"Men, the situation is grave. These men have been fighting for nigh on 2 months and it's a bloody stalemate. We hope that your troops will be what is needed to break the back of this Waaagh. You know your tasks and may the Emperor protect you and your troops." Commissar Conna Dalvar stood as Commander Xandros gave a curt nod, the other men beginning to file out. Conna was about to join them, but someone called her name, making her turn.

"You must be Commissar Dalvar! I heard about you bold attack on a xeno dreadnaught and I think it was very brave. My name is Rizelle Darius. I'm honored to meet such an esteemed hero of the Imperium!" Conna looked askance at her, and continued her walk.

"I'm coming with you by the way." The words rooted Conna to the spot, a look of pure disbelief written clearly on her face.

"What?"

"Commander Xandros granted permission for me to attach myself to your unit," she said brightly, "I'm coming with you, along with my companion."

"Oh, no, no no," Conna said hurriedly, backing away towards the commander, "Sir, there has to be some sort of mistake. I'm not going to baby-sit a pair of flighty civilians. I just won't do it. Xandros gave a wry chuckle.

"She's not as flighty as she seems, he said with a shake of his head, "And Anna there, she's a mean shot with a bolt pistol." Conna looked skeptically at the slight woman standing eagerly by the door next to her surly companion.

"Let's go," Conna sighed, running her hand through her short, slightly wavy dark hair. "I'll allow this, but if you cause me more trouble than I think your worth I won't hesitate to put a bolt through your skull."

* * *

There was plenty of grumbling when Conna told her men about their new additions. Most of it was along the lines of "Emperor forsaken civilians" and "Don't we do enough babysitting already" but some were more creative. However, when Anna put a bolt through the hat of one of them, they became ghostly quiet.

"Please," she said in a soft, melodic voice, "I'd appreciate it if you'd take me seriously. I can hold my own in a firefight and I know more about orks than the rest of you combined." The men looked at her, stunned into silence by her display of marksmanship. Anna folded her hands and looked at Rizelle. There were a few nodded assents, and Rizelle must have thought it was good enough because she turned to Conna, smiling brightly.

"Shall we?"

* * *

The line was a bloody trench affair. The reek of blood and day-old corpses filled the air making all but the most seasoned veterans gag. When the men heard the thud of feet, they looked up. Their faces were caked in dirt and many sported bloody bandages.

"Arrel, Marks," she called, gesturing to two of the medics in her squad, "Looks like we were wise to bring extra supplies. You know the drill." The two men hoisted the extra packs and slid down into the trench.

"Who's in charge here?"

A battered major greeted Conna and her men, leading them through the winding maze of muddy pits. They were taken to what passed as command headquarters. It was really more of a reinforced hole in the wall of a particularly secluded trench. A table and chairs were arraigned in a loose circle, maps and a vox-caster rested on the table. The men stood in a small cluster outside, talking quitly among themselves.

"You have no idea how much of wonder the reports of reinforcements been for morale," the Major said with a sigh. "No one has any idea what's really going on. It's hard enough keeping those beasts from overrunning our lines and communications are patchy at best and non-existent at worst. Fresh troops are more of a blessing than you can guess. I'm Major Joseph Alimar, by the way, Jocasta 17th." Conna nodded.

"Commissar Conna Dalvar. Anderican 23rd." She began pouring over the maps and tactical information, trying to figure out where her men would be most useful. "Where do you need us?" she asked. "I have twelve squads with me, along with extra supplies."

"I need most of your men up front in these trenches," he said, pointing to a set of lines with green markers not far from them. "The orks are right up on them and we've taken the heaviest casualties there. We've thinned our men out to the breaking point and fresh troops are desperately needed."

"I'll send my men right away," Conna said with a curt nod. "The Emperor protects."

* * *

It was clear that Major Alimar wasn't lying about the poor state of morale. There was a haggard look about them, the result of two bloody, unproductive months of war. They greeted Conna's men with subdued smiles and pats on the back. Rizelle, who had been armed before they came planet-side, was met with catcalls until Anna made her opinion of them quite clear with a well-placed shot. Anna, herself, had little trouble, her military fatigues and dark glower making it clear that anyone who looked at her wrong was in danger. It wasn't long until the first wave of orks threatened their lines.

It started with a rather startling bombardment. A group of orks came with what looked like grenade launchers, but when they fired, it what came out were gretchins, the pesky little sub-orks that were used as both live ammo and slave work. They were shot directly into the trench, where they wrecked havoc with sharp teeth and even sharper blades.

Conna felt her leg being gnawed at and lashed out. The gretchin that was biting her flew out of the trench, colliding with another gretchin in mid flight. The creatures gave out a high-pitched squeal and fell to the ground, soon to be run over by a very curious device that seemed to be a unicycle with a Gatling gun attached to either side. Conna was quite mystified as to how they worked and said so as she picked off the unsheltered riders with well-placed shots.

"It's called Waaagh mentality," chirped Rizelle, who had stuck to Conna like glue, popping up at her elbow at the most annoying times. "If enough orks believe it will work, it will work, simple as that. It's the pinnacle of ork technology. Explains those horrid monstrosities they call ships doesn't it?" Conna sighed, focusing on aiming and not paying attention to the chirpy voice beside her. "Those orks are very inventive. They can slap anything together and will have a war machine. My studies have shown that they rely on paint for things like speed and aiming. Apparently the red ones go faster and the blue ones are lucky."

"Be quiet," Conna said irritably, waving one hand at Rizelle. "I can't focus with you blabbing in my ear." Rizelle went quiet, nervously shifting her eyes between Conna's gun and the horde of orks pressing in on them. As silence fell, Conna could hear the orkish chanting swell. It was clear that they were preparing to charge, bikes revving and guns clicking as ammo was loaded.

"Steady men," Conna warned, "It looks like we're going to have company down here soon." The long-range attacks petered off, giving the men a much needed breather to prepare for the main assault. Buggers know nothing about strategy, thought Conna grimly. Good thing too, or we'd be frakked a million times over. Conna loosened her chainsword in its sheath, preparing it for easy withdrawal. She heard the orkish chanting reach a deafening crescendo, and then, bellowing as one, the orks charged.

The Guardsmen met their change with a charge of their own pouring out of the trenches like rats. Much to Conna's surprise, a red motorcycle broke from the rest of the pack, only to crush a guardsman and send its rider flying in the process. The ork was shot out of the air by disciplined fire, torn to pieces in a hail of lasers.

"See," Rizelle said, a hint of satisfaction in her voice, "The red ones do go faster."

* * *

For three weeks, Conna and her men slugged through mud, dead bodies and oppressive heat. The orks were a resilient foe that constantly evolved their strategies and equipment. It made for a hellish experience. One day, just as they were digging in for the night, gretchin air raiders threw Molotov bombs on the camp from what looked like hang gliders with small engines on the end of them. They were fast and maneuverable, and almost impossible to shoot down. When they hit a person, the oils clung to skin, burning many so badly that they had to be sent back for further aid. Supplies were destroyed and it took 3 days for the army to be ready to move again. It was taxing. Conna was dirty, unbearably hot during the day and freezing at night and she had a bad case of fleas and head lice. But slowly but surely, the orks were being beaten back.

Conna was preparing for a final attack when Rizelle entered her tent, Anna at her heels.

"What is it?" Conna asked without looking up from her map.

"I have a bit of advice for this upcoming battle," She said, coming and standing by the table.

"What on earth do you know about battles?" Conna said, looking up skeptically.

"Absolutely nothing," she said cheerfully, "But as I've said before I know a lot about orks. You have to go for the biggest ork you see. That's the leader, get it? If you can kill the head man they'll just end up fighting among themselves. That will effectively break the back of the waaagh and then we can all go home."

"You knowledge of orks is rather astounding," Conna said, looking long and hard at Rizelle. She had proved to be right about everything she said in regards to orks and Conna was a bit suspicious. "That kind of knowledge could be considered heresy by a more conservative person. What is stopping me from calling the Inquisition down on your head?"

"Calling the Inquisition?" Conna started as Anna walked up to her, a dark smirk on her face. Hanging from her hand was a gold Inquisitorial I, the blood red gems twinkling faintly in the lamp-light. "I AM the Inquisition."

"But…"Conna sputtered, wide eyes tracking the swaying icon. "But what are you doing here?"

"What I'm doing here is absolutely none of your business!" She snapped, grey eyes flashing. She took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Look, If you so much as breathe a word to anyone about this I will call the Inquisition down on your head without a second thought. May the Emperor Protect you." Conna just stared as Anna strode out of the tent, Rizelle at her heels.

Holy shit! Conna thought as she watched Rizelle's retreating back. No one expects the Imperial Inquisition!