DISCLAIMER: Warhammer 40000 belongs to Games Workshop

WARNING: Will contain swearing and scenes of a sexual nature in later chapters.

I am a veteran. That simply means that I lived longer than I should have. A mistake that will soon be rectified.

CHAPTER 1

FIRST DAY OF WORK

It was dark. He couldn't see his friends. But he could hear them, and the laughter in their voices was enough to keep him at ease. The only light in the small space was the sergeant's cigar, which wasn't enough to light up even the man's face. Tevez had been surprised to meet his sergeant for the first time. He hadn't been all that much older than Tevez.

Tevez himself was only seventeen, now a year into his training and finally a fully-fledged member of the 31st Kronus Imperial Guard. Now he and his squad were being shipped off to a major Imperial offensive into the Warp against the foul heretics of Chaos. Yet despite the danger ahead his friends were laughing and joking.

Especially his best friend, Karl, who was now telling one of his personal favourites about a Slaanesh Daemon known as Daemonette, a Kroot Hound and a Ratling Sniper that all go into a bar. The others howled with laughter and even Sergeant Ramon permitted himself a chuckle.

"Well boys," Ramon announced. His voice was hoarse, and rumour in the old boot camp had been that he'd fought a Daemon in one-on-one combat. He'd apparently emerged victorious; otherwise he might not have been sitting there today, but had come out of the fight with a severe blow to the neck. Ramon continued speaking.

"We'll be popping out just behind our own front lines. Our job is to secure the bunkers. Should be a piece of cake. The top dogs reckon we won't even need to leave the bunkers for this one. But whatever happens, make sure we get the missile launcher up." Tevez liked to think that Ramon was smiling at this moment. "Good luck boys."

In a few moments the alarm inside the tank rang loud, indicating that the ramp was going down. Light filtered into the tank, light enough to see the largest member of the group, Nash, charge against the door and send it thumping onto the ground. As one the squad surged from the tank, with Ramon soon at the head.

The bunkers were less than forty yards ahead of where they'd disembarked, and on the horizon Tevez could just make out the great war machines of the Chaos army. Half the squad seized up at the sight of them, and a quick glance around allowed Tevez to see a great many other squads emerging from their Chimera transports and freezing.

Shells rained down all around them. One crashed only a few feet away from Tevez but failed to detonate. The logical part of his brain told him that if he didn't move he'd be killed, but his legs didn't seem to work. Then a shell crashed into another squad to his right. The entire squad was ripped asunder, with left arms going one direction and right arms going the other.

"Come on men, or the bloody hangman'll have you!" Ramon shouted. Then he shoved Nash forward, and the squad snapped out of its daze and charged for the relative safety of the bunkers. It was only then that Tevez noticed shells flying towards the Chaos war machines, which meant that the Basilisks of the Imperial Guard were returning fire. The knowledge that help was at hand strengthened his resolve.

The squad dropped down into the bunker, which was only a few feet deep; barely enough for one man to hide behind. So they got down and crouched, as Nash unloaded the missile launcher and his partner, Harris, helped to deploy the stand on which it would rest.

Tevez was busy watching out across the battlefield when something to the right exploded, and his face grew hot. A shell had crashed into the bunker, and where a squad had been moments ago was only charred remains and a few weapons. Tevez touched a hand to his face. It was soaked in blood, though he couldn't tell whether it was his or not.

"Tevez, check those weapons!" Ramon ordered. "We may be able to use them!" Tevez did as ordered and ran across. He picked up a missile launcher, only to find a charred arm smoking slightly was still attached to it. Unable to hold it in, he vomited. He turned around to make sure no one had seen him.

Then the enemy's guns went silent.

The Imperial guns fired on, but their shells seemed few and far between. From off to one side Tevez heard the call, "Ground assault!" He dropped the missile launcher and spun around, bracing his lasgun against his shoulder and looking out across the battlefield for the enemy.

Then the first of the enemy appeared in his view. They moved incredibly fast, and in the afternoon sun Tevez could see that they wore blood red armour. The logical part of his brain told him these were Chaos Space Marines, a cruel mockery of the Imperial's Elite Troops.

But the illogical part of his brain reminded him of a time when he'd wanted to be a Space Marine. All boys wanted to be Space Marines. They were the heroes of the Imperium. "For every Space Marine that dies a thousand enemies will perish." That was what they used to say.

The illogical part of his brain knew that these were, in some ways, Space Marines. And in this case he and his squad were the enemies.

But that was heretical thinking. Now all he had to do was focus on shooting.

Gently he wrapped his index finger around the trigger and gazed down his gun at the advancing enemy. He levelled it at ones head and squeezed the trigger. The bolt flew straight out of his gun and struck the Chaos Space Marine...

Who didn't even wince.

Tevez looked at his gun. It seemed to be in perfect order, but why didn't it work? He fired again, but the line of approaching enemies didn't falter. Then he glanced around. All around him lasguns were being fired but having no effect. Only the missile launchers and grenade launchers going off were doing any damage, and half the time they seemed to be flying off without hitting anything.

Tevez levelled his gun out and started firing as fast as he could, no longer concerned with accuracy. The line of Chaos Space Marines and their apparently impregnable armour was fast approaching. Now they were nearer Tevez could hear the whirl of chainaxes and the howls of war of the attackers.

The Chaos Space Marines were suddenly in the trench. Tevez pulled his knife and stabbed for the heart of one warrior, but the knife feebly snapped in half. It was only up close that Tevez could appreciate how tall this warrior was. It was that height that enabled Tevez to duck down low and avoid a slash from the warrior's howling blade.

He ducked again and spun past another warrior, trying to get back to his squad. But his efforts were futile. His squad was already being torn apart. He had just arrived in time to see Ramon's last facial expression of shock as a chainaxe tore through his neck and sent his head sprawling across the ground.

Had Tevez not emptied his stomach previously he would have vomited. But even so his vision was pierced by black spots, and he had to fight to keep them at bay. He shook his head. He could not afford to lose consciousness and die here.

He had to get back to the Chimera. And his weapons were useless.

His only saving grace was that the Chaos Space Marines were busy, enthralled by the blood that they had spilt. They rolled in it, ran their hands through it, cut up already dead bodies until they were drained of it. It gave Tevez the chance to scramble out of the bunker and towards the tanks.

Which were leaving.

"Wait!" he cried. "Please! Wait!" He ran as fast as he could, knowing that once they had built up speed there was no way he could catch them, and no way he could make it to base camp without them. His ears pounded as the Chaos bombardment from the war machines began again, with their own men still in the trenches!

But Tevez couldn't dwell on it. With a massive jump he caught onto one of the tanks with a still open door, and managed to haul himself it. There, he permitted the blackness to consume him and closed his eyes.