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The sound of grinding steel and rumbling engines filled the air like a mechanical chorus. Giant mechanical vehicles trundled through the knee-deep peat and mud. The men trekked on, tired but spirits unbroken. Some had decided they'd had enough, and had perched on the metal serpent slowly slipping on through the swamp. Vox-casters crackled to life, and responded to in hushed murmurs. The sky burned with a dramatic blood-red.

"So, where we headed, mate?", a gravelled voice whispered to one of the radio-bearing figures.

"South. Command reckons that's going to be the landfall."

The man removed his helmet and placed it next to him, on the tank's hull. "And we're the welcomin' party. Beautiful."

"So, what's your name?" the engineer asked.

"Sigarus. Second Lieutenant Sigarus. Cadian 288th. How about yerself?" as the vehicle dived into a small crater, sending him airborne for a split-second.

"Private Malus. Valhallan 71st. Pleased to meet you." A brief handshake was shared, a small measure of diplomacy between two famously xenophobic nations.

"Ya smoke, Malus?" Sigarus enquired as a quick gesture produced 2 Lho-sticks from an inside pocket.

"No, no. Lho dulls the senses. Gonna need them all sharp soon enough."

"Suit yerself." He said, placing the spare back in the pocket with one hand, lighting his with the other. "Ya seem jumpy, mate. First time?"

Malus nodded his head, quickly, still wading through the mud.

"Ah, well, I'm gonna give ya the basics. The stuff they won't tell ya in trainin'. First of all, these guys ain't yer trainin' simulations. They're all cracked in the head, and the one thing they're gonna do is charge ya. Now the first thing that's gonna go through your head is 'No way I'm gonna take this guy' but so long as everybody's on the same page, and spotted the 7 foot tall looneys screamin' and shoutin' and firing their bolters, you've got nothin' to worry 'bout. Ya see, they've got ceramite armour. That stuff is TOUGH, but not invulnerable. Yer targets are the elbows, the neck and the ol' family jewels. That's where the plates are hinged, and all that's under 'em is flexweave."

The engineer was listening intently, only breaking his attention when his vox-packed crackled to life with chatter.

"So, they're space marines? Or at least they were."

"Long and short of it, aye. We've all heard the story. What they don't tell you is how much their gear has degraded. Those Mechanicus boys do a good job, but without them, the wheels fall off the wagon, if you get the meaning." Sigarus took the end of the lho-stick and flicked it under the treads of the chimera following behind. The sky rumbled with thunder.

"And the Commissars. Mean sons of bitches. Best to avoid them completely out of combat. In combat, stick bloody close. They can handle themself, and pick up the slack. Now you've got that vox-whatsit. You've got a hard job with that thing. You gotta make out the orders through a gakky speaker in the middle of a fight, and make sure everyone around hears the same thing."

The convoy ground to a halt, and every radio crackled to life with the same message.
"HOLD. AWAIT ENEMY CONTACT."

"Right, son. Do or die time. Load your lasgun, make sure the safety's off. And remember, shout those orders, nice and loud." Sigarius placed his helmet back on his head, and looked down the sights of his lasgun.

"Got it. See you on the other side, huh?"

"Aye, be seein' ya. Good luck, bud."

The lieutenant scrabbled across the hull of the chimera, clambering into the hatch. The private hung back, surrounding himself in fellow Valhallans.

"WARP RIFT DETECTED. TRAITORUS EXTREMIS CONFIRMED. WORLD EATERS LEGION. MAY THE EMPEROR GUIDE YOUR ATTACK."

The sky was torn with a great black wound. Chaos approched.



((My first 40k fiction, finally! C&C please.))

Very nice! I liked it

Excellent. Great cinematic dialogue. I Look forward to more