Ulthwé

A drop touched Izuru's nose and dribbled down to her cheek. Her eyelids opened a crack. A pale face hung over her. "Kinslayer!" Blood shone on Saarania's teeth. Izuru's body convulsed. She swung her fist at the face and sat bolt upright. Damp sheets clung to Izuru. Her shoulders rose and fell in ragged spurts. She dropped her arm, scrunched up the sheets, and pulled at them. Water.

Swathed in a belted robe, Izuru splashed water on her face. Reflection. The wall above the basin shimmered and moulded in to a perfect reflection of the room. Izuru gripped the corners of the basin and leant in to the reflection. Still standing. More than you can say for yourself, thief. Izuru's teeth ground against each other. Her toes made fists and dragged across the soft carpet. Izuru tied the belt around her waist and padded from her chambers in to the central living area. I told you to clear away your things before you turn in. Izuru tutted at the toys left out by the twins. And you are due to resume your studies on the morrow. Izuru brushed her hair back from her face and sat down on a couch. Oh, what is this? A crude drawing lay in the centre of the table. Two little figures, sketches without intricate detail to their faces or bodies, ran around a much taller figure with round ears. A smudged object, round, was kicked about by the taller one's feet. Izuru drew the picture to the edge of the table. What were you doing with my children, human? Izuru rubbed the corner of the picture with her thumb and let it fall back on to the curved wraithbone. Influencing them with human games. Had I known that; you would not be breathing. Izuru leant forwards and took the picture, scrutinising it. Her eyebrows edged closer together. The boys' mouths were open and they wore smiles that broadened their cheeks. They sought a playmate. Izuru sat back, propped her arm on the rest, and placed her chin in her fingers. A tiny snort of air rushed from her nose. She smiled. How lucky they were to find you, human. Or was it you who found them? Still, I will not have my offspring influenced by human ways. Izuru scooped up the picture, folded it, and took it over to her desk in the adjoining room. Incinerator. Izuru dropped the picture inside and watched the glow. Her translation remained on the same page as she had left it the previous evening. No sense returning to bed. Izuru smoothed her robe beneath her and drew up the chair. Kinslayer. Murderer. Izuru stabbed the nub of her quill against the scroll, her grip around the thin shaft tightening. Her head drooped. Ulthranwé, help me banish these thoughts from my head.

Hours later, once Izuru had taken the twins to their morning studies, she departed Ley-Kilaru, and for two hours walked the giant transit corridor of Charcaro, suspended far above Ulthwé's surface, high enough to pass through cloud-swathed mountain peaks. It was Izuru's only swift means of crossing the many domes below her without taking a days-long, meandering route through the forests and fields, and she owned neither skyship nor starship, Rhazus having been impounded. And Saeros, what became of you? Izuru's head remained down and she sought no-one's eye. Pairs, threesomes, and larger groups traversed the span, some in low conversation, others chatting. Every few hundred metres, platforms set in towers ferried residents down to the domes. Laughter walked arm in arm with couples out for a stroll. The shame of it. Izuru averted her eyes from couples holding hands. Never would such overt displays pass without remark on Alaitoc. Never. Izuru chewed on the inside of her lip and thought on that for a moment. And hypocrisy rises within. Was it not you who bathed openly and stole food? Izuru's eyed roved around nearby Eldar, either moving towards or away from her. Iyanden, Alaitoc, Ulthwé. It seems I have forgotten the ways of the craftworlder. Izuru tugged her hand out from inside her wide sleeve and turned it over. A few patches of red remained on the skin. The scars would remain there forever. I would have it no other way.

Izuru caught the incoming gauntlet and twisted the wrist around. She pivoted and drove her assailant against the handrail separating Charcaro and the plummet to Ulthwé's surface, her hands working around his neck. Blades unsheathed around Izuru. "Hold!" Her assailant wriggled beneath her. "Raise your swords!" A squad of Guardians aimed their blades at Izuru. "One does not merely steal up to a Ranger, I see." Izuru let go of the Guardian and stepped back from the rail. "Mine was to inform you…" The Guardian massaged his throat. "…politely, that only Seers and those accompanying may proceed on this side of Charcaro. All other beings must pass via the adjacent path." The tips of the blades hovered around Izuru. "Pass in peace, or not at all." The Guardian placed a gauntlet on the lasblaster clipped to his thigh-holster. Izuru backed off a pace and turned, her gaze passing across the six Guardians. Prohibited from journeying on a certain side of a bridge? Only an unblooded warrior of scrolls and decrees would make such a mandate. What nonsense.

Izuru entered a tower and stepped on to a platform with seven other Eldar. "You were the interloper that bathed in the Fountain of the Chief Farseer!" Izuru folded her arms inside her sleeves and stared straight ahead. "Resident of the wastes. Lady of the underhive. Thieving outcast!" The half-dozen Eldar remained silent. The mocking voice continued. "And gracing us with her presence. How far does the Chief Farseer bend over backwards for you?" Izuru's stomach settled and she headed out of the tower's foot along a suspended walkway with trees on both sides. "One wonders the rumours one's ears pick up. Mouth's flap. Tongues wag. Does the half-breed really have the ear of the Chief Farseer? What does that make your spawn, quarter-breeds?" Izuru whipped about. Her fist silencing the words passing from the Eldar's lips. The softer side of the Eldar's skull cracked. Idiot. Pay now for your insolence. Izuru grasped the Eldar's shoulders and set him down upon a seat. And now… Izuru approached the closest pair of sentinels. "I beg your pardon. There is a gentle-being just over yonder who needs the care of the Healers." The sentinels glanced at each other. "And would one of you be kind enough to inform me of the most direct route to the Dome of Crystal Seers?"

"You may come no further." The Lord Guardian, flanked by pike-wielders, raised his hand and bore down upon her. "She who passes out before the Lord Guardian passes not beyond these gates."

"Lord Guardian, I seek the Chief—"

"The Chief Farseer has departed this world." Pike hafts rammed in to the ground. The Lord Guardian wrapped his cape around his wrist and threw his arm out. His other hand seated upon the butt of a Shuriken Pistol; a Tuelean.

"Why?"

"The affairs of the Chief Farseer are his own. Not to be shared with young upstart outcasts. Tidings of your antics outside the House of the Chief Farseer have spread far and wide."

A smile tugs at your lips, Chief Guardian. You play me for the fool!

"There will be no more running in to his arms, young Ranger. You are on your own."

"Take me to the Corsair prisoners."

"Take yourself." The Lord Guardian held up a finger and pointed it to his left. "It is that way. You may find a portal…"

Who are these beings? Am I no more than a source of mockery to them? Izuru's ears burned. Colour tinted her cheeks. Aware time was passing, Izuru strode past the statues bordering the avenues around the Dome of Crystal Seers and approached a Portal Guardian. "The Containment Facilities, please."

"Yes, my lady."

Saeros, where are you? Once free of the portal, Izuru descended beneath ground level to the underbelly of the dome of Magoroch. Guardians pairs stood on guard every thirty feet of the narrow corridor. "Where might I find two Corsair prisoners, Guardian?"

"My lady, one moment please." The Guardian retreated in to his unit's internal communications. "Please proceed. You will be met."

Further ahead, where the corridor split in to seven branches, a warden bearing a jewelled pike approached. "I am the Chief Warden of this facility. State your name and purpose please, my lady."

"Izuru Numerial. Ranger. I seek a pair of Corsairs, both of whom I brought to this Craftworld as prisoners. Tell me they are fed and housed as guests of Ulthanash Shelwé." Ulthwé does not torture. I pray I was not wrong.

"Corsairs two remain in this facility. Model prisoners from their first instance of setting foot on these premises. Allow me to escort you to them." The Warden's back turned. Izuru let out the air she held in her lungs. "Your pardon. T'was rumours passing through these walls not two nights ago that told of a being, pale of skin and dark of hair, who bathed in front of many eyes without concern for dignity."

Izuru shut her eyes. "As you quite well know, Chief Warden, nobody ever talks, though word still spreads."

"Maybe. Those you seek are in cells just ahead and to your left."

"No-one disturbs me."

"No-one shall disturb you, my lady." The Chief Warden bowed and took his leave. The haft of his pike clacked away across the floor.

Frozen, Izuru took small steps forwards and turned the corner. "Saeros?" The cell was at least as large as Izuru's rooms in Ley-Kilaru, with furnishings little different to hers. The entirety of the far wall was an ocean filled with fish. "Saeros?" A slight figure with a bowed head sat on a couch with his back to Izuru. Bright blue robes hung from his body. The brown mane hanging down his back was brushed and clean. A book fell from his hands. "Saeros!" Izuru placed her hand flat on the clear screen separating them.

Saeros lurched across the room and pressed his hand over Izuru's hand. "How has it come to this? You the captor and I the captive, where not so long ago our roles were inverted."

"You are well?" Izuru smiled. "By The Mother, you have found better quarters than I! Ulthwé does not torture."

"Ulthwé does not torture." Saeros face split in to a grin. "A joy blooms within at the sight of you, fresh and healthy. You are well in body and mind?"

Izuru rubbed the small of her back. "Body endures."

"Your back. Why does your hand stray there?" Saeros cocked his head to one side.

"'Tis no wound from Grendel, I assure you, Saeros. Worry not."

"Does it persist?"

"Saeros?" Izuru nodded her head. "Up here."

"Oh… the children. How are the children?"

"In fine health. They brought nothing dangerous back from Grendel, the lucky darlings."

"Then fortune truly shines on you and your family, Starstrider."

Izuru's shoulders fell. "Forgive me, I would have visited sooner."

"There is naught to forgive, lady. The sight of your face, warm and shining, raises my heart from the depths of loneliness."

Izuru removed her hand from the screen and turned to one side, her eyes dropping. "You… you keep yourself busy?"

"Filling my head with knowledge. 'Tis a far cry from the thieving runt I was aboard the Gorynych. I have never read so much in so short a time."

"Oh tell, tell."

"Erm…"

"Tales? Songs of the warriors of yesteryear? Tragedy, comedy? I translate ancient texts when I am at a loose end. Have you heard of Eleven Towers of Knowledge?"

"Why eleven?"

"I do not know. But the thought of finding out thrills me!"

"Is it a story? A history?"

"A story of a being living amongst an alien race identical in form but entirely different culturally and socially." The tips of Izuru's ears wiggled.

Saeros's face crumpled. "Oh, I have missed you. So much knowledge I wish to share, and no one to share it with. I swallow histories, you know. The—the Devourers' incursion upon Craftworld Iyanden 189 cycles ago."

"Oh, my father was there."

"Your father?"

Izuru drew her hands inside her sleeves and folded her arms. "Know you of The Fall?"

"Fascinating and terrifying how close we came to annihilation."

"Good… that is good." Izuru swallowed. "Though content I am with trading quips on history, I would…"

"Yes?" The tip of Saeros's nose touched the screen.

"Can we talk about Grendel?"

"The Chief Farseer…"

"Is absent his post." Izuru pressed her hand against the screen. "Only you, Saeros. Only you will understand."

"Understand what?"

Izuru's shoulder touched the screen. "The spectre of the princess comes to me in the darkness. Condemnation rolls from her lips. Kinslayer. Murderer."

"Actions spurred by love for your children." Saeros's hands were flat on the screen, his breath fogging it. "A desire to right a wrong! You have nothing to feel shame for. Saarania underestimated the children's mother and she lost."

"Others, other Corsairs, humans too, some offering surrender fell to my fury." Izuru's back slid down the surface. "An innocent female."

"The fight against those regarding us as vermin is normalcy. You spoke and they fell to your voice. Regret not your actions on Grendel, Starstrider. Your desires were noble." Saeros followed Izuru down and sat with his knees drawn under him.

"I prayed to the stars to shield their eyes from my blackest desires, Saeros. The lust of the hunt seduced me. I became its whore." Izuru leant her head back and stared up at the ceiling.

"I cannot speak for that. I was not there to assist you."

"You were there. Only you in the end. I… I pray you forgive me for Derin and Maess." Izuru swallowed a sob and covered her mouth. "I lost control."

"I forgive all. All, Izuru Numerial. But were it not for the intervention of the human, never again would you have seen your children alive and happy."

Izuru thumped her fist behind her. "Speak not of the human. I gave him gratitude. More than he deserved."

"He is one in thousands. Any other Imperial Guardsman would have eradicated xenos on sight. He deserved your undying gratitude and more. Be thankful too he was there to catch you when you fell."

"Passing out in the arms of a human!" Izuru spat. "Cast him from your mind. I came not to banter on the matter."

"I hope he lives. I liked him. There was no hate, unlike the vermin who kept me prisoner. They were petty, petulant folk with plain, unveiled desires. It was fear from the young human. Distress. Loneliness. Livestock, separated from his herd. Now he wanders alone through the storm."

Izuru wiped the corners of her eyes. "Firing squad. A painless end. I would have granted him that."

"I do not think you would."

"Really? There is much still to me that remains hidden from you, Saeros Darhathyr."

"I know more about you than any other living being on this world right now. It is why you came here, is it not?"

Izuru laid her chin upon her breast. She drew her hands from her sleeves and rubbed her shoulders. "…Yes."

"I too lost my way in the storm."

"If comparison with a human is what you seek, I pity your naivety and believe you better than that."

"I swear myself to your service, to be released only upon my dying day."

"No! No, no, no, you will not. I forbid it." Izuru pushed away from the screen and swivelled to face Saeros. "Rangers are solitary creatures of patience and subtlety. It runs in the blood. If apprenticeship is what you seek then you will find only disappointment from this Ranger. Learn! Broaden your mind! Deepen knowledge of the past so it may prepare you for the battles ahead. Here you will remain but always remember you are not alone."

Saeros moved his hand over Izuru's. "Would the lady accept embrace?"

"Reciprocated with everlasting warmth, my brother-in-arms."

Saeros's eyelids lowered. His head fell. "You are my shepherd. Lead me from the storm."

Nemesis Tessera, 21:48

"Shit, you took your time." Martti sprang from my bunk. "Inspection's in ten."

"What the fuck's this?" I gripped the iron frame and leant under Staf's bunk. The articles of clothing and personal affects that had been stuffed in the OG kitbag were all laid out neatly on the bedcover as per the regs. "Who did that?"

"Well, we was thinking if you get in trouble we all get in trouble." Martti shrugged. The other four stared at me.

"You won't win no favours like that. Not 'ere. It's look out for number one, son. The Crotch chews you up, spits you out and zips you up inside a bodybag; Remains Non-viewable."

"The Crotch!" Erkki clutched at his knees and rocked. Antti snorted and covered his nose.

"You serious? I thought that was a joke!" Staf slapped the sides of his boots together. "So anyway, what's your name?"

"Do one."

"Think something along the lines of thank you might be in order," Martti said. "I'm Martti Sinric. Old dangler up above you is Staf Kulich. The brothers there are Antti and Erkki Makala, and that's Jussi Rath next to 'em."

"Erkki and Antti."

I bent over my kit, my back to the brothers. "Ta."

"Hm?"

"Ta for the hand. It's James."

Martti nodded up at me. "Good stuff."

"Sarn't's coming!" A grunt scurried back from the billet's door. "Oi, sarn't's coming! There's a commissar with him."

"Shit." The wetnoses leapt from their bunks and fell upon their kit, sorting out kinks and straightening buffed boots.

"Last time I saw a commissar was in Phase One," I grunted.

"Well, where the fuck have you been since then?" Staf dropped to the floor and tugged at the hems of his jacket.

"Around." I spat upon my fingers and rubbed at my toecaps.

"Gotta get you drunk one o' these nights." Staf stood to the right of the bunk's front post.

I took up position on the left. "Then we'll see who's fucking cheggers."

"Will you two stop flirting?" Martti chortled. "C'mon, hurry up, Jussi."

Iggery, you two. I came to attention right before the shining boots of the barracks NCO stormed in. "PLATOON. ATTEN-SHUN!" Boots slammed together. Woolley-pulley and Lightweights uncreased and spotless, the sergeant roved along the rows of bunks. A walking tannery creaked at his heel. Red sash tied tightly around his waist, gold shoulderboards gleaming, the commissar's peaked head swivelled. How can he even see out from under that peak? The whites of the commissar's eyes passed across me. A prickle skittered along my arrow-straight spine. Pair o' lifers.

The lifers made their first pass and retraced their steps. The sergeant carried a clipboard. At the commissar's nod, the sergeant began looking over the grunts' kit, poking and prodding here and there before moving on without comment. Fizzers incoming. I curled my toes. Will it get me out of going to the front? My soles buzzed. The glass in the barrack windows trembled. Grunts stirred. The commissar battered his swagger stick against the nearest bedpost. All movement ceased. Grunts became statues once more. The sergeant, frozen, resumed his inspection, writing upon his clipboard after looking over each individual kit. How long's he going to take?

The sergeant handed his clipboard over to the commissar and stood in the centre of the billet. The commissar tucked the board under his arm and, flourishing his swagger stick, tucked it under his other arm and marched from the billet. "PLATOON. STAND AT…EASE!" Boots shifted. The lifer about-faced and stamped out. Grunts relaxed. A flock congregated by the windows and peered through the blinds. "He didn't say anything." Staf swiped off his beret. "Fuck me, he didn't say anything."

"Won't make no difference if we get on jankers now." I plonked myself in the middle of my kit. "What can they do, send us to the front? Oi, where's my jacket?"

Martti, Antti, Erkki, and Jussi pushed at one another and peered through the blinds. Staf hesitated then pushed past me. I aimed kick at the back of his knee but stopped short. What's so fucking interesting? Grunts in bright khaki uniforms and green body armour marched three abreast past the billet. A white aquila shone on their breast of their body armour and brow of their hard cover. Antti tutted. "Cadians."

"Right paradeground nonsense that," said Erkki.

"Like I said, Cadians." Antti tapped on the window. He made a tube with his thumb and fingers and shook it up and down.

"They're wearing kneepads." Jussi pressed his middle finger against the window. "I dunno but I can't take a grunt seriously if he's too afraid to graze his knees. What d'you think, Martti?"

"I'm thinkin' them lot are up and leaving us in the lurch."

"Naw, they're just off on manoeuvres."

"You're not really Mister Current Affairs, are you, Jussi? Were you there when the news was on?"

Jussi scratched his ear. "Mmm, can't remember. Martti, I can't remember what I had for dinner."

"Cadia. Tyrok. Parade gone wrong? Is that piddly motor starting to chug over?" Martti twirled a finger around his ear.

"I 'eard that too," I said.

"So where was you after dinner then?"

"Got picked up by some tankies, didn't I? Got pinched."

"Well, I hope you pinched 'em back."

"Did more than that." I waved flashed the chocolate at Martti.

"Shit!" The bar cracked in to pieces inside the wrapper.

"Where's my jacket then?"

"Oh, look, we was gonna give it back…" Martti wrenched a corner of his mattress up and hauled the parka out.

"Just hidin' it from the lifers, were ya?"

Martti rolled the parka up and threw it over. "Lifers?"

"Warts like that commissar you'd never see within thirty klicks o' the front."

"Non-grunts?"

"Just cunts even. Don't bother wi' the lifer bit." I folded the silver wrapper back and stretched my arm out. "'Ere."

"Hold tight." Staf swooped down and flopped upon the bunk beside Martti. "Right sneaky stalk you are. Where d'you get that?" Jussi, Antti, and Erkki piled on to the bunk, all eying up the softening chocolate in my hand.

Pre-dawn, the rumble of Cadian boots died down and were overthrown by the deep-throated roar of armoured vehicles passing the billet. Smothered in blankets and parka, I pressed the pillow over my face and clamped down upon my ears. Nobody needed to be turfed out of bed before reveille, the armour saw to that.

Tetrarch Landers lifted off in to the grey-tinged sky periodically. Cadians in formation filled the streets, their ranks broken at times by convoys of Hennus lorries and Chimera armoured personal carriers. Staf, shambling at my shoulder, winced and covered his ears when a flight of Valkyries shot over. I plugged my ears and glanced behind at Martti, Jussi, and the brothers. "Clear the way! Clear the way!" A Cadian officer in cap and greatcoat shook a swagger stick at us. "Damned reservists."

Reservists? Martti bent his arm and balled his fist at the officer's back. His other hand gripped his bicep. "Sir! Sir!" A Cadian cried. I dragged Staf sideways and across the path of a Chimera. Martti, Jussi, and the brothers took off after us. Frost-encrusted mud crackled underneath our boots. Steel tracks ground the thin crust up, revealing the softer layer underneath. From the other side of the convoy a whistle shrieked. The five of us skidded over patches of ice, Martti and Antti laughing and whooping. "How's that for flipping off the lifers?"

"Are you fucked?" I shoved Martti in to the mud.

"James!" Staf knelt beside Martti and clasped his arm. "C'mon, Martti."

"What d'you do that for?" Antti leant against a brick wall and bent over his knees. "Oi, don't walk off, ya dick. I'm talking."

Why are they still following me about? I stormed away from the wetnoses. What am I, a fucking shepherd? Bunch of cretins.

The pink death greeted me at breakfast alongside grey slop in a bowl that looked like porridge. Sitting alone, I spooned through the gunk and thought back to the dream. Children's voices called to me in the darkness, their words alien and utterly incomprehensible. Tall, cloaked figures stalked me with glinting slit-eyes and wicked knives. Do stickies have nightmares too?

Later,I walked alone amongst a green and khaki mob. In full marching order, packs and all, the Cadian tide stomped in the direction of the troop barges. Boot polish and the webbing-darkening Capo compound rolled off the Cadians in invisible clouds, floating inside my nostrils. I took a narrow side-path between two tall buildings with large Aquilas mounted in such a way that both shone brightly in the sun. Fifty feet below, I passed by propaganda and recruitment posters, the corners of which were curled and peeling away from the wall. Their faded slogans were mostly indecipherable. Duty, honour, loyalty, freedom. Freedom? What's that?

Chimeras ground along the neighbouring street, each vehicle's tracks slicing deeper and deeper in to the mud. Robed tech-priests caught the splatter. I slipped through the techs and lowered my head. A commissar's cap bobbed into view. Underneath the peak a pudgy nose poked. Scar tissue covered his face and wires trailed from the back of his head. Boots thundered in my ears. I raised a trembling hand and pushed my forefinger in to my ear. A grey jacket lined with fur caught my eye."Kora."

"James!" Kora spun and clasped the two halves of her jacket together.

"Titus?"

"Throne, you scared me." Kora swallowed. "You're so quiet!"

"Err…" I shrugged and laughed. "Yeah, proper little sneak I am. Had to be quiet see, or the Orks woulda zipped me."

"Orks? James, you shouldn't be here."

"Thought I'd never see you—"

"No! No."

"Where you going?" I trotted after Kora.

"James, please. You are not safe with me!"

"We're not safe anywhere. Come on, Kora."

"Alright. You are endangering Titus by coming to me. Would you see him hurt?" Kora glanced both ways along the alley we were in. "Would you?"

"Who's threatening him? It's not the 'orrible brother is it?"

"James, you don't understand. You must go to front and lose yourself. They are everywhere, on every planet under human rule, and even here; the most remote outpost in the Imperium."

"Who? Who?"

"All you need to know is they hurt little boys and girls as readily as they would adults."

"What…? Who?"

"I must have your word, James. For Titus's sake."

"Alright, alright." I raised my hands, palms flat. "Grunt's honour."

"Well?"

"Give this back to Titus too." I unwound the scarf and pushed it at Kora. "It'll only get mucky, lost, or stolen. Just tell Titus I'm doing alright. Do I 'ave your word?"

"Deal." Kora took the scarf and folded it.

"He's your son, isn't her? Y'know, you remind me a lot of someone else, you do."

Kora held a finger to her lips. "Forget this. Forget me. I am sorry this had to happen."

I backed away a pace and nodded. "Give my best to Titus."

"Alright, mate?" Antti Makala looked up from where he'd been picking black grime out from underneath his fingernails.

"Antti – no Erkki. The nose…" I tapped the bridge of my nose.

"I'm Antti." Antti pointed at himself. "And I'm saving up for the nose-job."

"Fine." I plonked myself on the side of my bunk.

"There any women here?" Staf leaned over the edge of his bunk.

"None that'll want to be anywhere near you." Jussi laughed. "Not with your face."

"Well s'just… I never been with a girl anyway proper."

"Don't worry mate, I haven't neither." Martti leant over and clapped Staf on the shoulder.

Antti sneered. "Well, they'll either slap you or clap you. Ain't that right, Erkki?"

"Oh yeah, tell you what, I'm glad I didn't go in first. Antti there got a present from her."

"What and you didn't?" Martti said.

"I wanted a blonde not a fucking dark-haired bint, ya ripperbate." Antti dove at Erkki.

"Kick his 'ead in!"

"Twat him!" Scholar giggled at the brawling brothers.

"Enough!" I grabbed the back of Antti's jacket and, pulling him around to face me, rammed my fist in to the space between his belly and ribcage. Antti's knees gave out and I sat him back down on the bunk. "Erkki, dig out. You're fucking wasted down there, mate."

"Aww... Sorry 'bout my brother. No manners."

"Shake hands with him. Keep the war out there." Staf stretched his leg out and prodded Antti. "Shake hands with your brother – go on, do it."

"Sorry, brother." Erkki put out his outstretched hands and clasped his brother's forearm.

"Nah, s'alright." Antti grinned.

"S'all that?" I noticed the black muck on both siblings' fingernails.

"All of us got it, Corp. They had us polishing a load of old boots," Antti said.

"Oh yeah? Show me your 'ands."

The others presented their hands. "Bit monging." Martti grimaced.

"So buff 'em out then. Go on, scrub 'em down. Go to the washroom and scrub your bloody nails 'til they fall out. If any stripes sees them, you will be doin' jankers, understand?"

"Who put you the fuck in charge?"

"Come on." I clapped my hands when none of the five made a move. "Look lively!"

The Privates, chivvied along, departed the billet. I tugged off my parka and cover before falling on to my bed. God, they're so stupid.

"Hup! On your feet, Private!" A double-striper barked.

"Corporal." I sprang from the bunk. "Sorry, Corporal. Lost track o' time."

"Hoped you weren't pressing sheets there, lad." The Corporal stared me down with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Nah, Corporal, just got back from a scoff-on."

"Those wetnoses, where are they now?" The striper looked around for the five as if expecting them to be hidden underneath their bunks.

"I sent them to scrub underneath their fingernails, Corporal. They were polishin' boots. Can't 'ave that on parade."

"No, Private, they'd get detention."

"Yes, Corporal."

"So, you're wondering what I want. Well…" The Corporal leant closer. "Word is we move up to the line tonight. 1 Neria will not be shipping back with the Cadians to their homeworld."

"Tonight? I thought the lieutenant said…"

"The lieutenant is an officer. They've got their own world. You've got yours. The lance jacks, the fullscrews and the sergeants, they're the bridge between the worlds."

"Yes, Corporal."

"We watch everyone coming in." The corporal placed an elbow on Erkki's blanket. "Real gang of reprobates and good-for-nothings."

"Yes, Corporal."

"Look, d'you want the half-section or what? I'll plant the stripe on your shoulder now you've gotta see about keeping it. It'll be yakka from here on – hard bloody work – and I want those five kept in line. Make sense?"

"I don't want responsibility, Corporal."

"Neither did I but you'll be wanting the payrise, won't you? Access to the NCO's Mess too?"

"Why me?"

"We watch everyone coming in." The corporal straightened his beret and flicked a finger at my parka. "Nice buckshee coat you got there, Lance Corporal. I'd wear the camo on the outside for now and the white when it snows."

"Snows?"

"That's all."

Lance corporal? Shit.

The announcement went out after dinner that evening that all Cadian units were being shipped back to Cadia. Five division's worth of men, 125 000 Guardsmen. 1 Neria, attached to 51st Cadian Brigade, would remain on Nemtess without the Cadian units.

"Between the hours of 2100 and 2230, there will be an entertainments' venue showing in the theatre."

"Hello." Martti raised his chin from his hands.

"Assembly in your respective billets no later than 2300. That's all."

"Cheggers." I jostled Staf's arm. "D'you get that?"

"Well, don't get it on me." Staf's head jerked upwards. "Ow!"

"Oh, you awake now, Staf?" Jussi withdrew his boot from Staf's shin.

"Aah, it'll be a holo. Prob'ly be a holo, won't it?" Antti said to Erkki.

"Siege of Armageddon again I reckon. Seen it four times already."

"They Died Standing?"

"Twice."

"You seen any of them, James?"

"No, Martti, I 'aven't." I gathered my bowl and tray and stood up.

Antti and Erkki continued through their list of viewed holos even outside the mess. "Commissar Raivel? I like the actress in that."

"Erm… I'm still not sure whether that's s'posed to be a comedy or not."

"I think Satire's the word you're lookin' for, Antti," Staf said, tapping his brow. "Mmm, smarts."

"Could never take a commissar seriously anyway, let alone a WC. I mean, what sorta commissar gets in a contact with us grunts, with a fucking sword no less! She'd get zipped from four-hundred yards out. Fucking .338's the way to go."

"Or an M36."

"NLI don't get lasguns, Erkki. We're poor."

"So these are… holos the lads like a natter about?" I flicked my thumb over my shoulder at Staf, Jussi, Antti, and Erkki. "Any good?"

"Nah. You never seen any?"

"One or two back home in Willans Ferry whenever the moving screen came through town. Once every six months that."

"Well, this'll be good for ya, James. Stick with us."

The theatre was an open pit housing around a hundred people sitting on crates and boxes. An inert projector sat at the back of the theatre. "Spared no expense 'ere then…" I wiggled my rump on to a damp crate. A few tiny snowflakes landed upon my shoulders. The other piled up on boxes around me. Martti's knee jiggled.

"Time is it?"

"'Bout twenty past."

Voices grew louder. A hiss followed a metallic pop. "Shit, someone's going wet." Jussi pushed his hand against Staf's shoulder and stood up on his box. A can soared above heads and struck the edge of a box. Brown liquid sprayed a group of grunts with yellow and blue flashes on their shoulders; logistics troops. Boxes scraped across the ground. Two snuffies, stains on their tunics, stood up. "Who threw that?"

The voices fell away. A Nerian grunt rose from his own crowd. "NLI!"

"Shit." Staf slipped off his box and sidled across to the other side of the theatre. Jussi, Antti, and Erkki quickly followed. Nerians picked their way to one side, and the rear-echelon snuffies moved to the other.

"James." Martti pinched my sleeve. The Nerians and the snuffies formed a semi-circle around the belligerents. Boots shoved crates aside, clearing a space.

"Fucking hell. It's kicking off…" I slipped back through the wall of Nerian shoulders and joined Martti and Jussi behind the taller grunts. Staf, Antti, and Jussi remained in the forefront, staring down the snuffies. Berets were stuffed inside jackets. Grunts unbuttoned cuffs and rolled sleeves.

"C'mon, James, let's go."

"Hang on." Jussi ran to the projector and jerked the small cord of the generator. At the engine's cough, heads turned. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon." Jussi pushed his tongue against the inside of his lower lip and turned on the projector. A brilliant white square appeared on the screen. Jussi walked in to the centre of the theatre and held his hand up to the stream of light. A couple of grunts laughed at the bird shapes Jussi made.

"Alright, Jussi!" someone hooted.

"Know any other tunes?"

"Yeah, do a titan or summat!"

"So, there's this girl I knew on Haven. Shit, you never seen a girl like that!" The shadows became two legs, spread wide apart. "And I had to get me a piece o' that pussy." An erect penis, quivering, replaced the legs. "And now I'm here on Nemesis Tessera." The penis went limp. Laughter rippled through the Nerians and snuffies. "But then this girl." The legs reappeared and the penis began to rise, fall, then rise again. Cheers sprang from both parties. "I'd trek fourteen-hundred klicks in to the Eye of Terror just to hear her piss over the vox." Cheers reverberated through the groups. Nerians and snuffies rushed to stick their hands in the projector's path. Conversation resumed. Jussi broke from the growing mob and smiled at us. "C'mere, ya daft cunt." Staf wrapped his arm around Jussi's neck and rubbed his knuckles across Jussi's scalp. "We staying or going?" Staf looked at me. Doesn't look like they're showing tonight.

"Say goodbye to warm beds, showers an' hot scoff lads, 'cause you won't find any up in the bondo," a lifer said to the six of us as we struggled back to the billet through the slush.

"See that? Lifers aren't just officers and noncoms, they're all in the same boat. It's us and them," I said.

"I met an officer. Didn't seem a terrible fella," Martti said.

"That weren't Meinerz, was it?" I tugged on the collar of my parka. "Was he wearing one o' these?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Only he was with another officer doin' officer things."

"Who's that then?"

"Tall fella, dark hair. Shiny boots and a greatcoat. Think his name was Kaukasios or summat."

"Met the bastard, I did. Now that's a lifer, so I thought."

"Yeah… he's C-for-Cain's new OC, if my ears weren't mugging me off."

"Shut up." I sneered. "How's a weasel like him bag a teeth unit? He couldn't find the buttons for his fly, let alone lead a company o' grunts." And Titus is gonna grow up to be just like him. I ground my teeth. The swine.

"Money, innit?" Jussi pushed a finger against his nose and snorted. "These lifers like a bit o' wampum changing hands, don't they?"

"Lifers sound like a bunch of self-serving, opportunistic money-grabbers honestly," Staf said.

"Our new lance jack's even starting to sound like one now," Antti whispered.

"Our new lance jack's gonna yack to his fullscrew if you keep on that ragging tone, Antti." Erkki dug his elbow in to Antti's ribs.

"Rat me out, would he?"

"Still 'aven't sewn me stripe on yet, Antti, and noncoms aren't s'posed to lay hands on privates."

"Oh, you want some?"

"How 'bout we all just calm down with some Craphand before assembly eh?" Martti flicked the top of Antti's ear.

"How 'bout we just get ready for jump-off tonight? He weren't dicking around, the corporal. They'll drag us up to the line regardless 'ow ready we are." I tightened my parka's belt. "The Crotch don't run at your convenience…"

"God, he's on about the Crotch again. D'you think he's compensating for something?" Jussi bent over his folded arms and guffawed. "You're not itching to tell us something, are ya?"

"Itching! Fucking good one, mate."

"Ignore 'em," Martti said.

"Ignore 'em? They can say what they want, long as it's not in front of any stripes or lifers. Couldn't care less. NLI was it?"

"Nerian Light Infantry, yeah. Nothing special. Fucking rear-echelon bastards think they're better than us." Martti stamped on the ground. "Wrong!"

"Yeah, that's exactly why we're staying 'ere whilst the Cadians slink off home. Pass me a light, would ya?"

"Sure thing."

"Lads, make sure none o' you shine any lights when we're off-base, alright?" I waved my cigarette at the lads.

"So, can we shine lights on-base?"

"Fly a fuckin' light-show if you want…" One of the lads slurped on something. "Oi, you got something there for me?"

"No." Antti tossed a can out in to the road.

"Fucking hell, Antti, that better not be what I thunk it was."

"I thunk?"

"Alright, Antti, he won't rat you out." Erkki dropped a can behind him. "Lance jacks get the real bollocking if their grunts fuck up."

"Chain of command, innit?" I stepped closer to Antti. "Captain rails the subaltern. Subaltern pokes the sarn't. Sarn't kicks the fullscrew. Fullscrew bites the lance jack." Erkki got down on all-fours behind Antti.

"Yeah?" Antti raised his eyebrows.

"And the lance jack…" I gave Antti a push. Antti fell backwards and tumbled over his brother. "…Shoves the private." I picked the single stripe from my parka's pocket and spread it over my sleeve. "Ah-ah-ah. No laying hands on noncoms, Private."

"Aww, you grox-fucker." Antti batted Erkki's hand away and picked himself up. Mud ran up Antti's left sleeve and trouserleg. "Suck a fat one, why dontcha?"

"Suck a fat one, Lance Corporal."

"Aw, he's had that stripe on his arm for five seconds and he's already a cunt."

I clapped Martti on the shoulder. "Back to the billet now, lads. Iggery-like."

Patches of oily smoke wreathed Izuru Numerial, staining her white skin. "Why?" I gazed across the waste at the figure. "The Vardans were my friends. Taught me how to survive. How d'you repay something like that?"

Izuru spoke. Her mouth remained closed. The twin beacons in her eyes extinguished. "Let blood meet blood." She drew her robe back. Blood oozed from perforations in her chest, spilling from bullet wounds, running down her arms and dripping from her fingertips. "Yours is a blood-soaked shadow."

An elbow pushed against my hip. "Pwoar! Who's done a smelly one?"

"Oh, what?" I stretched my shoulders and arched my back. Elbows pressed against me.

"Oi, open the hatch. Someone's dropped one."

"Martti!"

"Nah, that's enough."

"Fuck off."

"Lemme out!" A grunt – Jussi – clambered over legs and around rifles.

"Take your gat, don't just leave it." The corporal in charge of the section picked up Jussi's IM rifle and thrust it after him. "Private, do as your told. Somebody pop the hatch."

C'mon, Jussi, use your loaf. I picked up my own rifle by the handguard and carried it to the hatch. "Jussi, press the button." Jussi hammered the hatch-release. "Aw, that's good." I swapped my ceramite for my crap hat. "Have I got a red line 'round my forehead? I 'ave 'aven't I?"

"Ohhh…" Jussi stumbled around the Chimera's flank and squatted. I leant against the track's flank, my back to the open rear hatch. A dim red light, cast from tiny bulkhead lamps inside the passenger compartment, provided the only illumination for the ten other men to see. I kept one ear open to the animated chatter, the other alert for any indicators that our journey up to the bondo would be stepping off. "Picked a good time to throw up, Jussi."

"I'm not sick, I'm constipated. It's that pink horror they make us eat!"

"Pink horror," I snorted. "That and hot char is what the Crotch runs on." I leant around the corner. "Corporal?"

"Uh?"

"What time is it?"

"…Breathing sweat in here," the corporal's voice came from the sweat-box. "It's half-past midnight."

"It's only been two hours?" Staf wafted his hand around his head. Ceramites sat in laps and balanced on muzzles. Grunts mopped brows and tugged at the collars of their flak jackets underneath their parkas.

"You alright there, Private?"

"Sir." I straightened up. "Stand up, Jussi, it's Mister Meinerz."

"Having problems?" Meinerz leant against the track.

"Bowel trouble, sir."

"Yeah, we're all in the same boat, Private. Subalterns eat what you eat."

"How's that, sir? It's a whole different world with them pips on your shoulder, isn't it?"

Meinerz scratched his chin. "Hmm."

Somewhere in the darkness a jet took off. All around was the low rumble of soldiers conversing. The ends of cigarettes glowed.

"Oi, Corporal, can we close the hatch now? It's bloody freezing."

"They're off again, sir. Couldn't breathe a minute ago, now their balls are dropping off."

"Really?" Meinerz placed a boot on the hatch. "Won't be long now, lads. Sit tight."

"Sir, we've been sitting hours. What's the hold-up?" Martti spun his cover around.

"Well, I'm waiting for the OC, and he's waiting for the transport officer to give him the green light to go. I might get a brew going if I were you." Meinerz wandered away.

The corporal fitted his ceramite and stood up. "Alright debus, lads. Who's got the hexy?"

Within minutes, the section of constipated, sweaty grunts was hunched around the foldable stove, each one waiting for his fill. "This is the last brew-up you'll ever take with the open sky above you, lads. If you want a brew-up, do it inside a dugout. Smokers do your thing underneath a tent-quarter or poncho. And you know what, I don't even want anybody even flashing their teeth. Make sense?"

"Yes, Corporal," the grunts murmured. Foldout mess tins hovered around the coiling finger of smoke.

"Aaah, wonders…" The corporal blew on the deep brown liquid inside his tin. "You'll see soon, young sprogs, the Imperial Guard runs on a concoction of tea and promethium."

"Sprinkle a bit o' saltpetre on it and you've got something going." Jussi balanced his tin on one knee.

"Who said that?" Heads turned towards Jussi.

"Oh, my dad works in a mine."

"Not his chosen profession I hope?"

"No-no, he's had twenty-two years' worth of handling explosives. He doesn't actually mine anything, he blows passages for the workers." Jussi rose. "I can recognise saltpetre when I see it. It's in our hydration tablets."

"Erm, what's saltpetre for anyway?" Erkki blew on his tea and sipped from the steel rim. "And who's this Peter fella?"

The corporal and Jussi exchanged amused glances. "Stops you getting wood."

"No!" Staf laughed.

Antti's tea sloshed inside his tin. "Why would they not want us to get a fucking hard? I don't want to get laughed at by FGs."

"Well there'll be no female grunts where you're going, Private."

"I meant female PWs."

The section's murmuring dropped away. "So, there's this girl I knew—"

"Oh shuddup!" Antti flicked his tea at Jussi. Both grunt's rifles and mess tins dropped. Jussi dove for Antti and dragged him over.

"Break it up! Come on." I pushed my half-empty tin at Martti and slammed my hands upon Jussi's shoulders. "Jussi, leave him alone!"

"Commissar?" The corporal called over his shoulder. Jussi and Antti broke from their embrace and scrambled to their feet.

"Commissar, where?" Jussi dived for his rifle and empty mess tin.

"Shit." Antti scooped up his rifle and cradled it. "Corporal?"

The corporal ambled over, still bearing his mess tin. "Next time there will be a commissar, you two. This spat stays here on-base. Once we're up in the bondo, save hate for the enemy. D'you want me to bring the sergeant over?"

"No, Corporal."

"No, Corporal."

"Right then. Shake hands and sort your kit out. Char's still warm if you need a refill."

"Alright, mate?"

"Yeah." Jussi and Antti shook.

"Now kiss." Erkki chuckled.

"Kiss me arse."

"Already have done when Mum plopped us out." Erkki flicked Antti's ear.

"Drink up, son." The corporal clinked his mess tin against mine. "Be away awhile, we will. Hot scoff and char are gonna become a delicacy."

God, he never even had to raise his voice. He's more of a leader than I'll ever be.

Who in the Warp is responsible for this calamity? Captain Max Kaukasios's drummed his heel on the floor of his Wolf utility vehicle. "Sergeant Major, I need an explanation." Kaukasios smacked the handset of the Wolf's onboard 319 in his palm.

"Sir, I am currently out of communication with our convoy's TO."

"Well… check on the platoons. I don't want anybody wandering off before we leave. Not you, Sergeant Major. Commissar Kazel."

On the passenger seat beside the sergeant major, a commissar in scarf and greatcoat sat. "Captain, I have made a run through the platoons twice already." Kazel drew a handkerchief and blew his nose.

"Well, damn you, do it again. Morale slackens without the Commissariat's presence." Kaukasios ran a hand over his smoothed-back hair. "It is all they understand these dogs, a firm tongue and the lash of the whip."

Kazel's door opened, a loud creaking of leather followed. "Emperor almighty…"

"We've been stationary for two and a half hours," Kaukasios muttered.

"Yes, sir, we have," said the sergeant major.

"Hold." Kaukasios tossed his swagger stick to his driver and pushed open his door. He walked a few paces, stopped, and unbuttoned his greatcoat and the five layers he wore underneath. Confound it. Kaukasios pulled off his gloves with his teeth.

"Not interrupting, am I?"

Kaukasios, leather stuffed in his mouth, snarled. "Lieutenant!"

"Is that your commissar I just passed? He's been along the vehicles twice."

Kaukasios spat his gloves away from the soaked patch of earth. "You know as well as I do, Lieutenant, a lance corporal outranks a commissar but respect is still given to our Commissariat representative no matter the rank." Kaukasios buttoned up and stooped and picked up his gloves. "A commissar is a useful tool. Keep it closely by your side if you value advancement in the ranks."

"Have you been in combat before, Captain?" Meinerz folded his arms and leant against the Wolf. "Any previous deployments?"

"Why did you not approach me in the mess? We could have discussed it in a civilised place instead of out here. You do pick your moments, Lieutenant. I assume your captain asked you the same question when you arrived at the battalion."

"No, sir, he didn't say anything. He just wanted me in and out like the other nine subalterns who came before me."

"Nine subalterns? How often does the division rotate junior officers in and out of combat?"

"They were Renk, sir."

"Renk?"

"That's VP for KIA, sir."

"VP?"

"…Sir, VP stands for Voice Procedure, it's how you communicate over the vox-net."

"Yes, um, thank you, Lieutenant." Kaukasios straightened his cap. I knew that of course.

"Sir, have you spoken to the sergeants at all?"

"This mothering of the non-commissioned officers is unbecoming of an officer, Lieutenant. We do not mix with either non-commissioned officers or the other ranks."

"Sir, I'll say this with modest respect, if you wish for a successful career, liaise with the company's NCOs, listen to their concerns and respect their experience. They've been doing this longer than you have, sir. They know what the grunts are capable of."

"And what grounds would you place this on, Lieutenant?"

"I've been doing this longer than you, sir—"

"And do you regularly break the rules with superior officers, Lieutenant Meinerz?"

"There are no rules out there, sir."

"You'd dare…" Kaukasios's voice dropped. "Dare to undermine me. I shall have the commissar make an example of you."

"I would dare, yeah. Sir, it's very much in our interest to keep this company in one piece. Now, we're going to be working very closely in the bondo you and I, and the battalion commander is gonna be watching—"

"Good." Kaukasios flipped the leather cover from his chrono and checked the time. "D'you have anything else? Anything constructive, Lieutenant?"

"Well, sir, we have men heading in to the combat zone without adequate winter clothing."

"I will not waste time mothering Imperial Guardsmen, Lieutenant Meinerz! They're all tough men, they can bear a bit of cold weather."

Meinerz's breath clouded his face. "Perhaps if the OC went out of his way to ensure a little bit more comfort reached his men it would do wonders for first impressions."

"Hmph. On friendly terms with the men are we?"

"Captain, if you'd take this bit of advice. Respect goes both ways."

The 319 squawked. "Hullo, Niner …"

"It's for you." Meinerz shoved his hands in his pockets and drifted back in the direction of the platoons.

"Sir, for you, sir." The driver held the receiver out to Kaukasios.

"This is Niner."

"Hullo, Niner. This is Zero. You are cleared for the off."

"Zero. Niner. Received and understood. Over."

"Roger, Niner. Out."

Kaukasios passed the receiver to the driver and climbed in to the Wolf. "Start the engine and proceed."

"Yes, sir."

Kaukasios's ears shut out the loud grumble the cold engine gave as it turned over several times before coughing into life. He sat back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest. Respect goes both ways. God-Emperor!

The door behind Kaukasios slammed, jiggling the Wolf. "All platoons are back onboard the Chimeras, Captain."

"Any misdemeanours?"

"I couldn't tell."

"Couldn't tell?"

"It's dark out there, Captain."

Kaukasios put his face in his hands. Idiots. Morons. Fools.

The convoy halted briefly before the concrete barricades in front of the razorwire-covered checkpoint inside the main gate. "Cain Company, Nerian Light Infantry. Open the gate, Corporal."

"Yes, sir. One moment please." The guard ducked inside a pillbox. He returned a moment later. "Yes, sir. You're cleared to proceed."

Kaukasios wound up his window. "Proceed." The Wolf nosed through the chokepoints and passed through the gateway and across a scissor-bridge spanning a stake-lined trench. Kaukasios stared off in to the nothing. The leather of his gloves creaked. See me now, Father. I am the man you made me.

"…did a Grandslam that night, got the worst tongue-lashing I ever seen – didn't know it was possible for someone to be that ill. Then, next mornin' after he cleaned it all up, he found a massive rash on his piece. Said he couldn't go back on duty, that he still had a 'run'."

"That's the only kind of discharge you get in the Guard."

"So, what happened to him?" Antti said.

"Got his balls blown off next deployment – cured his run though."

"Damn dirty whores. Can never find a clean one anywhere you go."

"Yeah, shame 'bout that. Little blonde cutie, perfect in every way, only she had about half a dozen diseases from other men who'd fucked her."

"Blonde, hmm…" Antti nodded. "Can't go much wrong with that."

"'Cept when she's carrying."

"Oh, I use protection."

"Nah not me. I like to live dangerously."

"Living with a dangerous itch, uh?"

"Get you…" A boot shot at Antti's knee.

"What d'you think, Corp?"

"'Bout what?"

"Yellow or brown hair."

"Red to match their temperament."

A collective 'Ooohh' went around the compartment. I kept my mouth shut and my .338 between my knees. Don't think I've ever seen a red-haired girl before.

Martti, squashed in between me and Erkki, wriggled forwards. "Can we open the window, Corporal?"

"It's an armoured car, Martti. There are no windows back here." Erkki punched the back of Martti's body armour and pulled him back in to his seat by his hood.

I propped my .338 against Martti's leg. "Corporal, I'm gonna get some air."

"Well, don't get stuck in the turret 'cause I'm not pulling you out."

A pair of armour plates surrounded a large automatic weapon poking out of the open turret. I slipped behind the grunt's legs and climbed up behind him. "Whoa, it's a one-man deal this!" The gunner cried.

"Yeah, just need some air, that's all. Boiling down there." The brim of my cover clacked against the back of the gunner's cover.

"Oh, steady on! Hope that's your rifle poking me there."

"S'alright, Private. My spear's down below wi' the others. Anything happening up 'ere?"

"Well, I was working on my next sonnet until a lance jack rose from the nethers and started shooting a line."

"Eh, speaking o' shooting. Nice shooter."

"She's zipped eighteen Zeke; all confirmed too. Always wondered what a Fifty could do to a person. I've seen it destroy walls and boulders like they were made o' paper. On personnel it's a real beast. Pops off heads and arms like ripe fruit. Beautiful."

"Oh!" The track lurched, throwing me against the gunner and the gunner against the Fifty. "Sorry, mate."

"Why we stopped?" The gunner took the Fifty's spade grips and swung the turret to the nine o'clock position. "C'mon, mate, give us some room. It's gonna get loud in a sec."

"Corp, what's going on? Why've we stopped?"

"I dunno, Corporal. Something's up. Erkki, budge up." I sat back down and planted the butt of my rifle between my feet. Glances flitted around the section. A grunt's jaw worked up and down, his mouth open.

"Shut the fuck up!" The corporal leant forwards and jabbed his finger at the floor. Gloved hands tightened around handguards. Rubber heels squeaked on the steel floor plate. The noise of the idling engine died away. I loosened my collar and rubbed my neck.

Stones struck the track's flank, hammering upon the plating. I jumped and thrust my head between my knees. "It's alright. That's just rifle-fire. Get that hatch lowered, Private." The corporal dragged heads out from between knees. "Safeties off. Charge those rifles. Prepare to debus!"

The Fifty thudded. Muzzle flash brightened the gunner. Steel belt links and brass casings tumbled down from the turret and piled up on the floor.

"Martti, pick your rifle up." I tugged at Erkki's arm. "Erkki, stand up." Helmets knocked together. Rifle barrels became entangled in slings. Boots trod on toes.

"Come on. Get that fucking ramp down!"

The banging of the Fifty fell. "Corporal!" The gunner collapsed in the turret and slithered down in to the troop compartment. Blood stained his right shoulder and dribbled from his cuff. His cover cracked upon the floor.

"See to the Oley then man that weapon." The corporal seized my shoulder and hauled me through the grunts to the base of the turret. "On the command… debus!"

"Sorry, mate." I knelt in front of the gunner. "Anything I can do?"

"Shut up and get that gun up!" The gunner ripped a field dressing packet open with his teeth and shook the rolled gauze out. "Get that fucking gun up!"

"Er…" I took the gunner's position and found the Fifty's spade grips. Yellow-green tracer zipped through the air around the tracks. Muzzle-flashes sparked across the distant hillside. A hammer-blow banged against the turret just beneath the Fifty. I yelped and ducked beneath the grips.

"Give it a yank."

"Uh?"

"Give the cocking handle a yank then you're good to go!" My hand found a wood cylinder poking from the right side of the receiver and jerked it as far back as it would go then let it fly forwards. "You're on! Put fire on that hillside and watch for friendlies beneath you."

"Shit." I tilted the Fifty's barrel up. Where's the trigger?

"Spread out. Get in line. Wait for the command!" The corporal pushed and shoved the grunts in to a ragged line. "Stand up!"

"Press the paddle!"

Paddle? My thumbs depressed a paddle between the spade grips. Muzzle flash blinded me. A split-second bang deafened me.

"Don't stop. Short bursts!"

"Fuck." Rounds walked across the Chimera's body. I pressed the trigger and squeezed one eye shut. My hands, arms, and body buzzed. My clenched teeth chattered. Streaks of brilliant pink light arced through the sky. A whistle shrieked.

"Marching fire!" the corporal bellowed. Grunts walked forwards, letting loose with .338s. A torrent of single shots crackled along the line. Fifties thudded. Autocannons booms. "Walk! Walk!" The line rippled as grunts got ahead of one another. I hunched over the Fifty's sights and squinted through the aperture. God, what a firework display! Pink and green light intermingled in a chaotic medley. Belt links and smoking casings poured from the receiver. The Fifty fell silent. I yanked on the cocking handle and a casing spat from the gun. My thumbs touched the paddle. Smoke rose from the barrel. The green tracer departed, leaving only our pink lighting up the night sky. Between a burst, a whistle sounded; three short, sharp blasts. Is that it? My hands remained glued to the grips. Where did they go?

A flash lit up the far end of the line of grunts. Bodies soared in to the air. Flecks of earth pelted the armour around me and spattered me in the face. I ducked, dragging the Fifty down with me. What the fuck was that? A mortar?

Silence returned. "Medic, help! It's Jussi!"

"Jussi's hit!"

"Medic, please!"

"Jussi?" I let go of the Fifty and leant out of the turret. "Oh no…"