The Conclave

The enemy's artillery fell like rain across the Imperial Earthworks, miles of dug in and reinforced trenches pounded by tons of munitions as the enemy tried to crack open the Imperial line before they flooded forward and indulged in their wanton slaughter, but these were no mere trenches built by the Imperium of Man these were trenches of the Imperial Fists and the Death Corps of Krieg of the 46th Line Corps and 21st Bombardment Corps of the 88th Army, they were built to resist such bombardments and stood in defiance of the enemies weapons the guardsmen of the 4th Grand Army of the Nikean Crusade sheltering in bunkers while the ground above them were landscapes by explosions of an epic scale. The war on Fedras' Shield had ground on for nineteen months the Imperial Fists having long since been drawn off into other conflict across the world while the human guard had been left to hold the northern front of the battle, where the fighting was the heaviest, yet under the command of General Von Raeder of Krieg the lines had held despite the near constant bombardment from the enemy and the losses suffered the 4th Army was still above ninety percent strength and each and every man and woman of the Imperial Guard was itching for a fight, so much so that the commissars duties had increased as brawls broke out within the bunkers as tensions frayed and nerves snapped.

Commissar Hallis strode down one of the many interconnecting underground tunnels that formed a network for munition rails and supply lines safe from the bombardment above his foot falls matching the constant booms from over head, the hems of his uniform was caked in mud and dirt from the comings and goings of soldiers a fact which caused him a great deal of irritation at the end of each day as he spent hours cleaning and polishing the uniform to only have it dirtied again, as senior commissar for the Lower North it was his duty to relay reports and orders from high command to his commissars and juniors, as he turned into a closed section he allowed himself a narrow smile as the commissars present came to attention, relaying the Commissar-General's daily orders, with his business conducted he dismissed his commissars back to their duties calling out to one in particular as he stood.

"Gracus if you'd please."

Gracus was a tall build built man with skin as black as the mud in the tunnels, his eyes were bright and held an intelligence that threatened to dwarf Hallis' own, his only failing was his uniform more plain than a regular commissar's he lacked the pomp that usually came with the role, the dirty grey cloak he wore around his shoulders made him look like some ill kept junior yet second to himself Gracus was one of the most senior and experienced commissars under him. As the bigger man stepped back from the other commissars filing from the carved out space Hallis looked over him a pair of long daggers which were more like short swords hung from each hip while his bolt pistol as much a symbol of his position sat nestled over the right blade, his cap was tucked under his arm and looked like it had seen much better days but on reflection so had his own, he'd requested a new one from stores but as yet it had not appeared.

"You have something you wish to discuss with me Jonah?"

He nodded as he stepped up towards him.

"Yes, it's about that rabble of yours."

"The Reivers are an exceptional fighting unit, I'll have nothing bad said against them."

"I don't doubt their fighting prowess, in fact that is the very problem the majority of brawls involve at least one Reiver."

"I am aware of that, their officer has restricted their movements beyond their deployed sections."

"If it continues the powers that be will step in and then heads will role, you know as well as I do that the Krieg Commissars have no compassion or mercy."

"Are you threatening my men Jonah?"

"No, no, not yet."

Gracus frowned as he saluted turned and left his journey back to the Reivers was short only a few hundred clicks from the briefing point upon entering he found most of the Reivers sitting in small groups cleaning kit or playing games of change their uniforms a dark charcoal against the dark mud surrounding officers moved between the men chatting and joining in some of the games, in the centre of their allocated bunker a space had been cleared where men spared with one another keeping their fighting spirit alive, the fought with pairs of matching sticks as was tradition with them each man circling and dancing he counted no less than a dozen of them half with the top halves naked against the others who wore their fatigue shirts. He strode on past heading for the back of the bunker where the commanding officers would be. He paused looking back at the troopers and frowned slightly. The Reivers were the light infantry element of the Vergast Imperial Guard made up of the low born citizens of Vergast who in their past had been a subjugated people of the Vergast Nobility, they had taken to raiding and banditry to survive which is where they got their skills from.

He turned from the men stepping past a curtain into the officers mess looking round he picked out Lieutenants Frost and Dust though half of the men held those names it was one of the commissariats bugbears that most of the low born Reivers had the same surnames, the men were more commonly known by their first names in Frost and Dust's cases these were Kais Frost and Jed Dust, he gave the two a quick nod before looking over the rest of the mess, Sergeant Gran Dust sat in conversation with their chief Medicate Argus Kriden a high born of Vergast but despite that he was well liked, Gran was complaining about his bionic leg, he'd been complaining about it for a while now the calibration had been miss aligned during their last skirmish after a las bolt had dented the thigh plate badly, and despite the priesthood of Mars' skills it was still not right. The other high born Major-Captain Kaiden Roose sat apart from the others reading a fine leather bound book, he stood out from them too, while being clad in the charcoal of the regiment his uniform was a finer cut and edged with fine piping of black silvered officer pins sat proudly on his shoulders just like the officer an troopers of the Vergast Regular Heavy Infantry Regiments, unlike the rest of the men Roose was missing the twin short swords that all the men carried as a High Born he would never lower himself to wielding the weapon of a commoner. Roose was not well liked his sole role here was to ensure the Reivers did no sully the good name of the Vergast Imperial Guard, the regiments made up of the High Born sons of Vergast, he stepped up to Roose.

"Major-Captain, where is the Major?"

Roose looked up from his book a glared in the direction of the officers quarters that stretched into the very back of the cavern, Gracus looked up beyond the tent fabric as an explosion loosened a fine mist of dirt from the roof of the cavern.

"How can he sleep in this?"

"The base born curs can sleep through anything idle scum that they are."

Gracus frowned as he leant in close to Roose.

"Any you wonder why the men don't give you any respect Roose."

By birth right Roose carried the same powers as himself save for the fact that he was more concerned about respect and putting the men in their proper place instead of enforcing discipline it was a fact that sickened Gracus to his core and were he able he would have put a bolt into Roose a long time ago, Roose frowned and reached for his laspistol before remembering just who he was speaking too. He laughed as he stepped past and pushed the flap aside. Major Elric Snow lay upon a cot eye closed tight as he slept as Gracus moved into the quarters Elic sat up one of his twin blades in his hand.

"Commissar Gracus, what's the word?"

Snow had that easy calm attitude that was unsettling of an officer with a bionic eye and arm he was an imposing figure as he slid the blade back into it's sheath and started pulling his boots on, Gracus noted that despite being the senior officer Elric's uniform was not a finely cut or a decorated as Roose's because of his low born status, he folded his legs round and sat looking at Gracus as he sat opposite.

"Commissar Hallis suspects we'll push an attack in less than twelve hours, our forces are preparing for a fresh barrage on the enemy lines, the commissariat presence at the rear has been doubled as General Von Raeder prepares to give the orders to man the guns again."

He nodded as he reached for his tunic pulling it on.

"That will mean a recon run before the infantry push."

"I suspect so."

"That means it will be us, the 254th Duran, the 63rd Marrix and the 99th Rigante."

He stood and fastened the tunic before striding out into the officers mess.

"Jed, Kais, officers briefing one hour, spread the word full readiness in three."

He looked at Roose.

"Assemble your blues."

Roose slapped the book closed standing.

"You will address us as Regulars Major..."

He turned on Roose.

"Get your dammed men now Roose!"

He started and leapt back, Gracus smiled Elric had never feared the Noble born his forefathers had stood against them in the rebellions and that rebellious spirit alive and well in him now, the very fact that he was a Major at all was because of the Lord General and not his own Vergasti officer, he was the only Low Born with a rank higher than Captain a fact which meant he could enter the officers mess without hassle.

He looked round as the officers went about their business before going to Gran's side.

"Leg still bothering you?"

"Yeah dammed things given me a bloody limp."

"Go and see one of the Krieg or Asgarth enginseers."

Gran nodded and limped off.

He turned to those left.

"This is going to be a whole pile of viss when it gets going. Gracus remember to thank Hallis for the heads up at least this time we can be prepared."

Six hours after Hallis' breifing word spread through the trenches of General Von Raeder's orders, the reconnaissance regiments were amassed and made ready including the Vergast Reivers they stood like grey ghosts waiting within the tunnels looking out at the trench wall. Elric stood at the head of his men as the tunnels behind filled with life, thunder cracked from the tunnel mouth and a moment later the constant drumming of the enemy bombardment cease, he turned to Gracus who stood like a shadow next to him.

"Our guns are doing their job."

With a silent gesture the Reivers moved forward out into the open air where the rain fell pounding as heavily as the bombardment, looking down the line of men coming from the cover he spotted the Rigante's Colonel Krastor the colonel offered a wave before ordering his men over the trench lip Elric did the same snapping his hand forward the men moved past him scaling the wall the slid into the darkness of the world beyond, stepping up he looked back at Roose and his people a squad of noble born their uniforms and finery standing out against the regular Reivers, in their hands were hellguns unlike the other men's lasgun and they stepped up looking out into no mans land, Roose spoke.

"I can hardly see them."

"Thanks because they don't want you to see them..."

He turned sharply looking over his shoulder as rank upon rank of Death Corps Linesmen strode from the trenches, followed by the rest of the Imperial guard Cadians, Vergasti, Steel legionaries, Carthax Fusiliers the General was determined to break the enemy tonight. A major of the Death Corp and a Carthaxian Colonel stepped forward as he stepped back down.

"Snow you're to clear the path for our regiments to follow in support stay in constant vox link if you get into trouble we'll push forward and give covering fire."

He nodded at the Cathaxian Colonel before moving to the trench wall and scaling it as a second volley of fire rang from behind, he turned looking at the sky line as it lit up as a second barrage fired then a third the artillery corps were using a rolling fire to keep pressure on enemy, he turned his attention back to the field before him stepping down into the mud he moved keeping low he covered the killing ground coming to the front of his lines, drawing his most able scouts to him he sent them forward to clear the path and check for enemy positions.

"Vox Colonel Luska, all clear."

His Vox officer nodded and set to working the dial of the vox castor Elric moved forward keeping down as he went forward Gracus knelt beside Gran as the veteran sergeant surveyed the field through a powerful scope.

"Anything?"

"Not from this vantage, our scouts under Lass have just dropped into a crevice."

"Take your squads and move forward in support, Gracus go with them."

"Yes sir."

With a gesture four dozen grey shapes moved forward following their limping officer 

Meanwhile twelve clicks east...

Obergrefreiter Kaled Skorn waited for the dreaded signal. Leutnant Kraust was peering into his periscope. Any minute now, the barrage would start. In fact, it was already late. The guns on the sector west of them had already begun, what the frag was keeping theirs? Kraust looked at his auspex and then his vox-feldwebel, Grustorp. They exchanged what looked like bitter words and then Grustorp took up the vox's handset. He grunted something into the vox, then waited, then said something again, this time looking even more agitated than before. Grustorp looked at Kraust and shook his head. Kraust said something that Skorn guessed was a litany of cursing enough to make a Catachan blush. Grustorp spoke into his handset again and paused to listen, then said something to Kraust. Looking at Kraust's body-language, it wasn't something Kraust liked.

Kraust rose and gave the signal they all had been dreading. They were going up and over. Without artillery support. Something was wrong, but the attack was timed to coincide with no doubt some other highly futile effort. Skorn cradled the heavy stubber in his arms and rose, his boots slipping in the mud as he climbed up the trench wall. Gefreiter Otakar Gieler followed him, bearing the tripod and six belts of ammunition. Six Chimeras and two Leman Russ tanks rumbled past, slinging mud all over as they rolled forward, rising up from the assault ramps built into the trench.

The enemy fire started the instant they reached the lip. Kraust was cut down immediately, crumpling in a bloody heap before he even took his first step into the no-man's land. Skorn didn't have the time to spare him any thought: regret, pity or anything. The air was heavy with las-fire and lead as Skorn rushed forward. His mind was blank with fear. Any minute now, he could be killed. He didn't know why he went, after all it would have been easy just to fall back once Kraust was killed, but he went anyway. That was the way of Death Korps.

The cries of the wounded and dying mixed with buzz of bullets streaking past and the sizzling of las-rounds boiling the mud around him. Skorn dove forward, behind a block of rock-crete tank obstruction. One of the Leman Russes sprayed him with mud as it rolled close-by, the boom of its battlecannon drowning out all other noise. In a way, it was a soothing sound. It made Skorn feel like there was someone with a big gun watching over him. He flipped open the bipod, shouldered the heavy stubber and aimed down the sights at their objective.

Hill 29188.

It was a nondescript little mound rising from the ground, not a hundred feet higher than the rest of the terrain, and ravaged over and over by artillery and small arms fire from both sides. But it had been taken in the morning by the enemy and sector commander Major Varnensee wanted it retaken. The orders probably came from even higher. In Skorn's experience, the higher an officer rose in rank, the more he grew fond of non-descript terrain features that required mind-boggling casualties to take and hold.

He made sure that the ammo box was upright and the belt was free of mud. The machine spirit of his heavy stubber didn't particularly like mud, he had noticed. Satisfied it was relatively mudfree, he aimed down the sights again and pulled the trigger. Short bursts hammered into the hillside. He imagined that at least one enemy gun fell silent, but then the top of the obstruction exploded in a hail of dust and rock-crete fragments. Gieler who been running up to him dove into the mud at last second, narrowly avoiding beheading by stubber fire.

Skorn cussed and wiped the lenses of his respirator free of rock-crete dust. He looked back for a split-second, glad to see that Gieler was crawling up to him an all fours, still in possession of the tripod. When he turned back to face the hill, an explosion rocked his head backwards. The rush of air, fumes and shrapnel spun him around and left him gasping for air, facedown in the mud. He felt like he had been hit with a frying pan. Steel rained down on him and if he were fully conscious, he'd have been thankful for his heavy trenchcoat. Saved him a few cuts and bruises at least.

Once he came to, Gieler was turning him over.

Gieler was probably saying something to him, most likely asking whether he was ok, but he couldn't hear a thing aside from the ringing in his ears. His vision came to focus slowly while Gieler was shaking him. He gave a weak thumbs-up and rolled uneasily back to his stomach, looking for his stubber. It lay in the mud, looking reasonably operational. The machine spirit wouldn't like this, he thought, crawling up to the gun. He saw that the Leman Russ that had sprayed him with mud was burning now, not more than fifty feet from him. Mud churned and splashed violently around it and them. Apparently the enemy was still shooting at them, even though he couldn't hear it.

Still somewhat dazed, he wiped the worst of the mud off his stubber and aimed at the hill again. While others rushed past them, he let off a long burst, happy just for the fact that the gun worked, nevermind hitting anyone on the hill.

The Chimeras and the lone Russ were crawling through the mud, firing at the hill all the time. Soon Panzergrenadiers would spill out of the Chimeras and assault up the hill. Poor bastards, Skorn thought. Regular infantry was still way behind them. The distance between the last Chimera and the closest infantry might have been less than fifty yards, but loaded and dressed for combat, under intense enemy fire, in open terrain with no cover and sloughing through mud, it could have as well been a mile.

Skorn ripped off the rest of the belt to the hillside and threw open the feed tray cover. As he tore off the empty ammo box, Gieler was already handing him a fresh one, the beginning of the belt hanging out. They changed boxes and Skorn laid the first round into the feed tray before closing the cover and racking the charging handle. A short prayer escaped his lips. Back here, they weren't doing a whole lot of good. They'd have to get closer. One problem, though: getting closer meant crossing the open no-man's land under enemy fire.

Skorn and Gieler rose in unison and rushed forward.

Rumbling engines carried a primordial sound across the muddy battlefield. Troopers on either side shuddered or cheered as Leman Russ Battle Tanks and Chimeras roared into the fight, thudding over assault ramps into no-mans-land. Their orders were to support an infantry push for Hill 29188, which, as far as Gunnery Sergeant Aedan Varth was concerned, was a scrap-heap left from the last engagement. Varth was in command of the Semper Fidelis, a Gryphonne IV-pattern Leman Russ Conqueror. Beyond him was the other members of his platoon, another Leman Russ and six Chimeras packed full of Kriegers.

The enemy had only started to return fire when Varth got the signal to engage. With a thunderous outburst the Conqueror beside him, the Death before Dishonor opened fire, flattening gun emplacements as they rode on. Varth ducked his head down below the lip of the turret and slammed the hatch behind him.

"Fire at will!" Varth called down the cramped interior. His gunner hit the firing stud immediately, having already selected a target. The loader stepped up and rammed in a fresh shell almost as quickly, as the duo settled in a quick firing rhythm. Load, aim, fire, repeat.

Varth glued his face to the viewing slit as the top of Hill 29188 disintegrated into dust and rockcrete when his gunner, Corporal Jory Tabris, managed to hit an ammo stockpile.

Death before Dishonor fired once more before return fire blew off its right tread housing, making its other tread churn wildly in the mud, slowly spinning Death. As Varth watched, Death roared its defiance again, its sponsons and hull-mounted heavy bolters eliminated the rocket position that tore off its tread.

"We've lost our right tread, and are stuck in the mud in no-mans-land, repeat, we are stuck." came the calm, ordered voice of First Lieutenant Darrian Theron, the commander of Death. The vox shuddered and burped with distortion of the electromagnetic interference, but the modified comms. rig held up.

Varth spied another anti-tank position aiming for Death, the primitive rocket-tube being reloaded. Without a word, Varth tapped Jory and point simply to the tube's location. Within seconds, the ditch in front of the enemy trench exploded, sending blood and mud and metal high into the air.

Semper Fidelisdrew level with Death as Varth's sponsons and hull-mounted heavy bolters roaring out a staccato dakkadakkadakkadakkadakkadakka. The Chimera's had already outpaced the brutish Conqueror, and  Varth saw troops of the Krieg Death Korps charge out of loading ramps and straight into enemy fire.

Two of the Chimera took direct hits from man-portable rocket-tubes or grenades quickly, the loading hatches still streaming with men. They shuddered, and belched smoke and fire as the explosion found the munitions store.

Another rocket screamed past the Chimeras , striking Deathdead on. The Conqueror's fat cannon crumpled, and Varth quickly voxed a warning.

"Death, they've scoped you out, bail out of there!"

"Acknowledged." came Theron's calm voice again, as his crew clambered out of the top hatch. The last two, including Darrian, paused briefly enough to detach the heavy stubber from its pintle mount. The crewman carried a box of ammo, and Darrian the stubber. They hustled out of the way and into a shell-crater populated by two Krieg Death Korps men.

"Darrian, get your men out of there." Varth voxed. The little figure of Darrian paused briefly, then climbed into the crater. His crewmen ran back to the lines, but Varth didn't see the LT with them.

"Guns, with respect, do your duty and let me do mine." came Darrian's voice as he opened fire with the stubber.

Varth gritted his teeth, but continued to isolate targets of priority for Tabris, who annihilated them in a hail of fire.  

Gran cursed his bionic as he hobbled along his men moving along in low stoops through the no mans land, they cleared razor wire with practised ease as they moved forward to join the scout forces. He paused as a shot rang out sharp and hard a solid slug weapon, no one carried by any Imperial Guard around him.

"Down! take cover!"

His shout rang out as one of him men dropped his head a bloody ruin

"Damn a blast they knew we were coming, get into covering positions for the rest of our men, vox the scout party find out if they are still alive!"

He levelled his las carbine and looked down the length of his weapon, there in the dark he could see shapes of the enemy coming through the waste of the no mans land, tall figures in heavy armour with autogun led thinner wraiths of men in drab clothing of robes and work fatigues they moved in disciplined lines like proper soldiers of the guard.

"Hold fire till they get closer."

As they move closer he could make our the helms of the armoured figures the professionals of the enemy they helms fashioned into the horrific visages the monstrous beasts they served, a mix of colours from dulled reds to vibrant purples and sickening greens and swirling rainbows. He took aim and let his breath out before pulling the trigger and putting a las bolt through the face plate of one of the red ones.

The line opened  fire and all hell broke loose as as the two sides exchanged fire. Oban moved to his side as a rocket propelled grenade screamed through the air it's detonation killed half a dozen of his men and drowned out Oban's words.

"What?"

"Scouts are forward sir, stuck in a rat trap as it were."

"Damn and bugger, vox back to the major alert him to what's what and get me some armour up here, this attack has all gone to viss in a high wind!"

He turned and fired dropping one of the skinny wraiths as he rushed the line, the corpse rolled into view his face cut upon with long spiralling lines, the wounds were old the cuts scabbed over but they were self inflicted, what had befallen these souls to turn from the Emperors light and cut upon themselves as such.

"Kill em all lads, no mercy for the traitor."

Skorn and Gieler rushed past the burning Russ, using the thick black smoke billowing from the burning carcass as cover. They were slipping and sliding half the time, while every now and then a round or beam came uncomfortably close. Of course, it could have been worse. Like every good guardsman knew, things could always be worse.

Skorn dove into a depression in the ground, perhaps natural, more likely a shell crater. Gieler jumped in behind him. There were already two Korpsmen, plus what looked like the tank crew from the destroyed Russ, in the tiny shelter. Skorn was a bit surprised to see that they were still alive, nevermind fighting. One of the Korpsmen yelled something at Skorn, judging by the movement of his respirator, but Skorn couldn't hear anything, still deaf from the blast. He shrugged his shoulders, peered over the edge of the depression, and burst over. It was far too crowded in there for his tastes. Gieler followed him instantly.

No sooner than immediately after they had rushed off, the crater was raked with las-fire. Skorn didn't pause to see if anyone had been hit. He didn't have time to stop, not without giving someone a nice stationary target, nor did he really have time to help the wounded either. The Chimeras were already disgorging their living cargo and if the infantry didn't gain a foothold on the hill before the Panzergrenadiers were annihilated, all their effort and blood would have gone to waste.

Skorn and Gieler ran, their lungs feeling like bursting, panting and breathing raggedly inside their respirators. Skorn could hardly see due to the mud in his respirator lenses, but he knew which way the hill was. And that was where he was headed.

The Panzergrenadiers had burst from the Chimeras and were drawing all of the enemy fire. Poor bastards, Skorn thought again. They were getting everything the enemy had and they were being cut down without mercy. But their sacrifice gave the infantry time. Skorn winced as he watched the withering hail of las- and stubber fire pulverize Panzergrenadiers making a mad charge out and up the hillside. Skorn dropped to a knee and motioned for Gieler. It was an insane risk, stopping out in the open, but they did anyway. Out of pity for the Panzergrenadiers, or out of brotherhood, neither really knew, but Gieler threw open the tripod and planted it in the mud. Skorn slammed the heavy stubber into the tripod and took aim at the top portion of the hillside. Gieler made sure the belt wasn't twisted and then dropped down beside Skorn to observe his fire.

Skorn opened up on the hillside, raking the hilltop with short bursts aimed at wherever the enemy fire seemed to be coming from. Gieler had to produce his dinged-up pair of binoculars to see much of anything, but once he got them out, he was pleased with what he saw. Enemy infantry that was firing down at the Panzergrenadiers were getting shredded by Skorn's fire. Skorn didn't even see who he was shooting at, but he saturated the whole area with rounds. And not only Skorn. Other support weapons joined their fire to his, as well as the Chimeras multilasers and heavy bolters. Not to mention the booming shots of the remaining Leman Russ.

The insane charge of the Panzergrenadiers had cost them the majority of their number, but given the infantry time to set up a firebase and now the hilltop was taking instead of dishing out punishment. Slowly fire superiority turned to the Korps and to his surprise, Gieler even saw the few remaining Panzergrenadiers push forward with flamers covering foxholes and hurrily dug trenches in promethium. Regular infantry had reached the foot of the hill as well.

Perhaps the day could after all be won.

It had all gone to hell, the enemy were pushing forward and forcing the line to bow Gran was holding the line as best he could bellowing orders between bursts of fire with his las carbine, a dozen were down some screaming some just laying silent, he growled as a series of shots slammed into his bionic leg but when he stepped forward the mechanism within moved smoothly, with a half laugh he waved his men forward.

"Onward Lads let drive these bastards back!"

Elric pushed men forward shouting at them to keep their heads down as he sent men forward in support of Gran his his boys. Roose and his dammed Provosts stood a short distance away bellowing at the men ordering them into the battle their long swords drawn and brandished in a threatening manner, it made him look at the twin blades at his hip another sign that marked him out as a low born man.

"Jed, take your men left, flak round and drive forward lets see if we can turn them."

Jed nodded snapping his arm left his men moved instantly turning left they headed out into the no mans land skirting the cover they paused fired, paused moved, kept low and hidden behind the hard cover as the heavy weapons moved up to give supporting fire.

"Major Snow!"

He snapped round as Luska came up followed by his command staff.

"Colonel?"

"Orders from the lines, your troops are to move east to support Colonel Krastor."

"Why what's happen?"

"They are being overwhelmed by a heavy assault he can hold the line but can't force a push."

"What about the Rusticars?"

"They will not commit to an assault until they have a clear run."

"Understood sir, I'll need support to pull my men out."

"Why do you think I am here."

Luska stood turning he bellowed behind them.

"Up and forward men or Carthax!"

The heavy troopers stood moving forward past the Vergasti their hellguns held firm as they advanced firing into the enemy ranks.

"Kur, I'm leaving you to pull the men back regroup and follow my lead."

He drew the rest of the men to him, Luska moved up beside him.

"Your new orders are to push forward, and advance on Hill 29188, the enemy have a command bunker there we're to take it an open up a hole in which we can force our troops through."

"Understood sir, consider it done."

He offered a quick salute and then turned to his men.

"Ok boys lets go rescue the Rigante lads."

It rewarded him with a laugh as he led them off

Skorn threw open the feed tray cover once again and laid another belt into place. They'd already gone through two belts from where they knelt in the mud, blasting away at the hillside. Gieler pushed his binos into his pocket and it looked like he shouted something.

'What?!' Skorn yelled at him, pointing at his ear.

Gieler probably sighed, at least his body language looked like that, then motioned forwards and pumped his fist twice in the air. Let's go.

'Yeah! The barrel's starting to heat up too,' Skorn yelled and detached the stubber from the tripod. Gieler folded the tripod and picked it up. They legged it towards the foot of the hill, ploughing through the mud of the no-man's land. By the time they reached the slope, they were panting again and drenched in sweat as well as mud. At least the enemy fire had lessened.

Arriving at the foot of the hill, Skorn came upon a corpse with the chevrons of a Feldwebel and with vox-unit on his back. The handset lay in the mud beside the dead man's left hand and a short autogun was gripped tightly in his right hand. Grustorp. Damn.

Without thinking, Skorn stopped beside the dead Feldwebel and picked up the autogun as well as Grustorp's map-case and bandolier of ammo. Gieler shouted something at him when he removed the vox-unit from the corpse and tried to hand it Gieler. He tried again, and Gieler again shouted something, pointing first to his ammoboxes and then at his head.

'Are you nuts?!'

At least that was what Skorn figured he said. No matter, they couldn't let the company vox get lost in the mud, so Skorn practically forced the vox on Gieler, for the simple reason that he couldn't still hear a bit. At least Gieler could listen to vox-traffic on the tac net. He threw Grustorp's bandolier around his shoulder and hung the autogun on other shoulder by its sling.

Here, on the foot of the hill, the fighting was relatively tame compared to the hail of lead and laser in the no-man's land, or the lethal barrage directed at the Panzergrenadiers. Upwards, the firing was fiercer, where Krieg infantry and the Panzergrenadiers were clearing what remained of the trenches that had sometime been dug there. At least the offensive had regained some semblace of order, instead of being just a mad rush through enemy fire in the no-man's land. Skorn started to slog uphill, carrying the heavy stubber in a low underarm assault position. Accuracy from such a stance was apes***, but any engagements would happen so close anyways that there was no need for pinpoint accuracy.

Skorn wiped the mud from his respirator lenses with his sleeve. All it really did was smudge them almost worse. He cussed and kept pushing onwards. He couldn't hear a thing, but the churning of mud and earth at the hilltop caused by the las-fire and striking bullets was impressive. The chimeras were blasting away with their multilasers glowing hot and heavy bolter shuddering with recoil. Skorn felt a passing moment of malicious joy. It was always better to give than to receive. Now it was time for the traitor bastards to get what they had coming.

The fighting was fiercest in center section of the hillside facing their lines. Skorn and Gieler pushed on, past dead and dying Korpsmen and Panzergrenadiers. They had been riddled with bullets and horribly scorched by laser fire. No open caskets for those poor sods, Skorn thought as he passed them.

The further up the hill they got, the more enemy rounds and laser beams started to streak by them. They got low, crawling along the ravaged hill, crawling, rushing and diving from one shelter to another, using whatever little intendation in the ground for cover. Finally they reached what seemed to be the company command post halfway up the hill. Skorn recognized Unterfeldwebel Hildeberg, apparently the acting company commander now that Kraust and Grustorp were dead. Hildeberg spotted them as they crawled up to him and seemingly shouted something, waving his hand further up the hill.

Skorn looked at him like he was retarded. Gieler answered something, then unstrapped the vox-unit from his back and handed it to Hildeberg. Hildeberg looked like a kid on Candlemas. He immediately picked up the handset and spoke into it. Then he paused to listen until speaking into the handset again. This conversation with someone at the other end continued for some time, then Hildeberg nodded and put the handset away.

While Hildeberg was speaking into the handset, Skorn watched the action on the hillside. It seemed that the enemy had a few emplacements up on the hilltop which rained heavy weapons fire down on the troops trying to advance up the hill, while the main force of the enemy infantry was retreating. As Skorn wondered where they were retreating to, he saw it. A massive metal door in the face of the hill. An obvious bunker, or shelter.

Suddenly, Gieler grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him into the mud, diving on top of him.

HIMMEL! INCOMING!

The world exploded in a maelstrom of fire, mud, steel and pain. He lost all sense of time or direction and he felt like he was being hammered from all sides. The overpressure and the vibrations felt like he was caught in a tornado. His head felt like bursting with each explosion and he lost track of how many of them there were almost immediately. He blacked out, losing all coherent thought. All he could think of was that he was going to die any second now. Then yet another blast rocked him again, causing him to go numb all over. Then a wave of pain engulfed him while yet another round exploded. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he couldn't think. He might have screamed, although he couldn't tell. He most definetely wet himself, but he didn't notice at the time.

The artillery barrage fell on the hill for a good five minutes.

When the world stopped shaking and his vision started to come back, blurred as it was, he felt like he had been caught in a giant wave. He tried to move, but his limbs refused to obey him at first. He was hurting everywhere. Then he felt the weight of Gieler upon him. He felt something warm on his skin. Some of it was sweat, some urine, some blood. Not all were his own. He tried to move again, as feeling was returning to his limbs gradually, mostly in the form of pain. Gieler didn't move. Skorn tried to yell at him to move, but then he realized it. Gieler was dripping blood on him.

Son of a...

The sudden panic gave him strenght to move and he pushed himself free from underneath Gieler. Gieler rolled over, falling silent in the mud. Skorn gasped and ripped the respirator with the broken lenses from his face. Now he could see Gieler was shredded with shrapnel. His helmet was full of holes and blood was seeping from between Gieler's respirator and helmet. The back of Gieler's trenchcoat was shredded and his back was a bloody mess underneath. One of his arms was cut off under the elbow.

Skorn ripped the respirator off Gieler's face. Underneath it, Gieler was pale, still and silent. It was obvious he was dead. Skorn, a hardened veteran of the Death Korps, called heartless by some, froze for a second. Gieler was his best, perhaps only, friend. He had just died on foreign soil, saving Skorn's life in the process. As heartless as Skorn was, a small tear rolled down his face.

Dulce et decorum est pro Korps mori... It is sweet and fitting to die for the Korps.

He felt so hollow. So alone.

Acting on instict instead of conscious thought, he lay Gieler down in the mud and looked for his weapons. The heavy stubber lay in the mud, ammobox ripped off and the feed tray cover open and bent. He groped around mindlessly, looking for something with which to make the enemy pay for Gieler's death. His hand fell on Grustorp's autogun. He gripped it, raised it up and checked the magazine and the chamber. The mag was full. There was a round in chamber. He looked up and saw that the enemy were making a push out of the bunker. They had already gained a foothold outside the entrance and were spreading out, pushing back the Korps infantry still dazed and stunned by the shelling.

Skorn grabbed a box of grenades from the corpse of Hildeberg and threw it around his neck on a sling.

He rushed up the hill, powered by adrenaline and the grim need for vengeance. Closer to the enemy, he brought the autogun up and took aim at the closest enemy. It was a man in dirty and muddy flak armor over equally dirty and muddy overalls, shooting at someone with a lasgun. The bastard was no soldier, not even a man. He was a fool driven on by the soldiers beside him, men in dirty fatigues, flak armor with obscene symbols and grim-visaged helms. A lowlife, nothing, less than a man. A dirty rotten scumbag, forsaken by the Emperor.

Skorn cursed him and his ancestors and shot him in the face.

"Who the hell ordered that artillery barrage?!" demanded Varth, his anger rising. Corporal Tabris looked up briefly, before shaking his head. BAM! another round detonated on the hill, ahead of the swarming Kriegers.

"Boss, that's the same barrage that was supposed to start half an hour ago." Tabris reminded him. He frowned.  "And you know that."

"I know when the barrage was to start, what I want to know is who ordered the barrage so I can shove a lasgun up his ass!" Varth roared.  Varth was shaking with rage now, and could barely see out of the Fidelis's viewing slit.

Jory shook his head again.  Varth threatened and swore plenty, but fortunately his common sense, and his crew, kicked some sense into him before he could fulfill his rabid oaths.

Xxxx

Darrian Theron was many things, but a coward was not one of them. As lasfire stuck down one of the Kriegers inhabiting the fox-hole with him, Theron jumped up with his heavy stubber and charged towards Hill 29188, his driver close behind.

Duran Brosca was his driver, a dedicated man in his late 40s and unlike Theron, he was not crazy prepared and thus was not wearing full flak armor. He bent down for a second and quickly took the downed Krieger's heavy flak jacket and leather storm coat. Grasping his cut down autorifle, Brosca took off after his commander.

He found Theron firing full auto on top of a defensive trench, hosing the enemy cultists with lead. Brosca joined him, cutting down the swine with quick bursts of fire. The enemy was in disarray and had no clue. It was a complete traki shoot.

Theron and Brosca jumped down in the trench, moving on. Theron stormed ahead, his battle-lust in full rage. Brosca followed carefully, and paused for a second at the sight of a small gap in the flak boards. He stopped, pulled a crowbar from his jacket, and started heaving at the miniscule gap. Theron didn't even notice until Brosca's cry of alarm.

Theron sprinted back, to find Brosca holding a bloody crowbar with his back to the trench wall as lasfire poured out of a narrow opening in the hill. Theron pulled a grenade out of his combat webbing, but Brosca shook his head no. He gestured for Theron to back up, then he plunged his crowbar into the trench wall, scaling it in a matter of seconds. Brosca quickly lay down, holding his autorifle at the semi-opened door.

The door slowly creaked outward, a smoking gun barrel sticking out of the hole. A cautious head followed it, and then Theron opened fire, ripping the man to pieces.  Theron's fire also spun the concealed door farther open, where Brosca could see the entire dugout.

Brosca had to hand it to the heretics; foolish as they may be in combat, Emperor did they know how to build fortifications. Nonetheless, Brosca killed every tainted man in the dugout. He scrambled back into the cover of the dugout, just in time for Theron to yell and shoulder-check him, sending Brosca sprawling into the dugout.

Brosca cried out, demanding an answer when he caught the barest hint of what Theron had heard: the high pitched whistle of a descending shell. Theron had almost closed the door when a body dove into the shelter.

Brosca leveled his autogun on the man, just as Theron slammed the door shut and lowered the heavy bar to block entry.

"Don't shoot don't shoot!" cried the man from the floor. "I'm Imperial, just like you!"

Brosca lowered his gun and offered the trooper a hand. Theron dropped a lamp-pack on a table and lit up the room. The light played with their bodies and glinted madly off of racked guns and ammo. Brosca had been right not to toss a grenade in here. Theron moved among the guns, restocking his ammo for the heavy stubber as he let it rest.

Dirt fell from the ceiling and the crude flak board bracing shook with the rumble of the shells. The Krieger stood up with Brosca help, and panted, out of breath. He had sprinted to catch up with the crazy tankers. Whoever said tank-boys were bad at fighting clearly hadn't met these psychos.

Brosca began checking the bodies to make sure they were dead when the Krieger gave a gasp and called them over.

"You need to see this." he said, pointing with his free hand. Brosca and Theron joined him, looking at the little shrine in the back of the dugout, blasphemous symbols spread liberally over it shining with an unholy light.

"Don't look at it," Theron ordered. "It will drive you mad."

The Krieger destroyed the fane, blasting it apart with retina-searing shots from his lasgun. When their ears had stopped ringing and their  eyes throbbing, no trace of the heretical shrine remained.

Xxxx

"Yes, I'm telling you to stop the bombardment!" Varth voxed as he pointed the driver to a large ditch where the tank could go hull-down. Jory fired again, shooting geysers of mud and blood into the air.

"Yes, I understand the rank difference between us Captain, but what you need to understand is that you are killing our troops more than the archenemies."

Semper Fidelis stopped in the shallow ditch, only its turret protruding to show the enemy a target. They were close to Hill 29188, hiding in the shade of it. The hill's anti-tank emplacements had already been silenced by them or the Kriegers, so now the Fidelis was shelling the trenches to the side of the hill, weakening the position for a later attack. Eventually, even that fell silent as Corporal Tabris eliminated every fortification in sight.

The hill was a smoking ruin, but the artillery fire was finally moving past it, deeper into the enemy lines. Tabris looked down to his commander, and saw Varth's forehead creased in concentration as he relayed the progress of the assault to command.

Elric led his men like ghosts keeping low they hugged the terrain like the experts they were, coming up on the Rigante's position he called a halt with a silent hand gesture, the noise of the battle rang out all around them but not before them he gripped his weapon tightly as he led scouts forward cresting a ridge and peering across an empty field. Krass his lead scout slid up beside him.

"Where the hell are the Rigante?"

"There."

He pointed out the dead and then gestured towards the heavy emplacements they'd assaulted.

"They ran into a death trap, poor buggers, take half the men and circles round to the south I'll lead the other half north."

"Whats the plan?"

"I'll act as a distraction you get close enough andd set charges we'll blow them to hell."

He moved leaving Krass to gather the best scouts and lead them off he moved to the north gathering his men into fire teams he ordered the attack, rockets flew out streaking through the air they impacted against the emplacements, they were tough well built and took the bombardment, the return fire was heavy as four heavy flak cannons opened up tearing up the land. It forced the men back into heavy cover and Elric ducked behind a ruined tank.

"Well we know what got the Rigante."

He moved rushing across the open ground he fired at the emplacement with his las gun leaping as the cannons tracked him he rolled into cover came up and threw a grenade with his bionic arm his range was massively improved and he landed the frag grenade within the closest of the emplacements. The weapon went silent an he could see figures rushing from the grenade as it detonated. A second later and las fire flashed from behind the weapons then they all fell silent.

"Up and forward boys."

They charged head long towards the weapons slowing as Krass came into view.

"Charges are set sir."

"Prime them for two minutes and move out the hills our target."

The troop moved away from the emplacements watching as they exploded bright blossoms of fire lighting the night sky.

"Vox HQ tell them what' happened and order another troop forward to fill this gap."

Skorn dove into a trench, the near perfect bellylanding earning him a face full of mud. He cussed, spat and scrambled to his knees. He pressed against the side of the trench and using it as support slipped and scrambled to his feet. Damn mud was getting everywhere and making it hard to run, although sliding around and lowcrawling were easier thanks to the reduced friction. Skorn shook the worst of the mud off of his autogun and changed a fresh mag from Grustorp's bandolier into the magazine well.

He knew that one of the more soldier-like enemies had been shooting from a foxhole connected to the trench some distance away. He snuck a lightning peek around the corner of the trench. No-one. He circled the corner slowly, autogun in low assault position, barrel aimed down the trench. His heart was pounding and he breathed heavily. It wasn't exhaustion only. The fire in the no-man's land had dulled the adrenaline rush somewhat, especially since he couldn't hear the shooting or the impacts, but now that he was almost at a touching distance of the enemy, the fear and the excitement surfaced again.

He snuck down the muddy trench, crouching to present as small a target as possible. He cursed his deafness. It would have been rather helpful to hear where the enemy was shooting from, but he had no such luck. He had to rely on instict and memory. And pray that the enemy was either pinned down or too stupid to linger in one position for long. As he neared another corner, he slid Hildeberg's grenade box open gently and as quietly as he could.

He started to circle the corner excruciatingly slowly. Wait! Movement! He stopped, thinking he'd seen someone or something moving behind the corner. He took a step back and slid his hand into the grenade box. Pulling out a Korps-issue stick grenade, he kept the autogun aimed at the corner. He brought the grenade up to his face, bit on the trigger cap and pulled it. The fuse should be set for three. He counted to one and a half, then tossed the grenade over the corner and further down into the trench.

He still couldn't hear the blast, but the flash of fire and flying mud signaled that the grenade had gone off. He even felt the rush of air coming from past the corner. Stepping up to the corner, he pushed the autogun around the corner and hosed the trench blindly. When the gun ceased to fire, he changed the mag. With a fresh mag in place, he took a lightning peek around the corner. A shape lay in the middle of the trench, torn up by the grenade. Skorn didn't know if it had been dead before he hit it with the grenade, or had he fragged a corpse. No matter, he now controlled this little section of the trench.

Movement!

Someone was coming around the next corner, a dark shape stalking slowly forward, lasgun raised. It wasn't a Korps-issue Lucius patter no98, so Skorn gave him a warm welcome with a half-dozen rounds. The figure registered impacts, falling back, but then it returned the welcome with three laser beams in quick succession.

Emperor damn it, armor.

The beams sizzled and flashed on the trench wall near the corner Skorn was hiding behind. He gave the enemy a little more to think about with another three rounds aimed about shoulder-high at the corner the enemy had retreated behind. Then he ducked behind cover, only to watch a las-shot impact on the wall across from the corner.

Tough son of a...

Suddenly Skorn felt a concussive blast of rushing air sweep overhead, yanking his helmet forward and then mud rained everywhere. The wood supporting the trench wall splintered as shrapnel slammed into it. The enemy had tried to grenade him, the bastard.

Skorn stepped out from behind the corner instinctively. He guessed what was coming, but didn't have time to think things through, just react. The enemy were rushing, two man-like shapes in ragged flak armor and helmets, lasguns blasting. Skorn blasted them both with what remained of his maganize. The first figure collapsed, hit in the unprotected legs and bulky flak vest. The second stumbled on his mate. Skorn tracked his fall with the last of the rounds in the mag, the autogun barking on full auto - the only firemode in actually had.

The second figure was hit in the helmet straight on. While the others rocked the helmet and ricoched in whatever direction, one round hit the helmet solidly and punched through. The figure collapsed like a wet rag and lay still.

The first enemy tried to scratch and claw forwards, towards its lasgun fallen from its grip as it was hit. Skorn rushed forward and kicked the lasgun away. The figure looked up, human eyes behind the gruesome facemask widening as Skorn changed to a fresh mag and shot it in the face.

The Reivers were running hard now covering the ground with ease as they moved across the lines, tight groups of soldiers moved spread out across the line as their major led the way forward of the rest showing just why he was the major and they his soldiers.

"Where the hell are the rest of the guard?"

"Already assaulting the hill, we'll head for the base link up with who ever is there and then lead the attack as per."

His fist punched the air and the line stopped dropping low, a pair of grenade detonations had flashed up ahead and followed by quick bursts of fire.

"Trenches, Kars, Krass get your squads left, Yeal, Lipp right, Fern with me."

He moved forward edging in the darkness towards the trench his bionic eye allowed him to see perfectly in the dark and to pick out details often missed as he came within a few feet he picked up on the single shot from an autogun, one of his men pulled a frag grenade from his belt.

"No, could be ours, we go over with las and steel."

The twenty men behind him drew one of their blades as he did before following their officer as he pushed from his crouched position covering the space in a few long strides he jumped over the lip of the trench, landing heavily he slid a short distance before he came up lasgun swinging round he locked onto a lone figure standing over two corpses, his men landing round him he put up his weapon seeing the masks the dead wore.

"One of ours lads!"

He slid his blade back into it's sheath stepping towards the soldier who's own gun was levelled squarely at him, his men started to secure the trench.

"Lower the weapon boy, we're on the same side."

"Dammit," said Sergeant Rhys Davies, leader of 2nd squad, 1st platoon for the Auzzian 23rd. "We're stuck here. Their firing positions are too good."

His squad was currently situated in a large shell-hole in the middle of no-man's land. They had dragged their multi-laser up to the edge of the hole, and its shriek could be heard even above the sound of artillery.

"Nonsense sergeant," replied Commissar Ignat Fross. "We will charge the enemy, and will prevail by the providence of the God-Emperor of Mankind."

"Like hell we will sir," said Francois, the squad's marksman. Commissar Fross span around, his eyes blazing and his bolt pistol pointing at Francois's head.

"You will ob-" His words were cut off as the butt of Sergeant Davies' laspistol crashed into the back of his head. The commissar crumpled to the ground, mud coating his white trench-coat.

"Best make it look realistic," said Davies, and shot the commissar in the leg. "Now remember boys, Commissar Fross here, Emperor bless 'im, was about to lead us on a glorious charge when he was hit in the leg, fell back in the hole and hit his head."

"Yes sir," replied his squad. 

"Alright. Francois, see if you can take out a gunner or two. Jonas, what's the lie of the land?"

Jonas, his dark skin beaded with sweat, pressed his augmetic ear to the ground. He listened, making sense of the dull thuds and scrapes.

"There's a series of trenches about fifty meters ahead," he said. "Manned by heavy men, in iron boots. Our heavy infantry should be making an assault on the west edge of the hill. They've cleared some of it. Heines' squad is in another hole, twenty meters to our right."

Francois took a shot. "One down," he called out.

Jonas continued. "We're stranded. Heines is our closest friendly, and he might as well be a mile away if something doesn't change. There . . . there's something else . . ." He closed his eyes, screwed up his face in concentration, and slowed his breathing.

"Two!" said Francois.

Jonas opened his eyes. "Stalk-tank! Sixty meters to our front. It's moving closer, but headed towards the section we've already taken."

"Fine by me," said Davies. "They can deal with it."

"No. They don't know it's there. They can't see it past the fortifications. They aren't even firing their weapons. We need to warn them."

Davies nodded at Himmler, the squad's yeller. Although he had requested a vox, Command had denied his request. There weren't enough to go around apparently. However, Heines had managed to get his hands on one.

Himmler raised his voice, and prayed that Heines still had his vox. If he didn't, things could turn ugly for their side.   

Skorn paused. He didn't lower the autogun, instead keeping it tucked in tight to his hip, as he watched the newcomer say something he couldn't hear from the ringing in his ears. But he wore some sort of imperial uniform, even if it wasn't a Korps uniform, although thanks to its nature, Skorn reckoned he must have been some sort of recon man. Great. Just when they needed assault engineers. Ask for a hammer and you get a screwdriver, so typical. Well, at least they were some kind of reinforcements. The other men were following the first man's lead, so Skorn guessed he was some kind of officer.

The man sheathed his blade and spoke to him this time instead. Skorn looked at him passively, then pointed at his ears.

'I'M FRECKING DEAF! EXPLODING TANKS AND ARTILLERY,' he yelled without actually meaning to.

The officer looked at him like he was dumb as well as deaf. Skorn shrugged and then the man yelled something, leaning in close. Skorn could only guess what it was, so he answered based on his guess.

'NO-ONE LEADS HERE! COMPANY COMMANDER, LEUTNANT... ERR, LIEUTENANT KRAUST, THE FIRST SERGEANT, SOME IF NOT ALL OF THE SQUAD LEADERS HAVE BEEN KILLED. THE LAST I SAW A COMMAND POST WAS OVER THERE,' Skorn paused to point back the way where a shell crater marked Hildeberg's temporary grave, 'BACK WHEN THE CRATER WASN'T THAT BIG.'

The officer seemed to shake his head, although he could have been just having a quick look around to assess the situation. Then he asked something again, with no more luck than the previous time.

'I HAVE NO FRECKING IDEA OF WHAT THE SITUATION IS! I HAVEN'T BEEN SHOT AT FROM ABOVE FOR SOME TIME, SO I GUESS THAT WE HOLD THE HILLTOP. THIS TRENCH LEADS TO AN ENEMY BUNKER, BUT I DON'T THINK WE CAN GET IN WITHOUT MELTA CHARGES. GOT A PEEK AT IT, AND THE BLAST DOORS LOOK STURDY ENOUGH AGAINST WHAT WE'VE GOT. THEN AGAIN, I DON'T THINK THEY CAN GET OUT EITHER, OR THEY'D HAVE RAN US OFF THE HILL.'

The officer said something, then bellowed to his men, and they ghosted off. Skorn shrugged and turned back towards the bunker. Shot at all the time, scared out of your wits, with hardly the time to stop and have a decent look without someone trying to kill you, hell yeah, it was hard to know what the heck the situation was. 'Fog of war', right. 'Scared ****less' would have been more accurate in Skorn's opinion.

He saw a wave of promethium wash over a section of the trench. Panzergrenadiers at work, he guessed. The last remaining few. He didn't look back, but the trek through the no-man's land and the climb up the hill had been bloody to say the least.

'FRIENDLIES,' he yelled at the top of his lungs. Then he repeated it three times for good measure. The flamer crew seemed to be working their way away from him, luckily. Friendly fire, although there was never anything friendly about fire no matter who it came from, was not his preferred method of exitus. He stalked off after them, until they were almost at the door of the bunker. One more corner and then a long stretch of straight trench would lead them to the bunker door.

The flamer crew were kneeling at the corner, catching their breath. Skorn trotted up to them and huddled up next the two. The fuel tank carrier gave him a thumbs-up. They shook hands, the first three to reach what seemed like the edge of their objective. Almost there, was the collective thought.

'HARDPOINTS?'

The flamer crewman pointed at his ears. Deaf, just like Skorn. Damnit. Skorn drew the tactical sign of a heavy weapon in the mud. The crewman nodded, then raised two fingers and pointed to each wall of the trench.

'Scheisse,' Skorn hissed under his breath. There wasn't much they could do. The long stretch of straight trench made for an ideal kill box. They'd need a shield, or a tank, or... whatever. Or they needed someone to break in from the other side. Perhaps the recon boys could do that.

In the meantime, Skorn realized he needed a respirator. The acrid smoke of the battlefield and the promethium fumes were starting to sting his throat and sinuses. Only now, when he had a bit of time for a breather, he registered the smells, or the stench, of battle. The air reeked of cordite, ozone and promethium, as well as of blood, sweat, urine, s*** and mud. So different without the respirator. Interesting, but rather unappealing to say the least.

He slapped the crewman on the shoulder, motioned that he'd be back, then headed off back down the trench. It didn't take too long to find a dead soldier no longer in need of a respirator. Skorn relieved the fellow Korpsman of a respirator after checking it for bullet or laser holes and cracked lenses. Nothing. Emperor bless him. Skorn took off his helmet, realized it was pretty banged up, but still in one piece. He considered raiding the dead Korpsman for a helmet, but then again, this one was his, nor did it really feel right to treat the fallen fellow like an armoury. Still, Skorn rummaged through his corpse for ammo and grenades. The gefreiter had been carrying a no98, so no luck with autogun magazines. Skorn wasn't about to change the short and handy if a bit underpowered full auto autogun for a bulkier singleshot las-rifle, so he settled for taking the one stick grenade he could find instead.

After donning the respirator and making sure it was snug and airtight, he returned to the flamer crew. Then they waited, hoping someone could crack the bunker. Or at least bring them a shield and a melta charge. And where were the navy glory boys and their Marauder Destroyers or Lightning Strikes as well? The one time you needed a decent divebombing... frek.

"Emperors teeth."

Shouted Gran from the back of the trench causing the Auzzian's to snap round raising their weapons Gran's men mimicked their gesture as their officer waved the weapons down.

"Keep it down lads, we can hear you half the battle field away, and even these foul heretics can zone in all that noise your boy is making."

The Vergasti lowered their las carbines as Gran stepped forward.

"Sergeant Gran Dust, Vergasti Reivers."

The Auzzian officer blinked as move men moved to the crater lip keeping low they looked out over the field before them eyes alert and watching for any signs of the enemy, he gathered his thoughts and took Dust's hand.

"Sergeant Rhys Davies, 2nd squad, 1st platoon, Auzzian 23rd."

"What's your situation Sergeant?"

"We're pinned, enemy fire is accurate we believe they have marksmen, they've been picking us off for the best part of an hour."

"Show me."

Davies moved to kneel beside their marksman pointing out before them.

"Gunners are out there somewhere."

Gran nodded looking over his shoulder.

"Max, get the shooters into play lets led these boys a hand the major has enough men to push forward, send a squad over to that other crater we'll coordinate an attack and push forward."

"Sergeant Dust?"

He turned looking at Davies.

"Gran, we use our first names half the men here are called Dust."

The men murmured behind them as they moved off to their duties.

"Lass what do you reckon?"

A figure stepped from the rest moving up beside Gran he looked out across the killing field.

"Seems doable, there's plenty of cover for us to use we should be able to get close enough for charges."

"Do it."

"Are you mad?"

"Watch us work sergeant."

Lass rose stepped to the lip of the crater and rolled over, half a dozen men followed and then they slid like snakes across the ground.

"Sir? I heard a stalk tank out there, sixty meters in that direction."

He turned looking at Jonas, he keyed his vox speaking low and quickly.

"Tank, heavy weapons into position track and fire only when you have a clear shot."

He turned back to Davies.

"How many men you got?"

"About a hundred."

"Right I have three hundred and thirty six with me, all spread out across this area, our target is that hill there following on from our main block. Fora Vox the Major let him know our situation we're staying put here, these boys need out help."

Gracus slid into the crater he'd lost his peak hat and his bald dark head scanned round his eyes falling upon the downed commissar, his attention shifted to Davies.

"What happened to your commissar sergeant?"

His voice was a low growl full of threat as he moved to Gran's side looking out beyond him.

++

Major Elric tapped Skorn on the shoulder gesturing for him to let him past moving to the lip of the corner he peered round for a second before stepping back into the trench for a second he stared blankly they looked past Skorn at his men behind him.

"Two rocket troops, krak rockets up and forward, send Kras over the top see what he can find."

He waved the Korps men back as two of his own men stepped up.

"Smoke?"

He paused then stepped out into the trench waited for a second then stepped back in, a series of gun retorts echoed down the trench tearing the ground where he'd been standing. He held out his hand to Skorn gesturing at the stick bomb. Reluctantly the Korps man handed over the grenade, he turned and tossed it with his bionic down the trench smiling as it thumped against the bulk head.

"Get ready."

Krump the grenade detonated and he shouted.

"Now!"

The two men stepped out dropped to the knees and fired the pair of krak rockets screaming down the trench they impacted the detonations washing back towards the men as they threw themselves clear. Elric stepped out looking at the door and frowned.

"That's a tough bastard, Kras?"

"Nothing doing I can't get close enough to charge it and throwing the dammed things won't work."

"Pull back to the trench."

He gestured for the Korps men to follow him as he strode back down the trench.

"Fern vox the artillery batteries get me some pin point breachers on that bunker door."

He gestured and shouted his orders

"To the sides, artillery incoming."

Captain Glaudio Tauren heard the scream of incoming artillery and roared "Take cover!!" to the rest of the Quelli Santificati and thier comrades of the 21st Savlar Chem Dogs Regiment. he could see the fear in the sunken eyes of the penal legionaires contrasing with the defience of the free chem dogs of the Santificati as they hugged the trench wall.

The grey  uniforms they wore were ragged and hung from the skelatal frames of the men, weeks of fighting with little in the way of supplies had left them weak and starved, even Giacomo, usually the most cheerfull and optimisic soldier under his command had grown quiet as the Captains contant pleas for reassignment had gone unanswered by the higher ups.

They knew that this was not what they were best at, they were infiltraitors, not just any unit to be squandered away in pointless wars of attrition Glaudio knew that Skozia and the others knew that and they were keen to escape the deadlock soon and take the fight to the enemy. It was this pride which kept the Santificati in the fight, however as the war had ground to a hald their penal legion comrades had begun to feel the fear and futility of the war.

Fern along with his vox operator knelt in the open as the rest of the Reivers pulled back to a safe distance, Fern held map sheet in his left hand while the vox horn was tightly gripped in his right he read out his co-ordinates as his Vox operator a thin rake of a man named Merl Salt knelt beside him working the unit while he covered his sergeant.

"Roger that, area is clear of friendly units, commence bombardment."

He tapped Merl on the shoulder and the pair of them pulled helmets on ducking down as shells screamed in, the detonations were sharp and high pitched as the shells punched into the dirt, the secondary detonations were deafening as they tore up the ground as they were designed to, the first barrage landed short.

"Tighter bring them in tighter."

The second barrage was on target punching into the ground they tore the trench leading to the bunker apart opening the space around the bulkhead with dirt and debris, the bulk head itself buckled and blew inwards as the shockwave forced the bulkhead open.

"One more barrage."

A second barrage fell on the same spot tearing the opening wide enough for half a dozen men to step through, The Major was on his feet instantly.

"Assault teams move up and frag the bastard."

Teams of men rushed forward in pairs they broke from the trenches hurling frag grenades into the opening before firing their carbines into the hole as well, Elric turned on the flamer team waving them forward and stepped to the side as the team moved into position with a wash of flame they doused the hole then moved up with his own assault troops.

A they stepped inside and a few second passed before one of them stepped out waving his arm.

"We're in, Roose!"

The Noble born came to his side looking frustrated.

"Take three quarters the men, continue to secure this trench system with half send the others up the hill, I'll lead the rest inside."

"Very well."

Roose turned bellowing order to his Provosts who echoed the orders through the line as he looked to Skorn  tilting his head in a coming gesture.

He stepped out moving towards the hole men moved behind him as he stepped through the threshold the trench that was a ruined mess with half a dozen broken bodies lying around was a low tunnel with a slight incline he looked up into the darkness of the tunnel having blow the lighting at this end, one of his men came from the darkness.

"A defence chamber two hundred meters up, it's empty."

"Are they in retreat?"

"I don't think so sir, it's not even got any barricades."

"Show me."

Striding up the tunnel he stepped into the lit chamber looking round, where in an imperial defence the room would have had solid barricades with heavy weapons the room was bare cut from the rock of the hill the room was simply that an empty room with a set of stairs leading up and another tunnel leading off from the opposite wall.

"I've sent scouts with the Krieg men down the tunnel to check it, the stairs I've posted a pair on them just incase."

"Ok set up the vox see if we can find out what Gran was saying the bombardment ruined the signal."

He unfastened his tunic and pulled it off his shoulders, the garment was caked in filth and dirt, laying it on the ground he strode round the room.

"He says he's linked up with a group of Auzzian's he's lending support to them."

"Are we the largest dammed recon troop out here for Emperor's sake, we're being redeployed all over the place, very well he has permission to work with the Aussian forces for now."

He strode round the room leaning into the tunnel.

"Get me a rough report on our losses."

"Tell those fecking idiots with the artillery not to drop them so close to our lines" Glaudio bellowed into the vox, all around him the Savlar were hauling themselves to their feet swearing at whoever it was that had called in the artillery so close to their lines.

Glaudio was still unsure who else was stationed in this section of the trenches but he accepted that as most other regiments had little respect or thrust for them it was unlikely that they would find out until after they had left. Sangue was unusually calm when he spoke to the Captain, his desire to kill normally ruled out any kind of sensible conversation but now he spoke with clear mind and Glaudio saw in his eyes what he wanted to do.

"Frag it" he thought, they'd been there way too long and the stress was beginning to get to him as he gave the order "let's get this over with, for Humanity!!!" he roared as the scum, criminals and traitors of the Savlar 21st went over the top into the fires of war.

The Major paced back and forth as his corpsemen reported the situation of the regiment to him he sighed as they finished.

"About a quarter, that is a big estimate."

"We're not sure, but that's our estimate sir."

He nodded as he turned looking at the man who'd just returned from the tunnels.

"Anything?"

"Nothing, they are empty, the barrack halls have signs of life but they cleared out a long time ago."

He nodded and gestured to the stairs

"Lead a strike team up and see if there are signs of life up there."

He let the men gather and watched them go, his vox officer came up to him.

"Major, the heavy infantry are being sent in at dawn, orders are to secure the area and prepare to act as support for the main line assault."

"So my boys get killed so the heavy infantry get all the glory? To hell with that. Form up the troops we're taking this hill, and to damnation with the rest."

He gathered up his gear pulling his filthy tunic on he followed the men up the stairs, stopping behind the last of the men as they slid into the chamber at the top of the stairs he followed them looking at the barren room before striding through the command centre, signs showed of occupation but as Merc had said they'd cleared out.

"Ok find us a way out, dawn is in three hours I want to be linked up with the rest of our men ready for a full assault."

"Yes sir." 

The men moved through the empty command post searching for exits onto the hillside.

++

Roose struggled up the hill the Reivers moved around him like ghosts scrambling up the wet incline like a pack of rabid animals, he sneered at he watched them go on all fours the foulness of then made his blood boil and his bile rise.

"Keep the line you dogs!"

He bellowed as men moved forward scouting the terrain, his Provosts tightened their grips on their weapons as he urged them on, they'd taken no fire on their climb and this disturbed him the enemy forces were as devious and treacherous as the dammed Reivers, he half expected an attack any second now just like these bastards all round him were so skilled at, during the rebellions on his homeworld the Reivers has specialised in ambush attacks using their twin blades to butcher his kindred of old before fleeing back into their surroundings.

"Major-Captain, we must send out scouts, if the enemy are lying in wait we'll be cut down."

He snapped round looking at the man a filthy worm he didn't know the name of but he wore lieutenant stripes.

"Very well, you lead them."

The Lieutenant nodded and offered a quick salute before leading a body of men forward, he surveyed the land as he went sending out fire teams to check features of the landscape.

++

Skorn emerged from the shattered remains of the bunker's entry chamber. The whole command post being so quiet was worrisome. The enemy had obviously retreated, or worse yet, redeployed elsewhere on the hill. It was funny, the bunker not being so different from an imperial one, aside from the substandard defenses. The bunkbeds, footlockers, filthy lavatories, empty ammo cases... He had been expecting something less mundane, like shrines, altars, torture racks, sacrificial chambers. But no. It almost made the enemy feel human. But only almost.

He sat down and exhaled. The rush of combat was subsiding and he welcomed the lull in action. He could really use a break. He produced a can of grox meat from his pack and pried it open with his bayonet. It tasted like crap, as always, but he gobbled it up in no time. He wiped his lips with a muddy sleeve, then realized his mouth was as dry as a Tallarn's boot, and reached for his canteen. Just as he was gulping down his first mouthful, he saw mortar team struggling up the hill torn apart in a hail of las-fire from behind.

Himmel...

He spat the water all over himself in shock as the ugly and malformed figure of a spider-like armored contraption emerged from the no-man's land, spitting laser beams in all directions. Following it, a force of thirty enemy soldiers rushed up the hill. Heavy weapons teams lagging behind the main force of infantry were on the receiving end of the hideous engine's fire and in danger of being run over by the rushing enemies. Skorn dropped the canteen and looked around. There wasn't much he could from this distance with the autogun, but at the same time, he remembered that the fallen Korps soldier a little distance back had a no.98. He left the autogun and it's ammo bandolier behind and ran. Slipping around in the muddy trench, he cussed, huffed and puffed as he sprinted to the corpse.

There it lay in the trench, along with the lasrifle. Skorn scooped the rifle up and turned back towards the downhill slope. Fire was streaking both ways now and the closest enemies were almost at a charging distance of the first heavy weapon teams. Skorn supported his gloved hand holding the foregrip of the lasgun on the trench lip and took aim at the figure closest to the friendly troops. It was another of those heavier armored enemies, waving a sword wildly and shooting an autogun on full auto with one hand. It must have looked terrifying up close, but from the distance, Skorn couldn't help but feel like the figure was a retard. How the frek could he hope to hit someone like that? Running, no support, onehanded, full auto? Just plain retarded, Skorn thought as he pulled the trigger.

He heard no sound, nor was there any recoil. The figure just kept running. Skorn cussed and ripped off the power pack and tossed it aside, then rummaged the corpse's bandolier for fresh packs. He grabbed two; one he slammed straight into the lasrifle, the other he laid on the trench lip for a reload.

The figure was just a step or two from a mortar as Skorn hastily laid the sights on its running form again. Skorn pulled the trigger. This time he saw a flash of light streak from the gun and boil the mud beside the figure's feet. Skorn cussed as it leaped for the mortar crew. There wasn't anything he could do for them anymore. Shooting into the melee, especially since his accuracy wasn't obviously that good anymore, was a recipe for fratricide. He took aim at the next charging figure. This time he tried to remember the marksmanship lessons from basic. Hold a good, steady form. Steady your breathing. Pull evenly on the trigger. Do not yank.

The lasrifle discharged again, this time with better results. Although he was aiming for center mass, Skorn hit the next runner in the legs. No matter, he thought as it collapsed into the mud. The trigger felt so different from the ones on Grustorp's autogun or his own heavy stubber that it was causing him to miss low and slightly to the side.

He took a deep breath and shifted his aim to the next figure, realizing that it didn't make a whole lot of difference how many enemies he shot if someone didn't take out the six-limbed engine hosing the hillside with laserfire.

A Trio of rockets smacked into the rear of the tank blowing a pair of it's legs off at at joint the tank floundered trying to twist round to engage the new attackers, the vapour trails of the rockets twisted away from the trenches below but Skorn couldn't see the firers, but las bolts came out of nowhere cutting into the backs of the enemy soldiers, they turned in confusion as the cross fire cut them down, three more rockets streaked from the darkness silencing the tank in a bright blossom of light in the flash Skorn picked out the dark shapes moving through no-mans land, and up the hill.

++

Roose crested the hill behind the main body of the force looking around in confusion at the empty earthworks, he lowered his bolt pistol to his side looking round as the men strode into the upper levels of the command bunker, he spied the Major moving round greeting the men as they linked up their forces he strode across to the senior officer.

"Where the hell are the enemy?"

"They've pulled back, abandoned their forward positions save for a few pockets of resistance."

"But why?"

"My guess is they have something planned, a major bombardment, or a pre planned counter attack not sure."

He looked out over the trench network below as the dawning sun broke the darkness where he could see the advancing lines of the Imperial guard armies.

"Makes you proud lads, seeing the might of the Imperium ranged against the enemies of man."

He watched as armoured blocks of Tanks moved alongside heavy infantry and storm trooper divisions, his Vox officer came up to his side.

"Well?"

"Orders from command are to regroup and hold the hill, the enemy have be shattered in the centre and the Lord General is sending the main bulk of the force against them to break them."

He sighed striding across the command post to look out at the enemy lines.

"So we just sit and wait, send out a general vox to all recon troops in the field to regroup with us to await further orders when the Lord General sees fit to make use of us."

Disciple Enoch Carin knelt before a star of chaos his head bowed low a face mask of silver and gold lay by his right knee the smooth edge blemished with a long scar running down the left side matching the real scar upon his face, a bold scar of angry red in a sea of smaller white scars that were his marks of dedication, the long scar had been a gift from an imperial officer the power sword which had caused it now lay upon a table behind him taken from the corpse of the man who'd ruined his face. Behind him stood a emancipated psyker hands held open a quiet chant escaping his lips as a visage shimmered before him, his awareness was split while he felt the physical world about his body but his mind was aware of a dark chamber in which a psychic projection of his body knelt before the imposing figure of Magister Mavet stood eight other figures kneeling about him, he did not need to look down to see the point of the star upon the floor at which he knelt. Mavet was shrouded in shadows but the figure of the magister was tall and lean, the edges of his armour a dark silhouette around his frame, the illusion of hair flowed round his shoulders as his head d turned regarding Carin who wore a long coat of crimson falling about his body, bright red armoured plates shaped to the contours of his body and a tasset of armour plates hung down between his legs. When the Magister spoke his voice was a hissed whisper as if coming from a great distance.

"What is your report Enoch?"

He allowed himself a smile the Magister spoke to him by name and he allowed his head to lift slightly so he could bask in his master's presence.

"The army has withdrawn as per the design. They have broken into three divisions and they await my orders to begin the counter attack."

Mavet nodded the smoke that was his hair spilled about his shoulders cascading over his chest as he turned regarding others within the chamber, the spider Elestair in tight leather robes of black over his wraith thin body, a pair of mechandrites stretched over his shoulders like spiders legs ending in surgical blades and manipulators, another two hung under his arms waiting for their masters will to bring them to life, his head was encased in a smooth unblemished helm a plate fitted to it to form a cover over the eyes was decorate with a collection of glowing red lenses, when it spoke the voice was a smooth digital rasp.

"We scour the field as we speak lord, the battle is providing us with a viable yield."

"How long?"

"Once we have the yield, it will take a matter of hours to reforge them, after that it is up to the host, the times vary."

"More accuracy."

"The first of them should be ready by dusk, we'll be able to unleash them on the Imperials during the night."
"Enoch?"

He roused thinking quickly.

"I can make use of them, if they are deployed to my command bunker before dusk I can release them."

"Good, now go and show these imperial dogs what it means to fight us."

He pushed himself from his knees collecting his mask as he stepped back the psyker already moved out of his way, he turned sliding the mask back into place looking at the four massive figures standing silently, naked save for a lion cloth of hide and chain, and a pair of crimson greaves they stood waiting their faces hidden behind iron helms of ancient gladiators, in their hands was a blade as long as their body chained to their right arm they brought the weapons up in salute as he moved towards them. His personal Life Wards he had several hundred of them under his command yet these five were the best he regarded them slowly before stepping past them.

"Kill the psyker, he has seen the visage of our master."

One of the life wards twisted full circle his blade flashing out sending the psykers head tumbling across the room.

"Come, there will be more killing come the dawn."

He led the life guard out into the dawning day, surrounding his command bunker was the main force of the army the converts in their rags and robes clutching weapons as they hid behind the trench walls behind them still were thousands of his Oath Sworn Warriors two more forces of equal size stationed off to the east and the west hidden in secret bunkers they lay in wait ready for the counter attack.

"Ready the stalk tanks! All forces prepare to repel the enemy!"

He took a pre offered weapon from one of his life guards, a long power sword the imperial iconography taken from the weapon he looked over the blade remembering the once proud owner who'd scared his face. Taking up a collection of blades and finally he took up a pair a long barrelled las pistols.

"To War!"

The Savlar sprinted hell for leather across the no mans land between the two trench systems, two hundred thoroughly pissed off legionaries ran towards the enemy, snarls of hatred and frustration on their lips, shells exploded around them as they ran.

An autocannon opened fire on them and a gap was torn in their ranks but they kept running, men fell left and fight as they came within las range but Glaudio urged them on with a savage roar of fury and desperation. When they reached the enemy trenches they numbered barely fifty but they dropped down into the enemy trenches with the fires of vengeance burning in their hearts, miraculously the Santificati had made it without taking a casualty.

Sangue was first in, dropping down into the muddy water of the trench floor and began hacking wildly, a chainsword in one hand a serrated blade in the other.

Bzzzzz.

Gloooorp.

Bzzzzzz.

Gloooooooorp.

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Varth carefully directed the UV lamp at the slowly dripping goo. After a few seconds, he switched off the lamp, and the armor resin had solidified to a hardness on par with the ballistic armor of the Semper Fidelis itself. Of course, armor resin was no permanent solution, and was not as effective as a complete replacement of the sheet of ceramite and plasteel. Eventually, it would degrade and need to be replaced, but for these quick-fix jobs, a little armor resin went a long way. Varth leaned back against the reassuring mass of Semper, relaxing as he watched the organized chaos of the tank facility twenty kilometers behind the lines.

After getting that frakhead artillery officer to stop the bombardment, Varth had helped defend the captured hill until late in the night, about 0300. He had warded off attacks by two stalk tanks, only one of which was actually armed with a battle cannon. Finally, they were relieved by a platoon of tankers of the Hauberkan.

They had sustained two near-misses, a glancing shot, and a hit to the frontal armor that almost decapitated Varth's driver. Corporal Tabris was a little farther over, painting two blood-red stalk-tanks on the chassis.

Farther along, Lieutenant Theron and his driver, Brosca, reported for duty to the CO of 1st Company, Captain Andras. Andras's face was grim as Theron and Brosca came to attention and saluted smartly. 

"At ease." the Captain said. He sighed. "A shame that you lost Death, Lieutenant."

"I made as good an account of myself as I could sir." Theron said, leaping to defend his actions.

"Still, the orders were for a controlled advance, laying down cover fire for the Krieg." Andras admonished. "What you did was charge forward in a blaze of glory, and got what you deserved from it."

Andras looked pointedly at Brosca, but the driver merely looked ahead. Andras, sensing he would make no headway, gave up and sighed.

"The point is, Lieutenant, we have no replacement for Death. You have no spot in the regiment at the minute." Andras explained. "Frankly, I'm amazed your crew made it out."

Theron nodded.

"I had help sir. Gunny Varth doing much more than just covering my ass. By what I saw, from inside Death and on the ground, he eliminated almost all the heavy emplacement's on that ridge sir. Without him, we probably wouldn't have taken the hill." 

The Captain tilted his head slightly, considering Theron's words. He'd had reports of Varth's courage under fire, but not this way. From Theron's point of view, Varth saved the day.

"Well, your only real option at this point is to join the utility section."

Brosca shuddered. Manual labor wasn't offensive to him, but digging artillery trenches and loading bomb crates did not sound like doing the Emperor's work to him.

"What about the Infantry?" Theron requested. Andras's grimace disappeared, and he took a slight step backward.

"If you want to join the psycho brigade, go ahead!" he replied, making a shooing motion with his hands. "Just don't take it up with me, go get the commander of those frakking grox-fethers."

With that, the Captain left, a slight bemused smile at his lips. Who in their right mind volunteered to join the Mechanized Infantry?

He turned to one of his senior officers as he started a report.

"General Carin the Imperials have engaged out false line."

He nodded.

"Prime the dug outs to blow and unleashed the stalk tanks on them."

Across the line a series of sharp explosions sounded as hidden dug outs were exposed dozens of stalk tanks striding from the dust heavy auto weapons strafing the Imperial forward lines cutting down hundreds of imperial guard, the sudden counter attack caused the advance to falter and stall as ground charges erupted throwing more soldiers into the air.

"Now we show these Imperial bastards who we truly fight." 

He strode forward taking a heavy chain axe from another of his warriors he stepped up onto the lip of the trench and looked at the line of the guard before him.

"Charge!"

He launched himself forward covering the distance as his bodyguard swarmed round him they struck first twisting into the enemy their blades flashing cleaving off limbs and heads as they span and twisted, he charged in chain axe roaring as he joined the slaughter with relish.

The armoured elite stormed forward and within a few minutes the Imperial advance had stopped dead as the enemy pushed back, in the chaos of battle the front lines of the guard turned to flee retreating into the advancing lines of the main force, pockets of resistance held along the line as they dug in a stood their ground against the odds, ancient patterns of tanks roared over the trenches their heavy guns adding their weight to the attack and the onslaught.

Blood and gore dripping from the axe Carin directed his troops with a deftness born from years of warfare, unlike the cowardly Imperial Officers he led from the front weapons in hand slaughtering his masters enemies in their name.

"Send the signal to the other two fronts, lets crush them now and be done with this."

Jitendra stood atop a hill the locals called The Brae but which had been designated Hill 55417 by the Imperials. Three hundred yards above the plain he had a commanding view of the distant battlefield. The distant Hill 29188 was a pimple on the pockmarked land, hazily silhouetted against a dirty, turgid sky of grey and orange bruises that boiled with growing menace. On Hill 29188 jagged beams of orange light could just be seen, evidence of yet another raging battle for the insignificant landmark. Up on the Brae the air was still and calm but Jitendra knew he was watching men die. With a sniff he turned away.

The Thraex warrior had little interest in the deaths of others. In his long lifetime he had seen much killing and even if his geno breeding didn't already mean he had little capacity to care for such things then time itself would have eroded his affect long since.

Dropping to the ground he pulled his breechclout from under his backside and shrugged the thick cloth of his cloak up around his neck. Once he would have laughed off even the most crippling cold, unperturbed by conditions that would have easily broken ordinary men but these days the chill seemed to seep into his old bones. Although he was incapable of admitting such a thing, age had wearied this old warrior. In his own way he welcomed the discomforts of old age, suffering was the only currency a true warrior valued and his ability to endure pain was something he relished imbuing him with a certain sense of superiority over lesser mortals.

A bad cramp in his shoulder made him twitch and sigh involuntarily but scooped up his massive Surdeka battle helm in one hand, feeling the reassuring weight of it and his various aches and pains vanished. This was the battle web, similar to the sensorium used in other advanced armours that joined his awareness to those of his tonare, the typical three man unit utilised by the Thraex.

The battle web was able to connect each warrior, each tonarius, at an instinctual level. Sharing auto-senses between each tonarius and using the advanced systems of the Surdeka helm effectively created a gestalt consciousness with linked systems that selected targets not for each individual but for the unit as a whole. It was a system that only the geno-troops of the Thraex could effectively utilise and even then, usually only in a trio. It was a fluid, graceful method of waging war, each Tonarius just knew where and when to shoot, combing their force of arms in a precisely calculated way that ordinary soldiers could never achieve.

Re-linked to the battle web there was no need to issue commands or to discuss orders and the three Thraex warriors stood as one, dousing the embers of their tiny camp fire with soil, collecting their weapons and then heading toward the Imperial lines with long, loping strides that quickly ate up the miles.

Major Hedrix Varnensee, or Major Hex as his soldiers "affectionally" called him, listened to the vox. The maelstrom of battle was all around him, but he listened calmly. He huddled behind the burning carcass of his command Chimera as rounds pinged off its hull and laser beams streaked by.

'Ja, herr General.'

A cannon round exploded on the other side of the hull. Mud and dirt rained everywhere. Shrapnel ricocheted off the destroyed Chimera.

'Mmhmm. Ja.'

A long burst of stubber fire went by above their heads.

'Danke, herr General.'

The major handed the handset back to his vox-operator and looked around. His current 2ic, Hauptmann Friedrichsen, was on the vox, getting a sitrep from second company commander, Oberleutnant Jemer. He looked grim, but then again, he always looked grim no matter the situation. Friedrichsen said something to the vox, then put the handset away and turned to the major.

'So?'

'Two holds a defensive line but is under intense enemy attack. Casualties are around 25 percent at the moment. His heavy weapons teams have destroyed two enemy tanks with help from our own armor.'

Major Varnensee nodded. First company was pinned down and fighting for their lives against the enemy onslaught. They'd lost the remains of the Panzergrenadier company in the trapped trenches and the subsequent ambush. Things weren't going to hell in a handbasket, they were going to hell in an express elevator.

'What about von Raeder,' Friedrichsen yelled over the din of battle.

'I requested artillery, air and Space Marine support, but he didn't promise anything.'

'What about the fighting withdrawal to the Earthworks?'

'Says that us pulling out would open up the Carthaxians' flank to the enemy. We need to hold here until told otherwise.'

'So we'll die here, then?'

The major just shrugged. It sure looked like it.

'As good a place as any.'

He vox-operator raised the handset to his ear, listened for a while and then offered the handset to the major.

'Sir, Oberleutnant Jemer, sir!'

Varnensee grabbed the handset and lifted it up to his ear. He listened as Jemer explained the situation, every now and then interrupted by the sounds of explosions or small-arms fire. Varnensee nodded a few times, then told Jemer not to worry. He handed the handset back to the operator.

'I need to deploy the tactical reserve,' He yelled at Friedrichsen, 'Where the hell are they?'

'Behind that Chimera wreck and in those two craters,' Friedrichsen answered, pointing about thirty meters backwards.

Varnensee looked at the handful of troops. He almost cussed. They were a sorry bunch, less than twenty men, the survivors of Hill 29188. Six Panzergrenadiers, a few infantrymen plus four heavy weapons teams. He felt like rubbing his respirator's lenses, hoping that when he looked again, there'd be more of them. Of course, there was no such luck. The major grabbed his plasmagun and sprang over the open ground, scrambling on all fours until he dived headfirst into one of the craters. A heavy bolter was blasting over the crater rim at shapes in the distance.

The men in the crater looked at him, their expressions hidden behind their respirator masks. One of them offered hand and helped him to his knees. The major looked around, but couldn't find anyone above the rank of Obergefreiter. They were a bloodied, battered bunch. The major realized that they probably hadn't slept all night, first taking Hill 29188, then being redeployed as the battalion reserve. Such was life on the battlefield.

'You there!'

The nametag on the trenchcoat read "Skorn". The man didn't regard him in the slightest, seemingly being more interested in aiming a Panzergrenadier Haenel pattern type 44 autorifle into the distance. The major grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. The man looked at him blankly.

'Skorn can't hear you! He's deaf,' one of the other soldiers yelled at him.

For the Emperor's sake! His tactical reserve was down to less than twenty men, with no officers, hardly even NCOs, and even the NCOs were incapable of leading. Varnensee slapped himself in the respirator mask, close to despair. He took a deep breath.

'Sir, I'm the senior Gefreiter present,' one of the soldiers, one with a nametag that read "Weiser", yelled. Good grief, the major thought. His tactical reserve was led by a private. Emperor have mercy.

The major took a deep breath, then looked at the soldier.

'Weiser. An enemy armor has breached the second company line,' He pointed in the direction of the second company's positions, 'And driven into our rear.' 'You,' He paused, looking around at the gathered men, 'Will destroy the enemy armor assets in our rear and seal the breach before enemy infantry can exploit it. Questions?'

'Sir, our only anti-tank weapon is that autocannon,' The soldier yelled, pointing at the autocannon perched at the lip of the other crater. 'Against any heavy armor, it's a suicide mission.'

Major Varnensee looked at him squarely.

'Son, either you knock out that tank, or it's gonna have a field day blasting the second company in the back while enemy infantry pour through the gap in the line. Which is it, you tell me.'

The soldier looked around for a second, looking for support. The men beside them looked away, a few at the ground, others pretending to be on look-out for the enemy, still a few more gazing blatantly at the sky. The soldier sighed and shrugged, his shoulders slumping.

'We'll do it, sir.'

The major laid a hand on his shoulder and smiled.

'Remember Jurten.'

The major watched them gather their things and set off, sprinting, diving, crawling through the mud and the fire. One of them fell, but the others pressed on, dragging their autocannon, flamer, heavy stubbers and heavy bolter behind them. He guessed that they wouldn't succeed, but he smiled anyway. They were good men, these soldiers. Of course, it hardly mattered. In his mind, they were all already dead. It was just a matter of how many of the enemy they could take with them.

He sighed, then turned around and half sprinted, half crawled back to the Chimera where the rest of his command squad were covering.

'Oberfeldwebel Gustaf reports that the enemy have breached the first company line. Josten has fallen.'

The major nodded and clutched his plasmagun tightly.

'Then arm yourselves, gentlemen. The enemy is soon upon us.'

"viss and spit!"

The Major paced back and forth his anger rising with each passing minute from their vantage on Hill 29188 they could see the battle unfolding the Imperials looked to be taking a heavy pounding, he didn't like it at all his men fighting fit and being confined to sitting on their arses while their brothers and cousins died below.

"To hell with this."

He turned from the scene below.

"Reivers form up!"

Roose was at his side immediately

"What are you doing.....sir?"

He watched as his men formed up into neat  groups the full regiment (what was left of them) turning to regard their commanding officer in confusion, The Lieutenants made their way towards him as them checked their sections, he spotted Jed and Kais with them giving them a quick nod while Roose repeated himself.

"We have orders Major, we are to hold this hill and await reinforcement."

Snow turned on Roose and smiled.

"And we will but the deployment of near two thousand men to hold this hovel is an unnecessary waste of resources, wouldn't you agree Commissar Gracus?"

Gracus nodded his voice loud and clear.

"A Shameful waste of resources."

"Lieutenant Kais, how many men would you need to hold this hill?"

"Two hundred sir, a good mix of heavy weapons under the command of a senior officer and command staff."

Kais played his part perfectly there were only two senior officers within the regiment the Major and Roose.

"Major-Captain Roose, I'm leaving you in command of this post with D Section and the wounded that gives you three hundred men, defend and hold this position until reinforcement arrives."

Roose snapped to attention.

"I'll lead the rest of the men down the hill lend our aid to who ever we can, that way we can fulfil our orders and hopefully make a difference."

Roose sighed and nodded

"Right the lads, A, B, C and E sections with me we're going into the fire, D Section Major - Captain Roose is in command hold this position until you are relieved."

The regiment snapped to attention and started to break the majority flooding forward mounting the earthworks Major Snow took Roose to one side.

"You understand the situation here right? If things go bad I broke orders led the majority of my men away from our post, you remained with the loyal few to hold it as best you could."

Roose looked at him stunned that a low born would think about his families name in such a manner.

"But don't worry it's not going to come to that."

He slapped Roose hard and went over the earthworks leading the men down the hill into battle once again, they moved in a solid line heading down.

"Scouts!"

Groups of men rushed forward as the rest slowed, marksmen joined them moving forward they crouched aimed them moved again as they close the gap the first to fire was moving again before the retort of his weapon echoed back to them then others joined in with the long range shooting snipers picking their targets with care, Snow continued a steady pace watching as his men plied their trade with expert skill.

"Rocket troops move forward see if you can't silence some of those dammed walkers."

The heavy weapons teams moved forward mimicking the snipers but they stayed in squad groups moving as bodies of men they set to hunting the stalk tanks.

"Be ready boys."

He brought his las carbine up to his shoulder and moved forward like a hunter

Gunner Marrhew lay back next to the top hatch, let his legs dangle over the side, and looked up into the morning sky. Heavy, threatening cloud blowing in from the front promised a miserable day, but for the moment, the sun was still managing to break through. It struck _ that, when looking at the sky, he could almost imagine himself back on Pataria. It seemed odd to him that on an alien planet, the sun and sky looked just about the same. He'd expected Fedras' Shield to be different in every way, but since the 7th Patarene Artillery had made planetfall, he'd eaten the same rations, seen no extraordinary-looking people and heard only a little oddly-accented Gothic. The time aboard the astounding star-vessel that had brought them to this planet had been more exciting. But, he supposed, they had been hurried quickly towards the lines, and now 'C' Battery was headed further forward. Perhaps he would have a chance to meet some other regiment soon. He smiled and closed his eyes. Along with the scent of recaf and lho-smoke, snatches of conversation drifted up to him from below.

"Why are they sending us?" asked Gunner Luther, with a slight whine in his voice, "It's not that the Colonel's angry, or anything?"

"We stopped shooting the moment we found out" said Gunner Wright. His voice held a tinge of amusement.
"I don't think we actually hit them, you know" said Bombardier Vern

"Huh, infantry, right?" Gunner Wright thrust out his lower jaw and grunted, while tapping his skull, "First they say shoot, and then they moan about it"

"I heard it was a scrambled vox-line. They got through to 'B' Battery first, and it took them a while to work out it wasn't their sector" said Marrhew, as he swung himself around to join in the discussion

"Still, no reason to call me what he did" said Vern

The conversation ended abruptly at the sound of an engine. A motorcycle was approaching from the head of the column. It was carrying another Patarene Guardsman, and stopped alongside the group.

"What are you lot doing? Get back inside!" The rider shouted

"Why? We're not going anywhere" Gunner Wright shouted back

"Shut up," the rider pointed a thick finger at Wright's mug, "and drink that. We might be moving any minute"

An elbow jab from Luther stopped Wright replying, and the motorcycle roared off along the column, leaving the Guardsmen as they climbed back into the rear of their Basilisk.

The battle was going badly even the Major could tell this as the Reivers moved forward broken men coming through their ranks in flight from the battle, he moved forward increasing his pace bringing his men up to a line as they moved into engage the enemy a single line stopped and brought their weapons up to their shoulders watching as the guard before them faltered and broke as the enemy smashed through them, the guardsmen Caladon's by the look of them broke ran turned and fled he stood his ground his voice blasting through an open vox link and bellowing out.

"DOWN!"

The Caladon's fleeing faltered some dropped other stood dumb dragged down to their deaths by their pursuers the Major looked on at the enemy big men armed with massive two handed cleavers intermixed with heavily armoured storm troopers.

"FIRE!"

As a single mass the Reivers opened fire their las bolts tearing the first lines of the enemy from their feet, he reflected that some of the Caladon would have been caught in the cross fire but he'd have to square with that at a later date.

"FIRE!"

A Second volley fired and still more fell snipers fired at will targeting officers pulling them down and robbing the enemy of their leadership, Rockets flew from the ranks and from pockets of roaming troopers seeking out heavy weapons teams and armour the krak payloads blowing chunks into the enemies lines.

"FIRE."

A third volley and still more died and then he took a step forward.

"Select your targets and fire at will!"

He checked his aim and fired cutting down half a dozen enemy, one of the big men rushed at him las shots sinking into his flesh his big sword came singing through the air for his head his bionic took the blow the outer armour plates buckling as he drew one of his long blades slashing it across the bastards gut opening up a six inch line which pored blood down the brutes front, he still came at him swinging the long blade but slower now as his lift blood pumped from him, the Major stepped back ducking under the blade he fired point blank into the armoured face of the brute dropping him like a stone, a quick look round and he saw dozens more of his men engaged in closed combat the lasguns gone in favour of their twin blades he watched as they ducked under swords and crude weapons slashing all the while with their short blades, more still stood their ground firing into the masses as battle was joined fully he fired at a cultist rushing him and continued to fire into a traitor storm troopers punching a pair of bolts into an eye socket before dropping his empty gun and drawing his other blade the edge igniting as the power field came to life.

"Armour!"

He half slashed the head from another enemy as he turned to one of his men behind him as he gestured behind their lines, he nodded dropping back from the front as men stepped in around him he watched as Salamander and Centaur assault tanks rocked over the horizon followed by Chimeras and Leman Russ Battle tanks which proceeded to pour heavy fire into the enemy lines he watched as the battle tanks came forward exposing artillery moving up behind them.

"Who are they?"

"7th Patarene Artillery sir."

He ducked his head as the heavy weapons fired raining fire down into the enemy at suck close range the impacts were devastating.

"Well at least they can hit something right at this range."