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Part 1
I
All hope is lost, I don’t know when; maybe in a few days, maybe even in a handful of hours, but all of this will be over soon, I know it.
Since I have some time to kill until the time comes to meet my maker, I guess I can go ahead and tell my story. After all, anything I can do to distract myself from the horrible fate the unavoidably awaits me, is a good idea. It’s a useless effort, though, as soon as my time comes, as soon as my captors are finally convince that I have outlived my usefulness, I will be terminated and every single record of my existence, every proof of who I was, will be deleted; the world will keep on turning as if I never existed. I will be forgotten. Tragic really, especially considering how interesting it is this story of mine.

I wish I was better at this, though. I wasn’t born a storyteller or a public speaker; I’ve always been shy and clumsy both with words and in attitude. Ever since I was a little boy I was always more of the quiet type; the one that silently agrees and nods, the one that asks no questions and hopes to avoid being the center of attention.
Now it doesn’t matter. While I wait for everything to end I’ll make my greatest effort to tell a clear story; to explain how you go from being a nobody, to a hero and then a traitor.

As it is true for billions, my tale begins at Cadia, at one of the districts of the planet with less tactical significance under the rule of Lord Commander Tugurius Pedro. Personally I have no quarrel against the Lord Commander, I never met him and I never served directly under his lordship, but I guess it is essential for me to begin my tale with him, since his visions (or his eccentricities) were the first wheel to get the engines of my fate turning. But to all of that I will return later, right now is important to introduce myself, not my superiors; I, after all, am the tragic hero of this story.

There is a very common saying here in Cadia: ‘Those who turn ten still unable to prep and shoot a lasgun were born in the wrong planet’. It has a lot of truth into it (and I knew how to work the darn gun by the time I was nine), but it omits other aspects that are equally relevant for surviving in this awful planet; one of the most important and often ignored being psychical height. You see; by the time I was finished with basic youngling training and ready to join the White Shields, I was way under five feet tall and lighter that my youngest sister (who is four years my junior). It was a miracle that I had survived those first dreadful years and by the time I was ready to be assimilated into the regular infantry there was an ongoing bet among my peers to try to guess how many minutes I would manage to stay alive before getting squashed like an insect the first time I saw combat. Everything; from my physical insignificance, to my military incompetence and my shy and easily frightened nature pointed at me getting killed as soon as I sat foot on a battlefield, my role among Cadia’s finest as nothing more that brief and tiny cannon fodder. Not that there was anything wrong with it, aren’t all martyrs of the Imperium precious cannon fodder after all?

Exactly two weeks after being assimilated by the Cadian 68th, the heretic known as Abbadon, the Despoiler, famous for killing men just with his handsome smile and eating space marines both for breakfast and supper, led a new incursion from the Eye of Terror against the Imperium of Man. My regiment was among those honored with the task of acting as a first response resistance force and, our on duty commissar was generous enough to tell us, we suddenly became prime candidates for martyrdom.
It was an undeniable truth (there is no point now in pretending it wasn’t), we were being sent to die; that’s what ‘first response resistance’ means and there was no going around it. Abbadon’s Black Legion had taken over Cadia’s eastern spaceport and they were using it as a landing bay for their forces coming from the Eye; it was their main foothold on the planet and our orders were as simple as they were ridiculous: We were supposed to reclaim it in the name of the Emperor (or at least hold the traitor forces at bay until planetary command could gather a fighting force with an actual fighting chance.

Now let me tell you something else about the first response platoons: Since they are literally ‘the first to respond’, they are not exactly heavily supplied; we go in as if sent to an unexpected holyday. We had no air support, no artillery cover, no recon forces or heavier weaponry, all we had to back us up were some scatter heavy bolters, a few autocannons and (if the commanding officer had earned the right to a decent last stand) maybe a handful of missile launchers. We rappelled from the troop carriers with little more than our lasguns and our campaign knives, we had food and water for two days, but those were completely irrelevant; we weren’t expected to be alive within the next couple of hours. All Glory to the Emperor of Man.

Anyways, I sat foot on the battlefield and threw up. In front of me was the humongous facility that was the eastern spaceport and every single one of its weapon platforms was on enemy hands and wildly firing against Imperial forces that were futilely trying to approach from every direction. All around me I could see infantry squadrons that at one moment were there, trying to form up, and in the next were scattered all over the place, their brave members shredded to pieces. I had a brief moment of clarity I used to recall my basic training and going through the lessons in my mind I chose the knowledge that was more likely to keep me alive considering my current situation and went to the ground, clutching my helmet to my head, crying.

During the following five minutes the sergeant in charge of my unit pretended he couldn’t clearly understand the orders to advance that were coming to us from the vox caster, but eventually the landing site got way too crowded and started to draw a significant amount of enemy fire. A lieutenant and his entourage came to us and ordered the sergeant to move out, to make it possible for the rest of the first response forces to deploy. We had a grenade launcher, a mortar and a simple and impossible order to fulfill: We had to disable two of the spaceports defensive towers, the ones that were closer to us, in order to clear access to the facility for the armored company that would be arriving within the next couple of hours. The regiment was supposed to silence the weapon emplacements, clear the access ramp from enemy resistance, and open the gates to the facility; an easy enough task for the brave children of the Emperor.

- Like hell we are going to do that- replied the sergeant on the edge of losing his mind with war bawling all around him- Get up, boys! We are getting out of here!

He was a reasonable man, the sergeant, a just man; it was a shame no one among us had the balls to warn him about the platoon commissar within earshot of himself. Once the summary execution had taken place, and the hasty selection process for a new junior officer for the unit, we were on our way; following the grim black uniform, among a few hundred other terrified guardsmen, for one first and last suicidal charge.

Luckily for me, the Emperor (who protects with shields of holiness every single one of his loyal and brave warriors) must have been having lunch at the time because the commissar got himself blown up midspeech by a lost lascannon shot who reduced him to a pair of smoking boots. The platoon had now gotten close enough to the action to draw an enormous amount of attention upon itself and we were being fire on, not only by the defensive turrets of the facility, but also by the huge figures clad in black armor and wielding furious boltguns that were shattering us to little pieces from the fortress ledges. In the ensuing chaos I was able to crawl into a tiny ball (never before had I been so grateful for physically being so little) and crept towards a small crater made by a heavy bolter shell were I hid and foolishly try to convince myself that I was safe.
What happened to the rest of my squad? To those kids I grew up with? Sometimes I do wonder. I mean, there is no actual mystery behind it; they got blown to bits all over the battlefield while I hid and embraced my lasgun weeping. I feel no regrets, there was nothing I could have done about it, we were getting hell from above and all our leaders were expecting us to do at the moment was to die. Maybe Cadian command was hoping the Black Legion would run out of ammunition reducing us to ash, but that seems unlikely. I think space marines go to war with more than enough ammo to kill a few thousand guardsmen each.

The minutes that followed were the worst of my life. All I could do was stay hidden while the enemy tirelessly poured fire upon our position and all I could here was the horrible death screams of my comrades as they were martyring themselves for the glory of Cadia. All around me there was nothing more than smoke, and dust, and death and I got to accept that my time was coming to, that I didn’t have that much time left. Something deep within my guts, however, started to bother me; I had grown up hearing amazing tells of bravery and sacrifice, of great heroes of the Imperial Guard making selfless last stands, ramming their ammo depleted tanks against traitor or alien fortifications or leading their flaming aircrafts to crash against key enemy positions. And yet, there I was, about to die without firing a single shot.

I was thinking about that when a deafening explosion muted for an instant everything that was going on around me. Immediately after that first bang a second, equal in magnitude, made the echo of the first completely vanish and also cause me to wonder for an instant if the world hadn’t suddenly exploded. Strangers things have happen.
Curiosity got the best of my survival instinct and I sneaked up from my hiding crater. I almost shitted my pants when I did: The two turrets we were supposed to destroy were now just smoky ruins of ravel and bent steel. What had happened? There was at least a couple of thousands of dead guardsmen all around me and none of them looked like they accomplished much before being vanquished from existence. Who had done it then? I most certainly did not and yet, I was the only one still alive. My silent inquiries were suddenly interrupted when the gates to the access ramp, the impenetrable walls of iron my regiment was supposed to secure, slowly and fatefully opened up, clearing access to the entrance ramp. My short lived sense of wonder was replaced by dread and awe; five enormous figures, five horrible space marines clad in the dark armor of the Black Legion, covered in spikes and hideous trophies, came slowly walking down the ramp escorting the most terrifying and hell forged nightmare I had ever seen: A dreadnought. That was fear, everything else I had felt before couldn’t compare.

‘Now what?’ I thought still overwhelmed by terror. Quietly, invisible by my small size and the dusty smoked that covered the killing fields, I looked at the space marines; they seemed confuse, apparently they also didn’t know who had blown up the two defensive turrets, and now they had come down to the ground looking for the culprit. What could I do? They certainly wouldn’t be stupid enough to think that I, armed with my unfired lasgun and my lunch was the warrior they were looking for, but that didn’t mean much; when they found me I could expect no mercy and, on the contrary, my fate could end up being much worse than that of my fallen comrades all around me.
I force myself to think despite the terror. A minute before that I had being cursing my fate, dying without having a chance to fight, without firing a single shot; now I had my chance. It was better to get blown to pieces by a bolter round than to be torture by the space marines or trample by the dreadnought. I needed, however, a better weapon; protected by their armor I had better chances of damaging the space marines by throwing rocks at them than with my lasgun. So I again sneaked up above my crater and, Emperor be praised, found my units grenade launcher, still attached to the arm of its previous wielder. Undetected by my enemies I reached out, grabbed the weapon, rid myself of the lost arm and hid again. I embrace the gun, closed my eyes and tried to control my own frantic heartbeat; I took a long breath, once, twice, thrice, and only then I opened my eyes and discover I wasn’t alone in the crater anymore; there was someone else taking shelter by my side. Next to me was the Imperium’s tiniest storm trooper; completely covered in carapace armor and combat gear, at least half a foot shorter than I was.

- Comrade- he said in a relax and upbeat tone- I will distract them, when they start shooting at me you take a shot at the machine.

There is a whole bunch of things I would have answered before agreeing to a mad request like that, but my tiny ally didn’t give me time to pick one. The mysterious storm trooper jumped out of the crater without saying another word and sprinted away to my left flank, swiftly as I had never seen a guardsman move and firing upon the surprised space marines. The traitors took a second to understand they were under attack; it wasn’t until one of the shots from the tiny warrior pierced the helmet of one of them and made him fall lifeless to the ground that they fully understood they had made contact with the enemy. As they open fire I let myself be inspired by that insane act of bravery. Roaring like I had never done before, like I didn’t know I could roar, I stood up and took a shot against the dreadnought.
My shot was beautiful. The space marines had exposed their flank to me and were firing now against the tiny figure that had taken out one of their own still unable to hit the swift and tiny soldier. I pulled the trigger and watched the slug draw a perfect arc across the air and hit the dreadnought in the rear armor, among the complex system of wires and pipes behind it. For an instant I felt like a god, an instant short lived because the shot hit the machine and harmlessly bounced right from it, exploding in the ground at a safe distance.

- Crap!- I yelled more frustrated than terrify and took a second shot that also bounce right of the dreadnought’s armored plates as it rotated towards me bound to kill.
- Fire in the hole!- another voice shouted and instinctively I went to the ground.

With my face buried in the dirt I didn’t see what happened next. I heard a huge explosion and felt heat a rubble fly across the sky. I firefight ensured, I heard shots from boltguns and several other weapons. The space marines exchanged fire with an unseen enemy that apparently had just magically appeared and was now attacking them from every direction. It lasted for less than a minute and then it was over. Silence reigned again.

I roused to see and found the dreadnought reduced to just two smoking hulking iron legs and all the space marines but two dead. The survivors were cursing between their teeth and frantically looking for their enemies. All around us there was only smoke and dust. I didn’t dare to move, everything was happening as part of a dream.
There was a sudden burst and an instant later a white fireball crashed against one of the surviving space marines and made a whole in his chest so big I could have easily gone through it. The horrible warrior went crashing down with his finger still on the trigger and his squad mate quickly turned against the source of the plasma shot. Turning was all he had time to do: a hail of laser fire overwhelmed his back and he fell on his knees growling like a mad dog. He tried to get up but a second plasma shot hit him on the arm holding his bolter and melted it in fractions of a moment. Roaring, still alive and furious, the space marine used the arm he had left and took out his bolt pistol. The black monster made a quick and unexpected turn and suddenly his eyes met with mine. I didn’t notice, but I was now standing up, the grenade launcher pointed at him.
I pulled the trigger, the shell hit him in the chest; I pulled it again, the second shot also hit the mark. When I pulled the trigger a third time the space marine was already on the ground, dead, but I couldn’t be too sure.

- Well done, kid- the friendly voice belonged to the mysterious stormtrooper who had suddenly reappeared behind me, followed by his squad mates who came from all directions walking out of the smoke that covered almost the whole battlefield.

At first glance I assumed it was the distance what made them all look so small, but then they were by the dreadnought and the dead space marines, and then all around me and I could see they were all tiny indeed; the tallest still at least three inches shorter than I was, the shortest more than a whole foot. I had been saved by a bunch of leprechauns.

The miniature stormtroopers secured the perimeter paying no attention to my presence, and slowly gathered next to my mysterious friend who, in turn, seemed to be the only one noticing me. They were all protected by stormtrooper armor, all of them had their faces covered by breathing gear and night vision goggles, they were all ridiculously small.

- Greetings, buddy- said my pocket size hero, his voice managed to come warm and friendly despite the breathing apparatus; he looked around him at the dead space marines- Very impressive work. A lot of potential in you, kid.

I wanted to say something, but my attempts to arrange my thoughts were cut short by the roaring engines of a Valkyrie coming down on our position to pick up the tiny unit and killing any chance of conversation before it could begin. The aircraft hovered gently above us for a moment and then slowly begun its vertical descent until it was almost landing by the crater that had earlier saved my life. The small veterans started boarding still ignoring me completely, and I didn’t dare to move a muscle until I saw an arm stretching towards me.

- Are you staying?- asked the voice at the end of the welcoming hand, this one rougher and with an undeniable authority in itself.- We are not gonna wait for you to make up your mind.

I reacted without thinking (looking back on it, maybe I should have stayed on the ground) and jumped inside the Valkyrie. The same man who told me to get in, hit the side of the aircraft twice as indicating the pilot we were good to go and was suddenly interrupted by another of his tinny troopers, this one a woman.

- Haggen is still out there- there was a certain panic in her voice- After the dreadnought blew up we got separated.
- No one goes missing in this unit!- the officer had to yell because the Valkyrie’s engines were already raising; his voice was arid, distant and cold- You know the rules! You get left behind, you are KIA!- again the tapping to the said of the aircraft- Let’s go!

The Valkyrie took off without any more delays. I took a look through one side of the vessel and saw the armored battalions arriving on the field. Within minutes the eastern spaceport became a hell much worse than the one that annihilated my platoon. I, somehow, had managed to survived and was now leaving my first combat experience still in one piece, surrounded by some mysterious veterans. That was the first time I rode to combat with The Badgers.

(Disclamer: This is my first attempt to translate a novel I wrote five years ago in my native Spanish. I apologize for errors in my use of English and thank any pointers I can get to correct them. If the response is possitive enough I will continue to translate the chapters once a week. I think the read is worth a shot, and will welcome any advice and comments)

II
Now I go back to Lord Commander Tugurius Pedro who ruled over Cadian Regiments 50th to 68th for almost a hundred years and got himself a reputation as sometimes a visionary, sometimes an eccentric, but usually just a madman. Ever since the very start of his career he made a name for himself because of his disregard for logical or practical thinking and his more than unconventional methods. These also gained him a lot of enemies and detractors, but mostly accomplishments and recognitions in a planet were war is the trade and results what builds a man’s honor. For some he was a genius, but for most (especially those serving under him) he was insane, despite the nonsense many of his ideas seem to be (and a lot of them were just pure garbage) he somehow manage to usually come back victorious, even on the face of certain doom, even with limited resources or time.

Tugurius Pedro was, after all, the one who destroyed a column of advancing Space Marines from the Iron Warriors legion by dropping hellhound assault tanks on them. He was also the one who broke the traitor siege of hive Melcas with a bayonet charge using women and children as meat shields. And he was also the one who had designed a catapult like device able to launch ogryns wearing grav-chutes to land behind enemy lines and the only commander ever to standardize the training of ratling veterans as commissars to have tiny morale boosters that were harder to kill for enemy snipers. All of these and some more, helped to build his reputation as an eccentric tactician and a madman and it was only because of his unexpected success and the constant need to fill up gaps in the cadian chain of command that his career skyrocket and reached the rank of Lord Commander at a relatively young age. In time, most of his unconventional practices fell into oblivion, but one of the stuck around even after the Lord Commander was force to retirement for old age and lack of mental stability. That idea was the unit that had saved me on that fateful date on the cadian eastern spaceport. It was out of his bizarre mind that The Badgers came to be.

It all started during the uprising of coronel Transito Mercer that Lord Commander Tugurius Pedro first came up with the idea of the unit that would end up being his legacy. The coronel and those loyal to him barricaded themselves on their hives tightest stronghold and took control of the planets main artillery factories and heaviest weapon platforms. Imperial logistic immediately calculated that the siege to reclaim the lost fortifications and facilities would take several months. For the Lord Commander that amount of time was inconceivable. He studied the blueprints of Mercer’s stronghold and decided that a single unit of elite commandos should be able to eliminate the traitor colonel and the highest members of his chain of command and unleash enough chaos and confusion to allow a massive assault on the withheld facilities. The plan had only one problem; the ventilation ducts the commandos were supposed to use were way too narrow to allow access to anything larger than a child, but the Lord Commander had a quick and undeniable solution to the issue: He would assemble a fresh unit from the tiniest men he had available.

The gears of war begun to move immediately and from the thousands of men he had at his disposal the Lord Commander gathered those who stood out for being ridiculously small in size and had them train, under the lead of a ratling sergeant, in special operations and sabotage tactics. The finest storm trooper instructor available took the tiny recruits under their wings and got them ready at top speed for their crucial mission. The fate of the siege resting on their shoulders.

The operation, of course, was a complete failure. Every single one of the commandos was caught and executed by Mercer’s troops without even coming close to their targets and slaying the traitor coronel and crushing the uprising took several months, as was predicted, but that didn’t took the idea of the unit of tiny elite commandos out of the Lord Commander’s mind. He simply blamed the failure of the unit in a lack of training and an excess of size.

After the campaign against Mercer Lord Commander Tugurius Pedro became even more decided on the utility of a small size storm trooper unit. He believed those elite commandos would be harder to spot and hit for the enemy, would gain access more easily through small bents and gaps to key objectives and would have an undeniable edge on missions where stealth would be the deciding factor. Finding a short period of peace time after Mercer’s dead, the Lord Commander commissioned a large amount of his resources to have the new unit recruited and trained. A petition was made through Cadia High Command and, taking advantage of his rank and his prestige, the new aspirants for Tugurius Pedro’s latest idea where gather from a broad range of planets close and far from the Eye of Terror.

The new recruits were chosen from among billions of young troopers doing basic training in hundreds of different worlds and the criteria didn’t care for their martial skills, their bravery or strategic thought or even their loyalty and faith in the Holy Emperor of Terra, but solely for their small size. About a Hundred applicants were gather at the boot camp facility prepared for them in Cadia, all different in origin, gender, age, or personality; all of them sharing a size never taller than 5 feet. They went through a training process that, from what I have gathered, can only be compared to that undertaken by the space marines of the Adeptus Astartes; pushed to the edge with brutal physical and psychological tests, pumped to the limits of their own bodies with hormones, and implants designed to strengthening the body while disabling bone growth, and trained harshly under pressure in the use of a huge specter of tactics and weapons. A lot of the recruits lost their minds, even their lives, in the process, but that was both expected and desired by the overseers of the project, a natural method for culling down the weakest of the bunch. Those who survived become incredibly tough despite their size; grew to accept their new reality meant victory was life and failure would mean death.

Following those first brutal years when the first generation of the tiny commandos was finally trained and ready for battlefield action; those who had managed to stay alive and pass all the vigorous test laid before by their instructors, lacked the fanatical faith and cold devotion so proudly worn by regular cadian karskin units; instead they were more like a pack of vicious and cunning beasts, taught by their merciless training that any means were valid in the fight for survival. Coming from those who were, like me, once the weakest, the laughing stock, the most insignificant members of their regiments; from those who knew their size and physical limitations made any hope for glory or heroism impossible, those first commandos didn’t care for honor or rewards, for making a name for themselves among their peers: They just wanted really but not to die yet, to delay death by any means necessary; which was quite a challenge considering they were trained in one circle of hell to go to a much more terrifying one.

No one, not even themselves, expected anything other than failure when the first unit was presented to the Lord Commander. Only Tugurius Pedro believed in his elite tiny warriors and all the resources their recruitment and training had cost earned them immediate dislike from other officers and even regular troopers all around the planet. That, however, was irrelevant to the elite unit, all of them had become use to the despise of their peers from a very young age, and they grew taciturn and hostile towards people outside their own ranks, answering to no one besides their direct commanding officers. It wasn’t long until the political enemies of Tugurius Pedro cast him away from Cadia in a long a violent campaign against the aliens threatening the Imperium, hoping it would cost him either his honor or his live, and the tiny storm troopers came with him; that was their trial by fire, the beginning of their legend.
The alien of the Tau had experience fast and constant growth for several years now and the Imperium was constantly losing frontier worlds to them at a worrisome rate. The cadian regiments under the Lord Commander were deployed as part of the war effort to reclaim those worlds and his favorite unit made a name for themselves almost as quick as they made their first planet fall. Taking minimum casualties, with and aggressive attitude and unconventional tactics, Pedro’s tiny killers started gathering victories for their Lord Commander at some points almost on their own assassinating alien leaders, wreaking havoc among enemy supply facilities and empowering conquered colonists to upraise against their tau rulers. The objectives of the cadian refresh forces in the campaigned were achieve in record time and by the time Tugurius Pedro returned to Cadia his ‘pocket warriors’ (the first sort of standard name they received from their regiments) were already war tempered veterans and had already dramatically increase the honor associated to his name.

By that time the elite unit was not only respected, but also feared by the ranks of the Cadian 68th. Harassed and bullied since they first joined the war effort, they had become a distrusting and ill-tempered bunch, resentful like the inquisition and extremely protective of their own. Any offense against one of the tiny troopers was repaid swiftly, quietly and with extreme violence; a disdainful push or muttered insult returned with the removal of a tongue or even a castration, a spiteful glare repaid with the loss of both eyes by barb wire or acid. It was that violent and brutal temperament matched with their small size what finally earned them the nickname of ‘Badgers’ all through the cadian 68th and the name stuck through the years even after Tugurius Pedro was force to retire for old age up until the time the unit made me board their Valkyrie.

On that day the unit had just lost one of their own and consisted of eleven members (small as they were, their full operation size was twelve; it was just as easy to move them around as ten regular sized troopers) and the one I met while hiding on the crater was the oldest of them all, and also the only one who was actually friendly. His real name I never knew, but that didn’t prevent him from introducing himself as we were all flying away from the eastern spaceport.

- They call me ‘Patty’, bud- he said as he removed the survival gear’s respirator to uncover a red face covered by a thick and ever redder beard, he had bright green eyes with an intense kind of crazy look that took me as he imposed on me a strong and manly handshake.
- My name is…- I tried to say, still coming back from what had just happened and the oddness of my current situation.
- What the hell were you doing alone in that ditch? Taking photographs of the tourist landmarks?- interrupted me a voice coming from the other end of the aircraft.

The man that had spoken got up and walked towards me. He was considerably shorter than myself (maybe the shortest in the unit), but his shoulders spread almost twice wider than mine and with his carapace armor he looked more like a miniatures space marine than like a guardsman. He was called ‘Big’ (I never heard him called otherwise) and the rumors I later learned about him said he had volunteered during basic training to test a prototype for hypersteroids meant to dramatically increase muscular growth while simultaneously halting any development in height. It was unclear to both his commanding officers and his own comrades wherever his short-tempered was a side effect of the drugs or just him being a born jerk. Big was indeed the most violent and rude member of the unit and, from what Patty told me later on that day, he was constantly getting into fights and was actually feared but other members of the Cadian 68th, who knew he was quick to anger and easily misinterpreted a quick and nervous glance as a provocation.

- It doesn’t matter, man, don’t waste your energy worrying about things not even you care about- the voice that said this came from a man also removing his respirator; like Patty, he seemed older than the rest, probably in his mid-fifties, most of his hair was grey and his eyes were tired and laid back, just like his voice. He lit a cigarette mid-sentence but barely got to hold it on his lips; someone took it from his mouth and threw it to the floor.
- Don’t smoke in the ship- said a rough, cranky, woman’s voice- the next one I’ll put down on your forehead.

The man was called ‘Radio’, the was the unit’s communication officer a smaller version of a Vox Caster was incorporated to his armor. He was also the badger’s second in command, although it wasn’t in his nature to pull rank on anybody. I didn’t know at the time, but Patty also told me he was fluent in a large variety of dialects spoken all throughout the Imperium and it was rumored around the unit that he also spoke some tau and even could understand a handful of eldar glyphs. He was also an expert handling machinery of all sorts an sizes, as well as computers, and because of these particular sets of skills he was the go to man if the unit was expected to do any hacking or advance sabotage. He also had a fascination for alien technology and had replaced his standard-issue hot-shot lasgun for a strange long rifle made of a material I couldn’t recognize and that looked like nothing I had ever seen before. I didn’t know at the time, but that was a rail rifle, made by the tau, that had been taken by radio as a war trophy from an older campaign and that he wielded to war ever since while his superiors turned a blind eye on it.

As for the woman who had reprimanded him, her name was Aquiles, and even with all her carapace armor on you could clearly see she was a large and strong warrior, dwarfed in bulk and strength only by Big. She had been the test subject for the improve version of the drugs that had supposedly turned Big into a psychotic freak, and although not violently insane, she had a temper just as short and was feared just as much. She wielded a huge Adeptus Astartes combat blade that looked more like a two handed machete in her hands and, as rumor had it, was supposed to had belonged to a Space Wolf Grey Hunter who had earned a beating for making an out of place joke about her size.

- My platoon was deployed as close as was possible to the space port. We were supposed to challenge the access gates to the traitor forces and tried to clear away for the armored companies on route.- I nervously started to explain; my eyes were restlessly moving through the whole aircraft as the Badgers removed their combat gear, trying to avoid contact with Big who seemed so pumped up that I feared he would jump on me and beat me up at any moment- We took heavy fire and were shattered to pieces within minutes, if I hadn’t hid inside that crater I would have been killed as well, it was the best I could came up with at the moment.
- And a fine plan, if you asked me- said a man sitting in front of me, he was the tallest of the Badgers (maybe an inch shorter than myself) and had rough features and cunning eyes, a scar crossing his face from the middle of his forehead all the way to the left side of his chin- a plan as good as any other-he sighed with a sour grin.

His name was Darcy and, of all the Badgers, he was the only one who wasn’t inducted to the unit before entering basic White Shield training. Like me, he had gone through basic training and been drafted to a fighting regiment as a regular trooper; and, unlike me, he had actually fought as part of the Imperial Guard and had seen a lot of combat for over a decade before being recruited by the Badgers. Because of this previous experience he had a deeper knowledge of how the Imperial Guard work and a more empathic look for the regular troopers. He was also sort of a melancholic character and was prone to recall older experiences with a bitter and nostalgic look upon his eyes. Even on that first meeting aboard the Valkyrie every single word he said seemed somehow tainted with melancholy and maybe, at least from where I saw him, regret.

- The heroic martyrs of the first response regiments…- he said still smiling bitterly as he picked up Radio’s cigarette and taking a hit from it before throwing it away- what a load of crap. By staying alive you have dramatically increased the survivable rates of any first response regiment I have ever heard of. Be proud of that, kid, you may even get a medal.
- Everyone shut up now- this was a familiar voice, the same arid and cold voice that had told me to board the aircraft, the officer was just returning from the pilot’s cockpit and sat after telling Patty with a waved of his hand to make some room- This isn’t a freaking school bus.

The officer had already removed his helmet and his respirator. He was as old as Radio and Patty and looked twice as war-tempered as the two of them put together. His skin was tanned and yellowish, his eyes squinted and small; he had a short grey beard and a look even colder than his voice. He sat next to me but didn’t seem to notice me at all. For a long time his eyes and thoughts were lost somewhere unknown to the rest of his unit and there was silence in the aircraft. Everyone was waiting for him to speak again.

- We will have twelve hours of rest and then we have to move again to a different warzone within the eastern fringe of the planet- he announced with the distant indifference usually seemed on officers who don’t get close to combat- This campaign is just beginning and we are gonna see a lot of it. Get ready for weeks of hard work and embrace any moment of rest you get. No one on this planet is going to see this war closer than us.
- And yet we have a vacant spot- Radio’s voice was worriless compared to his superior, he had pushed his head back against the wall, his eyes were closed- We lost Haggen back there.
- It will take weeks, months even, before we get a trained replacement- Aquiles added with a much more worried tone- Seems like we are fighting this one with reduced man power.
- Quiet a loss- sighted Darcy- Haggen was our assault support. A grenadier is important to keep a unit versatile, I don’t know how wise it is to go back into the fray without one.
- What about the kid?- Patty’s strong and hairy hand fell on my shoulder with enough force to almost throw me to the ground- I saw him handle a grenade launcher back there and he held his own, and he can’t be much taller than my buddy Darcy over here. He wouldn’t break this little ‘theme’ we like to keep going.

What I expected to those words was an overwhelming negative followed by jokes and insults, but, to my dread, what I got was total silence. Every single pair of eyes inside the aircraft suddenly moved to me and started analyzing everything from my size to my attitude with merciless attention. I got all sorts of expressions: disgust, mistrust, even pity. The officer was the only one impossible to read; he got up and stood in front of me, he couldn’t have been taller than four and a half feet but his eyes were piercing and his stare was overwhelming. I felt my knees shaking and feared I would faint. I may be week, I may be a coward, but I am not an idiot; I knew what was going through his mind: He was considering the advantages of taken me, a useless rookie with nothing but luck on his side, against going back to combat a man short. He didn’t say a word, his expression was nothing more than cold and distant, but I could see him making his decision in his mind, I knew I was screwed.

I enjoyed your Badgers, is there more?

III
If I had somehow known any of the horrible things that were coming my way for boarding that Valkyrie, I would have probably tried my chances defending the spaceport on my own against the space marines. That, however, wasn’t the case; I had no actual way to find out where we were going, everyone on boards was more interested in speaking their own minds or simply ignoring my presence altogether, so I spent most of the ride back to wherever we were headed wondering what would happen to me know, if I had escape certain death only to fall into a much deeper situation.

On the ride I also made a new (unasked and unwanted) best friend, the first (self-imposed) friend I ever had. His name was D’nofrio and he was even younger than I was, fourteen or fifth teen tops. He was so skinny, young and tiny I couldn’t believe he was allowed to bear arms; but he had the same agitated and aggressive attitude that was usual among those young soldiers that have seen a lot of combat despite their young age. As soon as the officer decided I was staying on the unit, he took it upon himself to be my guide and mentor, I think he was just thrill to have someone to talk to.

- You are gonna be just find, rookie- his voice was childish and overly excited, but he was right, even compared to him I was, indeed, a rookie- I got your back. Stay close to me, keep your eyes open and I’ll teach the ropes easily enough. We don’t have much time but if you pay attention you are going to fit in just fine.

D´nofrio had been with the Badgers for almost two years and wasn’t a born Cadian like most of them were. He had been hastily recruited on a another system, on a another campaign, to cover heavy losses sustained by the unit. He had blonde hair and tanned skin, he share the same odd maniac stare Patty had, but his eyes were of an intense dark brown. Like Patty, he was also quiet friendly, but, unlike the much older soldier, he was more vibrant, naïve and erratic in every move he made.

- I am the unit’s flamer- he said placing a proud hand on top his weapon- I’ve always enjoying setting things on fire, so it suits me just find and I also don’t have the cold patience the others have for aiming a rifle so I am better off with something like this baby right here. On occasions I am also the units negotiator; you see, I might be young but, as you may have already notice, most of our comrades are actually kind of shy, so sometimes they expect me to do most of the talking.

I looked at the kid with obvious confusion; I didn’t know what shocked me the most; the idea of these guys having a negotiator or the fact that they would chose D’nofrio to be it. It took me a few minutes to realize that most of the things D’nofrio said were true only for himself. He didn’t notice any of my doubts, he seemed just happy to have someone sort of listening to him.

The Valkyrie landed on a small base on a location nobody care to specify to me. The Badgers disembarked all at once in almost total silence, only D’nofrio kept talking, but I was so overwhelmed and confused that I couldn’t keep paying attention to anything he said. Armed guards received us when we landed and escorted us inside the facility. The Badgers didn’t seem to notice the guardsmen around them and went on their way without looking at them, I followed. Everyone was quiet as we made our way to a large changing room were the unit was left alone to change into fresh uniforms.

- You have already met Big, Aquiles, Darcy, Patty and Radio- said D’nofrio as the others undressed, he was whispering now, probably because he also was the only one speaking- and the sarge, of course, his name is Calcuta.

At that point to said I had ‘’met’’ anyone was a bit of a stretch, but I had being trying to get some sort of idea of how some of the members of the unit were in order to avoid stepping on anyone’s toes. Only at that moment, as they were taking of their armors and leaving their weapons on their lockers, I had a real chance to actually see the Badgers, how each of them looked like, how they moved and behaved. It became pretty clear to me that they were all survivors, that they came from a world, not completely different to mine, were staying alive depended not on physical strength, but mostly on instinct, reflexes and wit.

A handful of members of the unit only removed their breathing gear once we got to the locker room. The first of them was a bald and frail looking man with small and nervous eyes. He carefully placed a dirty meltagun on a locker on the other side of the room and then put on a small pair of glasses. He undressed himself slowly and away from the others with shaky and shy movements, he seemed extremely uncomfortable and avoid making eye contact with any of his squad mates. Something in his gloominess made him look weak and separated him from the rest of the Badgers.

- That’s Linus-D’nofrio explained when he noticed me looking at the sad little man- he is an idiot and a useless fool, don’t waste your time with him. I believe they gave him the meltagun hoping he would get himself killed quickly, but, oddly enough, he is among the oldest members of the unit.

To the other side of the locker room, standing next to Calcuta (who, was somehow apart of the rest of his men) was another man undressing I didn’t notice until then. His hair was completely white, the whitest hair I’ve ever seen, and his face looked both quiet and malicious, with a shy smile upon it that made him look somehow unworldly, ghostly even. He was by far the shortest member of the unit, maybe not even four feet tall, but there was something dreadful about him, just looking at him made a chill crawl up my spine.

- That’s Darwin- D’nofrio now spoke on a faint whisper while undressing- I wouldn’t recommend trying to befriend him either. He is not a normal person, something about him is just strange, wrong; I don’t really know. Only the sarge and Patty seem to like him, and that’s because they have history together; everyone else prefers to avoid him.

I would learned later that those three were the only remaining survivors of the first litter of Badgers after the Transito Mercer incident. They had being in the unit for over thirty years and had pulled each other out of trouble in so many occasions that all of them had stopped counting. Darwin in particular seemed to have some sort of gift to avoid certain death, a sixth sense, so to speak, and those who fought side by side with him could tell stories of how he calmly ducked instants before a surprise hail of enemy fire, or how he could ‘’smell’’ ambushes or sense a wall about to collapse. Patty specially had a long list of this sort of anecdotes and he was quick to point out that if it weren’t for Darwin he would have been KIA a long time ago. That was Darwin thing, to silently push you out of the way or throw you to the ground just a second before tragedy struck and although he was a strange, quiet and somehow haunting man, most Badgers preferred having him around.

A handful of random meaningless conversations had a started while D’nofrio was talking to me, none of them were about the current campaign that had so suddenly started or the recent loss of a comrade on their last assignment; the Badgers didn’t care about what was at stake at each war they were force to fight, or about their fallen comrades, they lived for the moment and didn’t had time to reflect on much else. I heard Patty’s roaring laughter as he recalled for Darcy something ridiculous that had happened years ago, when he was just a rook, I saw Big and Aquiles pointing out to each other how the other was losing shape, letting go, while flexing their own overly grown muscles; Radio took advantage of Aquiles’s distraction and lit another cigarette, but as soon as he put it on his lips the huge woman turned around and threw it to the ground without a single word. By then I was ignoring D’nofrio’s voice, trying to pick up what the other Badgers were saying to each other, and only then I notice another one of them, partially hidden by Aquiles and Big’s much larger shape. The soldier had being sitting down in silence, still on full combat gear, and only then it started to undress slowly; first the helmet, then the respirator. When the heavy mask came off the world came silent, I forgot was I was doing and almost drop what I was holding.

Until then I had forgotten all about the female voice that had attempted to argue with Calcuta when the Valkyrie initially arrived to pick us up. The woman now changing in front of me (well, technically behind Aquiles, but I could still see her face) was not much older than myself and had perfect white skin, short black her, and gentle yet bewitching face that, at the moment, seemed distant and gauntly heartbroken.

I had seemed women guardsmen before; some muscular and strong like (average sized versions of) Aquiles, most frail, skinny and scared, but never in all my short years had I encountered such a creature. That girl, with her elegant shoulders, her big black eyes and her soft and naturally pink lips; was the single most beautiful thing I had ever seen. My heart was pounding, I could feel myself losing my balance; D’nofrio brought me back to reality with a friendly tap on the shoulder that almost took me to the floor.

- That’s the Doe- he said grinning and sat down to take his boots off- She had a thing going with Haggen and probably feels pretty bad. We are pretty use to see people come and go, but it must be different if it’s someone you were involved with.

My eyes went back to the girl; she seemed truly sad, but, at the same time, she looked sort of ashamed. I got the feeling she was embarrassed by her own sadness, as if feeling bad over losing a comrade was something inexcusable inside the unit. I tried to recall what Calcuta said to her, about the Badgers carrying no wounded.

- Tell me about this Haggen guy- I asked D’nofrio trying to sound casual, it was the first question I had asked in our long one sided conversation- What happened to him?
- Him?- the kid tried to hold a hissing laugh- ‘Her’, you mean; Haggen was a woman- D’nofrio stood silent for a minute, until the smiled of the confusion faded from his face- She went missing in action and got left behind; we lost contact with her after the second turret blew up. There is something you should know about this unit: The Badgers have a ‘carry your own weight’ policy, if you get lost or get hurt no one is coming back for you, no one will carry you; the unit risks its members only for the mission, each of us is expect to look after ourselves. The sarge has being fighting under that philosophy since he was my age and swears by it, no exceptions.

I thought about this as the Doe finish removing her armor and switched to a cleaned out-of-duty uniform. All the Badgers, including myself, were on fresh clothes now, all but one who had remained completely still standing by the other in total silent. He had being so silent, so still, that I didn’t notice him until we were already to leave; he was even still wearing the respirator and the black combat mask over his face.

- Who is that?- I asked D’nofrio as we followed Calcuta and the others out the door- Why isn’t he changing?
- That’s Handsome.- the kid’s answer was a whisper, but it came out with a share of awe and respect- Years ago, before I joined the unit, one of those tyranid creatures blew up on his face and melted most of it with that acid goo they have instead of blood. I have never seen it, but Patty says what’s left of him is barely human. He never speaks and he never removes his gear in front of anyone.

I turned silent again as the unit now noisily walked down a hall. Big and Aquiles had engaged on a vivid conversation with Patty and Darcy about a subject I couldn’t get a hold on. D’nofrio quickly intervened with his electric and sort of annoying natural excitement and I was finally left alone. Ahead of us Darwin was also casually talking to Radio and Calcuta, his voice gentle and discreet voice, and, just one step behind them, Linus was unsuccessfully trying to get involve as well. Only Handsome and the Doe, and obviously myself, remained quiet as they walked; each one aparantly caught in their own thoughts, she in particular still in silent mourning.

The facility we were crossing now seemed to be some sort of ghost base. The invasion had summoned almost every single combat ready unit on the planet and a fortress so far from the frontlines had no reason to keep necessary men away from combat. We hardly ran into any more guardsmen and those few we saw, pretty much ignored us; kept to their owns thoughts and their inevitable deployment soon to come.

Calcuta led us to an access gate guarded by two armed veterans, the only two I saw who looked as part of the base’s permanent personnel. The sarge stopped next to them and nod emotionlessly and without saying a word, one of the guards announced the arrival of the Badgers through and intercom. The doors open with a heavy metallic sound.

The interior of the room was dark; the only source of light was a huge table in the middle of it, its surface glowing with a ghostly green light. A dozen chairs circled the planning table, but the chamber was almost empty. A single man was there, sitting with his elbows against the glowing surface and his hands below his chin, thoughtfully, he didn’t move when we entered.

- Sarge- he said gravelly when we were all standing across of him.
- Colonel- was Calcuta’s answer.

His name was Azarvar Putin and he was part of Cadian High Command. He was also the Badger’s handler and overseer since the Lord Commander Tugurius Pedro was cast into retirement. He had made a career for himself under the Lord Commander’s wing, but was, in most ways, and exact opposite. Colonel Putin was strict, neat, sober and devout to rules and regulations to the most zealous of extremes; he cared about results, but not as much as he cared about order and discretion and notions like charisma or creativity were completely alien to him. Unlike his mentor, Azarvar Putin had a spotless military record and his career had been both death efficient and almost completely free of questionable incidents, the only black spot on his otherwise perfect file was, of course, the Badgers.
Recruitment and training for the unit was and extremely delicate and complicated affair, as well as expensive and time consuming. For those reasons, every single member of the unit was a valuable asset and the loss of any of any of them, especially on the occasional and always brief peace times, was a small tragedy (no pun intended). So Cadian High Command had decided, in order to protect their investment, to be considerably more forgiving with the Badgers when it came to disciplinary sanctions and they relied con colonel Putin to act as a voice of conscience and caution for the unit, to instruct them on the silent and humble ways of the True Emperor’s servants.

The Badgers, on the other hand, couldn’t give a rat’s ass about the behavior expected from a silent and humble servant of the Emperor. Like me, they had grown and lived as outcast for the most of their lives and had received nothing but exploitation and contempt from those above them. The Badgers care only about their own personal survival and their pride and loyalty (the few they had) was for their group alone, so they completely disregarded Imperial matters of faith and answer only to their own, constantly getting into trouble inside and out of combat, even among friendly ranks. For that reason Putin’s office was constantly covering up after the unit and the Colonel had grown to truly hate them, secretly hoping for a mission that would finally wipe out the whole of them and let him return to his own men, the real soldiers of the Emperor.

- A message of congratulation has been sent to me for the success of their last mission securing access to the eastern spaceport- the voice of Putin was emotionless, slightly annoyed- I have been instructed to let you know the High Command is impress with the unit’s efficiency.
- Thank you, sir- Calcuta didn’t seem amused or impress himself.
- Yeah- sighted the colonel- whatever. Let’s cut to the chase.

A bunch of maps and blueprints started to vividly glow upon the table’s surface. They seemed like the perimeter of large city, a huge Cadian hive no doubt considering the architecture and the way the defenses were set up. From the look on the Badgers I could tell they understood the map way more than I deed, that just looking at it was already giving them a lot more of information.

- This is factory-hive Hermes- the colonel announced- one of the planet’s main artillery shell production sites. It seem like the space marines of the Alpha Legion had made planet fall in the vicinity weeks, maybe months, before today’s attack and infiltrated the population, gaining allies and weakening imperial hold on the city. Now, with war on the eastern war front at critical scale, the traitors had closed their claws upon the city and captured key sites within the walls, reducing loyal forces to little more than a scramble resistance without enough supplies to retake the factories. To make matters even worse; a second space marine legion, the World Bearers has move a significant force into Hermes and their demagogues and heretic preachers have converted most of the civilian population to their traitor cults. Hermes must be cleanse and the factories recover, but we lack the time and the resources for an extended siege. I have volunteered the unit to infiltrate the city and meet up with the resistance forces; a conjoint effort between the Badgers and the loyalist within the hive should be able to secure a handful of key objectives that would allow Cadian High Command to deploy a larger force straight inside the city.

It was beyond suicidal, it was pure idiocy. Was the colonel seriously implying that the Badgers, a unit of twelve angry midgets, would be enough to aid a scattered militia in reclaiming a whole city from the hands of two legions of space marines? It was insane just to think about it, there was no way anyone within the unit would agree to that.

- How long has it been since the city was lost? - Calcuta’s voice lacked any form of emotion, was almost automatic.
- Eighteen hours.
- Then there is possibility that no loyalist troops remain alive- When the officer said this I almost choked on a big ball of spit.
- If time is of the essence you may want to leave as soon as possible then- the colonel smirked- Or you will have to retake the city by yourself.
- Immediately- was Calcuta’s answer, I almost craped my pants.

When their leader moved away from the planning tables, all the Badgers but me, moved swiftly after him. Azarvar Putin remained where he was and coughed violently, as if trying to make Calcuta stop. Everyone turned towards him.

- Sarge
- Yes, colonel.
- What happened to the third woman in your unit? The dark-skinned woman?-my eyes quickly moved towards the Doe, who was emotionless standing behind the rest of her squad mates.
- She got KIA- Calcuta said with no emotion.
- And the skinny kid to my left?- Putin asked without looking at me- Are you adopting mutts you find abandoned in the trenches?
- He is called ‘The Eldar’- Patty cut in giving a strong yet affectionate hand to the back of the shoulder- Look at him all tall and elegant, like those sissy and treacherous aliens, but with a nicer attitude.

It was the first time in life someone had accused me of being tall, or elegant for that matter, and I had never seen an eldar in my life. It definitely was the weirdest nickname I had ever received and I didn’t believe it would fly by the Badgers, but they all just nodded without caring to much about the whole thing.

- He is my new grenadier- was Calcuta’s cold answer- I am gonna suit him up, give him a weapon and take him with us. He is one of us now.
- Good riddance- Putin laughed loud and vigorously, his laughter was even worse than his serious face, even more menacing and merciless- Those are some big balls you hide, kid, you have no idea of the kind of gak you are getting yourself into.

He was right, I didn’t, but I was also starting to get a vague hold on the idea.