Author note:

There are over a million space marines, billions of guardsmen, but there are likely trillions of PDF soldiers in the galaxy of 40k. I'm not super knowledgable about the lore, mostly what I know is from video games or youtube videos, but from what I can see a PDF can range from people with sticks to a professional army.

This is my first story i ever have "published" outside of my private google docs. I wanted to make a 40k story that felt more "real" in that its what most regular joe's like us would end up in if we were conscripted. Would love to hear feedback

- Start -

Chapter 1

Night came to the western hemisphere of Guryor II, the planetary capital of the Guryor system. In and amongst the pines APC's turned black, and soldiers gathered closer into their squads, huddling against the weak rain which seemed to never end on the planet. The vehicle commanders had made their best effort to back their vehicles off the trails in such a way that the trees formed a protective barrier and allowed for a safe sleeping space. Those who failed to pay attention to such fine details in the Militarum risked being crushed during a night alarm.

When the unit had pulled in it was evident that the land was occupied by another unit which had recently moved on. Massive ruts and waves of churned mud, the signatures of the tracked vehicles of the PDF had ruptured the forest floor. Ration tins and scraps of paper littered the remaining islands of moss and pine needles. The stench of human waste was almost as strong as the odor of vehicle exhaust. It was all instantly familiar to Luther, Even just a year's combat drills on planetside were sufficient when combined with his training on the orbiting moon of Saria.

For the first few days the unit had moved only after dark. But now the roads were constantly packed with vehicles, and this last move had been conducted entirely during the daylight.

This was not a routine exercise. That much was clear.

Everyone craved news, but little information had reached the soldiers. Luther had already heard enough rumors to grow concerned. All his life he had been warned of the dangers of heresy and, Xenos and sedition, that heretics were anxious for any moment to unleash war against a weak chink in the Imperium's armor. Now, he wondered, what in the world was happening?

Serov, unofficial leader of the squad, sat under the Chimera's camouflage net. A muscular, handsome man, Serov was from the hive city of Liturgum, and he loved to parade his 'sophistication'. Serov's audience sat in a circle around him. Lights were forbidden, but the officers had gone off to wherever officers went, and several of the soldiers were smoking. In the waning twilight, the glow of smoking pipes and cigarettes added to the eeriness which did nothing to improve Luther's mood.

Serov had opened an issue of Militarum rations. He picked at the slop, telling more stories about his experiences with women of the city. Sergeant Wilk, their squad leader, came back from a trip to the woods. He would be undoubtedly upset that Serov was digging into the reserves, but Wilk paused before saying anything.

Serov ignored the sergeant's return. "And upper-hive girls," he went on, "they know their way around too. No nonsense, lads. They like it, and they know you do too." The man noisily gorged himself with another bite of the sloppy ration.

"We aren't allowed to be eating those rations." Wilk said, seeming to find his courage. Luther could almost feel Serov grinning.

"You can't eat promises. If we wait for the Munitorum kitchens to feed us, it'll be the same story as last night. Come and take a seat." Wilk obediently took a seat beside Serov, as if the bigger man's natural authority might rub off on him.

"Serov." Asked Luther, "Do-do you really think this is the real thing?" he immediately regretted his words. He had hoped to join in and include himself into the intimate circle of the group, but his serious question had spoilt the atmosphere of the imagined women. Save for the rumbling of another unit in the darkness, Serov was silent for a moment. When he finally spoke again, his irritation was clear under his feigned casual tone.

"Do you really think the Munitorum would allow us extra rations and ammunition if it wasn't? What, you think we're just going to the range and we've been lost for the past several days?" Serov laughed spitefully, yet it was evident that even he did not want to believe that they might truly go to battle.

Luther had tried to back out of his faux-pas. "Commissar Merek didn't actually say we were going to war."

"Merek?" Serov said. "That snob never says anything worth listening to. The Emperor protects you, the Emperor says, don't touch yourself in your bunk at night, the Emperor says, don't take a crap without three signed certificates from imperial bureaucrats." The other men chuckled nervously. It was clear that some disagreed with Serov, or at least didn't want him speaking such things out loud, but if there was any dissent, it remained unspoken.

It was always odd to hear Serov ridiculing Merek, the unit's commissar, since Serov always went out of his way to cultivate his favor, and the Commissar was so impressed by Serov that he sometimes even delegated some of his duties to the man.

When the Commissar had come by earlier to cheer them up, he had only managed to frighten Luther badly. Luther had counted himself lucky to be in what he thought was a relatively safe part of the Imperium. He had hoped that his posting on the planet would allow him to pick up some cultural or other novel items that would turn a profit back home on Saria.

Luther looked up into the sky. There she was, the moon that many in the PDF called home. The wildlife was so hostile there that even before joining the imperium, a strong culture of militarism pervaded the moon. As a result, Saria had become the main supplier of manpower to the Guryoran PDF, as well as other planets in the system.

While not necessarily in line with standard imperial doctrine, it worked for the system, and reduced the manpower strain on the production worlds which created the industrial tools needed to keep the imperium creaking on.

Luther had been excited to explore the massive regional capitol of Hive Valenci. He had never seen more than his home settlement. Instead, his first year had been restricted to barracks like a prisoner or on decrepit training ranges. The only exception came in the form of escorted tours to a monument to the emperor and nearby cathedral.

Then, suddenly, the routine had collapsed upon itself. The unit had responded to an increase in the planetary alert level, hastening to its deployment area to the east. That was normal enough, but instead of returning to the garrison at the end of the exercise, the unit had remained out all day, and marched their vehicles to a forest in the Guryoran countryside by night. After that, the whole unit had moved about in a seemingly random manner for days. And then, Commissar Merek had come by to ask them if they had any concerns and to keep their spirits up. But it was clear that the loyalty officer had been nervous about something, and he had talked a little too much and too enthusiastically about sacrifices for the Emperor and the importance of their duty for Luther's peace of mind.

"And this girl, Elena, she's got a sister who wants to know what's going on, see?" Serov went on with his tales. "Her father's some bigshot in the Administratum, though, so everyone else is afraid to lay a finger on her. So I'm up in this huge and fancy hab, waiting for Elena to come home…"

Everything seemed to come so easily to Serov. Luther had tried to master the skills prescribed to his duty as a private, but his uniform was never perfect enough, and he bumbled over executing tasks that he clearly understood in his mind. But Serov seemed to be able to do anything perfectly the first time. And he made fun of Luther, who was included in the clique, but only as a member of the 'outer' clique. Now, however, Luther felt compelled to reach out to the others, to get through to Serov that things were serious, indeed, and that something had to be done, but he had no idea just what that something was.

"So I drop down from the window, right, and sneak out the back right as the arbites knock on the door. You can easily make your way down to the lower hive, it was no problem for me. I heard Valenci is even better for that, can't wait to go there, eh boys?" Serov had finished his startlingly vulgar story, in which of course he was a hero of dramatic capabilities. The usual admiring laughter had subsided when Luther again tried to reach the others.

"I think." Luther began, pausing nervously. "I think that things are… they must be bad." He could feel Serov turning in the darkness. "Things are always bad. If you aren't in one kind of shit, you're in another." The rain increased in intensity, and the soldiers huddled closer together under the cover. The group nodded in assent and some loudly spoke their agreement, trying to prove their bravado even though they were ordered to be silent. There were still no officers around and the other squads could clearly be heard nearby. Where did they go? Luther wondered. What is taking them so long? What the hell is going on?

Suddenly, a vehicle engine powered to life, a couple hundred meters away, then, another vehicle came to life closer by. It was time to move again.

—

The squad rode crouched in the Chimera with the hatches closed. Only the driver and vehicle commander were allowed to look outside. The interior stank of unwashed bodies, stale breath and exhaust fumes.

"Where do you think we're going this time?" Someone asked from the darkness.

"I think.. We're going to war." Luther responded. All the voices fell silent, only the rumbling of engines and patterings of rain atop the vehicle could be heard.

"You don't know that. You're just some farmer from the middle of nowhere." In fact, Luther didn't know why he had said it, he didn't know where they were going. But he was convinced he was correct. They were going to war. Perhaps it had already begun, perhaps Xenos had already attacked and men were already dying. The vehicle stopped with a jerk.

"Luther." The voice was just loud enough to be heard over the idling engine. "Has someone told you something? What makes you think we're going to war?" Luther shrugged.

"I don't know. Just a feeling."