-XLIV-

Combat died down around him and Aaron came to a stop. He retracted his bayonet from the Ork's skull and slumped down beside the green corpse.

Abe was shaking crouched in the corner, his eyes wide open and fixed on the ground, clutching his lasgun's barrel with white knuckles. The weapon shook with him.

Mosse walked towards him double checking Ork corpses as he went, he also looked at the faces of the guardsmen bodies with some dying hope but all off them were dead.

"Calm down, kid. The worst part is over." Mosse said.

"Is it?" jerked Abe's face up at him.

Mosse turned to glance at Aaron then back the boy "Sure, the Orks are dead aren't they." he said forcing a smile on his face.

Aaron didn't said anything thinking that a small lie couldn't hurt, body armour kept the guardsmen alive but morale was the key in making them fight. Without morale there were no guardsmen.

That was the horror of the Imperial Guard. They were not strong and resolute Space Marines, they were just people.

Aaron looked around himself and saw with a burning sensation in his gut that there were five Naphtali dead for every Ork corpse inside the trench.

He didn't want to get up, he didn't want to learn who died today, he didn't want the list of names hitting him in the face.

"Come on, Captain. We need you." said Mosse realising Aaron's thoughts.

He rose his gaze at him "Just catching breath." he tried to smile but resulted only in a half-hearted expression with his upper lip lifted.

Aaron grabbed the strong hand Mosse presented and rose to his feet.

By training alone he checked his lasgun without even putting thought into it.

They were in the trenches, guardsmen poured around them but they were still in danger. An artillery shell, an Ork attack, anything could happen.

"Zusman come in." he called in his vox bead.

He looked around waiting for the reply, the guardsmen roaming around was just as battered as him. Some had slashes around their limbs or face. Others had suffered grazing gunshots. Many still had Ork bullets embedded in their helmets or flak vests.

"And these are the ones that can walk." thought Aaron bleakly.

"Come in Zusman, do you read?" he tried the vox again.

A voice came through that wasn't Zusman's.

"Sir? This is-um-this is Drorit." came in a women's voice.

"Drorit?" asked Aaron.

"Guardsmen Drorit, sir. 37th squad-um-I-" she mumbled.

"Where is Zusman, guardsmen Drorit?" asked Aaron his patience running thin.

"He is-um-here." guardswomen answered.

"So? Patch him through then. Be quick about it." Aaron said he was really thin on patience now.

"I can't." she replied.

Aaron was about to shout, his anger rose.

"He is-um-dead, sir." she said.

Aaron was dumbstruck. He felt nauseated. Dead? How? When? Aaron never even realised where Zusman was until now. He was with them in the trench. He was with them. How did he? How? Aaron felt guilt wash over him, he felt like drowning in a pool filled with Naphtali corpses and this was the last drop that finally broke him.

He grabbed his bead and threw it to the ground, luckily it bounced off a Naphtali corpse and didn't break.

"Aaaargh!" he roared and kicked the nearest Ork corpse.

Then he hit his lasgun trying to activate it, after two hits that hurt his hand the gun hummed to life.

Two dozen guardsmen around him watched in shock as Aaron went out off control.

He rose the weapon towards the corpse and he was about to lose a shot but a hand grabbed the lasgun and pointed it downward.

Aaron head snapped to the person preventing him from firing and saw Mosse's penetrating gaze.

"Don't." warned Mosse, he had two of his fingers behind the trigger, keeping it blocked from being pulled.

Aaron's face shook as he tried to overcome the anger. His guilt was still burning his guts out. He felt acid hurting his stomach.

He was about to lose control but he glimpsed upon the terrified faces of Naphtali guardsmen and his mind blinked to life.

These were his brothers, these were the same men who served with him on the Bridges. His brigadiers. His men. If he snapped into lunacy now, noone will be there to lead them home. He tried to remember the roaring waves. He tried to force the image of his mother into his mind, singing to him and his brothers while a terrifying storm roared outside slamming the ferrocrete structure with strong waves and wind.

"So close yet so far." he said remembering Naphtal, tears in his eyes.

Mosse didn't know what he was talking about but he agreed anyway.

"I sure is, but victory is nearer." he said letting go of the lasgun.

"Yes, victory." said Aaron with blazing eyes.

His face was red from anger and stress but now his eyes roared with inner fire.

"Victory." he mumbled to himself as he walked towards the mass of guardsmen.

More had come to see what the commotion was, most of them were expecting another Ork attack but they saw something was going on with their Captain.

Aaron reached the group of guardsmen but they recoiled away from him, fearful of the Captain.

The din of gunfire was strong in the air.

Aaron stepped over an Ork corpse to rise himself over the dozens of heads, helmeted and bare both.

"Today!" he said, looking around towards all the guardsmen, his head tilting from one corner to the other.

"Today, we will achieve victory!" he roared over the din of gunfire.

"We have come this far and we have bled the Ork. And we have killed a dozen of them for every brother we lost!" his voice was strong now, stronger than ever.

"And we still have enemy ahead of us. But we shall not, we shall not falter!"

"We will make them pay for every life they took, we will make them pay for every Naphtali they killed." he whispered through clenched teeth, his fist balled into a fist before him.

"Today! We will rise to victory and we shall take it from the blood drenched corpses of the foul Ork!" he shouted rising his lasgun high.

He could see the fire burning in Naphtali's eyes. He knew that they were determined. The greatest weapon of mankind wasn't a genetic superhuman or an earth shattering weapon. It was men's soul. It was their will. It was their thought that says 'no' to every danger that the universe harbours to kill them.

"We will take that victory! Not for ourselves, Not for the Emperor! But for our fallen martyrs! For those we lost! We will have victory!" he roared the last word through clenched teeth, spit flying off his mouth.

"Victory!" roared half hundred guardsmen back to him in a deafening noise.

"Victory!" he roared again and the guardsmen joined in rising their lasguns high.

He left the still roaring group of guardsmen and grabbed back his vox-bead from the ground, placing it on his ear.

"You, guardsmen. Still there?" he voxed at Zusman's vox unit.

"Yes sir. Drorit here." she replied.

"Grab that vox unit and come to join me." he ordered.

"Yessir. But-um-how do I find where you are?" she asked.

Aaron looked at the roaring crowd of guardsmen, more were coming in to join in the mass.

"Follow the cheering." he said.


"Keep firin, keep da gunz firin!" shouted Makog firing his shoota full burst.

Blue-wearing humans had gained the frontal trenches of the second line. Ork shoota boyz were either dead or retreating to the tertiary trenches.

"Ya cowardz, stop runnin an fight like da propa Ork!" he shouted as the shoota boyz were running towards his mob.

"Dakka dakka dakka." said one shootaboy firing into the retreating Ork mass coming towards them, dropping two of his retreating brethren.

Humans were massing at the trench and lasfire started penetrating the wall of fleeing Orks.

Orks bit the dust with their back turned and some died from gunshots wounds from the front as Makog's shootaboy mob mowed down their brethren for the fun of it.

"Mob up, ya gitz. Scared like little runt ya are." he insulted the boyz.

"We'z not stayin 'ere, dem 'umies are killin us." one of the Shootaboyz objected the order.

Makog fired a burst into his face, lodding a dozen rounds into his skull. Shootaboy slumped backwards with a torn face.

"An Ork is done fightin when 'e iz dead." he said.

Seeing the spectacle before them, retreating shootaboyz were now not-retreating shootaboyz.

"Fire at dem!" roared Makog and shootas opened up at the human line.

More and more humans were massing in the trench while shouting about something.

"Whaz dey screamin bout?" asked Gozok beside Makog.

"Sumfin about a fictory or sumfin." Makog replied as he fired his gun.

He managed to kill two guardsmen but their numbers were still not diminishing.

"Deyz grow in numba." reflected Korgo, firing his slugga with the only arm he had.

"I hopez ya grow a new arm fast, one arm not gonna be enouf ta kill all dem 'umies massin 'bout." joked Makog.

Korgo had lost his arm in the mortar attack alongside his big shoota, he still missed the big shoota he lost.

"When I doez, Iz gonna beat ya wif it." replied Korgo.

Makog was taking so much pleasure from having the bigger gun than Korgo right now. With his puny slugga, Korgo's noise was no match for his awesome shoota.

Gozok also had a shoota which annoyed him slightly but it was no matter, he was going to have a bigger gun when they got back to the base.

A grenade launcher delivered it's payload to the Ork line and hit the shootaboy beside Makog.

Boy blew apart and contained the explosion but a showering blood and sinew hit Makog.

"Fire more dakka!" he roared in anger trying to smear the blood off his eyes with one hand.

Ork fire continued the same but more and more guardsmen were still coming in and lasgun fire overnumbered the dakka by half.

Two shootaboyz were hit and killed by the hail of laser.

Four more died as a second grenade fired from the launcher.

"Dem 'umies kill ma boyz." said Makog looking at how many there are left.

Three more boyz went down from laser fire.

That was it.

Makog started to retreat silently, leaving the other boyz behind.

He turned and left the trench as silent as he can.

Behind him came Korgo, Gozok and the gretchin Zugub along with five other boyz.

"Youz not gonna leave wifout us." said Gozok.

"Arright. Letz go." waved Makog them onward.

They left the rest of the boyz to die while they make good on their escape.


"More Orks are surging in, Kavhim Lord." reported Qurmen Imras panting heavily.

Malik was clearing the dirt from his fingernails with the tip of his combat knife.

"Grenade!" roared a Qurmen from far into the trench and people scattered.

Explosion tore apart two Balharethi as they failed to reach a safe distance.

Malik didn't even got up despite the commotion.

"So? Who's next? We gotta pay them for that." he said looking at a group of Qurmens.

One Balharethi fired a burst at the Ork trenches and got a bullet through his eyes for the effort.

Malik raised his feet high as he passed over the corpse.

"Amed, you have failed to the deliver the bomb last time." he said grinning.

"B-but Kavhim Lord, I-I was-" mumbled Amed looking around while thinking of some excuse to save himself.

"It-it was dud, yes a dud!" he shouted and forced a smile on his face "It's not my fault you see." he said.

"I don't. You were charged with the bomb and it didn't blow." said Malik swinging his combat knife as he was talking.

"I can't go over there again." objected Amed.

"Well it that case, I have no choice but to inform the Commissar of your cowardice." Malik said looking sideways to the desperate Qurmen.

"No, not the Commissar." pleaded Amed.

Malik grabbed his oversized vox-caller and pretended to dial a frequency into it.

"No, stop. I didn't said I won't do it. Give me the bomb." Amed cried.

"Okay, okay. Imras, equip our hero." he said.

Imras moved forward with the crude satchel explosive, giving it to Amed.

"Cover me." Amed said going to the trench wall.

"Sure, Balharethi open fire!" roared Malik sheathing his knife and pulling out his stubguns from their holsters.

He grinned as he felt the pleasure of wielding the pistols.

Balharethi started firing in burst, some went full auto with their guns.

Clattering casings and rattling barrels drowned out the Ork gun noise and pushed the greenskins into the trenches.

Those who were stupid enough to keep their head up got bullets lodged in their skulls. Most were fatal, ripping deep into the brain. But some Ork shrugged off the horrible head wound they suffered. One even spit out the bullet that tore through his lips and lodged at the back of his throat.

Amed rose over the trench and started running towards the Orks.

"Ilimbaratur!" he roared as he pissed his pants while running with the explosive in hand.

Something went wrong and satchel exploded prematurely, blowing apart Amed's chest.

His arm carrying the satchel torn to pieces but his chest was blown open. His guts and organs flew around still bound with each other. Meat and blood covered around where the Qurmen was a second ago.

"Qafar." swore Imras as a piece of meat slapped his in the cheek.

"Well, that was unfortunate." commented Malik indifferently.

"This isn't working." reflected Imras meaning the satchels.

"That was horrible." said sergeant Roi of the Naphtali, newly arriving in the trench.

His Naphtali moved in to lay down lasgun fire at the Orks.

"We don't have the fancy guns that you have." said Malik casually nodding towards Sergeant's laspistol.

"But, still." Roi trailed off.

"Imras!" shouted Malik.

Imras loosed a burst of autogun fire at the Orks then came near the Kavhim Lord.

"Prepare the chuters." Malik said.

Imras nodded and left towards the gathering of guardsmen who were making the makeshift explosives.

"What's a chuter?" asked Roi.

"You'll see." grinned Malik.


"Fire at dem 'umies" shouted Hakgok.

He was the shootaboy in charge for now of the right flank.

"More comin dis way, boss." warned one of the shootaboys.

"Deyz not get past us, dakka dakka dakka." said Hakgok firing his big shoota in full burst, spewing shell casings around by the dozens.

"Ready?" asked Malik to his men.

Qurmen were behind the trench with their chuter-bombs while Naphtali continued the firefight with the Orks.

Alexis was beside Naphtali firing his heavy stubber in short burst.

"Ready!" replied Imras looking at the rest of Balharethi.

Some nodded in agreeance.

"Throw 'em!" shouted Malik pointing in the direction of the Orks.

Qurmen with chuters ran near the trench wall and started rotating the chuters, holding from the rope.

Chuters were tipless mortar shells with a small cloth parachute attached to the back with a long rope to the side.

Long rope was swung in full circle like a slingshot with the parachute part in the front, so that the parachute would not open.

They rolled the chuters and let go when they gained enough momentum.

Seven chuters flew towards the Ork line, they had to be launched chute-first and with enough force so that the heavier front of the shell would not turn forward before it gained some ground.

One of the chuters was mis-thrown and landed abruptly at no-man's-land to remain there without exploding.

Chuters were only effective where enemy was close by since they required human power to be thrown, this was one of the best cases.

Rest of them slowed down mid-air at different places over the Ork trenchline and their heavier front turned the explosives downward. Air filled into the chutes and they opened, slowing the drop speed of the mortal shells.

"What if they don't explode?" asked Roi eagerly watching the slowly descending bombs.

"That's why we remove the tip and place a needle inside, even the slightest pressure causes an explosion." explained Malik.


"What 're we gonna do boss? Dem bomb are approachin." growled one the shootaboyz.

"No worry, Iz handle dis." Hakgok said waiting for a chuter to descend close to him.

He reached up a hand and tried to grab the bomb.

Some of the shootaboys followed his example and closed in on the bomb.

"They're going to throw them back." cried Roi alarmed.

Naphtali guardsmen were also looking unsure of the situation.

"No they're not." grinned Malik.

"Jarmen, open fire!" he ordered with a shout.

Jarmen was prone behind the trenchline, hiding under a camo-cloak on the no-man's land. He pointed the crosshair of his sniper rifle at the descending shell's tip and fired.

He fired three successive shots at the same shell leaving nothing to chance.

"Grab dem bombs, wez throw em back and let da 'umies taste dere own fingz." Hakgok laughed.

Two sniper rounds whizzed past the descending shell but the third one hit the mark.

Chuter exploded at Hakgoks face, blowing his arm apart as well as his head. His body flew a metre backwards before settling in a misshapen pose.

Jarmen fired two more times exploding another bomb. Resulting explosion took out three Orks and two gretchins.

Resulting carnage sent the rest of the gretchin in the trench running and the mayhem caused a great ruckus.

Orks that try to grab the bombs toppled over running gretching, breaking their bones or necks in the process.

Balharethi and Naphtali gunfire started again, hitting those who forgot to take cover.

Several shootaboyz tried to return fire but Roi ordered his men into focusing on them instead of shooting randomly and eventually dropped the shooters.

"We have the upper hand, charge!" ordered Malik and Roi echoed the order for his own men.

Dark-blue and tan colored guardsmen rose up the trenches and charged ahead firing from the hip and shouting their warcries as they went.

"Get into the trenches, kill the-" Malik began saying when gunfire ripped through their ranks.

A dozen guardsmen were killed in the initial salvo.

Alexis got hit in the shoulder but managed to lift his heavy stubber and returned fire at the new assailants.

"Where? Where is the fire coming from?" asked Roi loosing off shots towards the Ork trenches randomly.

"In the flank, to the left, to the-" said Imras.

Two rounds lodged into his leg shattering the knee. One round went into the head-dress he wore and forced the cloth backwards, luckily it missed. Two more rounds had penetrated into his chest, held back by his flak vest. The impact on the chest and his wound pushed his backwards onto the ground.

He fell feeling iron in his mouth, he bit a lip as he slammed his head.

"They're flanking us from algharb! Take cover and fire towards the algharb!" roared Malik firing his pistols, knowing they were ineffective at this range.

He had crouched behind a rock that covered him to his chest, but his head was dangerously exposed.

A bullet whizzed past him and he took an almost fetusian position behind the small rock, trying to stay alive.

"Roi! Have your men fire at the algharb!" he shouted.

"The what?"

"West, damn it. West!" he emptied his pair of stubguns dry, releasing the mags in one motion and slamming fresh ones.

Alexis was up on his feet spraying stubber fire in full bursts. His face was red with anger.

Cafur and Furad was beside him spraying the leftmost trenches with gunfire of their own.

Two Naphtali and three Balharethi dropped dead as a second salvo came their way.

"We are sitting ducks out here, we need cover!" shouted Roi killing one Ork with a lucky headshot.

"Jarmen, assisting fire!" voxed Malik.

Jarmen was still waiting prone under his camo-cloak. He fired without pause at the Orks, dropping one and forcing others into cover.

"They're pinned, go for the trenches." said Malik and rose up to lead the way.

The Orks were recovering ahead from the chuters and the flanking Orks were pinned for the moment.

"Now or never, Naphtali charge!" Roi roared as he ran.

Seeing the two leaders charge ahead both groups joined in the charge and reached the trenches ahead without more loss.

Jarmen emptied a magazine pinning the Orks and slammed in a fresh one. Luckily the Orks did not have anything to counter a sniper.

"Let go off me you giant bastard!" shouted Imras as Alexis dragged him towards the trench ahead.

Imras held onto his leg as it hurt immensely, growling in pain as it bumped over stones.

Alexis ignored the Qurmen and kept dragging him, his other hand was carrying his heavy stubber from the handle.

Cafur and Furad was already inside the trench firing at the surviving Orks.

Naphtali had formed a line and started firing on the Orks in an orderly fashion.

Lasrounds dropped half a dozen Orks and the surviving gretchin broke away as they tried to survive the raining lasfire.

One Ork gathered himself and charged at the Naphtali with a broken knife, he was cut down under the massed fuselage of the lasguns.

When the trench was clear Naphtali dispersed and took cover around, they focused on the trench corners where the rest of the Orks might come.

"How did they get to our flank?" asked Roi.

"I have an idea." murmured Malik to himself.

"Well? Shed a light will ya." pushed Roi.

Malik talked into his vox-caller instead of replying.

"Gazam you bastard, where are you?" he asked.

Kavhim Chief Gazam's snide voice came crackling.

"What is my great Kavhim Lord bids of me?" he asked mockingly.

"Where the cursed warp are you?" Malik asked again.

"We are making our way towards the flanks of the Orks." declared Gazam.

"You were supposed to pin the westward Orks so that we could advance." pointed out Malik.

"We are clearly not fit for such a menial task, we shall attack the Orks from the flank and wipe them out." said Gazam.

"You will pay for this." growled Malik.

"I might, if you survive." said Gazam cutting the line.

"Qafar edb gber!" swore Malik slamming the vox-caster to the ground. Luckily it was sturdy built and didn't broke.

"He left our flank wide open." summarized Roi.

"Yes, he wants us dead and he will do it without dirtying his hands." said Malik.

"That damned gber, we should have pushed them to the front when we had the chance." said Furad.

"They would just let the Orks through and wouldn't warn us." speculated Malik.

"So, what do we do now?" asked Cafur chewing on his nails, his anxiety was up.

"We fight that's what. There are Orks in the trenches in the adjacent trenches as well as our flank." said Malik.

"Let's hope they won't come near us, we can't fight on two fronts." said Roi.

"Jarmen is keeping point, he will warn us if they move." said Malik.

Alexis was patching Imras' leg silently.

Malik lifted his vox-caster from the ground and locked it into his belt.

"First, we need to secure our position." he said, informing others of their course of action.

"How are we to do that?" asked Cafur.

"We focus our forces in the chokepoints, we need to outsmart the Orks if we can't outgun them." Malik said.

"And second?" asked Roi.

"We need to lay traps at our flank, let's move away from this trench and gain some foothold, then we set this entire place with satchels and turn it into a deathtrap."

"And Gazam?" asked Imras.

"I don't know what he is up to but I can't imagine it would improve our situation here."

"Just as everything was going fine." complained Cafur biting his nails.

"Ilimbaratur bless us for we are given enemies both on the outside and on the inside." said Malik.

"Majd Alkarim Ibd Ilimbaratur." said the Qurmen.

Malik pulled out his stubguns and marched depper into the trenches with Naphtali and Balharethi behind him.


"We shall gain much glory in this great endeavour." said Gazam to his men.

They had moved way into the west trenches away from the main bulk of the attack force. They were literally cut off but they also flanked the Orks which they see as an advantage.

The gap in the battleline was a great mistake but Gazam wanted to hit two birds with one manoeuvre. First to defeat the Orks in a flanking attack and second to give time and chance to the Orks so they might succeed in killing Malik. And no blood would be on his hands for the murder of his commanding officer. How sweet was that?

Alanak was the standard bearer of the company but he had it rolled and strapped to his back. It would attract too much attention from the Orks otherwise.

When opened the standard contained the personal heraldry and boastings of Gazam himself. Balharethi had no use for useless flags and banners in the tactical sense, they were pragmatic beyond all else, sure they had flags to use in gatherings but they did not prefer to flash them in battlefield. With Gazam it was different, he liked to boast and show his glories on a flag and had his men carry it into battle.

His men were not convinced one bit. They were endangering themselves stretching this far and risking getting flanked from three approaches. It was such a needless risk to take but Gazam wanted glory and his men came because of their lust for glory.

There were three things that made the Balharethi tick, possessions, power and faith. Raiders had the first two in plenty but lacked the last direly. They were fierce in their religious commitments but they weren't zealots like the Hellak Crusaders.

"Men of the Hashim, you are to win victories over victories on this field!" shouted Gazam raising his voice, he lifted his chainsword high.

None of his men were cheering but instead looking at him blankly.

East of their position was the two shoota mobs firings at Malik's men.

"Strike down the beast and kill their kin! For the glory of Ilimbaratur!" shouted Gazam leading his men to a charge.

It was a silent charge where men focused more on surviving then glory, but Gazam was either oblivious to their situation or didn't care.

He had enough men to win this and nothing else mattered.

"Why are we attacking now." said Qurmen Alanak running beside Gazam.

"We should wait for the Orks kill the Haruns." he added.

"We cannot lose our advantage, or we get to pay it with our lives." said Gazam.

Alanak groaned and kept running.

They came to the first trench and started firing, Orks were slow to react and lost several before a single shot was returned.

Gazam hacked down one Ork with his roaring chainsword, spilling his brain all over the dirt floor.

Alanak shot two gretchin with a burst from his autogun. One shootaboy returned fire on him but he hit the floor just in time and survived the hail of bullets.

Balharethi coming behind him wasn't so lucky and caught the bullets, his chest and arms were shredded and he dropped to the floor.

Now arrived Mudib with his heavy stubber carried with one hand, he had the row of feeder ammo on the other.

He fired a full burst diminishing half his ammo in the first run. Ork and another gretchin was killed in the process.

Alanak was prone but kept firing, wounding another shootaboy.

Gazam was in close combat with an Ork.

Shootaboy clumsily swung his shoota at Gazam, butt first. He missed horribly and Gazam brought up his stubgun to put two rounds into the Ork's skull.

Ork recoiled under the hits but managed to stood upright and alive despite the two bullets lodged in his skull. He raised his shoota up but didn't get the chance to fire.

Gazam charged and slammed his chainsword into the barrel of the shoota. Ork gun burst it's payload into the dirt blowing out dust everywhere.

Gazam roared his chainsword and slammed it hard on the Ork's head, he started revving the blade so that it would cut through the though Ork meat.

First the thin helmet of the Orks were sawn through by the revving teeth then they bit into the meat and started grinding inward. Sword roared as it his the thick skull and lodged inside it.

"Ahsam Gebered." swore Gazam as he kicked the Ork in the belly trying to dislodge his weapon. It didn't gave in.

He let go off the sword for another a gretchin was attacking him with a rusty bent knife.

He dropped back staying away from the blade and lifted the gretchin with his feet and threw him behind.

Gretchin landed with a squeal and rose up immediately, still knife in hand.

Gazam stood crouching and fired his stubgun at his face, blowing the giant nose apart.

He rose to retrieve his chainsword but two more gretchins appeared above him. He didn't had time to react. One plunged itself on his face with a bodyslam.

The other mislanded beside him snapping his arm as he fell down.

Gretchin let out a scream as his arm bent the wrong way.

Gretchin on Gazam's face used it's dirty nails to scratch at Gazam's face. Gazam punched the greenskin with the butt off his stubgun and dazed it.

Gazam cocked the gun and blew gretchin's skull with a round.

He rolled over as the other gretchin, extremely angry from his wound, tried to stab him in the face with a makeshift knife that looked like a screwdriver.

He manage to evade the blow and kept rolling trying to get away.

Gretchin ran after his screaming in rage as his arm was dangling by his side.

Gazam came to a halt and aimed his pistol.

He pulled the trigger aiming at Gretchin's oversized head.

Gun clicked dry.

"Ahsamed, ahsamed." cursed Gazam releasing the mag and trying to grab a fresh one from his pouch.

"GAAAAR!" roared gretchin as he jumped on Gazam wielding his knife-driver in a up-down grip.

Gazam had no time, he crossed his arms trying to cover from the blow.

Half a dozen double-O pellets hit the gretchin in the air, the little green guy blew backwards. His body torn apart by the blast.

"Thanks, Dhalid." said Gazam without looking, he reloaded his gun.

A Qurmen in all-camo gear walked towards him with a combat shotgun, it was a Lucius pattern Mk 22c, gas operated and self-loading, revolver shotgun.

Dhalid released the 8-chambered cylinder and reloaded it with single-shot slugs.

"Don't mention." said Dhalid with his wheezling voice, he had partially lost his voice when smoking too much Lho-sticks gave him larynx cancer. They removed a part of it along with a quarter of his lungs which had partially spread cancer. They installed breather-bags inside that doubled as lungs with a breather tube-unit that reached all the way to his chin. He had a boxy grill on his chin that breathed for him instead of a neck-tube.

"Get up Chief, they're coming." wheezed Dhalid locking the cylinder back in place with a hit.

Dhalid was a veteran, he was in his mid-thirties but he looked fifty because of the cancer her went through. He had no care for rank and called everyone 'chief' despite the rank. He also had no respect for anyone else.

In the mess hall he told everyone that he got his prized shotgun from a dead Krieg infantrymen, but Gazam wasn't so sure if the infantrymen was entirely dead before he met Dhalid.

Dhalid had a special preference with his rounds when fighting Orks. He had two pelleted double-O buck rounds followed by two one-piece slugs.

Three gretchins and two shootaboyz appeared at the trench, Dhalid pointed his gun towards them and fired two buck shots from the hip, spraying the entire trench with lead. One of the gretchin was insantly dead and two other was horribly wounded. One of the Orks was also wounded in the arm, chest and leg but the second was completely unfazed as he hid behind the gretchin while Dhalid rained fired on them.

Ork broke into a run brandishing two knifes in both hands.

Dhalid stood calm and raised the shotgun and looked over the sights. He fired a solid slug that his the Ork right in the eye and raptured his brain inside. The shot was not powerful enough to penetrate outwards from the thick Ork skull but the caused brain damage was more than enough for the kill.

As the Ork dropped the other wounded Ork fired his shoota at Dhalid. One round glanced off Dhalid's helmet and knocked it down from his head. Another round drew a wide gash on his cheek burning as it went. Dhalid threw himself backwards into the ground trying to save himself.

Gazam fired several shots at the Ork with his stubgun and manage to kill it.

Both man rose to their feet, their faces red with effort and anger.

"Ahsamed Orks." swore Dhalid with his hoarse voice.

Gazam kicked the Ork several times while pulling onto his chainsword before he could dislodge it from it's skull.

"Damn thick skulled bastards." he swore as he saw that the teeth of the chainsword was chipped and two of the teeth were missing.

Dhalid pulled out his stubgun sidearm to execute the wounded gretchin and delivered a single well aimed shot through each of their tiny skulls.

"Chief, chief!" came in running Qurmen Alanak.

"What is it?" asked Gazam.

"Malik's men survived, chief." said Alanak trying to catch his breath.

Gazam was not pleased with the news.

"Are all the Orks dead?" he asked.

"We killed many but there might be more ahead." said Alanak.

"Then we need to kill those too. We can't give them the opportunity to recover." Malik said.

"I see enemies, there!" shouted one Qurmen standing above the trenches and pointing towards their left. Gunfire started and a dozen rounds hit the Qurmen where he stood.

As the Qurmen's corpse hit the trench floor, Gazam was already running towards the wall.

"What is it?" asked Alanak coming beside Gazam.

"We have incoming." said Gazam broodingly.