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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!