System: Kaurava
Planet: Kaurava III
Type: Mining world
Date: M41.999



The bay doors opened with a hiss of pressurized air, the plasteel ramp slowly rotating on automated hinges before it clamped onto the barrel ground, lopsided. Immediately I was assailed by the stuffing stench of endless dirt and dust. I wrinkled my perfect nose, mildly dissatisfied with the stark landscape before me. An endless sunbaked desert, reflecting the light of the system's star like a mirror, I imagined. That or the dirt truly was a saturated reddish orange. The only landmarks that broke the monotony of endless desert were the mesas that intercepted the eye every few kilometers, and the promethium refineries, along with some hardy vegetation that stubborn clung to life on this waterless wasteland.

I was proud to say I looked every inch the young, enterprising officer of the Imperial Guard. My chainsword strapped tightly to my slim waist, my laspistol holstered, my officer cap emblazoned with the aquila, signifying my duty to the Emperor of Mankind. The uniform emphasized my shoulders nicely, and I wondered if I should have taken an image in my pictogram before stepping off. The colors of the new regiment were not exactly what I would have preferred, but they would grow on me.

Stepping down the ramp, my newly shined officer's boots clacking on the plasteel like clattering bones, I saw the runway before me was empty save for a few engineers carousing, chuckling stupidly from some pedestrian joke no doubt, and a short, broad bearded fellow in a worn guardsman's uniform. He stood there, at the center of the walkway that led off the landing pad, with all the animation and personality of one of the numerous rock formations surrounding the landscape. On his head was a standard issue guardsmen's helmet, and I saw the twin stripes on his sleeve that gave his rank.

"Welcome, sir." The bearded one said, giving a crisp salute.

"That's m'lord." I told him, literally looking down at him past my nose. I had wondered if I would be the most handsome man on the planet, and I knew without a doubt I was the most well dressed. My newly tailored uniform a terracotta red, buttoned tight to showcase my slim, perfect physique. I knew it was perfect because my father had demanded such perfection, from his hounds to his sons. My trousers a graveyard earth brown, tucked into my tall, black boots made for an officer. But looking down and seeing this ugly squat, as I knew it had to be a squat, I felt as if my well sculpted features and impeccable dress were a bit overkill.

"Beggin' yer pardon, m'lord. But it's sir, here." The squat remarked, ignoring the paradox.

I raised a well trimmed eyebrow. "And you are?" I asked.

"Corporal Morek Holdfast, sir. At yer service," The squat replied, not deigning to salute this time. On second look, I noticed despite his gruesome appearance, with his cauliflower ear and oft-broken nose, he was heavily muscled. If a terran bulldog could grow a beard, it would not look too dissimilar to Corporal Holdfast. The squat waited for a reply, but I gave none. He did not seem to mind. "Get yet bags, sir?"

I nodded my acquiescence, before turning my head and glancing around expectantly. For a moment, it did not dawn on me that this single squat was my welcoming party. I had been assured I was to be welcomed by a manner befitting my station. But as soon as I realized this had been a deliberate introduction to the regiment, I felt a pang of annoyance. I would have much preferred, and was well due earned, a rank of well disciplined troopers to escort me as an honourguard. However, I suppose it would have to do for now. At least Holdfast was not a private, I supposed.

Truth be told, I was nowhere near as conceited as my brothers. I much preferred a lack of ceremony. But what I could not stand was exaggeration and lying. I had prepared myself for what everyone had told me the guard would be. Discipline, duty, honour. Perhaps if I continued on, I would find all three, but judging by the empty landscape, I was beginning to think I was simply trying to convince myself. As Morek approached from behind with my bags of equipment, I bade him follow down the walkway. Hopefully the commanding officer would have good news for me on that front, and more knowledge of my assignment.

---

"Come in!" A gruff voice called.

I turned and twisted the knob, glad to be out of eyesight from the blushing young aide that had bade me wait for the colonel's summons. Luckily, Morek had deigned to wait outside of the building. He had not spoken a word since his greeting, much less made a protest, and mercifully I had been allowed to wait within with the blessed air conditioning. As I pushed the door open, I saw the colonel was not alone. He was an unremarkable man with close crossed grey-blonde hair hard eyes, seemingly in his 50's, though it was hard to tell if that was his true age. He sat behind a well-built desk of mahogany, and to his left was a tech-priest of some sort, a scholarly man in the bright red robes of Mars, a single mechadendrite pulling its pincer away from the window to rest comfortably above the tech-priest's shoulder like a loyal hawk.

"Please, close the door." The colonel bade me as I stepped in, and I complied. Once it was shut, I turned to him, standing at attention. He glanced at the tech-priest, who was unreadable behind his hood and glimmering bionic eye. I briefly wondered his business here, but it was no concern of mine. No doubt I would be told if the need arose. The colonel, his jaw square and his thick hands placed together, looked at me with a weathered eye. "You're the son of Lord Duncan, I take it?"

"Yes sir. First Lieutenant Kayden Caladwarden, ready to serve." I told him with the same sense of purpose I had been told would be expected.

"First Lieutenant," He said, dragging the words out. Whether it was to readjust his own memory or because he wished to make a point, I was not certain. "It is without a doubt the Emperor's providence that you are here, yet I am unsure if that's a good thing or not." He said bluntly. "You see, this regiment has been reformed, and requires discipline. When I asked for lieutenants of skill and good character, I did not expect to get some pampered, pretty boy lordling from the core worlds. As far as I am concerned, you're just another man I need to worry on if he needs babysitting. The men are bored, and the rations are short until we receive a new shipment by the end of the month. If I had my way, I would trade you for a good commissar without hesitation."

"That's exactly what I said, sir." I declared.

"I-...What?" He asked, suspicious.

"When command told me I would be here, acting as first lieutenant to a newly formed Regiment, and they informed me of your record, I thought it insulting sending someone of my inexperience here. This world could be attacked at anytime, by any number of forces. The Kaurava system is constantly under assault. What you need is a military officer that has already seen combat. I will do my best to stay out of your hair and out of your way, following your commands to the letter."

It was not entirely the truth, of course. The Kaurava system had been under attack in recent years, but they had been small raids. And I had never been told anything except the Colonel's name and the fact the regiment was new. But it never hurt to butter up the commander, and seeing the new look in his eyes, it appeared to have worked. He had clearly thought I was be some arrogant snob. Could you imagine?

"Well, that is good." The Colonel remarked. "But I am certain they had not told you everything of our situation." He turned to look at the tech-priest, who gave a small bleet in binary, but otherwise decided to keep quiet. I wondered how many arms he had under those robes, or if there was any concealed weaponry. I respected the priest's of mars, but I never quite trusted them. You never could when it came to those who sought to ruin the purity of humanity with random machine parts. "This world is pivotal for the promethium production of the system, but it is also a very ancient world of significance to the initiates of Mars. And so we have a dual purpose here, to keep the promethium refineries running, and to keep the adepts of the mechanicus alive."

"If anything comes, I'll make sure my men are shooting in the right direction," I assured the Colonel with a wink. The grizzled man gave a tight lipped smirk, and his comm unit went off right at that very moment.

"Colonel, the Lieutenant's transport is here."

The aged man clicked the button on his comm. "Very good. I'll send him out" He told his aide, and waved me gone. "I'll ask for weekly updates. With any luck, we won't be on the planet much longer. But just keep a low profile and do what you're told, and you'll do fine."

"Sir," I said, giving a salute that would make a cadian proud, before about facing and stepping out of the office, back into the sun.

There seemed a very good chance that Captain Rubio was about to have a stroke. Certainly the way his face was turning red and the visible throb of his pulse said nothing good about his vascular health. Sergeant (for the moment) Lorica Seldon known as 'Sel' to her friends and enemies, two classes that were both alike in both number and dignity, stood at attention her eyes focused on a patch in the tent canvas behind Rubio's desk. She was very familiar with that patch, having counted its stiches many times since coming to the Can as the informal troop slang had dubbed Kaurava III.

"You expect me to believe that you had nothing to do with this?" Rubio bit out, leaning forward to rest his knuckles on the pile of crime scene picts on his temporary desk. He picked up a data slate and activated a grainy pict feed that showed several sand grox, one of the few feed animals that could survive on this desolate ball, grazing on a rocky hillside. There was a sudden white flash and the grox scattered, save for one which lay on the hill its head missing. Several blazing tumble weeds skittered away before the pict feed went still.

"Nothing to do with what sir?" Sel asked blandly, her eyes not leaving their fixe point behind Rubio's head.

"This animal, an animal of considerable value to a local land owner, was killed with a las cannon Seregant. The very weapon mounted on you sentinel, and the only such weapon in the company. Do you have any comment on that?" the Captain raged, his laboriously groomed mustache fluffing with his fury.

"I have no recolletion of firing on any local grox sir," Sel continued with studdied neutrality.

"Your famous memory issues are known to me seargent, so do you know what I did? Rubio demanded dangerously. Sel remained silent until it be came clear the question was not rhetorical.

"I uhhh... don't know sir," Sel responded for lack of something witty to contribute. Rubio's furry increased and Sel became concerned that the officer might actually begin frothing at the mouth.

"I went to check with your squad, and do you know what they were doing?" he demanded.

"Serving the God Emperor to the best of their abillity sir?" Sel quiped unable to keep herself in check as wisdom doubtlessly demanded.

"They were having a frakking barbeque!" Rubio screamed slamming the dataslate down so hard that several items of stationary jumped off his desk and papers flew up into the air.

"If I could prove this poaching was your doing I swear by Him-on-Earth as my witness, that I would have you packed off to a penal legion and count myself lucky!" Spittle was actually flying from Rubio's mouth now. Command must have gotten a hell of an earful from whatever local land baron had owned that ranch. He stalked round the table and thrust his finger into Sel's chest but she held her gaze fixedly and kept her balance.

"The very fact that I can't prove it means you have engaged your unit in a conspiracy, falsifed your after action report, and the god emperor alone knows how you modified the navigation logs of your vehicles!"

"Well if there is no evidence against me sir perhaps it..."

"SILENCE!" Rubio roared. His eyes were entirely rimmed with white and his face so suffed with rage he looked like he had been splashed with scarlet paint.

"Consider yourself busted back to corpral, two month stopage of liquor and lho, and six months fatigues to be served in the motor pool!" Rubio snarled, grabbing the rank tab on her shoulder and ripping it off with a sound of tearing cloth. He tossed the insignia at the waste paper bin but they fluttered aside to land on the dirt floor of the tent.

"The motor pool sir? I'm a..." Sel began her anger overmastering her discipline.

"If you aren't out of my sight in the next five seconds the remainder of your service to the Emperor will consist of digging latrine pits. Do I make myself clear!"

_________________________________

Sel stepped out into the blistering heat of the Can. Firebase Yalta was a huge square atop a hill that, while extremely low, dominated a large basin for several miles in every direction. The six massive earth shakers which formed J-Battery dominated the center of the square surrounded by sandbag ravetments and lazily deployed concertina wire. Around that nucleus stood dozens of canvas tents, flack board prefabs, sensor antennae, and the other minutiae of a guard base. A shallow burm of rubble and dirt surrounded the whole area with dug in positions for 3rd company's chimeras to act as heavy weapons emplacements. Six months in the damned motor pool. Sel reached into her rolled up arm sleeve and withrew a pack of lho sticks. She lit one and put it between her teeth, then pulled her keppi from her pocket and covered her head before sunburn could set in. Five years in the guard had left her permenantly suntanned despite the fact she spent most of her time in the cockpit of a sentinel walker, but even so the sun here would put you in the infirmiry if you werent careful.

"What is the damage sarge," Boffin asked, emerging from the shade beside a neighbouring tent. Boffin was a slight man who wore a pair of wire spectacles that didn't stop him from running rings around you with his chicken, as slang termed the sentinels.

"Copral again," she told him, tapping the bare patch on her shoulder where her rank had been.

"What is this, the third time they busted you?" Boffin asked as they ambled away towards the motorpool.

"Fourth," Sel confessed running her hands through her short brown hair. She wondered if the motorpool would make her cut it back to the crew cut that was standard for the Guard. Sentinel pilots typically got some slack, but she couldn't count on that.

"Well worse things happen..." Boffin began.

"They stuck me driving trucks for six months," Sel cut in with a sigh.

"Things like that... listen Rubio will cool off, he always does, just keep your head down and you will be back where you belong in no time," Boffin reassured her.

"Seldon!" A seargent from the logistic section came striding up from the motor pool where a dozen vehicles ranging from big cargo tens to four man gun jeeps sat in neat rows.

"Need a driver for some big wig and you're it," he told her, thrusting a movement order into her free hand. Sel opened her mouth to object but the seargent was alread striding off shouting something about making way for a delivery of shells. Sel pinched the lho stick between thumb and forefinger and then flicked into a nearby firing trench.

"Duty calls," she told Boffin glumly.
@POOHEAD189

I stepped out into the blaring sunlight, and even under my cap I had to squint for my eyes to adjust. As my vision came back into focus, I saw Morek standing there, idly looking my way as if he had not even deigned to sit down or loiter since I had walked inside. I had always heard abhumans were a strange lot, but they were still tangentially related to us humans, despite the mutation. I noticed he had not even put my bags down, and silently marveled at the stamina or holding up both heavy sacks without even appearing to tire. Granted, I was not going to complain. I'd rather not have red dust caked over any of my effects.

What was going to complain about was that I had been told transport was here, and other than two military ground cars fit to transport dozens of men, and both seemed very worn and perhaps even inoperable, I was curious on how exactly I was supposed to arrive to my unit, unless Morek was set to drive me.

"Corporal, where is my transport?" I asked him.

Morek lifted his left hand, still holding my bag, and pointed at the horizon. Blinking, I followed his finger and saw a plume of dust rising in the distance, and a small black shape slowly growing larger as it approached.

"Ah, very good. Now, as we wait, what can you tell me of my unit?"

"Finest men in the Imperium," He said neutrally. I furrowed my brow, unsure if he was mocking me. "Been here four terran months. After the 12th Black Crusade and one of the largest Ork incursions in the Segmentum, a number of the regiments got remade and reinforced. This is the newest."

"Did you see any of the fighting?" I asked him.

"Aye. Killed me a nob and a few chaos lads. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get your chance to have a go, sir." Morek remarked, and spat a chunky blob of phlegm on the ground. I had a feeling this was the most delightful he would ever be. We were interrupted as the small military ground car rounded one of the small armories and screeched into what counted as the 'driveway' of military command, which was the same bland pavement as the hanger runway. The door to the driver's side opened, and out stepped a woman, which surprised me. I was not aware this was a mixed-gendered unit. She wore combat fatigues and looked tough enough. She was short, a tad on the thicker side, with close cropped brown hair and a look I couldn't quite gather. Pretty enough, I supposed, not that her looks were any consequence. What I was worried about was fraternization in my unit.

"Your carriage awaits, sir." Morek said.

"Don't be funny, Corporal Holdfast, and put my bags in the back of the car and get in." I told him, waiting for the woman to introduce herself before I did, as was the standard procedure. Morek did as he was told immediately, without the cheeky grin I half expected to see. Man was like an automaton.

Sel reached into the car and pulled her lasgun from where she had clamped it in the butt holster of the open top jeep. It was a carbine model with a folding stock, a compact weapon meant for the last ditch in the case of a vehicle prang. The weapon was perfectly clean though this was less a comment on her dilligent maintainence than the fact she had never actually needed to fire it. A guardsman was supposed to carry her weapon at all times, even to the showers or the latrine. No point giving her new commander a chance to put her on report and give Captain Rubio another chance to stroke out.

"Sir," Sel greeted, neither saluting nor standing to attention. The Chaos worshipers they had fought were not above sniping, though the orks lacked the skill and the temprement for it. Which, come to think of it, was exactly Sel's excuse for her average drill and ceremony skills. This new officer looked like he had been issued brand new as well, all clean cut and ramrod straight. Sel wondered if that was part of her punishment as well. The orders she had been given attached her to a Lieutenant Kayden Caladwarden until further notice. This one had the look a noble or highborn, though what he had done to be assigned to a patchwork shitshow like this one she had no idea. Maybe he had money, that brightened her mood somewhat, perhaps a few gelt might stick to her hands if she played her cards right.

"Im Serg...errr that is to say Corporal Seldon, I've been assigned to be your driver," she said, her eyes sliding over to the abhuman with some surprise.

This less than stellar introduction aside, I would look back on this day fondly, meeting both Morek and Sel at the same hour. The squat, and particularly the female trooper, would turn out to mean quite a bit to me. But as I had stated, I was less than impressed by her introduction. However, I supposed, albeit sardonically, it could have been worse. She could have been out of uniform or had forgotten to address me as 'sir.' I did not intend to be seen as a hardass, as that was a surefire way to get oneself killed as an officer. But still, I could not leave it as an unspoken reprimand, lest she get too comfortable. This one was supposed to be my driver too, Emperor save me.

"At ease, Corporal Seldon." I said redundantly. "I am First Lieutenant Kayden Caladwarden, scion of the famous house." I doubted she had heard of my family, but I still felt it was important to remind her of my aristocratic background. Contrastingly, I decided to approach this in a different way than was afforded my station. I stepped off the curb and took my hat off to appear more congenial, glancing at the ground car and hoping beyond hope there was cool air in those vents. "Listen, I'm new to this outfit, and if we're to be working together, I want to help you as much as you help me so we can get out of whatever the galaxy throws at us alive, but... when we're in front of the other troopers, salute me like an officer, please. It looks bad in front of the other men."

"What about him?" Sel asked, pointing at the squat. "Er, sir."

I glanced behind me as Morek put the last vestiges of my effects in the backseat of the ground car. I had almost forgotten he was there, the squat remained so quiet. "Yes... let's just pretend like he doesn't count for the moment."

We gathered in the ground car without any more preamble, and lukewarm air spilled onto my face as the Corporal cranked up the ground car. I glanced at the rearview mirror and barely saw the top of Morek's helm, looking for all the world like a buoy in the water as we began to move, bumping over scattered stones and desert debris. Leaving the command center, I saw two thunderbolts flying overhead, moving in unison like a flock of avian creatures. I had heard this world was suitable for practice due to the miles and miles of wasteland. I cranked the AC to a more tolerable degree of cool, but it was still nowhere near optimal. I decided to speak to distract myself from the heat.

"So, Corporal Seldon. How long have you been in the regiment?"

If this Lieutenant Caawhatsit wanted to be fingered for snipers by a salute, Sel supposed it was none of her business. Just had to make sure she was standing far enough away when she did it. The little jeep exited the firebase, turning onto the flatpack desert which formed most of the Jebin basin. There was no road as such but it was flat enough in most places that it was safe to use a fair amount of speed. Sel opened the throttle as soon as they were outside the wire. The tires kicked up a plumb of dust behind them like a rooster tail as she pushed the engine up to the gate. If you weren’t sneaking, you should be speeding as the saying went.

“About four years,” Sel called, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the engine noise. She angled down into a shallow depression, instinctively seeking the lowest point to minimize enemy sightlines.

“I got swept up on Kalin, packed me off as part of a replenishment tithe,” Sel explained. Replenishment tithes varied greatly in quality, often enough the authorities just rounded up a set number of people of low class and the right approximate age and shipped them off to be cannon fodder. Sel had been a juvie ganger with the misfortune to be pinched at the wrong time. In the blink of an eye she had been whisked from the two hab blocks in which she had spent her entire life, been packed onto a troopship, and hurled through the Immaterium to war. She wondered how many of those who had been swept up with her were still alive. Precious few. Fortunately an education as a petty criminal wasn’t the worst preparation for a certain kind of soldier. Years spent stealing groundcars had gotten her noticed by an enginseer who put her to use driving for the motor pool until she had been promoted to fill a sentinel slot when casualties had been heavy enough to outstrip recruits. That happened with sentinels, they were often fine after you hosed out the remains of their pilots.

The ground infront of them was forked with dry water courses choked with fist sized rocks mostly tumbled smooth by the once a year rain storms which flooded the place. On a distant ridge great promethium dericks rose and fell with stately precision, occasionally belching colossal jets of flame. On the plain before them were several small stone hills, each rising less than five feet from ground level where rocky outcrops caught blowing dust. Each of the balds was topped with sandbags and razorwire, the positions stretching like beads on a string with separations of a few hundred meters between. The formed a notional line between the dericks on the ridge and the real badlands beyond, though mostly they were just there for the regiment to practice working together. As the approached the bald where the unit Kayden had been assigned was bivouacked she reached for the jeeps vox set. Kayden reached out and put his hand on hers.

“Let’s not give them any more warning than we need to,” he said wryly. The platoon was just going to love this guy. Sel took her hand away from the vox set and slowed down as they approach the grandly named ‘Hill’ 23, following the old vehicle tracks up the side of the bald, the sand bagged auto cannon didn’t track them, which wasn’t a great sign.

They passed through the sandbags without incident or challenge from the sentries who should have been there. The camp itself was erected around a low steel shed that housed a mobile pump unit that drilled into the aquifer to provide water. It was surrounded with dozens of plasteel barrels which Sel hoped had been thoroughly rinsed of promethium before being repurposed as water butts. A sloppily dressed private, evidently returning from the latrine by his hasty closure of his fly, finally spotted them and turned to shout to the rest of the unit who were sitting around catalytic cookers heating rations and drinkin what Sel was pretty sure was grain alcohol fermented from stolen sand grox feed. There was much cursing as men tried to stash liquor or tossed the contents of their canteens as they scrambled to their feet to grab weapons and kit.

“Who fuck gave you permission to come up here without clearing it by vox,” a heavyset sergeant demanded as he half staggered towards the car. Sel killed the engine with a sigh. Sergeant Matalow was unshaven, and hadn’t gotten rid of his bottle of liquor. Sel didn’t know him well, but she knew he was an unpleasant man when he had been drinking, and he had certainly been drinking for some time.