Tranch warfare for a noble

Chapter 1: Welcome to Tranch

Georgio Belechus. Black haired, blue-eyed, tall, fit 28-years old man. Youngest of his line, following his father in glory of the Imperial Guard, hammer of the emperor. Or so he thought. But instead of being assigned into the role of an officer, he found himself getting loaded onto a ship, heading to a world he had never heard of. This had to be a mistake, he was no mere recruit! He was of noble blood, and that alone made him better than any of the mud-huggers around him. And now he has to do some work-out with them?! No way. "Excuse me sergeant... I am Geo-" The sergeant cut him short: "I know damn well who you are, private Georgio! You will do the exercises just like everyone else! Stop your dilly-dallying and give me twenty push-ups!" Georgio frowned: "But sir, I am of noble origins and-" "NO BUTS PRIVATE! MAKE IT THIRTY PUSH UPS!" Georgio did not expect that, and he decided his best option was to follow the orders for now. But he had one question he would not tolerate left unanswered: "Sir? where are we going?" Sergeant stared at him, with a look that could be described only as amused: "You lazy bastard will be transferred to Calixis-sector, to a planet called Tranch. Great place to get whatever got into that thick skull to use!" This would be a long warp-travel...

Two weeks later, the ship finally exited the immaterium. Georgio had been trained the basics and the job of a loader: Mortars, artillery, heavy weapons... Skills Georgio found useless for an officer. They really were making him start from the bottom like the rabble. Vox-casters roared to life: "ATTENTION. ALL PERSONNEL ASSIGNED TO TRANCH. PROCEED TO THE DOCKING BAY. PREPARE FOR ROUGHLY AVERAGE GRAVITY. MAY THE EMPEROR BE WITH YOU." Doesn't sound too good. Georgio was stuffed in a shuttle that had seats for 50 soldiers... And had 67 already stuffed in. Great. Landing was surprisingly comfortable, as Georgio expected anti-air fire or engine failure, or any other disastrous event. On the landing pad, recruits were assigned to form new squads. Georgio was an exception. "Georgio, your new partner is waiting for you in barrack 21. Get moving!" as Georgio found the place, he saw a man standing next to the door smoking a lho-stick. The man looked old (for a guardsman) and had a heavily modified set of flak armor. The man also had a dirty stubble of a beard. Last, but not least, his right arm was much better muscled than his left one. The man noticed Georgio and took took a last inhale of lho-stick´s bitter smoke before asking: "You the new guy? Recruit assigned here?" Georgio was not sure what to think of this man, but chose to tell the truth: "Yeah. And you are..?" "Jericus. Heavy weapons team. You have been assigned as my new loader. I´ll teach you the ropes don´t worry." "I already got the training..." "Oh, no you didn't get nearly enough. Welcome to Tranch, rookie."

Chapter 2: To survive assignment on Tranch

Jericus led Georgio to their post, a firing position dug into ground just out of the camp. Georgio realized he had missed the most important piece of information considering his survival: "What are we fighting here? Orks? Eldar?" "You dimwit don't even know that this sector is one of the most peaceful one in the entire segmentum obsucrus? There is almost no Eldar activity, and only couple of worlds have any kind of ork infestation on them." "Then what-" "The Pale Throng. I was here from the beginning. And I can say, I'd rather fight an ork WAAAGH! for a year than spend a week here. But, you know... Orders are orders." "Pale Throng? Never heard of it. So... What are they?" "Mutants. Witches. Monstrosities that say they are the next step of evolution, that humans are weak and blind to the future." Georgio felt confused: Imperial guard stamping out some backwater rebellion? "That seems ridiculous... Wouldn't the PDF troops be enough for something like this?" "the PDF was destroyed. Killed, every last one of them. We had a hard time too. And we are still needed to reclaim this planet." Jericus lit another lho-stick and opened a weapon cache. Georgio was stunned by what he saw: "What in the Emperor's name is THAT?" "This? Due to Calixis sectors' available weaponry giving adeptus administratum a chance to save a few coins, we have been appointed a Volg VI Heavy Stubber, commonly known as the crank cannon, and to those familiar with it, Big Six. Entirely hand-powered mechanism, cheapness and easy manufacturing makes this weapon both unreliable and easy to repair, not to speak of availability for spare parts. Clip size of 100 standard heavy stubber rounds, low rate of fire and cheaper system make this weapon inferior to heavy stubber in all areas except equal stopping power. Questions?" "Am I supposed to use this piece of crap?" Jericus stared at Georgio, dumbfounded. After a moment he regained his wits: "I suggest you start to appreciate this weapon. It is what will keep you alive during this assignment. And your job is to change its clips whenever it fires a tracer round which is the last round in a clip, and keep the weapon operational." Georgio knew he was going to hate this job.

Late that evening, after going through weapon procedures, Georgio was exhausted. "May I rest now, sir?" "For a while, yes." Georgio started to dig through his sack and found his sleeping bag. He curdled up in it, and started to get sleepy... "Are you sleeping there?!" "I'm trying-" "DON'T!" Is this guy crazy or something? Georgio was about to ignore him, but Jericus pulled him on his feet, and started another lecture: "This is Tranch, and you will act like it! Lesson one: Pale Throng WAS destroyed, but its remnants still roam here. Enemy is everywhere! Lesson two: Their forces are terrifying, mainly due to their ruthlessness and powers the monstrosities wield! They vary in shape and kind, and many of them are so quiet, that your heartbeat is loud in comparison! Sleeping is calling for your death! To survive, you MUST be ready at all times: You have to check for enemies even if you had a dozen scouts go before you! You must sleep only when absolutely necessary, and even then, confirm safety, and sleep lightly!" At that point, Georgio finally understood this assignment was not just a bother: It was going to be his own private hell.

Chapter 3: Trench on Tranch

Couple of days later, filled with lectures, complaints and suffering, the newfound heavy weapons team got its' first orders: They had to dig into positions around a decommissioned chimera as the tech-priest tried to reawaken it's machine spirit. Twelve long hours of digging later, there was a square-shaped trench, housing four heavy weapon teams and two squads of conscripts. Tech priest checked the vehicle and found it in need of extensive repairs, not to speak of the necessary rites to ease the machine spirit's pain. It would take four days as his tools and parts would force him to improvise wherever he could. Georgio sat in the trench, almost unable to stay awake. "It's for your own good, rookie. The sooner you learn to live with little sleep, the better." Jericus had begun to show some sympathy for Georgio. Which Georgio took as an outrage: Noble getting sympathy from mud-hugger? "Get lost. And take your damn "cranky" with you. I'm tired of your bullshit." "Fine! I'm just trying to help you survive, idiot." Georgio was too tired to argue.

"INCOMING! FIFTY TARGETS, THREE HUNDRED METERS SOUTHEAST!" What a glorious wakeup for Georgio. He jumped to his position as Jerichus prepared the crank cannon. The mutants closed in fast, and Jerichus opened fire. The closest mutants fell in moments, and about twenty followed before they retreated. "Hell, that was easy." Georgio felt great: The crapcannon worked beautifully for once. He reloaded it and went back to sitting. "Don't be so sure... The mutants are resourceful." "Don't Jinx it." That night, three conscripts died and two went missing. Jericus seemed mostly annoyed by this. There was another assault on the next day. The mutants got into range of their weapons and took out four more conscripts before retreating. Jericus started to get worried: We are dying here way too fast. They will redouble their efforts if these recruits don't get their shit together." "At least they get to sleep." Jericus rolled his eyes and mumbled something about "thankless noble fools".

Chapter 4: Infiltration

Two days have passed. Twelve conscripts have been dragged off. Filthy Witch-kin and their disguises. Jericus was sure they would all die in the next assault. At least the remaining conscripts were learning. So was Georgio, though he was way too slow. "Check the barrels again. I'll finish up modifying your armor." "Is that necessary? You know how the 'Uplifter' requires us to keep our equipment in prime, STANDARD condition?" "Shut your mouth for once. We are going to die if nothing short of a miracle happens. I'm making your armor more comfortable to die in." Georgio looked at Jericus in his normal, idiotic way. He still did not get it. "Did my sleeping bag have to die for that? I preferred to sleep in it. You know what sleeping is?" Jericus was fed up, but decided to ignore the fool for once. "There. All done." He went to his place as the gunner to wait for threats. Georgio, damn spoiled brat... Jericus wanted this to be over with. But the tech-priest still needed time to get the chimera moving, just a few hours now. He was not going to die on this rock. Georgio, just as usual, took a comfortable position. War was hell, but these mutants were a piece of cake. He opened his ration pack, and was about to bite the tasteless bar, but then stopped. He thought he saw something move. As he looked around, all was normal. He went back to eating, but now saw it: Reflection of movement on his ration pack's shiny surface. Then his world was shrunk to contain only his shoulder and pain. He screamed.

Jericus fumbled for his pistol while turning, seeing the witch-kin tearing at Georgios shoulder using its impossibly huge mouth filled wit filed teeth. He managed to get his gun out, and blasted the mutant with a beam of laser. Whatever people say about the "flashlight", it is more than capable of killing a human, especially with limited or no armour. The laspistol burned a hole through the filthy creature's head and into Giorgio's shoulder, both of which fell to the ground motionless. Another set of filed teeth dug into Jericus's pistol arm.

Georgio regained consciousness just soon enough to see Jericus get dragged away screaming. The pain was unbearable, and his arm wouldn't move. He saw the assault beginning. He saw the remaining conscripts open fire, and heard heavy weapon teams climb onto the chimera, to gain advantage. The fight was short, and the perfectly timed ignition of chimera's engine got all guard survivors do the classical decision for defeating the enemy: Retreat and regroup. Georgio was left there, in middle of the cheering mutants. He was about to lose consciousness again. "well, well, well. Look at what we have here." Someone said in a cold tone.

Chapter 5: Blessing or curse?

Commissar Grenn. About 1.8 meters tall, wide-shouldered man with an artificial eye, both arms and one leg replaced with bionics. His other eye was filled with bone fragments, but that had to wait: He had work to do.

"Vanus! Is the heavy flamer still jammed?!" He shouted.

"No more, Commissar! Fully operational!", the guardsman answered.

"Good, now give it to me!"

"... WHAT?!"

"You heard me dimwit! Just give the damned thing to me!" After strapping the flamer fuel tank to his back, Commissar Grenn turned to the squad's sergeant:

"Keep the men alive and provide covering fire!", he ordered.

"WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!" The sergeant bellowed.

"I'm taking the fight to the enemy!", commissar answered. Then he charged.

Grenn was famous, both within Calixian Guard and comissariat, for he was the craziest one still alive. He had done many a suicidal charge alone simply to later emerge from the chaos wounded but alive. He was thought to be either blessed by the Emperor to survive, or cursed to suffer. He did not care.

A short list of his deeds explain how (un?)lucky he is: He has survived: Charging an Ork nob under heavy fire and shoving a grenade into its mouth, losing his arm in the process. Losing the other arm in a rockslide, having to cut it off himself to escape. Charging an enemy bunker to get explosives in, while friendly artillery was still pounding the area: Lost his leg to a shell. Being attacked by a swarm of Rippers: Those that got close he had to tear from his flesh and bash to death. Gained many scars during the process, and three teeth and parts of his tongue as he saved time by grabbing one Ripper with his teeth and biting it to death (causing many stories to pop up of him killing a tyranid with his teeth (with size of said 'nid growing every time the story is told)). Losing his eye to eldar shuriken weapons, and now the other eye to bone shrapnel from the unlucky guardsman next to him.

And now he charged a horde of mutants with a poor-quality heavy flamer. He saw the insanity of this himself, but unlike most commissars, he wanted to save and inspire men instead of making them scared by executions. What better tool for his goal than showing true courage?

He managed to reach the mutant firing line with only minor wounds and proceeded to cleanse and purify the abominations. As he was finishing up the last group, the fuel tank exploded on his back, sending him flying on fire. He landed hard and couldn't move to extinguish the flames. He was saved by the squad he was attached to, while medic tried to get him fixed up.

"Don't worry. Grenn wouldn't die if you chopped his head off.", The sergeant said laughing.

"Commissar Grenn!", He proclaimed.

"Sure, sure. Let's get you patched up, friend."

Chapter 6: Meeting

Georgio woke up chained on a table, with his standard issue guardsman uniform having been replaced with only some cheap pants. Not that he could complain- the wound seemed to be infected, and removing clothing from that would be agony. He looked around himself to see where he was: The room looked like a filthy, primitive medicae station. The table he was chained to seemed to be made entirely of plasteel, and felt cold on his back. At least it eased the pain... Even if only a little. Georgio then heard steps approaching.

"Yes, yes. I will have the prisoner talk as soon as he wakes up. The wound was nasty and got infected, so I can't say if he will awaken today, tomorrow, or next week. He might never wake up."

The voice was calm, and seemed to belong to a man. Georgio tried to listen, but a wave of pain washed over him, making his vision blur.

"What do you think? Will he bend under torture?"

Another voice. Georgio was not sure of the source's gender, though.

"He will. One way or the other."

Georgio decided to attempt to escape, as being tortured was not on his to-do-list. He managed to squirm one arm away, after which the rest was easy. Just as he tried to stand up, another wave of pain made him feel dizzy. He tried to get support from the table but instead pulled a box of surgical tools down with him, causing noise and getting multitudes of cuts in the process. He heard people running closer. He quickly stood up, holding a scalpel as a weapon.

Then the mutants rushed into the room: One of them small with his left eye as big as Georgio's fist and the other having four arms. They stared at Georgio for a moment before charging him.

Georgio slashed wildly with the scalpel, but did not manage to cause lethal damage to these abominations. He was pushed to the ground, and stabbed with a needle. He lost consciousness mere moments later.

Georgio woke up again strapped to a chair. It seemed to be torture time. In the far end of the small, dark room, he could barely see a person. He still felt the effects of the drug.

"Whooo.... Aare youuu?"

He couldn't even speak properly, not to say anything about his inability to think straight.

"I am Breca. Assigned here for your interrogation."

Georgio squinted and realized the person before him was a woman, although a mutated one: Her knees seemed to bend in the wrong way.

"Pleese... Don't hurt mee..."

He started to feel his mouth. At least he could speak relatively normally.

"I need you to tell any and all information regarding the plans of the guard in the near future. If you prove helpful, there will be no need for pain."

"Emperor spare me... I cannot tell anything. I wasn't told anything!"

"But are you not a Noble? You seem to be of... "Pure" breed, and are not such men put to command?"

The way she said pure seemed to be forced: Like she disagreed with the whole concept of either nobles or the perfection of human form! How could such a lowly thing speak in such manner!

"Cursed mutant... Acting all high and mighty now that I cannot move?!"

"I see. Well, what else to expect from ancestors of evolution... It seems pain is the language we will need to try next."

Georgio never before had felt this helpless.

Chapter 7: Return of lost guardsman

Jericus wandered in the rubble of a collapsed hive-spire. He had managed to shoot the witch-kin before getting killed. He had lost feeling in his arm, though. And the amount of blood he lost was certainly bad for his survival. The vital fluid was slowly flowing to his fingertips, and from there to ground.

Another drop fell.

He was looking for anything to staunch the bleeding. His uniform was needed, he did not want to freeze to death. His bandolier was needed to carry ammunition: He was already low, and almost every clip on his belt had only a few shots left. His humble laspistol seemed to start acting up, as he could not perform the simplest maintenance. It was reliable, but the way he had to treat the poor thing... Tech-priests would be horrified of the machine's pain.

And another drop.

He felt dizzy. He had felt dizzy for a few hours: Must have been the blood loss. The wound was most likely infected, too. The dizziness slowed him down. But stopping to rest would be certain death.

More blood fell from his fingertip.

He decided to take the risk of having a rest. He fell on his arse, but couldn't feel the pain. He thought he heard something. He couldn't move to shoot the threat. He knew stopping was a bad idea. He managed to utter a short prayer before fainting.

Jericus was transported to the closest guard base by the squad who had run into him: They knew him, and they were certain he would survive. Jericus was too stubborn to simply bleed to death. The medic there managed to staunch the bleeding and disinfect the wound. Jericus still lived. He would keep on fighting for the Imperium of man. And he would keep holding the line.

Chapter 8: Intervention

Georgio screamed. This... Breca, was it?.. Sure knew her way with improvised torturing tools. At least he thought that having glass shards inserted into the victim's back was not standard torture method. Nor did he think having molten wax (taken from the purity seal put onto his helmet) poured into the wound on his shoulder. Or having his hair tied to a metal bar and lifted so that he could barely stand on his toes. He was pretty certain his skin would tear before he could hang without that little support.

"Let me down, let me down! Please!"

"Why would I? You still haven't answered the question: Tell me how your camp is defended, locations of your heavy weapons, mine fields and command center, and you can go."

"I don't know! I'm new! I didn't get to learn the positions properly!"

Breca was getting tired of this. Either this man was brave or he was a fool. These so called "pure" people were usually the latter. She decided to report of the situation to the Shroud Master, but was surprised as he was waiting right behind the door.

"Shroud Master! What a coincidence. I was just going to-"

"Tell me about this human's inability to cooperate? I already know."

She should have known. All the Shroud Masters were special: No matter how they had evolved from the normal human, they possessed great psychic powers.

"What should I do? I need your guidance, honored one."

"Sometimes, when the 'normals' fight against the natural flow of evolution, we must show the way. In this case, we cannot obtain information, but what about assistance? Safety? There are many ways a brother can help."

Georgio tried to listen in, but he couldn't make any sense of the little he did hear.

"Brother? What are you talking about, honored one?" Breca mumbled.

"I shall make him want to help us."

As the Shroud master walked towards Georgio, the latter felt a new kind of dread: He felt something scratching at the back of his skull, squirming within his mind.

"GET AWAY FROM ME, WITCH!", he roared.

The shroud master didn't care about Georgio's protests, but then was heard a loud whizzing noise.

"Artillery?" Breca said, trying to figure out the source of such voice.

"I do not think so", the shroud master answered. "The guard knows of our prisorners, not to speak of the lack of artillery around these parts..." The Shroud Master answered, right before the ordnance hit the base.

Around two kilometers to the north, the whirlwind let away two more salvos before the space marines saw their thunderhawk circling back.

"That warp storm spit us up far from our heading, captain. So why did we waste time to bombard some mutant base?" One of the marines wondered.

"The guard had a problematic situation, which I decided to fix. They can't decide what to do in hostage situations involving more than a hundered civilians, not to speak of 53 soldiers", the captain answered.

"Marines Malevolent, prepare for extraction!" He continued.

Chapter 9: Escape

Georgio survived with mere bruises, as did Shroud Master and Breca. He couldn't bear to move, though: The torture had ruined his back and hands, and getting up was too painful an ordeal for his current condition. The mutants stood up, and started whispering. He pulled the glass shards still embedded in his flesh, at least the ones his bound hands could reach.

"I won't die here... Not on this forsaken rock...", he muttered. By the time he was done pulling sharp objects from his back, the mutants were approaching.

"I am now releasing you, OK? Just... Take it easy and don't try anything funny", Breca said

Georgio couldn't understand what was going on, but decided this was his best bet to survive. Breca pulled him up and cut the ropes holding his hands. Georgio immediately sprinted in the opposite direction, ignoring the pain this caused.

"Was that a good idea, Honored One? This... Georgio may prove himself a threat later", Breca asked.

"We need every minute he can buy us to escape. Do not worry: He is still well within our reach."

Georgio finally found other REAL human beings. They seemed oddly familiar... Weren't these the recruits that left him on the field of battle?

"Help! I need help!", he shouted.

The recruits clearly recognized him, and seemed distraught. What was going on?

"You know the orders. Eradicate all potential hostiles", the commissar accompanying them said.

Georgio was faster to react than the recruits. He leaped into cover and screamed in panic, just before lasfire began.

"I'm a human! Don't shoot! I'm on your side!", he bellowed.

"Do not underestimate the witches that lead the masses, and do not worry about him: For the Emperor protects all those that stay faithful to him.

Georgio was no fool: That phrase had the same meaning as 'no matter is he enemy or not, kill him. Emperor chooses who is worthy of redemption'. Georgio's only choise was to run into the wilds, hopefully avoiding the lasfire. He ran with wild abandon, not caring of danger behind him nor slowing to avoid the risk of tripping: He had no time.

As he was about to lose the conscripts, he tripped on the rubble, as a bolter shell flew through the spot his head had occupied mere blink of an eye ago. Even the commissar was chasing him. He thought he was done for, but at that moment the entire squad fled in terror. The commissar shot couple of the cowards, but the rest still fled. As the commissar turned around, a woman charged at him. She swung her blade, disemboweling the commissar.

He looked down and managed to mutter a confused "What?" Before falling on his own innards.

Georgio tried to get his brain to work: Too much adrenaline in his system caused him a headache.

"Who are you?", he asked.

"I? I be Krella. The ol' lady wants ta' meetcha."

Chapter 10: Journey begins

Georgio wanted to ask more questions, but Krella had already started digging the rubble.

"I's sure 'twas 'round here... There! Now hold still Goorgie." Krella said while picking up a little wooden box.

"It's Georgio... Wait... How did you-"

"-Know yer name? Ol' lady told me. Back on Dusk, she showed me what yer looks like. She also told I needs to take care o' yer."

Krella took a knife, some sort of herbs, needle and some thread from the box. Before Georgio could protest, she had basically tackled him and turned him onto his stomach.

"These wounds needs 'ta be treated. Just keep still, and I'll fix yer."

The treatment was painful and involved having the last glass shards removed and having the herbs (after being crushed by Krella's teeth and mixed with her spit) stuffed into the open wounds. Georgio gritted his teeth and instinctively tried to get away from the burning pain, earning a slap and getting pulled back.

"Don'tcha even try an' escape! It cleans yer wounds. Man up, I be removing 'em now", she said and started to scoop the herb paste from the wounds.

"An' now the fun part. Try to bear it." She started sewing the holes up.

After about 15 minutes of agony, the treatment was over. Georgio felt like his whole back was just a big hole made by countless smaller ones. But he was grateful to be alive.

"Thank you for saving me... Krella, was it?" He now turned to have a better look on his saviour. She was slightly taller than him, and twice as muscular as he was, with light brown skin showing here and there from her worn outfit: Ragged bodyglove under a chainmail combat dress (separated vertically from the waist down to allow easier movement) and some kind of beast's hide used as additional protection for her chest area.

The armor had holes that looked like something had torn through, with scars on the skin below proving this right. Her face bore no scars, luckily: It was surprisingly pretty for a feral worlder. Her eyes were green, although... For a moment Georgio thought there was some kind of pale glow around her lenses... But no. It had to be his imagination. Her black hair was tied to a short ponytail with some small animal's skull adorning it. As she smiled, he saw her teeth: She had clearly tried to keep them clean (as they weren't rotten) but they WERE dirty. Georgio felt slightly disgusted, but was thankful enough to consider lending her his grooming kit.

"'tis fine. No need to thank me. But yer not going to survive long, here. Not without help. Yer fingers brunt... No protection... We needs to get some clothes an' armor, weapon too. Rest now. I keep guard", she said.

"You were talking of some 'old lady', and that she wanted to meet me. Where might she be?", Georgio asked.

"Plahnut Dusk. If we in luck, one of 'em ships goes to fetch some troops for Guard."

"Another planet? What if I say no?"

"Ol' lady said it be important. An' Ol' lady tells that I has to drag yer if needs be."

Chapter 11: Report of monstrosity

Commissar Grenn was silent. He had not yet gotten a bionic replacement for his eye, but to him, it did not matter. There was work to be done.

The now twice-shamed recruits had returned empty-handed. Seven were left. No proper information on the possible survivors. They had all packed into a corner of their barracks and were just sitting there, shivering. Grenn would need to do the less savoury part of his duty, for these were incompetent cowards. But first, he would hear their excuses.

"Why did you abandon the mission? After the Space Marines bombarded the mutant base, there should not have been much resistance. Yet you ran from your chance to redeem yourselves. Why?", he asked.

No answer. One of the men looked at his laspistol longingly. Grenn did not understand these men. He pulled his pistol and pointed it at the man staring at it.

"You want this? What would you do with it?"

"End this... I can't live with what was burned into my mind..."

Grenn thought for a moment. Could he get more out of this man?

"I give you two choices: Explain yourselves and be executed, or be whipped and sent to penal legion", he said. These men wanted a fast death. He would use that to his advantage.

"It... It appeared suddenly. Horrifying, human-shaped thing... Crawling like a worm, with transparent, unnaturally stretching skin and joints terrifyingly malformed... Its eyes... Bottomless black pits... It was as if the world had gone dark, with only a dim, pale light illuminating it. Then came the whispers. It knew us. It mocked us. The voice was cold... Murderous. We panicked. The shadow never left. Every time we sleep, we see hundreds of its kind. They speak to us... Emperor forgive us, they speak to us with voices we know, voices we love..."

"Are you telling me you saw a daemon?", Grenn asked. He wanted to be sure he understood the situation. If a Daemon had manifested...

"No... Not a Daemon..."

"What? Was it Xeno, then?" A new xenos species would be bad news...

"No! It was a young woman! It... It WAS human... Emperor's mercy, it was human! It told us... It told us what is coming!" After that, the conscript started babbling incomprehensibly and crying, sobbing while tearing at his face.

Grenn executed the men quickly. This was something he could not ignore: Ten men went insane in moments, with three committing cowardly suicide before the first nightfall. He would need to personally look into this matter. At worst, the new threat could destroy entire bases by simply showing up, not to speak of the possibility of there being more of the things. But the description... How could a mere human cause such terror and hallucinations? Even psykers would need more time to affect a group of this size...

Chapter 12: Best course of action

Georgio made a list of what he had. He (with the help of Krella) had found an autopistol, two knives, old guard flak armor (missing its helmet) and an empty promethium tank. He took it just to be sure, and he was glad he did: The fumes were enough to cause a small puff of flame, and his makeshift torch (plasteel bar with some fabric rolled around one of it's ends) indeed did ignite just barely. Blowing some air to help the starting fire, Georgio set this torch to the bottom of their little campfire. They needed the warmth.

"So, Krella? Please, tell me more about yourself. Why are you here, exactly?", Georgio asked.

"Well, we, me tribe an' ol' lady have a promise. We do what she says, she keeps us safe from the witchin' dark. She asked me to find yer, so I find yer", she answered as she put some kind of vermin she had caught over the fire.

"Witch-whatnow? Never heard of it".

"It be ol' folklore on Dusk. Darkness consumes minds an' man becomes beast. Light fades an' 'things' start to move, right out o' yer sight. They say I was born during the last 'un".

" That sounds... Interesting. However, it's probably just what you said: Folklore. But for the issue we know is real... How are we supposed to get to Dusk? If I understood it correctly, Dusk is on the fat edge of the sector?"

"Ol' lady said that we be fine. So we will be fine."

"Right... You don't seem to have thought this through? You just... Trust we will be able to make it?"

"Yer right. I leave finkin' for the smarter 'uns. They say I is not a 'taktikul jinyas' whatnot. An' the ol' lady knows erryfing. If she says we be fine, ol' lady means it".

Georgio felt agony over this: A fool taking him to the other side of the sector, with him being branded deserter if his survival becomes known... To a planet where superstition rules people's lives, a feral world with a bad enough reputation to warrant a saying to describe torturous death... What was it again, "a walk on dusk"? Yet in his current state he could not escape or fight, especially against someone as strong as Krella. This woman seemed to notice every move he made, too. Not to speak of their problem of the moment- mutants seemed to appear more and more often.

What would be the smartest course of action?

The next day, as he woke up, Georgio realized something: He knew what to do.

As the started to march onwards, George looked behind. He saw a hooded figure far behind, but slowly getting closer. He smirked. Whoever it was, he or she was his way out of this mess.

"Krella... Someone is following us. I think it is a mutant."

"So what yer thinking about? I says we keep movin'. Better get away 'an fight meanink-... Mea-ning-less battles", she answered and trying to imitate Georgio's much less guttural dialect. Georgio assumed she had decided to speak properly.

"But what if it is our ticket off this planet?" He whispered.

Chapter 13: Chase begins

Grenn rounded up two squads made out of mixed specialists: Three stormtroopers, four scouts, two medics, a sergeant and a ministorum priest. The rest were recruits, who got a hasty training for the light carpace armour and the other specialist equipment they got for this mission.

Grenn himself was just suiting up with modified flak greatcoat over his carpace chestplate. He attached his medals (which, if rumours were to be believed, lost in quantity awarded to General Strunn by only half a dozen). He took his hat, tailor-made for him with a hidden pocket inside. He usually used it to hide a small variant of a laspistol called "Venom", a Belasco series-s weapon designed for covert use. He could never be too cautious. Lastly, he checked his primary weapons: His dear bolt pistol, modified far beyond the standards, custom-built for his hands. And his trusty sabre: He was lucky enough to have one of the fabled lathe-blades: Sharp enough to cut even flak armour with ease and durable enough to survive a direct impact with a power weapon. Although it lacked the destructive power of both chain- and power weapons, it was not too far behind, and was much more reliable.

Geared up, the Commissar checked his followers. The hunt would be hard, if the mad ramblings of that survivor could be trusted. He knew most of the recruits wouldn't make it. He even doubted the stormtroopers' mental fortitude. But this new threat had to be eliminated.

"ATTENTION!", he bellowed.

After the men had taken their places in a row, he continued:

"Our mission is simple, but I want to be sure none of you misses any important factors. Primary target: Georgio Belechus. He was spotted before the squad searching the mutant strongold's remains escaped. I want him alive for questioning and a public execution. Whoever may accompany him should be treated as a serious threat: Eliminate any escorts with no mercy. Finally, our secondary target is to scout the city block 63N, and get hold of any leads to the shroud master's potential hideout".

After a while the thoroughly briefed troops were loaded onto a chimera. They left the base and started driving towards the place Georgio was last seen.

Chapter 14: Within our reach

He laid in wait. Georgio knew that whoever followed them, they would sooner or later approach. They just needed to be ready.

"I still says this be bad idea..." Krella whined. Georgio was tired of her complaints, but before he could tell her his opinion, he noticed movement.

"Just be patient... We need to get some intel on the situation, and I wouldn´t mind breaking some filthy mutant´s skull either." He was angry towards the mutants, sure. but he somehow couldn´t get out the words of the Shroud Master out of his head: "There are many ways a brother can help." What did the blasted monstrosity mean?

The figure slowly approached. Georgio saw its slumped figure and readied his autopistol. It looked like another mutant... but he felt disturbed for some reason. Why was there so strong wind suddenly?

"This be a mistake... We should let it pass, this not be of our world!" Krella mumbled, with a hint of fear in her voice.

"What are you talking ab-?" Georgio started, and realized her source of fear: wherever the thing stepped the earth itself turned to dust, and ash blew out of its mouth, hidden beneath the hood it wore. He froze in fear, and stared at the thing as it walked to him. At first, it seemed to ignore him, but turned toward him just a metre away from the rock he was behind.

"You... Scion... Find... The strength... Within...", It said and faded into ash, which the wind blew away just before subsiding.

Georgio was dumbfounded. He had no clue of what just happened, but he knew for certain he did not want to meet that thing again, whatever it was.

Krella and Georgio continued their journey, scavenging food and avoiding patrolling guardsmen and mutants alike, until three days later they found a hut with a large antenna next to it. They entered the hut and found its inhabitants dead next to a vox-caster. Georgio pushed away a corpse blocking his way to the vox, and managed to activate it. He ran through all the Imperial channels he remembered at the moment, and learned that the fighting had mostly moved further into mutant territory, before hitting a bottleneck again: another mutant fortress made the guard halt their advance. Georgio was about to shut down the vox, but then the receiver screeched:

"SKREEEEE- Brothers and sisters. We -SCRITCH- have won again. As the humans wage war against our brave warriors, we have -SKRIIII- through the blocade. This shuttle will take a week to prepare, but will allow thirty of our messengers to spread the word of freedom to other worlds. Reserve your place on this dangerous mission through your station´s comman-TZZZT-"

Georgio thought for a moment, and took the transmitter. He knew this was a foolish attempt, but he had no better options at hand. He opened contact, and after being patched through, cleared his throat: "Outpost almost overrun. Requesting two places on shuttle, to continue the fight off-world." He thought he sounded dumb while saying that. It could never work-

"Permission granted, brother. Head to northern headguarters, and stay safe. Our cause will live on."

He was awestruck. were these mutants idiots in addition to beig ugly?

"Copy that. Our cause will live on", he answered, still not believing it actually worked. He searched the place and found a crudely written map: imperial guard had better knowledge of the locations of the mutant bases than the mutants themselves, he noted, before taking it anyways. Escape from this wretched planet was within their grasp, he thought.

Krella stared through the door outside. "Them Guardsmen. Whole lotta ´em are outside", she said. Georgio looked outside, and there was the chimera and about twenty heavily armored guardsmen.

Grenn smirked. the traitor was trapped.

Chapter 15: Through the fiery storm

As the door of the hut slowly opened, Grenn gave the order for a warning shot. He would not waste a precious bolter round for that purpose: he needed them in case this would turn ugly, he thought. As the beam of light heated the brick wall next to the door, a loud crack could be heard, as the half-molten chunk of hardened clay erupted from the rest of the brick. The door was instantly slammed shut.

"Throw your weapons out before even trying to exit, or be killed the moment you step out of the building!" Gren bellowed. He actually wanted this traitor to fight back, to try and resist the Emperor´s will so he could show him how futile such attempts would be, but he had to at least try to cath them alive, for a public execution. To his surprise, a moment later, from the door were thrown four knives, an autopistol and a sword, followed by a meek looking man with his hands held on his head.

"Don´t shoot! I´m unarmed!", Georgio shouted, certain his plan would fail the instant he tried to escape. He slowly walked past the weapons and toward the guardsmen, who were aiming at him.

Grenn did not know what to think. THIS was the man he was after? Such coward could not be seriously thought of as a threat, even as he had the training of a proper guardsman. That could mean only one thing: he was but a pawn of the woman he heard about.

"Private Varnias. Seize him. The rest of you, keep watch on the building! shoot anyone who tries to step outside." He was not going to take any risks- he already knew the consequence of underestimating an enemy. Just before Varnias could reach Georgio, however, the bang of a gun being fired rang in the air, followed by Varnias slumping to the ground, dead in moments from the shot going through his exposed throat. Georgio sprinted towards him and heaved the corpse between him and the guardsmen in an attempt to create makeshift cover. The guardsmen started shooting, and hit the corpse a dozen times, causing it to be mostly destroyed before they even noticed Krella slipping away with the weapons next to the door.

Krella ran, ran like the forest beasts of dusk when they sensed their death approaching. She hated leaving Georgio like that- Old Lady would be so mad at her for ignoring her duty, she knew it. But Georgio sounded certain it would work, and Georgio was the smartest person she knew... Right after Old lady, of course. The star people fired their weapons, so fast and powerful weapons, she thought. It was as if they had a hundered men with many pre-loaded muskets, she thought as the beams of light whipped around her. She was fast, hard to hit, but she had to be faster than the wind to outrun these weapons.

Grenn had aimed for a while. This girl may be fast, but he would not miss. He had but three bolts in his clip, and every second counted: he set his sight on her shoulders, and pulled the trigger.

Georgio had started to crawl to get behind the hut, Dragging the mutilated corpse with him. Disgusting, but he would not die here. no matter if he had to eat a rotten Grox, he would not die in this place! he knew he´d find a way to fix things, when he got away from these crazy bastards! Krella was getting away, he thought. That was when he heard the bolter round goover him. The shot missed Krella, and Grenn adjusted his sight. Georgio did not want to be alone, either. This place was crazy and he´d go crazy too if he had to bear it alone, not to speak of his nonexistent skill in getting food in these ruins. He realized he´d have to give up his cover to save Krella. He lifted the corpse by the shoulders, laser still whipping around as the recruits blasted away wildly. The corpse exploded, leaving him but the shoulders and the arms hanging from them.

Grenn was annoyed. what took the stormtroopers so long? And this ingrate protected her? As he was about to shoot the fool, the stormtroopers finally appeared from behind the hut and apprehended him, giving Grenn clear line of sight. the girl was already far away, but he still had to take her down, and the ruins she was heading for would be perfect hiding place. He roared the recruits to get into the chimera, and aimed once again. They would get her, even if they had to turn the whole remains of the hive upside down, but he would take this last chance to take her down before he´d have to play playing hide and seek.

Georgio tried to squirm away from the stormtroopers, but the elite soldiers sure knew what they were doing. As two of them held him down, one bashed his face with the back of his gun. His sight was filled with stars, then a red hue, and momentarily, darkness. as his sight returned, he saw Krella, her loyal, even if irritating, companion...

"Die, you filthy witch...", Grenn mumbled, with a prayer to his gun´s machine spirit to deliver his righteous hatred to the target. He then pulled the trigger, the golden flames of the weapon´s fury erupting from the barrel to bring death.

Georgio was happy she made it. and angry that he was caught. his mind was filled with emotions of loss, rage and sorrow... And then he heard the roar of the bolt pistol and saw Krella´s left leg fall from under her, bloodstream visible even from this distance. His mind turned to its new companion... Burning pain, storm of rage overflowing his other emotions and a surge of power. He heard a pulse, like heartbeat, although it was erratic and quiet. He felt a stream of ice-cold liguid flowing into him, and mixing with the fire within. He roared, and released the storm within.

Daemons saw a new beacon, a new doorway opening. A new psyker had emerged.