Trenches and Training

The rain lashed down on me like a torrent of lasbolts. I let out a mighty yawn. Sergeant Kirsk glanced at me then turned back. Usualy he would have done nothing, maybe even yawned himself but this wasnt usualy. My squad had been gathered by Hangman Jaque (Commisar Jaque), and shoved in a trench just a few miles away from our base. Our orders? Simple there was a squad of gun-babys (conscripts) across from us, a few hundred yards north. We were supposed to "show them the ropes" as the Hangman had so elegently put it. Basicly both squads had lasguns, loaded with none leathal las-packs. The last squad standing won. However nothing in the Guard is simple, well I suppose real battles are (throw another few thousand men at those daemons and show them whos boss!), but training ones definatley are not. If your squad lost you could expect double physical training, all non esential meals taken out of your time table, and your hangman to fall on you like a killo of Bone 'eads. Oh and a nice Catachen kiss off your sarge to boot. Anyway basicly you did NOT want to lose, esspecialy not against a bunch of gun-babys, as youd be humilated by all the other squads. Sergeant Kirsk shifted uneasly on his feet. The trooper next to me, Alexial his name was I think, took a Lho stick out of his hip pocket, lit it, and took a drag of the joint. He passed it to me, and I shook my hand dissmissingly at him. Being a soldier was risky enough, I didnt want the added danger of my lungs collapsing in on them selves due to cheap narcotics.

"Get that put out private." The sarge said. He had a weird way of talking, always sounding angry and on edge, even when he was enjoying himself.

"Yes sir." The private next to me said, dreary like, just like a small child.

"Prime las-rifles men." The sarge bellowed. He shoved a las-pack into the bottom of his rifle and the rest of us followed suit. We could hear the conscripts going through the NSP's still. (Normal Saftey Prosedure) Rank amatures. Well of course they were. Fresh from boot, all little goody goodys, willing to get there asses blown all the way to the Emperor himself, just for one of the hangmen. Ah well theyd soon learn, starting with this battle. The first of their men jumped out of his trench, the rest of the white-stripes following him. Us? We just stood our ground, waiting for them to get closer.

"Hold it men." The sarge said, his voice bareley louder than a whisper. The conscripts were getting close now. I could make out their faces, all clean shaven and scarless. Heh that was gonna change soon. Then just as I though they were gonna open fire the sarge bellowed:

"FIRE!!"

He didnt have to give the command twice. Flashes of light spewed out of each and every rifle in our trench. A few of the conscripts fired back, but their aim was miles of. Within a few minuits it was over. All the gun-babys lay on the ground, all clutching a part of their body, rolling and crying, boo hoo hoo. They wouldnt have lasted five minuits in a real battle. I booted one of 'em in the gut on the way back to base. He let out a little moan, and my lips scrunched into a smile.

"Plank."

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Dacer Rank ran his slender fingers over the hololithic globe. He could sense every inch of it. The real planet. He could feel the pain of untold thousands, the sorrow, the agony. He clutched his head in pain. He'd lingered too long again. The Warp was a usefull tool, yes, but a dangerous one. The doors to his iron room, his iron prision, slid open. Commsiar Jaque strolled in, he stank of pure arrogence.

"The Colnel wants to see you, Bolt Magnet."

"Yes of course" Was all Dacer could reply.

He shuffled out with the commisar and followed him through what seemed endless corridoors. Finaly they reached a giant pair of steel doors, a Aquila or Imperial eagle was printed on them. The doors slid open and the commisar and his psyker follower walked through them. The room was completley dark, except for a giagantic hololithic globe in the middle of it. It was a identicle copy of the one Dacer had been studying before, only larger. A gigantic man stood behind the globe. He was dressed in traditioanl Imperial officer garb, wearing a cap and a giant black cape. The commisar saluted the figure, but Dacer didnt. Saluting was above him and his "kind".

"So psyker," The figure bellowed, "What can you tell me about the enemy?"

"They are twisted creautures, they bathe in pain, revel in suffering."

"Dark eldar?" Emerged a voice from behind the colnel. It was from another psyker, linked up with the ships computers.

"Silence." The colnel shouted. "You will speak when spoken to psyker, not before. Now where were we with you, the other one. You all look the same, we should brand you or somthing."

Dacer scowled, but made sure the colnel didnt see it.

"There is much suffering and pain on this planet. Somthing unnatural is occuring there."

"Well then we'd beter call some re-inforcements then. Dissmised."

"Come on, lets trot you back to your hole Brain." The commisar said, scorn dripping from his voice...