Dakka Veteran
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Chapter one ‘The entrance’
The wind whistled eerily through the jagged teeth of rock that formed the entrance. Entrance to what? Nobody knew. They knew it was a dead end, so where did the wind come from? Nobody knew.
For guardsman Pietr Dellanec, of second platoon, twelfth company of the ninety-third Pelvaldst rangers stationed outside the entrance, there were more important questions at the time, like where was the Lieutenant's caff mug, and how the feth was he going to get off this planet alive.
Looking up from his scrabbling in a kitbag he noticed that the stalagmites and stalactites really did look like teeth, that would make the cave a huge gaping maw. A maw it might as well be, it had swallowed up four companies over the last few days, and now it was twelfth company's turn.
But twelfth had an edge. Sick of losing men to ghosts, or whatever else was down there, Brigadier general Vudnard had called in a few favours and gotten his hands on a phsyker. If this attack failed then they were going to send in the veritable astartes of the Lamenters chapter. Of course the rank and file were not told this, it was deemed to be bad for morale to tell guardsmen that they were doing a space marines’ work. Their orders were to get the job done or die trying, a specialty of the men of Pelvaldst.
“Guardsman! Where on Terra is my caff?!” came a cry from the headquarters tent. Deciding to bite the bullet Pietr grabbed his own mug and shoved it beneath the caff machine’s outlet. A stream of flecked brown gunk spewed out, more sewerage than beverage, army grade.
Rushing into the command tent Pietr swiftly deposited the mug on a small metal stool being used as a table and withdrew to the plastipaulin portal of the tent. The Lieutenant glanced at the drink before directing his gaze at the guardsman who had delivered it.
“Could you tell me why, perchance,” he intoned condescendingly “I would prefer your dirty, rust caked, cup to any of the many other receptacles I could take my drink in?” sweat beaded on Pietr’s brow.
“Well sir you see I couldn’t find your mug and so..” the Lieutenant cut in “...And so you put the drink in your mug rather than one of jugs that are arrayed adjacent to the caff machine. Am I right?”
“Yes sir”
“We are not an ordinary regiment guardsman, our job is not to march mindlessly firing our weapons, we must perform complex tasks that require independent thought, do you understand me?”
“Yes sir”
“Then next time use more intuition and less repetition, for future reference I carry my cup on my person to prevent it’s contents being compromised. You will get me a mug of caff every time you think I need it until I tell you not to.”
“Yes sir”
Another voice flowed softly from the shadows “Perhaps a more permanent reminder would be appropriate, one that I would be pleased to administer.” like a snake, in his full black leather outfit, closely hugging his form, commissar Serpets slithered from his seat. “After all a bolt round to the head is as good a reminder as any.” the commissar was already a hated figure amongst the men, his falsely friendly tone made you dislike him as soon as you met him. “I disagree commissar, there are other ways of giving a reminder that do not involve the negation of years of training and combat experience, or spattering grey matter all over my tent” the Lieutenant turned his wrath on Serpets now, “I could always take him outside.” retorted the commissar unabashed. The Lieutenant stood up and stretched to his full size, towering over the diminutive Serpets, and just about everyone else in the room. “I forgive your tongue due to your inexperience and age but I will tell you this now as a final warning, after this point I will not protect you from the anger of the men. Just because you have the authority to summarily execute every member of this platoon does not mean you have the ability, the ammunition, and if you understand the first two amply then nor do you have the balls, do I make myself clear?”
“Quite.”
“Then sit back in that chair and do whatever you like, seethe with anger and plot revenge if you like, to be honest I couldn’t care less .” then he turned to Pietr “Dismissed.”
Chapter two ‘Sign off’
“Signoff! Demberg?”
“Check”
“Selvadere?”
“Check”
“Beregros?”
“Check”
“Buckarest?”
“Here”
“Dellanec?”
“Check”
“Oh, Pietr, you’ve been transferred to platoon command, you’d best get over there.”
“Yessir” affirmed Pietr, already jogging towards where the command squad stood checking their equipment.
“Steinfeldt?”
“Checkeroo” echoed in Pietr’s earpiece before he left squad four’s vox range and his receiver auto retuned to that of the command squad.
“Where the throne is he, you did give Reman the message.”
“I did sir.”
“Blast it, that sergeant needs to be taught the meaning of the word punctuality.”
Pietr drew in a deep breath and marched into the centre of the cluster of bodies that was company command, glancing to his left and right as he did so. There was Akmemnon the techpriest, administering to the disgusting meld of rotting flesh and metal that was his servitor; Gludos, Bruno and Munos, the veteran guardsmen of the command squad and the lieutenant's most trusted allies; comm. Officer Vemadyr, twiddling with the dials on his vox caster; commissar Serpets lurking in his shadow and finally Pietr drew himself to attention before the Lieutenant .
“Guardsman Dellanec reporting for duty sir!”
declared Pietr in a clear roar that belied the
fearful knot in his stomach, why did the Lieutenant want him in his squad, to keep an eye on him? To push him until he cracked? To mentor him? Who knew? Only one person, and Pietr wasn’t going to be the one to risk asking him.
“Well,” said the Lieutenant to the squad in general “Now that we are all present, it is time to begin our mission, Vemadyr! Broadcast on all channels...Twelfth, your time has come, Aquila formation pattern six, onward for the Emperor!”
And so the four hundred men and women of the Twelfth company, ninety third Pelvaldst rangers marched into the jaws of death, in the name of the Emperor.
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Dakka Veteran
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Sorry so long between updates but publisher messed me around and I was forced to restart the third chapter.
@Athlon2736: Thanks
@freefire13: Here you are 
Chapter three ‘The jaws of death’
Beyond the thin amniotic film that in this place was all that separated reality from the anarchy of the warp, an army was massing. Unlike the humans assembling in reality, this was not an army of flesh and blood, as such an army would be scattered to dust instantaneously by the nihilistic currents of the warp. Instead this was an army of raw emotion. To those gifted, or cursed, with psychic ability the force would appear to be a seething, roiling, tumultuous mass of noisome shades cloying around an impossibly dark pinpoint of space.
Unlike normal Darkness, which is often overlooked, this drew the gaze, it enveloped all within sight of it, corrupting the surroundings with it’s presence. A mortal would go insane at the sight of it, but for the debauched denizens of the immaterial realm it offered a chance of the one thing they wished for solely, revenge.
Many of these disciples of darkness had the power to obliterate a man where he stood, or to halt a planet’s rotation simply by willing it, but they all obeyed their comrade closest to the breach in the veil that led to the materiel realm. It was stationary, but seethed within, it was impure white, an amalgamation of every foul intention, disgraceful thought and horrific cogitation possible, unbiased in it’s hatred. As the most powerful, the epitome of the ideals of the warp it was the right of this being to enter the breach first.
But it’s power was a weakness, it needed a host, but one with a will and form strong enough not to be eviscerated by it’s entry, so far all the possible candidates had been too weak, and it had been forced to spread itself across many forms, but this was draining, it needed a phsyker.
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"fear me but fallow"
I did it! I pulled the pin!"
"Throw it you idiot!"
