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So, inspired by some movies, and wanting to make a story about the guard regiment I wrote fluff for, I am trying another part of fiction.

This is just the intro, let me know what you think before I start on the next part.
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Trooper Thompson was cold. He lay in a blown out building together with his squad. The cold was killing him, just like with the others. The Furians weren't made for winters. They favored woods, temperate climates...Not this. The Furian 5th were supposed to fight Tyranids in the crusade, not some rebels. On a world covered in permanent winter, that is. What made matters worse, They were light infantry. And the Generals decided that light infantry, specialised in woodland warfare, would bolster Imperial Forces on a Hive world.

Thompson tightly wrapped his Camo Cloak around him. The cloak had lost it's purpose. The green colors rebeled against the white snow. They only used it for the warmth it gave. He missed Furia, his homeworld. He only lived there for twenty years of his life, but he was born there. It felt like he hadn't lived there long enough.

"Let's move out again." Sergeant McHay stood up, and waved the rest to do so as well.

The Furians were a green outfit. They only just finished there training back on Furia, sent to this place on a frigate, and two weeks after their training, they found themselves in what passed for them a world of crap. At least it weren't the Tyranids. Unlike the 3rd, who were thrown right into a Tyranid assault, they had chances og get some combat experience.

The snow had slackened for now. The Imperials had bombed this place thoroughly, but the rebels just fortified the ruins. Placing new plascrete walls to shut of important routs, they dug trenches at stratehic locations,... It was hard to notice the rebels were just militia. At least Intel said they passed for militia, but thompson noted they were well prepared.

Thompson's squad were all shaking. Not from fear, but from the cold. They will never get used to this weather. Thompson thought about the planet they left behind. his homeworld. He was jaleous of the 4th, who got to stay at Furia and take on the role of the PDF.

His squad was scouting. They didn't want to be seen. Normally the would have used their cloaks, but in the industial area, they had no use. They left the small buidling where they were resting, and headed for the manufactorm on the opposite side of the road. It was the biggest building Thompson ever saw. He was used to the small villages back on Furia. Graffiti was sprayed on the walls, sporting anti Imperial slogans. Command had suspected enemy presence here, so they sent a small squad forward. They ran toward the building in a single file, Sergeant McHay on point. Mchay reached the giant doorway, peeked around it's corner and sent Hajo and McHarl in. The two troopers reported back in a minute, informing the building clear. McHay directed the men inside. At least this building had a roof. They could get some hours of sleep here.

The squad were sent on a two day mission. To scout and repport back in 48 hours, and report all their findings to Company command.

They went inside, and loosened their cloaks. The heating was still working, thankfully. That, or the rebels had been here and put braziers here. They may have left in a hurry. The squad assembled in a circle in the centre of the large room they were in.

"We stay here for two hours. Thompson, Hajo, McHarl, heaten up for a while. Hazjin, look for a look out point, scope around a bit and report anything you see.

Hazjin, the squad's sniper, nodded and ran his agile body out of sight, looking for a vantage point.

"The rest," Sergeant McHay started again guard the doors. You'll rotate shifts with Hajo and the others in one hour.

the four men nodded, one of them grunting.

"Dunn, get me Company Command on the line." The vox opperator nodded and started adjusting his caster set.

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So, intro to the story. Dull, I know, but I want some criticism on how I write. I want to improve my writer skills.

Make the rebels beign organised by genestealer infestation.
This is because altough most planets aren't assaulted by (my) Hive fleet,they are being infiltrated,and scouted
for weaknesses. ow yeah genestealerscan control other creatures by planting small organisms in their body,giving absolute
mind control,further broodlords can hypnotise. And im nod making it up myself its stated in the codex. (so now you dont have a valid reeason to NOT include them )
Oh,and they are creepy sneakers,perfectly for making a man "dissapear".

was what I was planning on. Just sit back, read the rest of the story, and ... well, just read.

Part two, criticism would be lovely.

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"Delta HQ, this is Delta Scout, come in." Dunn tried to raise HQ on the vox."Delta HQ, this is Delta Scout, come in."

The snow was playing hell with Vox.

"Delta HQ, this is Delta Scout, come in." Dunn tried again.

His calls were followed by more static hissing.

"Delta b...ase, ...Go...ahead Scout...."

"Chief, I got them." Dunn yelled. Sergeant McHay walked over. Ripping the speaker horn out of Dunn's hands.

"Sergeant McHay, we reached the second checkpoint, Seventh district Manufactorum. Nothing notable so far, sir. Awaiting coordinates to next checkpoint."

"...C..op..y, that, Sergeant, ...N...ext che...ckpoint is the seventh district's mall....Coordinates: ..................................." Static hissing followed.

"Vrek it, Dunn, fix the line!" Mchay yelled, tossing the horn in the xoc operator's lap. The sergeant walked around angrilly. If the vox line was severed again, they would be trapped in this city, alone without support for longer then they needed. Sergeant Mchay gathered the resting men, and raised the others on his vox bead. at least the vox beads worked. He told them the situation, and that their rest period would be longer then anticipated. The men took this information as a poisoned gift. It meant more time to rest, and warmu up. But it also meant that they would be exposed longer than needed.

as an hour passed, Thompson and the others, including McHay went up for their watch. Still no sign of Hazjin. He must have hidden himself again. Hazjin was a hunter back on Furia. He was used to laying still for long times. Just as the others took their posts, Hazjan reported trouble.

"Halftack." Was Hazjan's simple warning. " Seven men."

"Where are they heading?" Asked Mchay.

"Past, the halftrack is going....no.... It stopped. They are dissembarking. Opposite side of the street.They are heading this way."

"Vrek." Mchay said outloud.

"Permission to take shots sir?" asked Hazjan.

"Yes, They can't spot us. Shoot the halftrack driver first. Don't let them get away."

Mchay rasied the rest on the vox bead. "Positions!" he hissed. Left side of the manufactorum. Dunn stay here, keep raising Command on the vox, we need those coordinates.

Thompson's squad got to their positions. They waited for Hazjan's shot.

Hazjan took aim from his vantage point on top of the manufactorum. He loaded a hot shot round. A single shot clip, but with some luck, he could hit a fuel tank, and destroy their hopes of ègetting back to their base. Hazjan lay in the snow, dead still. He took aim, shot, and the whole block was warned of enemy presence by the exploding Halftrack.

"Vrek." Hazjan mumbled.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Inventive and good ideas.

Some of your senteces seem a bit short. You could probably combine them for a smoother, complex sentence when you have two thoughts that are related merging together.

It's a small grammatical point, but it will make the story flow better and not feel so choppy.

Thanks! I see what you mean. I've re read the to parts and I know now what to change. I will comnine part one and two into a new post, keep the flow in mind, and edit all the spelling mistakes.

But first...exams...

Oke, here's the updated part one and two. Further updates will just continue like before.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Trooper Thompson was cold. He lay in a blown out building together with his squad. The cold was killing him, just like with the others. The Furians weren't made for winters, they favored woods, temperate climates...Not this. The Furian 5th were supposed to fight Tyranids in the crusade, not some rebels. And that on a world covered in permanent winter, that is. What made matters worse, They were light infantry. And the Generals decided that light infantry, specialised in woodland warfare, would bolster Imperial Forces on a Hive world.

Thompson tightly wrapped his Camo Cloak around him. The cloak had lost it's purpose now, the green colors rebeled against the white snow. They only used it for the warmth it gave. He missed Furia, his homeworld. He only lived there for twenty years of his life, but he was born there. It just felt like he hadn't lived there long enough.

"Let's move out again." Sergeant McHay stood up, and waved the rest to do so as well.

The Furians were a green outfit. They only just finished there training back on Furia, sent to this place on a frigate, and two weeks after their training, they found themselves in what passed for them a world of crap. At least it weren't the Tyranids they were fighting. Unlike the 3rd, who were thrown right into a Tyranid assault, they had chances to get some combat experience.

The snow had slackened for now, giving them somewhat of a clearer vieuw ahead of them. The Imperials had bombed this place thoroughly, but the rebels just fortified the ruins, placing new plascrete walls to shut of important routs, digging trenches at strategic locations,... It was hard to notice the rebels were just militia. At least Intel said they passed for militia, but thompson noted they were well prepared.

Thompson's squad were all shaking. Not from fear, but from the cold. The forest dwellers will never get used to this weather. Thompson thought about the planet they left behind, his homeworld. He was jaleous of the 4th, who got to stay at Furia and take on the role of the PDF.

His squad was scouting, they didn't want to be seen. Normally they would have used their cloaks, but in the industial area, they had no use anymore. They left the small buidling where they were resting, and headed for the manufactorm on the opposite side of the road. It was the biggest building Thompson ever saw. He was used to the small villages back on Furia. Graffiti was sprayed on the walls, sporting anti Imperial slogans. Command had suspected enemy presence here, so they sent a small squad forward. They ran toward the building in a single file, Sergeant McHay on point. Mchay reached the giant doorway, peeked around it's corner and sent Hajo and McHarl in. The two troopers reported back in a minute, informing the building clear. McHay directed the men inside. At least this building had a roof, and the structure looked all right. They could get some hours of sleep here.

The squad were sent on a two day mission, to scout and report back in 48 hours, and report all their findings to Company Command.

They went inside, and loosened their cloaks. The heating was still working, thankfully. That, or the rebels had been here and put braziers here. They may have left in a hurry, on a likewise mission the Furians had The squad assembled in a circle in the centre of the large room they were in.

"We stay here for two hours. Thompson, Hajo, McHarl, heaten up for a while. Hazjin, search for a look out point, scope around a bit and report anything you see."

Hazjin, the squad's sniper, nodded and ran his agile frame out of sight, looking for a vantage point.

"The rest," Sergeant McHay started again guard the doors. " 'll rotate shifts with Hajo and the others in one hour. "

the four men nodded, one of them grunting.

"Dunn, get me Company Command on the line." The vox opperator nodded and started adjusting his caster set.

"Delta HQ, this is Delta Scout, come in." Dunn tried to raise HQ on the vox. "Delta HQ, this is Delta Scout, come in."

The snow was playing hell with Vox.

"Delta HQ, this is Delta Scout, come in." Dunn tried again.

His calls were followed by more static hissing, untill finally a hacked an answer came.

"Delta b...ase, ...Go...ahead Scout...."

"Chief, I got them." Dunn yelled. Sergeant McHay walked over, ripping the speaker horn out of Dunn's hands.

"Sergeant McHay here, we reached the second checkpoint, Seventh district Manufactorum. Nothing notable so far, sir. Awaiting coordinates to next checkpoint."

"...C..op..y, that, Sergeant, ...N...ext che...ckpoint is the seventh district's mall....Coordinates: ..................................." Static hissing followed.

"Vrek it, Dunn, fix the line!" Mchay yelled, tossing the horn in the voc opperator's lap. The sergeant walked around angrilly. If the vox line was severed again, they would be trapped in this city, alone without support for longer then they needed. Sergeant Mchay gathered the resting men, and raised the others on his vox bead. At least the vox beads worked. He told them the situation, and that their rest period would be longer then anticipated. The men took this information as a poisoned gift. It meant more time to rest, and warm up, but it also meant that they would be exposed longer than needed.

As an hour passed, Thompson and the others, including McHay went up for their watch. Still no sign of Hazjin, he must have hidden himself again. Hazjin was a hunter back on Furia. He was used to laying still for long times. Just as the others took their posts, Hazjan reported trouble.

"Halftack." Was Hazjan's simple warning. " Seven men."

"Where are they heading?" Asked McHay.

"Past, the halftrack is going....no.... It stopped. They are dissembarking. Opposite side of the street.They are heading this way."

"Vrek." Mchay said outloud.

"Permission to take shots, sir?" asked Hazjan.

"Yes, They can't spot us. Shoot the halftrack driver first. Don't let them get away."

McHay raised the rest on the vox bead. "Positions!" he hissed. Left side of the manufactorum. Dunn stay here, keep raising Command on the vox, we need those coordinates."

Thompson's squad got to their positions. Then they waited for Hazjan's shot.

Hazjan took aim from his vantage point on top of the manufactorum. He loaded a hot shot round. A single shot clip, but with some luck, he could hit a fuel tank, and destroy their hopes of getting back to their base. Hazjan lay in the snow, dead still. He took aim, shot, and the whole block was warned of enemy presence by the exploding Halftrack.

"Vrek." Hazjan mumbled.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

There, I hope it's better to read now.

Next part. I'd love some feedback though.

_________________________________________________________________

The rebels were clearly surprised by the blast behind their backs. The driver and the gunner were killed ouright, burned to death by the fiery explosion. Hazjan's shot hit the fuel tank, the hot shot being strong enough to penetrate the armour plating around the vulnerable halftracks. Two more rebels were knocked to the ground, down but not out. The other three ran to cover. A normal grunt, another one carrying a radio set, and a sergeant of some kind, throwing them into cover. Hazjan knew he made a mistake, but he could try to make up for this. He had endangered his entire squad.

Hazjan quickly aimed at the radio opperator, who was already on the line, giving coordinates. With some luck their lines would be scrambled by the weather, but that explosion must be noticed from afar. It must have been, it was a ghost town now, not a single sound, except the thumping sounds of Imperial mortars spitting death. His sight was obscured by the rubble the rebels were hiding behind. He could see his radio though.

Hazjan saw his squad members on the lower floors taking up supression fire, all hope of stealth was lost. He could hear their grunts and complaints about the agile sniper too, he would have to make a effort if he wished to make it up to them. He steadied his aim on the radio, and shot after taking a deep breath to calm himself. He had used another hot shot pack, resulting in another small explosion as the battery pack of the radio exploded, scorching the opperators back. The opperator was screaming, the trooper with him tried to put out the fire, but he was draged back in line by the sergeant, who, coldly, executed the writhing opperator. the two previously downed men arived in cover mostly unscathed, the Furians blue las bolts whipping all around them. Their cover was just a few steps from where they first lay.

Not only had Hazjan made a bad choice of what to shoot, but he had chosen a bad moment as well. He should have waited a bit more, when the rebels were closer to the building, where they had less cover. Now, the Furian squad and the handfull rebel survivors were locked in a stalemate. Which woèuld be broken by the rebels once they brought in reinforcements. The rebels would then outflank them, and butcher them.

Hazjan would not let that happen. He had brought his squad in this mess, and he would get them out. Hazjan, positioned on the roof, had a better sight on the enemy. He would have to kill them quickly, if the Furians wanted to relocate before they would be 'vrekked' by the rebels. Hazjan needed to shoot faster. He changed the spent hot shot pack, but instead of loading another hot shot round, he loaded a normal pack, so that he would lose less time reloading.

He slapped the pack home, took aim while steadying his breathing. He sighted the sergeant, barking orders and shooting at the windows with his auto pistol. He had to make sure to make kill shots, so he aimed for the head. through his scope, he could make out the sergeant's tribal tatooes, and his scar covered face. He squeezed the trigger, resulting in a small explosion of gore. The las bolt passed through his head. The sergeant slumped down, out of vieuw for Hazjan. His three remaining compatriots stood up and fled at the sight of the death of their boss.

The fleeing rebels were quickly cut down by a fusilade of blue las bolts. The skirmish ended, but if they didn't holler soon, the battle would start soon.

"Hazjan, get you sorry arse down here," McHay's voice cut through the vox bead in his ear. "And Vrekking hurry, puke!"

Hazjan picked himself up, shaking the snow off of him. He collected his two spent hot shot packs, he couldn't wast any of them. They were valuable once they were recharged again. Besides, it was a habit of him back home. He never left a spent shell casing behnd in the woods.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

next part. When chapter 1 is done, I'll compile everything in one big post.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

When the stalemate eventually broke, the squad rushed out of the building. Dunn, hadn't reached HQ yet, he had stopped trying when they started to run. Command had said something of a mall, so they just had to read the signs on the road. This proved more difficult then expected. Because of the bombing, most of the signs weren't there anymore, blown away.

McHay halted his squad at a corner. He waved Hazjan forward, to sneek around the corner and watch for enemy movement. Hajo and Thompson covered him. Hazjan eventually got to a good position, and scoped around. Not too long after, he rushed back. McHay was about to yell to him again, but then he heard the sound of engines.

"Two halftracks." Hazjan said simply running around the corner. Trooper Gyrin waved them over, to another corner. Gyrin had checked it, and it had appeared save to him. Thompson, Gyrin and Hajo ran up front. They had lost all regard for safetey, and ran on on adrenaline. They couldn't be seen, nor caught. The three of them jumped behind a set of barrels. Hajo peeked over the top, didn't see anything, and waved the rest onward. Hajo hadn't checked carefully.

Hajo took point, with Thompson and Gyrin on his tail and the rest following behind. The ardenaline pumped trooper rushed ahead, almost forgetting the rest. Hajo felt something against his shin. He stopped dead in his tracks, looked down and saw a piece of cord. Fear took over, but he hadn't forgotten about his squad. He turned round on one foot, while resting the other at its place.

"Vrek, boobytrap!" Get ba--"

The explosives went off. Fire, smoke and a red mist kicked up.Thompson and Gyrin were caught up front. They weren't wounded, but they were knocked down by the blast.

"Regroup." He heard McHay's steady voice in his ear.

Dazed, Thompson sat upright, and saw four rebels coming at them. It was an ambush, they were expecting the Furians. The four rebels were armed with different kinds of hand weapons. Knives, a hammer and a lead pipe. Thompson reached for his lasgun, but it was too far away. He took out his knife, as three of them were coming his way. He held his knife in a deffensive stance. But he sat on the ground, so defending himself would prove hard. Thompson had given up, he would die soon. Two blue las beams struck out through the dust. Gyrin had gotten hold of his lasgun. One of the rebels was shot in the leg, the other beam clipped the shoulder of the other.

That left one for Thompson to take care off. With renewed vigor, he jumped to his feet and lunged towards the rebel. The enemy brought his pipe high, ready to smack it in his face, but Thompson's momentum brought his knife in his belly. They both dropped, rolled around, and Thompson proceeded to stab him in the torso. He stopped after he was sure he had knifed the life out of him.

The dust settled, and Thompson had sight of his lasgun. He heard the cracks of lasguns behind him, then a yell. He saw Gyrin wrestling with the rebel. He picked up his lasgun, stormed to help Gyrin and dragged the crazed rebel off of Gyrin. Thompson smacked him to the ground, and brought the butt of his rifle down on the rebel's head. His head caved in with a loud crack. Gyrin got back up, scooped his lasgun up, and dropped to his knee, looking through the sights of his rifle. He aimed more carefully, and shot the two wounded rebbels dead.

The cracks of lasguns faded, and he saw, through the falling snow, the rest of his squad coming up. He counted only six men. The bulky form of Dunn and his vox were missing.

"Where's Dunn?" asked Gyrin.

"Done." replied McHarl. "Las though the head, the vox is wasted, too."

"Shut it and keep running." The sergeant cut in. "Where's Hajo?"

Thompson indicated the red splattering on the white snow and the walls of the alley. McHay simply raised an eyebrow.

"Impressive handywork, guys" Trooper Hendrick noted.

"I'd suggest you shut up, and we start running." Hazjan cut in. "Those halftracks aren't waiting for us."

McHay nodded, and waved them onward, this time taking point himself. The eight remaining scouts ran across open streets and though small alleys. They could hear the enemy all around them, yelling. Those halftrack's engines weren't shutting up either. Hazjan suggested they lay low in a small building, so the squad entered a small, dirty hab. They sat down, on chairs, on the bed and even on the ground leaning against the ground. The tiredness only noticed now. The adrenaline kept them running. They were catching their breaths, then McHarl cut in.

"Nice job there, sniper. Two K.I.A.'s, some scrapes...And not to mention the whole city looking for us."

"What do we do now, Sarge?" Asked Gyrin.

"The mall's too far away. I saw a road sign, it's still two hours away. We'll look for a radio transmitter of some kind, if the rebels could use them, we could use them to call HQ for help... If they send help." Said McHay, stressing the 'If'.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

After fifteen minutes of rest, the eight remaining men of McHay's squad set out again, this time looking for a way out.

Hazjan had watched their directions, and he could tell that they were close by friendly lines. Not their lines, but friendlies either way. Three miles further down, were the lines of third company. Thompson and the rest of his squad belonged to second company, so their lines were to the right of the third. Everything went well for the first mile, but then they ran into trouble again. A fifteen man patrol of enemies had spotted them. Lucky for Thompson and his squad, cover was close by. They ducked behind cover at the first warning shot, making sure not to get hit.

The squad laid low inside a small blown out building, hugging cover. Eight of them, against fifteen of the enemy. McHay knew they would be overrun soon. The Furians took up positions at windows, the door and even blown out walls. As McHay winged an enemy trooper he saw a radio operator yelling into the horn. Now, the whole enemy army knew of their location. They would send in reinforcements, and McHay and the rest of his squad would die on a planet they didn't even knew the name of. The radio operator tossed the horn aside, done giving coordinates, took up his lasgun and started shooting with the rest of the rebels.

Thompson lay behind cover next to Hendrick behind a blown out wall. The table and chairs provided more then enough cover. Hendrick fired on full auto, forcing the rebels inside cover. Thompson prefered sigle shot, and aimed carefully before taking his shots. He saw the shoulder of one rebel, and carefully took aim only to be too late. Hazjin had taken the shot. Hendrick reloaded his rifle.

"Don't know if we get out of this one," he said. "We'll probably die."

"No kidding, vrekhead." Thompson replied.

Hendrick slapped in another pack, and started firing again. Thompson knew he would be out of packs soon, that was Hendrick's second pack he just spent. He wondered how long they would last in this.

Trooper Bojas was screening Hazjan. He had his lasgun on burst-mode, and let off ocasionall salvos with his lasgun. The tactic worked, Hazjan was able to pick off two rebels. But it was doomed to fail. The rebels were tired of Bojas anoying fire, ans tossed a grenade between his legs. Bojas didn't notice this, he was just ducking out of cover letting of another burst of las. The grenade went off, shredding his legs off. The middle aged trooper lay shaking in the snow, looking at the stumps that were once his legs. The rest hand't even noticed this, too ocupied with holding of the attackers.

Five of the rebels lay down, dead, but it was just a matter of seconds before halftracks would arive, bolstering the numbers of the attackers. Gyrin could hear the engines rumbling. He pressed the stud of thevox bead in his ear, and spoke.

"Halftacks spotted." He said calmly. And at that moment two halftracks appeared, undoubtly the same that were chasing them not so long ago. The two tracked vehicles stopped and unleashed their cargo. Seven rebels jumped out of each halftrack, bolstering their numbers with fourteen men.

"Concentrate fire." McHay's calm voice cut through the link, and imediatly, all the Furians who had a clear shot, aimed at the dissembarking troops. Three were killed by the salvo, with another two wounded and being dragged into cover by their comrades. The Heavy Stubbers answered this fire with their own, taking huge chunks out of the walls and the cover, forcing the defenders to keep their heads down. Trooper Bojas, who was too shocked with the loss of his legs, was riddled by stubber fire.

The fuians were down to seven men now, and the rebels started advancing in on the building. Hazjan took another shot, blasting the head off a sergeant. One of the stubber gunners spotted the sniper and fired on him, forcin him down. The stubber fire was unrelenting, Hazjan couldn't get another shot off.

with one of the stubbers occupied elsewhere, Gyrin took this opportunity to spray the assaulting rebels. Switching to auto, he managed to take down two rebels, but he didn't know they were dead or not. He took a las beam in the shoulder, knocking him over The las had cauturiesed the wound, but it hurt like hell. Imediatly, another rebel was almost on him, but Gyrin was saved by Trooper Laughlin's las beams, two shots and the rebel fell down, dead.

" Enemy almost inside," informed Laughlin, holding his vox bead.

This was it. McHay knew this was the end of his life. He just wished he could have died on Furia, peacefully. Suddenly, McHay heard an explosion, followed by Hazjan.

"Here comes the cavalry!" the agile sniper yelled relieved. Enemy fire was slacking for the moment, so McHay could afford to look out of the window a bit more. He saw a squad of Furian Rough Riders, half of them sporting Hunting lances, spears with explosive tips strong enough to penetrate the armor of lightly armored vehicles such as the halftracks. He also saw one of the halftracks burning.

The remaining Furians picked up their las fire, and started cutting down bewildered rebels. One of the Riders had a powersword, and McHay saw him clamping a melta bomb to the second halftrack. The stub gunner tried to take shot at him, but the cavalry officer was too fast for him to take aim at. The officer got out of the way of the explosion just in time. The melta bomb went off, and the halftrack was envelloped by almost white fire. The officer drew his powersword, activated it, and waved his men at the routing rebels. The officer hacked off the head of a running rebel, the rest of the Riders doing the same with normal swords. Those with hunting lances held back, preserving their lances for vehicles.

Together with lasfire from McHay's squad, the remaining rebels were quickly cut down. After the skirmish, the both officers headed out for eachother. The rough riders took up a formation, while the infantry squad came out of the building, bloodied.

McHay had some cuts, Gyrin clutched his shoulder, Thompson supported a limping Hendrick who had been shot in the leg, and Laughlin had a cut on his forhead.

Sergeant McHay stepped forward, slinging his lasgun on his houlder.

"Sergeant McHay, fifth platoon, second company." Mchay said. "Sir," he added after seeing the cavalry officer's stripes.

"Captain Evans, seventh cavalry unit attached to third company." The captain looked down from his horse and sheeted his power sword. "Looks like you got a beating here, sergeant. I suggest you head back for our lines, and get some medical attention. The way is cleared, Cavalry has seen to that." And with that the Captain galloped away, the rest of his men following close by.

"Glory hunting basterds" added Laughlin. McHay managed a tight smile, and waved his squad onwards to freindly lines.

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here, this was the first chapter. What do you guys think?

i have found it inspiring,makes me wanna do something like this. however, where are the genestealers?

Not yet, hendaron. I imagine Stealers don't want to be seen until the good moment has arisen. And now, that moment hasn't arived yet.