight of him but had I known what was coming I probably wouldn’t have been so eager to follow him inside.





We were about 30 metres from the building when the first floor balcony doors exploded. Hunks of splintering timber and shattered glass were sent flying and from the midst of the debris erupted the hulking form of an Astartes. My legs faltered almost instantly as I recognised the brute soaring through the air towards us. The warped armour, the heraldry of the hydra and the raw, intimidating power that emanated from the warrior still haunts me to this day. I fought the urge to shrink away from that impossible foe but as it hit the ground with a thundering crash the fallen Astartes unleashed a mighty roar that shook my bones.

I have no shame in admitting that I considered running for my life. In fact I have every confidence that I would have were it not for Lieutenant Kaleb. Where I stumbled at the sight of the renegade the LT actually sped up and raised his weapons. I’ve never seen anything like it since and I doubt I ever will. The son of a bitch drew his fugging combat knife and emptied the clip of his SMG into the traitor’s chest plate, all the while sprinting towards the vicious giant.

Sparks flared off the Alpha Legionary’s power armour but the Astartes barely seemed to notice Kaleb’s salvo. In an impossibly fluid motion for something of its size the renegade drew a bolt pistol and blasted Wallinga apart in hail of explosive rounds before the trooper could react. I blinked away the gruesome image as I continued to force myself forward but seeing how useless Kaleb’s shots had been I couldn’t begin to think of what to do or how to attack.

We should have died there and then; ripped open by bolts like poor Wallinga. We should have died. But the traitor holstered its weapon and met Kaleb’s charge with bare fists. I was frozen to the spot now; in amazement as much as in fear. The LT had screamed a challenge but he was drowned out by the sound of rumbling stone coming from the traitor’s vox grille. It was laughing at us and as the thrice damned monster engaged I understood why. It swept Kaleb’s deft first strike aside with ease, crushing the LT’s right arm in the process. Then the legionary lifted Kaleb into the air by his ruined limb and relished the scream of pain that it managed to force out of him. With effortless brutality Kaleb was tossed towards me and he landed hard, staining the snow with his blood.

“ONE OF YOU HAS GROWN BRAVE” the Astartes boomed. “BUT I SEE THAT YOU ARE STILL THE SAME COWARD.” I felt my ribs vibrate as the monstrosity gave voice to it’s contempt. I stood dumbstruck with my carbine hanging by its sling whilst the Alpha Legionary pointed an accusing finger at me. “HIM I WILL KILL QUICKLY. YOU WILL SUFFER THE LEGION’S INTERROGATORS FOR YOUR SHAMELESSNESS.”

Satisfied with its decision the giant drew its chainsword and began to crunch its way towards me. My shaking hands found the hilt of my knife but I was transfixed with dread. I can’t tell you what I was thinking and I can’t explain why I didn’t react. Unless you’ve seen one coming for you you won’t be able to understand the paralysing sense of powerlessness that hits your guts.

I wouldn’t be sitting here if Lieutenant Kaleb didn’t teach me one final lesson. He was motionless, face down in the snow as the beast approached me; the growl of its chainsword growing ever louder. But when the Astartes passed by the LT I noticed Kaleb’s hand reach into his vest. A moment later he had sprung up out of the snow and lunged at the legionary’s back. I couldn’t see what Kaleb had done but I recognised the clink of a krak grenade’s magnetic clamp and instinctively threw myself to the ground.

A second later my ears were ringing with the crash of a ferocious detonation. When I lifted my head the Astartes was lying in a smoking pile on the ground, its back a ruined mess. The LT had managed to clamp a krak grenade in the space between the Astartes’ back plate and powerpack. As far as I knew the reactor wasn’t about to meltdown and I still couldn’t face approaching the giant so I ran over to Kaleb with a mounting sense of dread. Sure enough the blast that had savaged an Astartes had torn up the LT too.

“You see...” He choked through ragged breaths. “They can bleed and they can die.”

As that simple truth hit me the monstrosity’s hold over me was broken and I came to my senses. I had let the team down.

“It’s not over...” Kaleb spat blood as he spoke to me. “Take my knife... Their armour is weak at the neck.”

Realising the traitor was going to be back on it’s feet soon I grabbed Kaleb’s knife with the urgency a soldier was supposed to have and hefted the weapon.

“Tuplin...” Kaleb whispered. “Notch the blade when its done.” Then the Lieutenant fell silent.

I took a breath as I looked down at the greatest soldier I’ve ever known. There was only one way left to commemorate his passing and I set to it with aggression. The Astartes was face down but the neck joints of its armour were still exposed at the jugular. One quick thrust put the knife deep into its warp damned flesh and my boot on the hilt made sure the blade cut all the way across the artery.







Traitor’s blood befouled the snow on Narbo’s surface with satisfying volume and the knife was slick with rich gore after I pulled it free. When I cleaned the blade I turned the knife over in my hands and froze in shock for a moment before drawing my own. Then, at the base of the cutting edge, I carefully made a third notch.

Another good chapter and the end was great. Only one left. Has the Lt forged a Stormtrooper, or will he fail their last expectations of a mission completed and honour restored?

God damnit! Now why do you keep killing of the people I like? Beside that very well done

Same here, the Sargent Major and sniper where awesome, though the main character is good too.

Sorry this had been on hiatus for a while but I'm hoping to wrap the story up soon and begin working on a sequel for Sicarius.



15

My ears were still faintly ringing but by the time I had finished marking Kaleb’s blade my hands were steady. There was nothing left. Nothing left of Arjun Tuplin but what war had made me. Bruised, half starved and embittered beyond anything you could imagine. The only thing keeping me on my feet was the twisted rage that burned inside my gut. I felt cheated. Alone. I wasn’t even thinking about the mission anymore. I just wanted to find a living thing and cause it pain. Find something someone had built and burn it to the ground.

The boathouse swam into focus as I steadied myself. The one who had taken my family from me was cowering inside. My feet started moving of their own accord. I stumbled at first but slowly regained my footing and picked up the pace until I was striding towards the large wooden double doors with vigour.

“Dacker!” I roared through ragged breaths. “I know you!”

I wrenched the doors open with a savage grunt and swept my gun across my field of vision.

“I know your face!” I lowered the carbine and staggered forwards, crazed with pent up rage.

“And I know your fate!” I cackled as I entered the boathouse.

Rusted machinery and empty storage containers were scattered throughout the building forming a maze that led to the riverbank. I made it three paces into the shade before I was tackled to the ground by a raving gakstain dressed in the dappled grey camouflage of the traitorous Narbo PDF. He came at me from the shadows with a crude axe that would have cleaved my skull open had I failed to break its fall with my carbine. The weight of the attack still forced me off my feet and we crashed to the ground hard. His axe was embedded deep in the receiver of my gun rendering both weapons useless. I didn’t care. I felt nothing; No fear or surprise. I was laughing as we fell together. I kept laughing as I drove an elbow into the heretic’s throat and my cackles roared throughout the building as I drew Kaleb’s knife and drove it through the hostile’s eye socket.

I was lost to bloodlust. It happens. Even to Astartes, it can happen. I suppose I was lucky the fethers that were guarding Dacker’s exfil point were barely armed. But I suppose they thought a full blown Alpha Legionnaire would be enough to cover a retreat. They must have felt some cold black fear on their cursed hearts when I walked into that boathouse and started butchering them.

The second one was gibbering as he rounded one of the boathouse’s crooked turns and raised a hefty club. His eyes were wide and he screamed as he ran at me. I was still smiling, my focus was absolute. He swung down at my head but I sidestepped the blow with inches to spare. As his momentum carried him past me I grabbed at the dog’s lank hair and jerked his head back, exposing his neck. I opened his throat with one quick slash and threw the wretch to the ground.

“You’re mine now Dacker!” I shouted. I wanted him to hear me coming. When I turned the next corner I was happy to see my words were having the right effect. The third of the Narbo PDF troopers was too scared to come for me. The youth was shaking in place, trying desperately to point a machete in my direction.

“Put it down and I’ll make this quick” I told him quietly. “You don’t want me to cut you up in a struggle and leave you to bleed your guts out, son.”

The traitor stammered out a few nonsensical syllables but when I took a step forward he dropped his blade and sank to his knees. I kept my word, he died quickly enough. I had to kill him. I couldn’t leave him to gather his wits and come at me from behind. He was a traitor. I had to kill him.

When the water finally came into sight I got what I was looking for. Dacker, scrabbling away frantically on a dilapidated, old tugboat; trying to get the engine running before I caught up to him.

“You look scared, Dacker” I growled. “Or should I say, Herud Gathis. We’re Progenia alumni after all.”

The traitor froze at the mention of his real name. After a moment’s pause he stopped his work and slowly raised his head to face me.

“So you finally caught up with me, Arjun?”

“That’s right, Herud. You’re mine now.”

“What makes you so sure, old friend?” Herud laughed. “You’ve lost your gun.”

“Well that’s as may be but this knife was enough to put that Astartes out there down so I don’t think I’ll have too much trouble with you.” I snarled as I started forward.

“Hold up there, Arjun” Herud taunted as he raised a laspistol. “You’re outmatched... Again. See that was always your problem. You always thought you could coast by on luck and grit. But the reason the Ordos turned you down is the same reason you’re staring down the barrel of a gun. You don’t see the big picture. Even if you could take me down there’s a battalion of Narbo’s disenfranchised sons and daughters out there. You’re done.”

“Good old Herud Gathis. Constantly one step ahead aren’t you?” I sighed with a smile. Combat training sharpens your senses; there’s no doubt about that. A few seconds later the dull murmur I had noticed began to pick up and mount until the deafening roar of an Imperial Navy tactical wing passed overhead. When their payload dropped on the, now exposed, Narbo PDF Gathis’ attention flickered away and gave me room to move.

The weight of the service revolver I had stolen from that cocksure Naval Security armsman was heavy under my tactical vest. In my blood fuelled delirium I had chosen to kill Gathis’ henchmen with Kaleb’s blade over firing cold clinical shots. My arm was in motion the second I saw my window. Herud Gathis was no fool but he was no soldier either. His eyes weren’t on the prize and I only needed the barest of moments.

The revolver slid smoothly out from under my vest. Its barrel was engraved with the gothic inscription ‘Fidelitas’. I clicked the hammer back as I swung the weapon towards Gathis. The cylinder seemed to rotate in slow motion. Every mechanism clicked seamlessly into place as the sights lined up on my target.

I pulled the trigger without thinking. The discharge was loud. The round was heavy calibre. The trajectory was flawless.

Herud Gathis twisted in place as his right shoulder exploded in gore. His laspistol flew overboard after his fingers went limp and he sank to the deck. I allowed myself a smile.

“And you never paid attention to the little things.”










I bound the traitors wound along with his hands and feet and left him on the deck of the boat as I got the engine started. The aerial bombardment was still continuing in full force and I prayed to the Emperor that my IR strobe was working. By that point I wasn’t so much concerned with survival as I was making sure that Gathis suffered the full sanction of an Imperial interrogation and execution. A fiery death in an airstrike just didn’t feel like enough of a punishment for that fether.

I had managed to get the boat out onto the river and sailing back towards imperial lines before Gathis found the strength to speak.

“You think handing me over is going to save you?” He spat. “After everything the Imperium put you through on this planet you actually believe you can trust them?”

“Honestly Herud, the only thing I trust in is that you’re going to suffer. That’s the only justice my comrades can hope for now.”

“I’m not the one that killed your comrades, Arjun. The Imperium were the ones that hunted you down. You saw it! You saw how quickly they turned on you. As soon as an asset is compromised they disavow and exterminate. Its sick.” Herud was pleading but the deaths of my team still weighed heavily on my thoughts.

“Its war is what it is, Herud” I snapped. “You’d have me join ranks with heretics and madmen because command has to make difficult decisions? Just what the hell happened to you anyway? Got pissy when the Ordos turned you down?”

“I found my calling when the legion opened my eyes to the truth. The Ordos sent me to Naval Intelligence and from there I got a firsthand view of just how the Imperium views its citizens. You’ve seen how it can be, Arjun. You’ve seen the indifference, the spite, the fear.”

“I’ve seen the alternative too. Bloody psychopaths declaring independence and for what? For the people?!” I snarled. “The people suffer in war. Farmers’ sons go to die on blood-spattered battlefields and planetary governors watch from the hive spires. Insurrection makes us weak and weakness makes us paranoid. All you and your legion have done is sow misery, Herud. That’s all you’ve done.”

“You think about this, Arjun. When I was compromised the Alpha Legion came for me. They sent one of their own to get me out. What did the Imperium do for you?” Gathis growled through the pain in his shoulder and the spite in his heart.

I didn’t reply. My thoughts had turned to Mr Black and what he was going to do when I handed Herud Gathis over to Naval Intelligence. All I could think about in that moment was the planetary news broadcast that aired the deaths of my brothers in arms. Staff sergeant Tarleton staring down that cruel featured Commissar with all the defiance you’d expect of a righteous Imperial hero. Then the cold crack of betrayal as a pistol fired and took his life.

It wasn’t going to happen to me. I’d look down over Mr Black’s corpse before I let him dishonour the 1313th again

Very good. I can't wait for the final chapter and the final outcome of this fine tale.

Glad you liked it

Oh this was tense, well paced and above all loads of gritty details! Well done sir well done

Thanks bro!

Smaller chapters now.



16

“You know you really ought to consider shutting up” I called back to Herud. The fether had been sermonising at me ever since he woke up and no amount of blood loss appeared to be able to quiet him. “I don’t have any drugs” I started as I stepped away from the helm and let the skiff cruise along. “That means there are two options left open to you and I don’t think you’ll like any of them.” I kneeled down in front of the bloodied and sputtering heretic, calmly reflecting upon the fact that despite knowing next to nothing about him he was still the one person I’d known since my childhood.

“You don’t scare me, Arjun” he spat. “My conscience is clear.”

“Oh I’m sure you think you’ve a glorious martyrdom ahead of you but you really ought to be concerned with all of the razor sharp things that come first. See I can’t stand the sight of you. I want to cut you full of holes just looking at you. But you have a modicum of value to me so I’m holding off. But that doesn’t mean I want to listen to you. Feth, you don’t even need your tongue for the interrogators at Naval Intelligence to get at what you know.” I chuckled as I made a show of drawing Kaleb’s knife. The keening edge of the blackened blade oozed lethality and I didn’t bother hiding the relish I felt as I traced it across Herud’s throat. “So as I said, you’ve got two options. You can keep on with your blasphemy until I mutilate you. Or you can shut the feth up.”

“You cannot silence the truth, corpse worshipper” Gathis cursed.

“Suit yourself” I replied. The procedure was simple enough. I rapped the hilt of Kaleb’s knife on the traitor’s nose making him yelp in pain. With my other hand I grabbed the liar’s tongue; my combat gloves were grimy with battlefield dirt giving me a good purchase on the greatest weapon of the enemy. Slicing the tongue off was easy and the blood spatter was warm against my skin in the cool winter’s air. He screamed; well he gargled a great deal. The restraints on his arms and legs kept him from thrashing around too much but he was distressed enough to rock the boat.

The hard part was cauterising the wound. This long into a deployment I was practically fighting with sticks and stones but I still had the stolen revolver. I fired the remaining five rounds into the air; the airstrike was still ongoing to the north but it was a little too far off by then to cover the sound of my shots. Unfortunately I didn’t have much of a choice, if you permit me to exclude the option of leaving that heretic unharmed. At any rate it came down to trying to grasp at Herud Gathis’ mutilated stump of a tongue with one hand and forcing the red hot barrel of the revolver into his mouth with the other. It wasn’t exactly a medicae operation but the bleeding died down to a manageable level. Or at least enough for me to stop caring

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you” I said as I turned back to the helm. “Well thinking about it I don’t suppose you’ll be saying much of anything to anyone.”

+++ I told you, you cannot silence the truth you worthless whoreson +++

“Another telepath... of course. And you of all people should know my mother was undoubtedly a pure and humble Imperial servant.”

+++ They’re going to kill you +++

“They may very well try” I replied as I steered us down the winding river towards Narbo Primus. The truth is I was fairly sure Gathis was right. Being a telepath he probably knew I was concerned about my return to Imperial lines and he wouldn’t let it go.

+++ Turn the boat around. Present yourself to the Legion and your skills will finally be put to good use +++

“I’ve no doubt your masters are in need of some more cutthroats. My team alone has killed enough of your friends to thin out the numbers in your clubhouse.”

+++ Insurrection blooms on this world. Legions of martyrs are pledging themselves to the cause every day whilst your rotting Imperium can only attempt to stem the tide +++

“As we have for millennia, Herud. I may not have paid a great deal of attention in our civic duty classes but I heard enough to know that the Imperium stands on sacrifice. For throne’s sake Herud you came up through the scholam! You can’t tell me these weak platitudes turned you from the Emperor’s light.”

+++ You call them platitudes. The simplicity of the truth is its greatest strength. The Imperium is weak, Its weakness has made it paranoid. Its paranoia has made it tyrannical +++

“You’re clutching at straws. We’re not far off Imperial lines and you think you’re going to turn me traitor with a five minute speech on heavy handed repression.”

+++ I said Tyranny. You brought up repression +++

“I’m not blind, Herud” I called with a hint of strain in my voice. “But neither am I stupid. The things I’ve done these past few days... I’ve learned the cold truth. The Imperial truth. Survival requires harsh measures.”

+++ How many Imperial dogs have you killed +++

“Today...” I sighed. “One by my own hand... Who knows how many died in that riot.”

+++ And Do you believe you will be forgiven? +++

“You know I don’t.”

+++ And yet you continue to sail us closer to your executioners +++

“Where we differ, traitor. Is that I believe I should answer for my crimes. My life isn’t worth my soul.”

+++ You’re weak, Arjun. You always were and now you’re going to waste your talents on a misguided sense of justice +++

“Maybe...” I whispered.



He left me alone for a while after that. Who knows why. Perhaps he sensed me losing my temper. I was. Given that I was gearing up for a showdown with Mr Black the satisfaction of killing Herud ‘Dacker’ Gathis myself was all too tempting. I didn’t. Obviously I didn’t. But it could have gone either way. The real decider was crossing into Imperial territory and seeing two black speeders on the horizon.



Kind of made my decision for me to tell you the truth.

Ooooo the tension is almost so thick you could carve it with a knife, well done!

Another fine addition here. it'l be interesting to see what will happen when we meet up with Mr.Black. I'm in two minds weather he will become the next Kaleb leading some Shocktroopers fresh out of boot, or Black just blowing his brains out when his back is turned after he's made the drop.
Interesting times ahead, what ever happens.

 Themanwiththeplan wrote:
Another fine addition here. it'l be interesting to see what will happen when we meet up with Mr.Black. I'm in two minds weather he will become the next Kaleb leading some Shocktroopers fresh out of boot, or Black just blowing his brains out when his back is turned after he's made the drop.
Interesting times ahead, what ever happens.

Yes indeed, very intresting times ahead of us indeed

Thanks a lot guys!

I hope you like how I wrap this up. I promise I won't keep you waiting too long.

Good to hear that we will not need to wait long! Because that would make me a sad Space Wolf

Oh I'm not worried either. If see, I've got a kill team watching you even now with their emrald eyes from the shadows, but don't fret. I strongly suggest no sudden movements though.

The five Panthers had been watching their target for months, growing ever more accustomed to his movements and manotany of daily life. Every detail and action seen was diligently noted in their reports as they awaited the order to strike down their target or move on to their next theatre of operations. But each of the five were eager for the kill.
Brother-Sargent Hatalus watches his target through the magnifying power of his binos as Brother Stevross, kneeling at his feet, peers through the sights appearing on his helms optics linked from of his bolter as the recitule stalks the marks bobbing head as it moves back and forth across the room.
Weeks earliar the team had infiltrated the area and chosen the house they now occupied for it's commanding views of the terrain before killing all those inside before dragging the cadavars up stairs to the room theynow stood in. The now moulded, bloated corpses of the homes late inhabitants lay upon the floor behind them in unnatural poses as they slowly putrified into the carpet. But sealed in their war plate, the smell barely registered to the two Astartes standing aback from the street lighting in the rooms shadows.
Looking upwards to his towering Sargent standing immobile above, Stevross asks simply.
'Now?'

Hatalus slowly lowers the binos from his eyes as he stares down to Stevross' up turned face before relpying. '.....No. We wait.' And returns to watching the mark as he types away on a crude communication device linked to some form of pict screen belonging to this century.

Haha awesome!

Pah, ignore my crude scratchings in the dust. I was going to go a bit further and have them burst into your home telling you to put the bolter down, which actually turns out to be a bagal, but I didn't want to write a random chapter on your story.

Posting to read later on, yay Stormtroopers.

Edit: Have you served in the military? I could swear you're quoting some of my drill instructors and strapping 40k terms

Hey man, hope you enjoy the story!

I've never served in the military but I'm happy to hear you think ther terms are coming off authentic

 Bobthehero wrote:
Posting to read later on, yay Stormtroopers.

Edit: Have you served in the military? I could swear you're quoting some of my drill instructors and strapping 40k terms

That thougth passed my mind too, the termelogoy is very good in this one

More weeks pasted as they watched their target. And it was a battle to stiffle the boredom of in-action their duty had forced them to. They took turns watching their mark going about his daily grind, and at times made a game of inflitrating the targets habitation when he was out, and removing or moving items for added points if he never noticed.
A Panther was now perminantly stationed in his attic. Stripped down to a body glove and a cloaked shroud to conceal his weapons, he was for all intents and perposes, a ghost in the darkness, and at times had taken to watching the target sleep from the corner of his room.

Across the road in the OP, Brother-Sargent Hatalus stepped over the growing pile of letters by the front door as he exited the stairs and made his way to the back room of what passed for a kitchen in this crude century. Entering the room he found the three members of his squad either polishing a segment of armour or cleaning a part of their wargear, and the air was heavy with the smells of lapping powder, oil, and grease.

Halting in the doorway, he panned the room with his visor as he looked over their ordered belongings and tried to ignore his squad who had halted mid action and where staring up evspectantly at their commander.

'Target is decleared green, conformation confirmed. We move in five minutes.' he stated simply before stridding from the room while his squad moved to obey the word.

Four minutes and fifty-two seconds later, the squad where now clustered by the front door that lead out onto the street. The piled papers had been removed for it's impedment to allow for a quick egress and the last incendary charge had been set where they would cause secondry fires tothe structure to act as a destraction for when the time came to make their move.

Peering through the side glass panel to the door, Hatalus could see darkness had fallen a while before, and the only people to be seen under the street lighting were a few kanine owners walking their pets and one or two roaming gangs of youths.
Turning back to his squad he nodded only once and slowly eased the catch off the door before slipping outside into the cool night air.

Now outside and moving down the driveway with his three man squad in tow, they halted by the bushes that marked the boundy of the habitation and the last true cover aside from a scattering of parked cars dotting the street.
Seeing all was clear he waved his squad forward, and by twos, they leapfrogged across the road while their weapons scanned the many doorways and windows for any signs of movement or alarm.
Upon reaching the targets door Streveross dropped into a crouch and proceeded to slice the locks with a plasma torch to gain entry.

'twenty seconds.'he said as a bright white light flickered in front of his face and made all their shadows dance and jerk in the moon light.

'Why so long?' Ganatus whispered at his shoulder as he watched a family across the street watching the latest reality T.V while eating a meal on their laps.

'His security is better than I thought..........I'm in.' with a twist of the wrist he deactivated the torch and returned it to one of his pouches and pushed the still smouldering door open.

Taking the lead once again Hatalus lead the way inside the dark intierer his optics made a mockery of in his quest to find the stairway that would lead them upwards towards their final goal.
Climbing slowly so as to minimize any sound, they found Brother Vettle waiting for them at the top step who only nodded in greeting as they passed by and pointed the way towards the marks room before joining the end of the file now moving down the landing.
Reaching the second room on their left they took up breaching positions around the doorway as Hatalus gave the nod to Steveross to begin the distraction.

Across the street several flashes could be seen behind the now vacant OP's drapes that quickly spread into roaring flames as combustable piles were ignited and the structure began to burn with a reddy glow. A few minutes past before the sound of sirens could be heard in the distance, and at that moment the time had now come to strike.

With a planted foot, the wooden door shattered from it's hinges and collapsed onto the floor with a boom just as a tossed flash bang now rolling to a stop filled the space with a deafening bang and a painful bright light.
Thundering into the room the Panthers soon spotted their prey stumbling from beside the window as he rubbed his eyes with one hand as the other clutched an ear dribbling fluid onto his palm. When he next tried to squint through his blurred vision he could just make out he was no longer alone, and foolishly made a brake for the far door that lead to an ajoining bathroom which he thought would be his salvation, but it wasn't to be.

With a quick cuff to the shoulder as he darted by, Hatalus let the man fall at his feet in stunned shock before grabbing him by the hair and dragged him across the floor to a nearby desk and practically threw him in the chair.
Removing his Bolt Pistol from his side he cocks the bulky slab of metal to prime the chamber before placing it on the desk.

'Do you know what we are, boy?' The man nods viguarously in terror in reply.

'Do you know why we are here?' Again the man nods as before.

'Good, good. Then you know what we want of you, yes?'

'Yes'. Replies the trembling man before cocking his head at the approaching sirens in hope of rescue.

'You will be among the first to die, understand?'

With a sigh the man nods again and reaches for the activation stud that will power up his crude coginator and pict screen.

'Now write!' Demands the Astartes as he towers over the man while pointing to the screen with his plasteel fingers.

Ssooo, when's the next chapter? Don't make them hurt you now.

Ha! You got me!

Sorry I've let this slide. Real life has a way of catching up to you.

What with the Militarum Tempestus Codex on the horizon I better hurry up and finish this before the new fluff invalidates everything i've written!

We want more! And we want it now mortal! Dont make me send a Thunderwolf after you!

No problem Rez, I'l look forward to your upcoming chapter.

Sorry this took so long. Here's the final chapter. All my efforts are going into the Sicarius sequel now


17

I was starting to feel the cold. An odd moment for the winter’s chill to finally set in but there you have it. Exhaustion and nerves will get to everyone in the end. Gathis was smiling at me through the bloodstains I’d left on his face. That didn’t bother me too much. I knew he was in for a world of hurt no matter what happened to me. I couldn’t really savour the thought though. Not with the Navy speeders arcing overhead and training weapons on our ride.

I figured there wasn’t much point in staying aboard. I’d never out run them on that floating piece of gak and it wasn’t exactly a redoubtable bunker either. I’d just have to take my chances with my boots on dry land and a knife at Gathis’ throat. He didn’t struggle as I dragged him ashore. The smug bastard...

+++ Don’t give them the satisfaction of bringing you in. Kill yourself... +++

I glared at Gathis whilst the lead speeder circled around and began to set down in the snow.

+++ Take that black knife of yours and open your throat +++

“You know you aren’t going to need your eyes where you’re going either, Herud...” I said as I hauled the traitor to his feet and placed him between the speeder and myself. Kaleb’s knife was in my hand and near enough to Gathis’ throat to make myself clear.

+++ Kill me then. Your Imperial friends are only going to do the same. Why should you give up the right? +++

“My Imperial friends are going to ask you a lot of questions before they execute you. And believe me they aren’t going to ask nicely. In fact they probably aren’t even going to ask. They might even decide there’s no point in executing you after their done. Mind rape doesn’t leave much of a man left.”
Gathis was beginning to squirm. His fear was reassuring.

The second speeder maintained its holding pattern, lazily circling over our heads with not a few barrels pointed at us. The first was on the ground with its hatches opening. The exhaust from the transport’s engines had melted the snow around its hull and steam was rising from the ground. Through the vapours strolled the unmistakably whip thin form of Mr Black and behind him came a troop of Navy armsmen.

“Come on then” I whispered to no one in particular. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”






+++ Its over, Arjun +++

“It’s over, trooper” Mr Black’s voice echoed the knifing psychic telepathy. Despite his wire frame the man’s voice projected well over the twenty feet between us. Black kept on coming but his armsmen halted at some inaudible signal.

“Found something of yours, Black” I growled, keeping my body and as much of my head behind Gathis as I could.

“Indeed you have, soldier” Black was only a few feet away now. “Ah its you, Tuplin... Just you?”

“You’re not getting that one for free” I retorted. When all you’ve got are scraps it bears reason to cling on tight.

“Suit yourself, Tuplin. What’s the status on our man here? That’s a fair amount of blood on your clothes.”

“It’s not all his, sir” I hissed the title. Emperor knows Black didn’t actually have a military rank but then and there he was definitely the one holding all the cards. Well, almost all of them. “I put a few holes in him, sure. But thats to be expected in the course of a kidnapping.”

“You cut out his tongue, Arjun” Black seemed unimpressed.

“He talks too much” I replied without breaking my gaze on Black’s eyes. Gathis sniggered and spat up some more gore before I tightened my grip and drew a single bead of blood from the traitor’s neck. Black visibly stiffened up but composed himself quickly enough after he realised I wasn’t going all the way.

“The point of bringing him in is was so that he could talk...” Black shook his head.

+++ Oh I’m sure we’ll be talking a great deal +++

Black snapped his head back towards Gathis and almost imperceptibly betrayed a little shock.

“Herud was no psyker...”

+++ I have had many talents unlocked and many gifts given to me by the true masters. The same masters who continue to make fools out of your pathetic intelligence agency +++

“See why I took his tongue?” I inclined my head to Black with a smirk.

“Nevertheless...”

+++ Oh come now Mister Black all three of us know that you aren’t going to be asking me any questions. Psychic interrogation is superior in every respect. You’re just looking for a way to invalidate the deal you made with this one’s boss +++

I don’t know if it was the psychic feedback but there was a definite chill in the air as all three of us stood in silence that moment.

“I’m not here to kill you, Tuplin. You, a single man, that just walked into enemy territory and fetched me back the most wanted traitor on the planet. You have skills Arjun Tuplin and men with skills don’t get wasted on my watch.”

“I wasn’t alone...” I blurted it out, almost immediately cursing my loose tongue.

“Ah but you are now” Black finished with what seemed like an air of genuine sadness. “Your comrades will not be remembered as heroes. You know that.”
I grimaced and started to take deeper breaths.

“But you and I will know the truth, Arjun. We will know that the members of the 1313th dine at the Emperor’s side tonight.”

“Sorry if I don’t seem too reassured by that, Black” I spat.

“Your concern is somewhat justified but at this point what choice do you really have but to trust me?” Black spread his hands, probably to highlight the fact that he wasn’t armed. But the troop of navy armsmen lined up behind him kind of broke the illusion.

“I still have a choice” I murmured. “I can put myself in your hands and hope for the best. Or I can put this knife through one of your eye sockets before your boys back there have time to blink.”

“Then the choice is all yours, trooper. Just make it quick... the cold doesn’t agree with me”.

No doubt you’ll have guessed which way I went on that decision. I’m still alive after all. But back then it wasn’t such a clear choice. There was a part of me that knew Black’s order to wipe out my team had to be given. But my soul still burned with anger. The sort of anger that sits deep in the pit of your chest and brews venom into your blood.

Not an easy choice.

+++ Don’t let them take me, Arjun +++

That was it. Hearing the desperation in the traitors tone convinced me right there and then to hand him over. The satisfaction in feeling the broken man’s terror was enough to quench the fires of vengeance and give me clarity.

“He’s all yours” I spoke as I shoved Gathis forward into the snow at Black’s feet.




EPILOGUE




“Wise” murmured Black as he hauled the heretic to his feet and signalled for his men to approach.

Gathis started to struggle when the dark helms of the armsmen approached and he started to wail when they dragged him back to their speeder. I allowed myself a smile as I watched him disappear into its depths.

“Gentlemen” snapped Black and as one the armsmen raised their shotguns and aimed them at my head.

“Of course...” I sighed, hefting Kaleb’s knife for all that it was worth. “You snake...” I cursed

“Easy soldier. You’ve got one last choice left to make. Believe me I don’t want to have to give the kill order here.” Black was bafflingly reluctant to kill me but with those gun barrels pointed at my face I had only one thing on my mind. Calculating the trajectory needed to throw Kaleb’s knife into Black’s skull.

“You can’t go back to your regiment, I lied about that part and I’m sorry. The Imperium needs to have the traitorous 1313th stay traitors and stay dead. You’re no spy Tuplin and we can’t trust you to keep your mouth shut if we send you off to another Storm Trooper company.”
I felt my guts tighten as I realised the only home I’d ever really had was being taken from me before I’d even had a chance to savour it.

“But you can still serve the Imperium, Tuplin. I have contacts amongst various adeptus’ who are always looking for men with talent. I daresay I could use you myself but I don’t envisage that transition going smoothly.”

“You want me to run knife work for an administratum crony?” I asked in mild disbelief.

“No, Tuplin. I want you to meet someone and listen to an offer.” Black spoke quietly into a vox bead hidden in his jacket cuff. Moments later a solitary figure in a fine fur coat emerged from the navy speeder and sauntered over to us. He didn’t look like much but the armsmen cleared out of his way like the man was a damned Astartes.


“Greetings Arjun Tuplin” the man spoke with honeyed politeness. “My name is Inquisitor Heinrich Zartosht and I have a job for you.”

Now that was indeed a great read, well done and worth the waiting I dare say. Now do me a favour and read mine

A very good ending; not the happiest one, but that fits perfectly in the 40k universe.

Any chance you'll come back to this character in the future?

I have to say I have enjoyed this story the whole way through right from straight outa boot. The character portrail and interactions were great. And the twists along the way where most enjoying.
I too would like to see this character again.

Haha thanks guys!

For those of you wanting to see more of Arjun Tuplin you may remember Inquisitor Heinrich Zartosht from another series of stories I'm working on...

http://www.dakkadakka.com/dakkaforum/posts/list/565087.page

Reading this again happily