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.

Emperor's Teeth, I knew the platoon was in need of leadership and I figured I had not been sent to the Mordian Guard, but the state I found the 3rd platoon in was so atrociously deplorable I half wanted to avoid the red tape and shoot myself in the head right there. I did well to hide it, save a raised eyebrow as we rolled in. No sentries, a picket line that might as well have been drawn in the sand with a stick, a smell in the air that could only be described as abrasive. Even as we approached I saw men loitering and freely drinking from flasks, pushing one another in friendly gestures of comradery as if they were celebrating a victory. Granted, there was no imminent attack, but that was entirely beside the point. I had thought Sel had been somewhat lackluster, but these men made her seem like a Kasrkin.

As the woman pulled the car around, a burly looking man with a red face and bloodshot eyes approached. I could see the icon on his worn uniform that he was a sergeant, otherwise he had no source of identification. As he spoke, I saw drops of spittle hitting the cracked floor of the desert, the moisture being absorbed in front of our very eyes. It sounded like he was not very appreciative of my approaching unannounced, and I made sure to remedy that. Straightening my collar, I opened the car door and stepped out. I had to leave my chainsword in the vehicle, but my laspistol was fastened securely at my hip. A few dozen meters back, a pair of troopers woke up a man that had taken his post-binge nap atop a chimera, saying something I could not pick up with the wind and pointing our way. How the man was not burning from the sun, I could not guess.

"I not only gave permission, I ordered it." I told the lumbering sergeant, standing with my head high. My eyes glanced downward at the bottle in his hand. "And who gave you permission to drink on duty, sergeant..." I glanced back at Corporal Sel.

"Sergeant Matalow." She whispered.

"Matalow. What kind of platoon are you running here? I've seen penal legions that look more professional! In fact, if I did not wish to tarnish my first day on the job, that's where I would ship you off to immediately. Now give me that amasec." I was not asking, but the sergeant was a bit too inebriated to hear the order for what it was. His face had only grown redder, and though I saw a flicker of uncertainty, he was not about to back down. I heard a door shut behind me, and two heavy boots take three steps to reach my flank. It appeared Morek had my back at least, though at the time I was not certain just how much that was worth.

"Who the frak are you, pretty man? You've got two seconds to tell my why I shouldn't grab you by your nose and rip it off!" He said, taking a step forward, threateningly. It was at this point, I realized I might have made a mistake. The Sergeant was big, as tall as me, and likely half again my weight. He moved like a man used to others stepping out of his way, and I suddenly regretted not giving my rank immediately. Though, I had expected him to see the signs on my uniform that screamed I was his superior. I was green back then, one needs to take command, not assume it.

"I am First Lieutenant Kayden Caladwarden, assigned to this regiment and this platoon. If you do not hand me that bottle of amasec and salute me..."

I saw him grin and come at me, albeit gingerly. He did not necessarily swing, but I was certain he was about to grab me, overpower me before I even knew he was there to do so. I wanted to yelp, but my training kicked in. Not the correct training, mind, for I had my pistol I had completely forgotten about, but my self defense in case my pistol was not available. As he opened his arms, I struck his nose with the heel of my hand, breaking it loudly. Perhaps if he wasn't drunk, that would have ended the fight then and there, but it only enraged him. He swung at me with a fist that looked like it could take my head off, and in a desperate attempt to shy away I scrambled, losing my footing and screaming in the process. Falling back, I was caught before I could hit the ground, Morek having held his hands up to halt my fall that had allowed me to inadvertently dodge the punch, before pushing me back up like a spring. I was launched forward, and this time I managed to strike him in the neck right before his backswing. It was a lucky shot, I admit. I pivoted away as he stumbled, later being told I was dancing like a boxer, though in truth I was simply trying to put as much distance between me and the frightening fellow as I could. Luckily, the punch had been too much for him, and he grabbed at his windpipe, eyes opened wide. He stepped forward, somehow still on his feet. The man was like an Ork, I thought. It was then I remembered my pistol, and I hastily drew it. I heard a shout, no doubt crying at me for mercy for the rude sergeant, but they needn't have worried. I struck him on the back of the head with the butt of my gun, and the good sergeant fell to the ground like a dead grox.

All was silent around us, save the wind and Sel giving a faint whistle, though whether in appreciation or amusement, I did not know. Abruptly, my mind caught up with me, and I turned to the men that had gathered to watch. I pointed in the air and pulled the trigger, only for my gun to merely click. The safety was on...

I used my thumb to switch it off, and fired into the air again. There was a crack and a flash of red light that drew the attention of the men. A few had approached, but most watched from where they had been loitering, a few poking their heads out of the latrines or chimeras.

"I am Lord Kayden Caladwarden, First Lieutenant of 3rd Platoon in the 2nd Gendarmes Regiment! They have called me in because they expect discipline, honor, and loyalty to him on earth, and I intend to make it so!" I yelled, making sure to raise my voice in volume and not emotion. I pointed my pistol at the two closest guardsmen, who flinched at the barrel, though I was merely gesturing to them. "You two! Name and ranks!"

"Er, Private Harmak, sir!" The taller one said, saluting. The other hastily put on his helmet, and then roughly saluted as well. "Corporal Bickers, m'lord!"

"Harmak and Bickers, get some rope and restrain the sergeant. Hurry, before I change my mind and enact a more permanent punishment on attacking a superior officer!"

If I was good at one thing, it was giving orders. Yes, loathe me if you want, but it is not what you think. Well, not entirely. Yes, I was born into status and money, and yes, of course, that helps. However, I had a strong voice and a penetrating gaze, something only genetics and an undeservedly strong sense of will could get me. Where I got the audacity to feel so ready to yell commands? Well, the Emperor Wills, as they say. Perhaps I had been yelled at so much in my life from my bastard of a father and my equally strict teachers, I had learned from the best. The private and corporal nearly ran into each other to try and find a rope. I turned to regard Morek, and gestured at the prone sergeant. "Watch him for me, Corporal. Make sure he doesn't get up unless he's bound and escorted." Morek nodded, and Sel hopped over the door, her face bemused.

"Corporal Seldon, take me to where the Auspex and communications is located. I want to make sure someone is actually manning the damned thing." I said, though truth be told, I was more wanting to get out of the eyeline of all the trooper still staring dumbly at me. At the time, I took their interest as barely contained violence rather than awe. Violence always made me get the jitters, particularly if I had been in it. I holstered my gun, steeled myself as if I had just gotten back from a leisurely stroll, and walked with Sel through the sandbags and shoddy emplacements, men ducking away to perform the duties they had been neglecting.

Sel let out a slow breath and slung her las carbine. There was no way to know how the boys might have reacted to the scene, anything from meek obidence to the unfortunate death of a replacement officer and his driver just to name a few. Sel had been more than willing to spray them with full auto while she leaped back into the jeeep but she was very happy she hadn't needed too. If a platoon of pissed of guardsmen decided they didn't want any witnesses to an annoying officer getting fragged she would have been in heavy bolter range for far longer than it would have taken them to reduce the jeep to flaming scrap.

It didn't look like it was going to be a problem just now. Matalow had been drunk, but the rest had merely been drinking and retained enough of their wits not to try conclusions. Right now at least. Sel supposed if someone rolled a grenade into Lieutenant Caladwarden's bunk that wouldn't be her problem.

"This way sir," she replied, hesitating for a moment before Morek nodded to her, letting her know that he would keep watching the men if she turned her back. Feeling a little better she turned and led the way to the center of the fortified hill top were a prefab shack of flackboard stood at the base of a ten meter antenae secured to the ground by six thick guywires. Sandbags had been stacked around the hut to the height of its courgated metal roof and the cogwheel sign of the Adeptus Mechanicus had been artfully rendered on the door with a tin of spray paint. Sel pulled the handle and found it to be locked, then pounded on the door with her fist.

"Open up!" Sel called and recieved no response. She glanced back over her shoulder at Caladwarden, sighed and leaned back with the intent of driving her boot into the door jam. It swung inward while her kick was in the air and a las gun barrel jammed out and into her chest. Sel let out an unsoldierly eep but batted the barrel away by a reflex born in many a bar fight. A red headed woman held the other end her teeth drawn back in a snarl. She didn't fire, which was good because with Sel's grip that closee to the flash suppressor it would have been a second degree burn to the hand at least. Three other women stood inside las guns leveled and back lit by the auspex units and the blinking lights of the data caches. Sel realised that she only had a second before someone got twitch and blew her away. Her guts dropped into an icy pit and she did the only thing she could think of.

"'tenshun!" she shouted in her best seargent major's voice. All four women stiffened to attention lifting their weapons away awkwardly.

"Macharius' balls," Sel cursed stepping back. Confusion crossed the faces of the female troopers. "What the frak is going on here."

"Sorry sir," the red head who had jabbed the las gun at Sel said. The name sewn above her right breast pocked red 'Spade' but it had been artfully vandalized to read 'Sparks' instead and she wore the amulet of a lay member of the Adeptus Mechanicus, common enough for trooper's whose roles required them to commune with machine spirits more intimately than the daily litanies of motion and accuracy.

"I'm not a sir, since this morning I work for a living," Sel replied wrly, then hooked a thumb over her shoulder at Kayden. "He is though, this is the new CO and I'm sure he wants to know that the bloody buggering hell that was." Sparks flushed almost as red as her hair.

"Sorry Sir," she called over Sel's shoulder, "we started locking ourselves in here since the rest started getting drunk on the regular, don't want no misunderstanding you know." Sel did know and she felt her spirits sink even lower. God Emperor this assignment was going to get her killed for sure.

"Well at least someone is manning the auspex sir," Sel called, stepping out of the way and guesturing the female troopers out to present themselves to their new and doubtless very impressed commander.

My pleasure at seeing a group of relatively attractive women standing to attention was soured into guilt when I realized the implications of their having locked themselves in the prefab. I wondered briefly how long this had been going on, and exactly who was responsible for allowing such concerns. Hopefully Sergeant Matalow, seeing as I already had him in a form of custody, but I would check on that later. The female troopers held their lasguns point upward, resting against their arm and shoulder in a proper rifle salute. I nodded, pleased.

"Don't be sorry. At least you had the good sense to lock yourself in a place where you could perform your damned duty, unlike these fool drunkards out here." I remarked, indicating beyond the sandbags with a gesture of my head. "They can't even hold their liquor. I'd say their tolerance for alcohol isn't the only thing that's lacking about them."

There were a few smiles at that, which caused me to give a curt one back. I glanced past them into the small but solid structure. There was a small light flashing, painting the wall in red every few moments. "At ease, and show me the inside of your facility. I should have at least a cursory knowledge of your station, just in case. Corporal, stand by the door and keep an eye on if you see any flasks meet anyone's lips."

"Right, sir!" She said, and while she did a good job of it, I know now I should have specified she did the same with herself. However, Sel was never extremely irresponsible. She knew her business, and more besides. The women turned and strode into the structure with me in tow. For once, I did not feel unsafe entering an enclosed space within the grounds of this platoon's area, though I likely should have been. I have seen trooper Sparks break the jaw of a leering Steel Legionarre from Armageddon with a right hook that could only be described as a thing of art. I'd seen trooper Nexis, the slim woman with a shock of blonde hair that sat down at the auspex, catch a live grenade and throw it into the gullet of a carnifex with insane precision. I would have similar anecdotes for some of the men, of course, but I have to impress it upon you that female troopers are every bit as dangerous as their male counterparts.

"Hmmm, curious." Nexis said, furrowing her brow and turning a small knob at the base of the console. The other women congregated together in curiosity, and I had to squeeze my way through them to get a better look. I could not tell hide nor hair from the various buttons and switches, but whatever was occurring now could take precedence over my brief education.

"What is it?" I asked with my most commanding flair of voice.

"Sir, it's not the auspex, or not only the auspex. There an indicator that the orbital starships have picked up some asteroids on their augurs."

"And what's on the auspex?"

"I don't know, it's...it's almost like a mountain is moving." She said, but before I could inquire further, she flipped a yellow switch, and the room was filled with static that eventually coalesced into a strange, consistent rumbling, with a low hissing that sounded like sizzling bacon. I then made a mental note to take lunch soon, and then compartmentalized that for later. I squinted my eyes for a moment, something tickling my mind. I had heard something like this before...

At once, the thought struck my head like an earthshaker round. Emperor's Teeth!

"This is the comm station as well, isn't it?" I asked breathily. A few of the women nodded. "Patch me through to command. Now."

There was an unspoken question on Nexis lips, and Sparks raised an eyebrow to a trooper whom I would later learn was called Elara. However, after a moment she picked up the comm and handed it to me, adjusting the frequency as I placed it to my lips, hoping I would be clear through the vox.

"What is it J-Artillery?" A voice asked blandly.

"This is first Lieutenant Kayden Caladwarden of 3rd Platoon. I require clarification on the augur readings from orbital. Over." I declared, the static lasting a few more moments before the voice came back.

"Lieutenant, this is a feed for emergencies only." They did not even bother to say 'over.' I was not unused to being ignored, as when one is a lord, you simply get ignored by other lords who think you are undeserving of the title, or your overbearing family that thinks you're not worthy of the name Caladwarden. But it still irked me.

"This is priority, command. I am well within my right to ask for clarification. Please do so, over." I said, and the women in the room had grown quiet. Even Sel poked her head in, the building so small she could hear everything, regardless.

There was an audible sigh, before a few moments of keyboard clicking. "First Lieutenant, Star Cruiser Impenetrable spotted some small asteroids that were set to miss Kaurava III by a few thousand kilometers. They have been aware of the approach for some days. The cogboy supposed they were shifting from solar winds, but they recanted the report. Over."

My heart skipped a beat. "Command, patch me to the Colonel, now. Over."

"What? First Lieutenant, I know you are new-"

"Command if you do not patch me through to the Colonel then I will drive there and make you myself. THIS. IS. PRIORITY. DAMMIT!" My voice had risen to a barking cadence a hardened veteran would use, and the eyes in the room had grown wider. They shifted uneasily, and Sel looked like I was a madman. I certainly hoped she was right. I used this moment of pause to point at the auspex. "I want exact coordinates to the sound, trooper." Nexis was on it, recording the auspex readings. After a small breathless moment, I had believed I had simply been cut off, but then the static whirred again, followed by a familiar voice.

"This is the Colonel, speaking. Over."

"Colonel, this is First Lieutenant Kayden Caladwarden. We are about to be hit by Orks, sir. Over."

"Orks? What do you mean?" The Colonel asked.

"Those asteroids read by the Impenetrable, they are Ork Roks. They're entering the atmosphere as we speak! They are set to land at..." Nexis handed me the parchment, and I took it with a wribble of the page and held it up. "49 degrees, 3.627. The asteroids have changed course, and they are landing. Sir, I advise you place all regiments on high alert, get eyes on the landing sight and redirect your artillery."

"Lieutenant, I don't know if your high birth has made you arrogant or simply insane. However, I will look into these claims, stand by. Over."

I did not stand by. I put the comm down and pushed past the troopers, who had begun pelting me with different questions, ranging from 'what in the frak!?' to 'what are we going to do, sir?' I stepped outside, feeling wind from the west that smelled acrid and tinged with metal. Squinting, I looked into the sky. I could not tell, but I fancied I could see multiple black dots in the distance like solid dark stars.

"Sel, can you drive a Chimera?" I asked her, turning to face the women. She looked at me, dumbfounded, and then nodded. "Good. Find me two other drivers that aren't inebriated. I want all three Chimeras ready to go in 10. Trooper Nexis, tell the basilisk crew to redirect their guns with the coordinates you gave me, change for ten degrees east." I did not stop walking, raising my voice and laspistol as I walked down the hill. "REDCON! REDCON!" Once I found the laudhauser, I repeated and filled the men in on the current situation.

The next few minutes were a flurry of activity, and it looked all the world like a sale at a habmerchant shop rather than a military view of readiness, but it was better then nothing. Men who had been drinking half an hour before were now hauling sandbags to the western edge of the perimeter and reloading lasguns. Morek had found me, informing me Sergeant Matalow had been stuffed into the infirmary, still tied up. It would have to do for now. However, what Morek had in his hands had my eyes popping out of my head.

"What in the blazes is that!?" I exclaimed, and Morek looked down at the huge piece of equipment he held. It was like a block of plasteel and iron, easily twelve kilos if not heavier. Its stock shot out at a 45 degree angle from its heafty barrel, and I could not imagine its clip held what amounted to anything less than astartes bolter shells. At the end of its barrel was a broad bayonet that could spit a wild ambull. The design was simple, but brutal. Morek patted the hunk of what appeared to be a shotgun with what almost passed for affection.

"Ripper gun." He said, curt as ever.

Sel's nochalance melted somewhat at Kaiden's words. She didn't know if the green Lieutenant was right in his suspicions but she had enough experience of Ork's to not want to be taken by surprise. Unfortunately, though she knew a few troopers in the unit by sight, she didn't know any of them besides Matalow by name. That was a dead loss. The sergeant was still unconcious and in no condition to review service jackets.

"You!" Sel called, grabbing one of the soldiers by the front of his tunic as he tried to cringe away.

"Where are your Chimera drivers," she demanded.

"I drive, then there is Hoskins," he guestured to another man half slumped against one of the water barrels, delerious with drink. Sel resisted the urge to grind her teeth in frustration. It had been a long couple of hours already and she should have been relaxing and playing cards with the scout troop rather than playing nursemaid to these retreads.

"Get all three fired up," she called over her shoulder as she strode over to the semi-comatose Hoskins. A bottle rolled out of his hands as she grabbed his shoulder, spilling the acrid sawgrass liquor that the stills were turning out on this dustball. Kel kicked the bottle away and grabbed the trooper by the lapels.

"Hey. Hey!" she shouted shaking the man vigorously. Hoskins bleary eyes fluttered open, wandered for a moment, then seemed to focus.

"Y'new, wanna y'know ave some fun," he slurred hopefully. Sel's smile would have warned a sober man, but Hoskins was too drunk to do anything other than grin stupidly at the expression on her face.

"You know what? I do," she admitted, then shoved Hoskins' head and shoulders into the water barrel. The trooper began to thrash in blind panic, shouts and curses rendered into streams of bubbles. Sel yanked the dripping, spluttering soldier from the barrel a second or two before he would have drowned.

"What the frak are you doing!!!" Hoskins spluttered. Sel shoved him back into the barrel, gratified with the improvement in his sobriety. He tried to kick at her but she drove her knee into his kidney, then banged his head against the side of the barrel before pulling him free once more.

"I think what you were trying to say is what the frak are you doing coporal," she reproved him midly.

"Now are you sober enough to drive or do you need another rinse?" she demanded.

"I..." Hoskins began. Sel shoved him into the barrel for a few more seconds just for good measure before giving him a shove toward where the chimeras were already coming to life with gouts of prometheum smoke. By now she had an audience, troopers in flack jackets with expressions ranging from muzzy to concerned. Sel rounded on them placing her hands on her hips.

"First, second, third squad," she bawled, "Mount up, gear and rations for combat patrol. Move it you lice bitten sons of whores!"

There was a good deal of cursing and clattering as men grabbed canteens and weapons and kit. Sel wouldn't have sworn they were all sober, but she wagered being rattled about inside running chimeras would take care of that well enough. She climbed into the drivers seat of her on chimera, straining her mind to remember long ago training as she brought the vehicle's multilaser array online and test rotated it. She turned the trottles forward and led the chimeras out in a passable line astern centered on the communications dugout. She clicked her comm bead and synced it with the vox set in chimera, hoping that Kayden had already tuned in to the platoon net.

"Ready to roll Lt," she reported.

"Keep the engine running, Corporal. I'll be there shortly." I responded, hoping my voice sounded steady. As men ran back and forth, carrying equipment and ordinance, I had an abrupt feeling of imposter syndrome. How had I fooled all these men into thinking I was worth following? Surely command knew better than me, I told myself. Morek seemed to have confidence, at least, following my every step and eyeing every man suspiciously as he carried around the bloody Ogryn gun. Picking our way past the wreckage of a looted Tauros RAV and a rockcrete pillbox where two men loaded a heavy stubber, we saw the Chimeras at the center of the MOB, men scattering away as they roared to life.

"What I would not give for some hellfires," I said, knowing even if we routed the Orks, in a generation another wave would come screaming out of the badlands unless we burned the whole place.

My lamentations were interrupted by the first Rok hitting the planet's surface a bit over twenty kilometers away. There was a sudden flash of light to my left, and I covered my eyes instinctively. Moments later, a gale of wind and dust hit Morek and I with the force of a deep sea wave. I was knocked off my feet, though Morek, heavy as he was, grabbed my flailing (and yelling) form and kept himself steady. Squats are like square shaped boulders, I have come to find.

Despite my fear and rather embarrassing position, crying out and being held by the jacket, flailing like a ragdoll, I was actually well versed in the manner of the Orks and their landing capabilities. I hailed from the planet Avarus in the southern edge of the Segmentum Obscurus. Unlike the rest of the fleet zone, we did not get an overabundance of Chaos warbands. Only once in my life did a chaos fleet raid our world, and I was four at the time, so my expertise does not lie in that particular field, though I was aware of the stories. No, our biggest calamity was when I had just turned nineteen, and my homeworld was attacked by a one-eyed Ork Warboss creatively named 'Biggun Green.' I remembered being invited to the tower where my father and the commanders of the PDF showed me the auspex, and I heard the exact sound of an Ork Rok entering our atmosphere. I remember seeing our sister city, Saphir, burn across the expanse of few miles of pine forest. I recalled how flimsy of a barrier that was to our position. I had even seen limited combat, as our world had kept its pre-industrial traditions even after three millennia of being uplifted by the Imperium.

Noble sons were expected to fight.

However, I did not have my father here to give me orders, or my brothers to compete with (or use as distractions). As much as I had always loathed my father, there was still some manner of protection knowing he was there. Hopefully, I had half the confidence he did. The men under my command certainly needed a leader with that trait.

The concussive blast only lasted a few seconds, and despite my very manly squealing, it honestly was not that bad, after the fact. As insane as Orks are, they aren't entirely without reason. Ork roks are exceptionally tough, but even with their hulls dozens upon dozens of meters thick, the structure (nor its crew) would not normally survive hitting the planet. Roks control their descent by random discharges of modified force fields, reversing polarity charges at the molecular level. This force field, in combination with modified traktor beams, not only slows the descent, but produces a pressure bow-wave extending for over dozens of kilometers and a temperature of over 159 degrees above the surface mean during the descent operation, boiling the ground beneath the Rok up to ten metres deep and coating it in a silicon-based layer. This silicon-based layer provides additional stability for the rok, at least until its support structures, consisting of thousands of automatically adjusting spike-tipped anchors, are deployed, allowing the Rok to disperse its cargo by a series of hydraulic ramps. Even then, not all orks survive, but even just one rok can hold tens of thousands of orks, and from the readings we knew of at least two objects in the 'asteroid' cluster that fit the size of one.

Once I regained my feet, Morek and I hustled to the Chimera, it's back ramp still open like a gaping maw. I shouldered my way in, the men too scared to bother apologizing to the ranking officer. Their eyes were wide beneath their helmets, jaws clenched. I gave each man that looked my way an encouraging smile and nod, patting a few on the shoulder. I heard a few yelps behind me as Morek bulled his way past them beneath their eyeline like some lurking hormagaunt.

Sel was snug in her seat, having just finished prepping her station and awaiting my orders. I gave her a grin, looking around. "I'm impressed, Corporal."

"Once you know the lingo it all falls into place, sir." She quipped. "So, what's the plan?"

"It'll take the Orks a bit to get situated. We need to hit them hard as they're leaving the Rok. I'll get on the multi-laser," I said, and almost fainted when I realized I had just volunteered for the most vulnerable position on the Chimera. I supposed a small, irritating part of me really did have something to prove. "As they're getting off the Rok, we hit them, and when they give chase, we call in the artillery to clean them up."

"Sounds like a plan." Sel said, and grinned. "Better hold on."

Somehow, I could tell by those three words this was to be a bumpy ride, so I hurriedly took my position at the platform, half of my body sticking out above the Chimera like a target that read 'please murder this stupid git' as I released the safety mechanism on the multi-laser and placed a finger to my ear, reaching the vox for the chimera comms. "We're moving out. Follow our lead!"