Two

"To admit defeat is to spit on the graves of all the soldiers who gave their lives for victory."

-Colonel Hamilcar after the Mombasa-incident.

The blade flashed like quicksilver, it struck out of nowhere and he barely had time to block the blow with his own sword. A finely crafted power sword intercepted the humming blade, but before the swordsman could press his advantage the servitor-mounted blade swung back and connected with his breastplate with enough force to force the air out of his lungs. Colonel Hamilcar grunted with effort and barely had time to duck as the servitor came in for a decapitation stroke with the practice blade.

Hamilcar rolled under the servitor's guard and rammed his sword in the lobotomized creature's abdomen, this blow would have been fatal to any human being, but a servitor was an arcane blend of man and machine and Hamilcar's sword had not damaged any vital circuits. He realized with alarm that his sword was now wedged in tight in the servitor's metal guts and he could not ignite the power field because of ship regulations, so he began to tear the blade up, causing sparks to fly up as his razor sharp sabre sliced through circuitry where flesh had once been. He also saw that the servitor was, slowly, bringing its' blade to bear against him, but the thought of backing down did not occur in his mind, the common people of Qart-Hadasht were bred to fight on against all odds and to retreat while victory was still in sight was anathema to them. With his blue eyes blazing with effort he put all his strength in his sword and wrenched it free through the servitor's head. The servitor froze in mid-motion as its main cogitator was destroyed and Hamilcar found that the servitor's blade hovered a mere inch from his throat.

'That's the third one you wrecked since you stepped aboard this ship, sir,' corporal Hanno remarked as he stepped into the practice cage with his usual grin. 'I do believe the tech-priests will throw a fit if they ever find out how you treat their devices.'

'You old rogue,' Hamilcar grinned and used a towel to wipe the sweat of his face. Hano served as his adjutant and over the years the two men had formed a close friendship and a good working order. Hanno kept the colonel informed about the state of the regiment and Hamilcar pretended he did not know about the many scams and side rackets the corporal ran.

He looked at his adjutant. 'Have you been standing there watching for a long time?'

'Long enough to realize you're one crazy bastard to train with a combat servitor set to maximum lethality.'

'That's still colonel Crazy Bastard to you,' Hamilcar said in mock humour.

'Beg your pardon, sir.'

'Ah, never mind old friend,' Hamilcar smiled. 'Maybe you ought to spend some time in the cage with my dear friend here.' He jerked a thumb at the maimed servitor behind him.

'That's quite all right, sir,' Hanno said quickly. 'I've grown attached to the idea of my limbs staying on my body.'

'Suit yourself,' Hamilcar shrugged. 'But I highly doubt you just came by here to watch in silence as I trained.'

'That would be creepy of me, sir.'

'Very creepy indeed.'

'Actually I came with a data slate concerning our deployment orders,' Hanno said concerned as he gave the data slate to the colonel. 'It, uhm, has changed quite a bit.'

'What?' Hamilcar asked with slight bemusement, still to fatigued to see the coin dropping. 'Our R&R has been delayed?'

'We, uhm, you could say that,' Hanno stammered nervously and held the data slate in a vice like grip. 'You see the thing is, uhm, we ought to, uhm...'

The amused smile disappeared from Hamilcar's face as the truth of the matter began to dawn on him. 'Give me that,' he snapped and snatched the data slate from his adjutant's hands.

He began to read it and his face grew sterner with every sentence.

'It says here we are to redeploy on a world called Corduba,' Hamilcar said with a look that suggested he had just found out that his wife had had been cheating on him. 'There are reports by the PDF that they are being engaged by an unknown xenos species, the Planetary Governor has issued and official call for aid. All shore leave is hereby cancelled.'

'Right you are, sir,' Hanno said. 'Is there anything in there that we know about these aliens?'

'It says here that they resemble large wolves who walk on their hind legs. Oh dear God-Emperor, this sounds like a crappy holo-drama.'

'Werewolves, sir?' Hanno asked in dubious amazement. 'When I joined the Imperial Guard I never thought I'd be fighting against an army of furry monsters from ancient myths.'

'Can't be worse than fighting the tyranids,' Hamilcar said. 'Remember?'

'Yes, sir, though I try to forget that every day. Thank you for reminding me.'

'Oh cheer up,' Hamilcar slapped his old friend on the shoulder. 'You got a medal there didn't you?'

'I did,' Hanno shrugged. 'And all I had to do to get it was survive a very hungry carnifex who mistook me for a steak.'

'Yes,' Hamilcar grinned. 'We all have our dear memories of the Guard.'

'Anyway, sir,' Hanno was eager to steer the conversation to a lighter topic. 'Where were we going before we were redeployed.'

'Ah,' Hamilcar thought back to the briefing with Lady General Emelda. 'We were supposed to go to Cilicia.'

'Never heard of it,' Hano said. 'Anything special about it?'

'Oh yes,' the Colonel said with a rueful look in his eyes. 'It's renowned in its' star sector for sporting the finest casinos, brothels and bars.'

Hanno's face turned into a mask of despair as he learned of the joyful times and pleasant evenings that High Command had cruelly snatched away before his eyes.

'Yeah,' Hamilcar said , reading his friend's expression. 'I know.'

'That's not frigging fair.'

'Welcome to the God-Emperor's most glorious Imperial Guard,' Hamilcar said. 'But at least we'll get to blow something up when we make planet fall.'

'We will not be getting our shore leave this time,' Hamilcar addressed his men who were assembled in one of the main embarkation decks for full combat kit inspection. Each man took the news with the stoicism so typical for the men born in the lower classes of Qart-Hadasht. 'The Emperor requires us to defend one of His worlds against an alien threat that stands ready to steal it from Him.'

He paused to look at his men and his heart swelled with pride at what he saw, before him stood ten thousand men and women, the entire 49th Qart-Hadastim Rifles, who would all lay down their lives to protect Corduba from the xenos if the God-Emperor willed it. Then ten thousand who stood before him were all uniformly tanned like all of his people, the legacy of generations of living beneath the harsh sun of Qart-Hadasht. Their hair was nearly all raven black, although some stood apart with blonde and even red hair betraying a hint of off-world heritage.

'You have all suffered hardships beyond measure when you annihilated a Hive Fleet of the accursed Great Devourer. And now the Emperor asks this of you, to once again save the lives of billions of Imperial citizens from enslavement by aliens or worse. Will you shirk from this holy duty?'

'Sir, no, sir!' Ten thousand voices said in perfect synchrony.

Hamilcar expected nothing less of his soldiers, they were all trained to the exacting standards of the Merchant Houses and each and every one of them had been baptised in the fires of war against foes ripped straight from a madman's nightmares. He walked along the front rank of Guardsmen and paused before a grizzled veteran with an eye-patch covering the gaping hole where his right eye used to be.

'Tell me, trooper Danel, will you follow when I lead?' Hamilcar asked the man.

'Aye, sir,' Danel answered. 'To the Eye of Terror and back.'

Hamilcar nodded at the Guardsman, even losing an eye during an eldar raid did not dampen the man's resolve to fight. He moved another rank further, this time he stopped before a black haired woman in her early twenties. She had a kind expression on her face and a slight nose. Lieutenant stripes were proudly emblazoned on the sleeves of her black uniform.

'Ah, lieutenant Arisha,' Hamilcar said and a little warmth managed itself on his face when he recalled the many awkward things this particular lieutenant had gotten herself into. 'Care to earn another stripe on that uniform of yours?'

'Of course, sir,' she smiled. 'Wouldn't mind to get my hands on some captain insignia.'

'Good girl,' Hamilcar said approvingly and continued his tour of the ranks.

'These aliens think themselves superior to us,' he said as he walked on. 'Aye, from what I heard they are fearsome warriors but they cannot hope to compare to us, proud soldiers of the Imperium. We will fight this alien scum and we will drive them of the surface of the Emperor's world that they defile with their presence.'

He paused before a giant of a man with the beginnings of a beard on his face. 'Won't we, major?'

'Oh aye, sir,' major Philosir, answered. 'We'll give them a fight they won't forget.'

'I expect nothing less,' Hamilcar said to all who stood assembled. 'The Imperium demands victory from its soldiers, and soon we shall have a victory worthy of the Primarch's of old!'

There was good natured cheering to the colonel's speech, but Hamilcar was one of the best rabble-rousers in the entire regiment, second only to commissar Chenkov, and he wanted his men to feel invincible, like gods of war.

'Every foe you have faced, you have crushed into dust!' Hamilcar leapt on a raised platform so he could give his speech from an elevated position. 'This foe shall be no different, they will rue the day they ever decided to crawl from whatever foul cesspit it is that spawned them when they face you!'

He could see the passion in the eyes of his and he saw that they would rather die than dishonour his trust in them, Hamilcar raised his right fist to punch the air over his head.

'For Home and the Throne!' Hamilcar yelled at the top of his lungs.

'For Qart-Hadasht and the Emperor!' The Guardsmen roared and raised their own fists.

'For honour!' Hamilcar raised his sword high for all to see and activated the power field, causing to blade to be wreathed by red lightning. 'For victory!'

By now the Qart-Hadashtim were beating their fists against their bronze chest plates and hammering the stocks of their rifles unto the metal of the deck, making a rhythmic drumbeat. These were fierce soldiers who had survived the many wars of the Imperium and Hamilcar had taken the flame of courage that burned in the hearts of his Guardsmen and he had turned it into a raging inferno.

The call for aid that was sent out by the desperate Governor of Corduba was heard by Lady General Morana and her battle-group of Imperial Guard regiments was already underway, Vallhallan Ice Warriors, Qarth-Hadashtim Rifles, Harakoni Warhawks and Athonian Tunnel Rats were ready to fight the God-Emperor's enemies.

But they were not the only ones who had picked up the distress call.

In the dark bowels of a ship travelling across the stars an astropath went into convulsions as he relayed the call to aid to his masters. He rocked back and forth in violent fits and two massive hands encased in gleaming silver gauntlets held him steady.

The room's other occupants watched the stream of data translated by the astropath on a hololith, their faces stern and their eyes hard. The astropath convulsed one final time and crumbled to a heap on the floor, one of the giants indicated two serfs who immediately laid the unconscious astropath on a stretcher and carried him to the med bay of the ship.

'A world of the Imperium is in need of aid,' one of the giants said, he held a golden helmet in the crook of his right arm and his left hand rested on the pommel of a sword in a scabbard to his thigh. 'Will we answer the call, brothers?'

'That is your decision to make, brother-captain,' another giant said and hammered his fist to his breastplate. 'And we will abide by it.'

'Then we march to war.'

'By your word, brother-captain Artelius.