It's been a while, but I'm still working on it.

Under Dust

A towering figure screamed a metallic, rage-filled roar as it charged from the dust cloud. Joined in a crescendo of revving chain blades and scraping crimson armour alongside jangling chains. It was joined by screams of fear as we turned to open fire on the 9 foot tall monstrosity of a man. Assuming it was a man at all. Its outline showed massive pouldrens and horns with spikes coming from the horrific armour. Most details were hidden behind a curtain of shifting sand. It shrugged off damage as it reached the nearest guardsmen. Bringing down both blades the creature turned the man before it into minced gristle, bone and flak armour. Not taking time to slow down it turned, throwing a blade at another fellow infantryman. The woman who received the axe shrieked in agony as the blade continued to tear into her flesh and bones with brutal efficiency. It passed the corpse of the guardswoman, ripping the blade from the now split body. Following it up it charged a rocket launcher team, twirling with ballerina like grace as it carved both guardsmen in twain. Wretched organs and viscera tumbled to the ground with the disemboweled corpses. The sandstorm withered and gave way to a creature covered in skulls. Ork skulls, human skulls, mutant skulls and skulls which I could not recognise. Its armour was soaked in fresh blood swirling with brown dried blood, with glimpses of brass. It had a large, metal backpack which had racks of more skulls alongside other trinkets. It was the same creature that killed Sergeant Wesly.

"RUN FOR IT!" The order's origin was unknown but it was followed swiftly as we ran from the creature. All exempt one man, who stood like a statue in the chaos. He had unslung his lasgun and fixed his bayonet.

"COME ON!" Jackson's voice was filled with unfiltered hatred as he raised his lasgun and fired at the creature. The monster slowly turned in his direction.

"I'M NOT AFRAID OF YOU! KILL ME!" The lumbering behemoth approached him, its chain axes slowed to a stop as it sauntered in Jackson's direction.

"KILL ME!" Jackson's efforts were for naught as the creature didn't flinch as the pelting of his lasgun. When the creature was close enough Jackson lunged with his bayonet. Dropping its weapons, the creature bent the blade in half before reaching for Jackson's head.

"KILL MEAAAAGH!" The sight made my stomach churn as the creature, using its bare hands, ripped Jackson's head from his shoulders. I've heard the screams of the dead and dying before but this was not the same. His voice gargled as blood from the ripped flesh poured down his throat. The sickening rip of skin echoed in the winds. It ended with a sudden crack as his skull left his spine. Jackson's headless body stood still, then dropped into the sand. The creature promptly impaled his skull on a hook hanging from a chain. As if Jackson's skull meant more than the other guardsmen it just killed. The land mine didn't go off.

"JACKSON!" My scream didn't go unnoticed as the creature reared its vision slits in my direction. As I turned to run I felt a force grab my leg, sending me flat on my belly. Looking down one of the mutated bushes had clasped around my foot. The creature slowly knelt and picked up its weapons. I reached for my bayonet to uproot the bush. Suddenly an explosion kicked up the dust as the land mine went off. It was no anti-infantry mine, the mushroom cloud was tall and full. With a sense of minor relief I began stabbing at the bush, but I heard the grumble penetrate the cloud.

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!" I looked up to the clearing sand to see the beast standing with weapons in hand. Chunks of armour were taken off but it still looked like bloodlust incarnated. It sauntered in my direction. I looked to my lasgun.

"SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!" I desperately clawed for my lasgun. Lying just out of reach of my finger tips. I could hear the approaching thumps as metallic boots stomped into the flat sand. I got my fingers around the sling and pulled it towards me.

"DEATH TO THE FALSE EMPEROR!" The roaring blades swirled as if they were centimetres from my ear. The shadow of death loomed over me as I put my hand on the grip and rolled onto my back. Taking the lasgun in two hands I aimed skyward towards the enemy that towered above me. Blood drenched blades dripping down as they were raised above the monstrosities head. With a roar of blind fear, I squeezed the trigger.

The blind flurry of lasgun rounds impacted on the creatures armour but one was the end. Striking between the weak gap between the monster's helmet and chest plate the beam went straight into the neck. I emptied the rest of the charge pack into the creature, all shots proved futile as the creature stood like a statue. As if the body was still registering the death. The roaring of the blades stopped, giving way to my hoarse scream and useless whining of an empty lasgun. I ceased when the creature's armour groaned and it was brought to the ground. The thud made everything seem silent.

My chest heaved as my lungs greedily sucked oxygen down my gas mask filter. I dropped my lasgun and just lay there. The emotions inside me jumbled and fought. I felt relief at the fact I hadn't lost my life. I giggled in happiness as I felt the claws of death loosen from me. Jackson, a man I had grown up with, invited into my home, played footy with, watched get a girlfriend and had spend over a decade being friends with. A man who fought off the urge to end himself when he lost what he loved. A man who continued his duty despite this all. Was dead. I felt tears trail under my gas mask, as I mourned my mate. My muscles ached all over, my skin stung in the sand, my thighs were chaffed raw, my loins itched with my venereal disease. I was laughing and crying in insane synchronisation as I lay there in that blood soaked sand. Slowly being buried by the storm.

I didn't notice that by the time the tears stopped the sun had risen, I had probably been assumed dead by my platoon. The sandstorm had cleared, baking me in the heat. Flies had already found the bodies and feasted on the decaying flesh. They probably learned bodies won't stay fresh long in the dry heat. They danced on my dirt and blood-covered skin, I didn't have energy to shoo them off. I heard voices in the wind, more unholy hallucinations that had hounded us for months. But it became clearer.

"I fink wez just got a find ere boyz." I didn't need to look to know from the voice and smell it was an ork. The sound of heavy footsteps came closer.

"Got tah be somting good and propa in this lot." The voice was different meaning more than one, and from the scurrying probably more. I knew laying still was my best option for survival. A deep snorting noise could he heard with panting like a dog along with them. It was drowned out with the noise of the chainaxe. I tried my best not to coldly shiver from the sound.

"Looks liok I foun meself a new choppa, aye look dere's anuver one." As this happened the snorting got closer. Revealing itself in my lenses was a creature, best described as an ugly, red ball with a large tooth-filled mouth and two stubby legs. I've heard of squigs but haven't seen one this close. It sniffed me over with yellowish drool dribbling onto my mask.

"GIVE ME UN!" One of the orks yelled demanding one of the chainaxes, based on ork behaviour I could tell where this was going.

"NO! I FOUN IT FURST!" I could hear the fighting but the fact the squig was dragging its tongue across my mask blocked any vision of it.

A chunk of the dumb creatures head exploded as it fell, its tongue hanging out of its gob. Suddenly the greenskins fell silent, in sync with a sound of heavy sacks tumbling to the ground. I shifted to see the fighting orks on the ground with holes in their heads. I still chose not to move, and fell back into my feigned death. It was a while until I perceived voices.

"Fuck, what happened here." My neck was stiff as I slowly looked to my left to see several approaching figures. Stout and small with sniper rifles pointed towards the creature.

"Bloody orks looting our dead…Shit that's…" The voice was familiar, I tried to talk only for my breath to scrape at my throat like meat in a grinder, manifesting as a corse exhale. It failed to gain attention of the ratlings.

"A traitor astartes? I haven't seen once since Cadia…Just to make sure." One of the ratlings shot the monster in the head, I could hear the light patters of small feet on the sand.

"Take their tags, we'll call someone to pick up the bodies? Who killed it?" I dragged my hand out of the sand and sluggishly dragged it in midair. I croaked out another weak cry for help.

"H…Help." The heads of the ratlings turned to me. One ran over and started to dig me up from my temporary grave. His voice was stern, not the usual cheery tone he kept up.

"Bruce? Bro can you hear me? Get his mask off." The voice belonged to Ruru. The others joined him as one worked on pulling my gas mask off. The one doing so was Maia, who took off my helmet and lifted my mask. As that happened Ruru brought a canteen to my mouth. I eagerly gulped down the warm water, it had a weak alcoholic taste to it.

"Can you walk?" Ruru asked as I felt the last of the sand clearing my body, I leant up and pointed at the plant around my ankle.

"You need to cut the…" I looked down to see nothing holding me down, just my standard boots and greaves of my flak armour.

"Never, mind." I stood up and shook the rest of the sand from my uniform, I reached for my water bottle and took several very long swigs. Ruru talked as I got a look at the dead monster before me. I could see the processing of thoughts going through Ruru's head as he looked at me.

"Bruce, do you know what you have done?" Space Marines, I was taught of their deeds as a child with bedtime stories and books at the school library. How they could destroy hundreds of enemies of the emperor and not break a sweat. Or kill with just a glare alone. I stood victorious over a twisted shadow of the Emperor's holy image.

"You have just killed a traitor astartes, one of the most reviled enemies of the Imperium. Space Marines that have turned their back on the Emperor. You have slain one, I've done it too but with a high powered sniper rifle and hours of planning…They're going to see you as more than just a guardsman after this." I looked at Ruru with confusion, by now the other ratlings had scattered and were moving amongst the dead. Removing dogtags from the corpses of the guardsmen that were alive a mere few hours ago. I was confused, or maybe it was the dehydration and shock.

"What do you mean?" He waved me down to his hight. I dropped to one knee and listened closely. He moved close to my ear and whispered into it.

"Guardsmen who kill traitor marines receive a special medal of saint Meleum. Check any medals you receive in the next few weeks." Ruru turned to face his fellow kin as he raised his voice, pointing at one ratling in particular.

"Send a call out to HQ, tell them we've found the supplies and casualties awaiting pickup and a live guardsman." I walked over and looked at the head of Jackson, his mouth hanging open slightly with dry blood on the cuts. The rest of his body was all over the place, this was all that's left. One of the ratlings took out a large brick shaped communications device and began dialling.

"Bro, it's sealed shut." I looked to my right to see the bald ratling fiddling with the latch on the supply cache. Being the kleptomaniac, gluts they were, I could guess what their motives involved stealing and/or eating the contents.

"Shit." One of the other ratlings swore, as they were denied access to the supplies of rations and lho-sticks. I looked and saw Maia's eyes dart away as I met her gaze. She went back to going through the pockets of an ork boy.

We didn't have to wait long in the desert sun as a patrol approached in the distance. It was a group of Aralan guardsmen surrounding a Praetorian Leman Russ towing a flat bed trailer. I stood up as the group approached and recognised it as my platoon. That was when it dawned on me.

They left me.

They left Jackson and me for dead, with only one of us getting it out alive. If they really cared they would be straight out here and looking for me like they did for when Jackson tried to kill himself. This was what Ross must of felt like when we never went back for him. However my negative thoughts didn't last for long. All of my cynicism disappeared the moment I saw Lance drop his lasgun and charge at me.

"Bruce!" I couldn't help and smile at his joyful reaction as I reflected him in dropping my lasgun and holding my arms out wide. I responded.

"Lance!" He wrapped me in a tight hug which I returned as we stumbled in each other's grip, his laugh was ecstatic. It felt euphoric, I let loose a few laughs as I patted him on the back.

"Thought you were fucking dead." He breathed through the laughs, I looked over at Ruru as he smiled with a freshly lit lho-stick in his mouth.

"I just had a short enter of my grave, Ruru's lot helped me out of it." I could feel him looking over my shoulder at the corpse of the traitor astartes. The others were looking at the body along with finding the pieces of dead Imperial guardsmen. Ruru's mob passed us as they approached the Leman Russ's trailer. The leader of the snipers pointed at me.

"He killed it." Ruru confirmed, as he calmly climbed onto the trailer and lounged around. The other guardsmen immediately looked at me with a mixture of befuddlement and awe. Lance finally let me go. The fact they didn't accuse the Kiwi of pulling a usual joke spoke volumes.

The corpses of the dead guardsmen were loaded onto the trailer alongside the cache and ratlings. We all hesitated in taking Jackson's head from the hook on the astartes' armour, until one of the Praetorian tank crewman volunteered. Liam vomited as it made squelching pop sound as it slid off the spike. It was hard to watch. It was bundled up in a sack and placed with the other body bits. I took the offer to ride on the trailer while the others jogged alongside.

When we arrived back at Scranee Hill it had not changed since my 'death'. However an armoured regiment of Praetorians had moved in along with two regiments of Mordian line infantry. The Mordians and Praetorians got along well, not surprising really. They shared similar tactics of walking and volley firing into the enemy with brightly coloured uniforms completely inappropriate for the very hot climate. Which lead to a high rate of fainting while marching and always looking like a waterfall was coming from their hat/pith helmets. They also seemed to share the constant disciplined frown that Victrus had all the time. Drookians and Aralans were still waiting for orders.

As I talked to my fellow guardsmen I got updates on what happened. The Crescent offensive has been declared a success with Imperial units breaking through the enemy lines. The enemy was being pushed back towards their landing sight and the heretics were on the retreat. The orks were leaderless. Heretic ships were trying to get as many of their own forces off the planet, running a gauntlet through an Imperial Navy blockade. Alfada was recaptured, the town and spaceport being found abandoned with the enemy leaving behind weapons and gear. It was predicted that within several weeks, all major enemy forces would either be destroyed or routed. It was uplifting to have good news for once. No one asked me about the fact I killed a traitor marine. But the lieutenant did report it to his superior, he said he had to.

Remaining units of the AIF weren't done yet. Bands of heretics in isolated pockets still remained and fought on. Some of these included leaders, who had been on Imperial hit lists for a while now. Commanders, cult leaders, witches and mutant rabble rousers who sought to hide in the tide of Imperial might. We were to be a part of this clean up effort. We were ordered to hurry up and wait. Billy tea was brewed while we did.

Three days of being on trucks and trains we were on the way to our next battle. A sizeable pocket of both renegade forces and local cultists had barricaded themselves in one of the ancient alien structures. It was first asked of why don't we just let them hold up and just wait for them to starve to death or die of dehydration. Officers stated that HQ was afraid that it was possible for the enemy to use 'unholy means' to bring forth forces. Therefore High Command saw it as an enemy outpost within Imperial territory with the capability of exploding into another front. So we were sent to deal with it along with a majority force of Tallarns and small amount of Cadians.

The current major issue facing the Imperial Guard was the planet's population. Any area that had been liberated, many of the civilians were found to be converted to the heretical beliefs of the enemy. This led to mass deployments of ministorum missionaries, preachers and confessors. It was demonstrated as when we were waiting at a train station, watching the movement a column of refugees as they passed through. Standing atop a water truck a group of monks used hoses to spray holy water into the crowds. A priest would recite holy passages with a loud speaker as a choir sung. Meanwhile a servitor moved in the crowd holding an Imperial Aquila and censer. Anyone who acted with hostility or fear would be taken away and further tested. They were never seen, and their families were dragged away with them. They were taken into the back of waiting autocarriages. While we never learnt what happened to them, it most likely involved promethium and a spark.

We arrived at the cult's fortress around midday. Fortress was a bit too generous, but it was certainly defendable. The main building was one of the xenos structures of great elaborate construction, protruding from the dunes. About 30 metres high as a triangular prism poking from the yellow sand with a deep, blueish-grey colour. Banners with the heretical star icon hung from tall poles with a shoddy wall made from rock and metal surrounded the main building. The enemy knew we were outside. Now we just needed to wait for the Tallarns to arrive. We were ordered to sleep and be ready for the assault.

The battle started as we laid in the sand watching as a squadron of Avenger Strike Fighters strafed the area with bolt cannons and lascannons. The screams of heretics were taken over by the rumble of jet engines. Before the dust cleared more was kicked up as Tallarn Leman Russ's and Chimeras advanced on the fortress. The dozer blades of the battle tanks crashed through the crude defences. It was followed up by a varied hail of gunfire as the tanks cut through the cultist and mutant ranks. The Chimeras followed, throwing open their backdoors with mechanised infantry clearing up the stragglers and clearing the shoddy shacks and tents. We readied our guns on the gates of the fortification. As predicted, the cultists attempted to flee from the Tallarn advance. The officers gave the orders.

"OPEN FIRE!" The survivors got cut down in a volley of lasgun and other rounds. Their screams were carried in the wind and it didn't take long for every cultist to lay in the sand.

"ADVANCE ON THE GATE!" The next order was followed quickly with us jumping from our prone positions and moving up the dunes. Any stragglers were swiftly put down. Either through bayonet or lasround. By the time we reached the gates over the pile of corpses, the battle was already over. The Tallarn mechanised infantry were already pulling corpses into funeral pyres. It was thought to be over until we saw the guardsmen standing outside the doors to the archaic xenos structure.

"The damn heretics have bunkered themselves in the tunnels." The same thought came to everyone's mind. Do what we did at Scranee and just blow the entrance and lock them down there. No need to have any risk of wounds or other problems. Just straight into there and have everyone done. So we helped out our guardsmen in arms in moving the dead and got ready to watch the explosion. The cultists were dressed similarly to standard citizens, with traditional robes. However they added charms and trinkets of heretic symbolism. They tended to wear pieces of renegade uniforms. Beneath their robes they showed varying signs of mutation. Ranging from subtle small horns and sharpened fangs to overt, greenish, fat roles and mangled arms. The act of burning them was delightful, the smell however was still disgusting. Our moods were lowered when the lieutenant got off the vox caster. He didn't look happy.

"Bad news I'm afraid, high command says the cult is holding a high value target. A high up officer of the heretic forces. They want him brought before them. We're going to have to go down into there." He was looking forward to it as much as we were, especially when Sergeant Piper responded with.

"So you're saying, high command wants us. To go into cramped tunnels, full of heretics and only the Emperor knows what other things. To capture or kill one officer?" The lieutenant looked around, his hands nervously playing with the lapels of his great coat. He nodded as he looked at Piper.

"Yep…They do." He reached into his pocket and took out a gold watch, he flicked it open.

"Captain should be returning from briefing soon, ready up. You may want to trade those for something more compact." His comment was directed at the heavy weapons teams, they dispersed in search of more compact weaponry.

An enemy could see Hardwood's gun several minutes before he turned the corner. While the others did change their weapons for lasguns, the corporal refused. He still brought his autocannon and readied up. Liam while still bringing his grenade launcher, he had managed to get his hands on a laspistol for the more cramped spaces. Lance dropped his bulky vox caster. Similar to how we dropped our backpacks. We removed the stocks from our lasguns. As part of our preparations we readied our lamp kits. Fist sized lights that would shine for roughly five hours.

"What does the target look like?" Kull asked as he sharpened his bayonet on a wet stone, something he did quite often I might add. The lieutenant hesitated before he responded.

"Sickly pale skin, one big horn on the left side of his face. He also has a big tattoo over his right eye. He also should be dressed like a heretic officer…Actually just kill them all, we'll check the bodies after they're all dead." He said, Fernard immediately stuck up her hand, the lieutenant gestured that she could speak.

"Didn't high command say bring him before them?" The lieutenant's moustache curved upwards as he gave a sly chuckle. He cleared his throat before he responded.

"They said to bring him back. They didn't say, what condition to bring him back in." After a few more minutes of waiting we were called up to get ready to storm the complex.

As we knelt by the doorway, shed of our extra gear we waited for the signal. The majority of the entry team would be Tallarn Mechanised Infantry. Minus the Chimera's of course, so really they were just regular infantry for now. I was starting to receive bad vibes as I looked at the entrance to the triangular, xenos building. Like a black and empty maw that just went on forever. My nerves were slightly calmed when the lieutenant gave us a last speech.

"Check behind doorways, corners and dark parts of rooms. For the Emperor!" He readied his chainsword and bolt pistol, being near the front of the platoon.

"For the Emperor!" We repeated as we continued to kneel and wait for orders.

We jogged up the stairs as the over watching team moved out the way. I raised my lasgun as I took the first few steps into the xenos strucure. The sound of boots echoed off the carved, ancient walls. The lone path lead down a deep incline of metal stairs with unnatural darkness surrounding us. We could not see the roof behind the blackness. Obelisks formed the path, each holding blasphemous, xenos symbolism. I didn't get much more time to observe my surroundings as we heard shouting from the blackness. Suddenly, the darkness was lit with muzzle flashes of autoguns and lasguns. The heretics screamed their battle cry.

"CHAOS FOREVER!" Lasrounds and bullets ricocheted off the walls, the noise of the firefight being deafening. We began to back up before one of the Tallarn officers charged in with his crackling, curved power sword raised high.

"ARE YOU ALL STILL JUST CRYING KIDS OR ARE YOU MEN AND WOMEN OF THE EMPEROR! CHARGE!" He kept going, some of the Tallarns followed him with their tan robes fluttering behind them. The narrow path made it easy for the heretics to aim. His charge ended when he was hit several times before tumbling down the stairs. The Tallarns stopped their charge. Another officer gave more reasonable orders.

"FALL BACK!" As we hastily retreated back up the stairs while returning fire. I heard a scream of pain and watched as Lance fell forward. He desperately reached for me and I returned with a sturdy grip around his dry wrist. He howled a mixture of cursing and pain as adrenaline fuelled my muscles. I felt a force hit my shoulder. Stinging with the force of a pain I ignored. This was my best mate I was dragging. I wasn't going to let a little gunshot stop me. He had done the same to me at the massacre of the 11th. With my other hand I still handled my lasgun. Continuing to fire into the darkness. When I reached the doorway a series of other hands helped me as Lance was dragged into the light. Kull was calmly reaching into his medic bag as he walked up to my friend. The blood stain showed where Lance had been hit and was starting to soak into his uniform pants. The placement of the wound itself, was a bit humorous.

He had been shot in the right butt cheek.