Nine
"The Imperium! How mighty its aspect! How far-reaching its boundaries! As one world dies ten more are brought into the fold. Fear us, for we count the lives of planets, not men!"
-Cardinal Morius Blate, Ecclesiarch Primus
The PDF fortress in which the transports of the 49th Rifles were still arriving was designated as being of "high strategic value" in the dry wording of the Departmento Munitorum. Which was the way of the Munitorum to designate from some Feral World chieftain's hill fort to the impregnable Kasrs of Cadia.
In the case of this fortress it anchored a fortified line that stretched for several hundreds of kilometres of sparse forests and green steppes until it abruptly ended into a mountain range. It commanded an impressive view of the surrounding area and it could, in theory, reduce said surrounding area to a patchwork of smouldering craters with an impressive array of heavy artillery batteries should the need arise.
Even if an enemy somehow managed to brave the storm of Imperial artillery they would then be faced with the high curtain walls from which the determined defenders would hose them with las fire.
All this was explained to Hamilcar and Philosir by a nervous woman who accompanied them through the tour of the fortress. Her name was Valeria De Léon, she had bright grey eyes and a slightly upturned nose, she wore an immaculately pressed uniform of a Corduban PDF captain like she meant it. Hamilcar had little doubt the sole reason she was assigned this duty was because she had drawn the shortest straw and through ill-luck had become the official liaison officer between the Planetary Defence Force and the Qart-Hadashtim.
So far, and despite Valeria's constant praising of the bastion, Hamilcar was utterly unimpressed with the view before him. When he compared it to the bulwarks defending the kiryats back home it just did not measure up. He listened to Valeria with half an ear while he scanned the battlements and noted, with mounting horror, that many of the artillery emplacements were completely unadorned with heavy guns.
'Where is the artillery?' He asked, interrupting Valeria's extraordinary detailed monologue of the fortress' history. 'Aren't the heavy guns vital for an effective defence of his place?'
'Taken down for maintenance.' She replied, taken slightly aback. She took of her glasses and cleaned them with a piece of cloth. This was about the fifth time she had done this in as many minutes and Hamilcar had to resist the urge to pluck the glasses from her hand and hurl them over the ramparts.
'I see.' He said instead and tried to keep the frustration from showing on his face. 'Well, reverence to the Machine Spirits is of course right and proper. When will they brought back to operational capacity?'
The captain's gaze went to the data slate in her hand. A slight sigh of relief escaped from her lips as she found the answer.
'They are scheduled to be brought back to active service somewhere in the next year.' She said with the content smile of a student who had just cracked a particularly difficult conundrum.
'I must have heard you wrong.' Hamilcar said with surprise ghosting across his features. 'It sounded as though you said next year.'
'That is correct, sir.' The captain said, now with less contentment in her voice. 'I-I can find the forms if you like.'
Hamilcar narrowed his eyes at the captain who was taking what little cover she could behind her data slate. 'I don't need paperwork. I need artillery to pound the enemies of the Emperor into dust!'
'A tech priest is only available to bless them once every four years.' She muttered in feeble protest. 'Surely we can't press unblessed machines into active service? The Machine Spirits would take offence.'
Hamilcar was about to explode into a tirade before Philosir interjected to prevent a possible diplomatic incident. He knew the colonel had little patience when confronted with stupidity or a rigid adherence to bureaucracy, which in his mind amounted to the same thing.
'I'm sure the fine tech-priests of this world are currently in high demand, sir.' The Qart-Hadashtim captain said smoothly before turning to the Corduban. 'I'm sure it would be acceptable for our enginseers to perform the necessary incantations and blessings?"
'I'm not sure if-' Valeria began.
'Good, that's settled then.' Hamilcar barked and fixed her with a hard stare. 'Now if you would be so kind and continue with the inspection. I would be delighted to learn how many toilets have been installed in this place throughout the ages.'
Valeria's eyes snapped back to the data slate in her hands. 'That would be approximately-'
'Yes, thank you.' Hamilcar snapped once again and indicated major Philosir.' I am sure my more than capable second-in-command will be more than happy to continue the inspection without my unnecessary supervision.'
Philoshir eyes shot daggers at his commanding officer for a brief second before he composed himself.
'Of course, sir.' The big man saluted and turned to the PDF captain. 'You must forgive my commanding officer he only ever seems happy when some enemy of the Imperium is trying to kill him.'
Hamilcar rolled his eyes as he walked away and wondered if Hano would already have his "ration store" set up yet.
…
Hamilcar was not the first to try and find Hano who was installing his personal effects in a side room of Hamilcar's office. He heard the automatic doors of the room open up with a grumble of rusted gears .
'Got the place all nice and ready, sir.' He began as he emerged from his hidey-hole. 'Got any special reque…sts..?' His voice trailed off as he was confronted not by his old friend and commanding officer, but by the hard glare of commissar Chenkov in his foreboding black uniform.
The commissar's glare intensified as his eyes locked on his old nemesis. Chenkov had many suspicions on Hanno's ne'er do well behaviour, but frustratingly little proof. The Qart-Hadashtim protected their "saint" as the most devout of flocks.
Hanno steeled his mind as the full force of the Roskan commissar's intimidating presence washed over him. The adjutant was convinced Chenkov spent an hour in front of a mirror before he went to sleep each night just to perfect that glare. If he kept it up he wouldn't need his bolt pistol to fight the enemies of the Emperor anymore.
'Commissar Chenkov, sir!' Hano barked and snapped to rigid, unflinching attention. He did not make eye contact, he instead fixed his eyes on a spot right next to the commissar's face.
'Spare me the theatrics, Hano.' Chenkov said icily. 'I was merely looking for colonel Hamilcar. Matters of discipline need to be addressed.'
'Yes, sir!' Hano replied. 'Can't be too thorough in addressing matters of discipline, sir! A disciplined mind is a loyal mind my old mum used to say, sir!'
'I'm sure your mother was a paragon of Imperial virtue.' Chenkov said with a smile that lacked any warmth what so ever. He had little doubt Hanno's mother was indeed a virtuous woman, he merely felt she could have done a better job raising her son. 'Can you do me a favour, corporal Hanno?'
'I would march to the Eye of Terror and back on your say, sir!' Hanno replied immediately.
'Nothing so dramatic will be required.' Chenkov said. 'Just inform our valiant leader I wish to consult with him.'
Chenkov stood lingering for a few seconds beyond Hanno's comfort zone. 'Very well then.' He said at length and turned on his heel to march out of the spacious office.
'Twat.' Hano muttered under his breath as his heart began to race.
'I heard that.'
Hano swore under his breath and hoped Hamilcar wouldn't take much longer to arrive to his new office.
…
As Philosir continued to plough his way through the hassle of his inspection and Hano was suffering under the lash of Chenkov's tongue Yasha and her squad were settling in to their new quarters. They seemed nice enough, but then again both the sergeant and her squad were used to spartan living quarters. After all, no matter what world you found yourself on every Guardsman could always count on the simple fact that the Departmento Munitorum didn't give a flying toss about such frivolous concepts like "comfort" or, God-Emperor forbid, "privacy".
Danel strode towards Yasha, his face serious. 'It's time.' Was all he said.
Yasha nodded, nothing more needed to be said. She moved to retrieve something from a small shrine, each squad in the Qart-Hadashtim regiments had one just like it. The shrines were blessed on Qart-Hadasht by Imperial priests and as such they served as a link to the Emperor and their homeworld.
The squad stood assembled before their sergeant as she held a pot which contained a foul smelling powder. Apart from Yasha each Lybim held their unsheathed falcatas in their hands and their faces were grim.
'Yesterday we lost another brother, may his soul find his way to the Emperor and sit at his side.' Yasha intoned.
'May Lady Tanit ease his journey.' The assembled Guardsmen replied.
'Many brothers and sisters have gone before him and many more will walk the Path of Shades.' Yasha continued as she locked eyes with her soldiers.
'A sacrifice willingly made.' The Lybim said. 'Only in death does duty end.'
'The enemy has taken our brother and so they have a incurred a debt that can only be settled by blood.' The sergeant said as she moved to trooper Danel.
'As we pay in blood, so too shall they.' Danel winced as the blade of his falcata slid across his open palm. He balled his bleeding hand into a fist over the pot held in Yasha's outstretched arms, he did not watch as his blood mingled with the powder.
Yasha made her way down the line of Guardsman who each offered their blood to the mix.
Once the Lybim had sheathed their swords and bandaged their hands, Yasha placed the pot before her and sliced her palm with her own blade.
'By the Emperor, by the blood of our brothers and sisters, we shall have vengeance.'
Her eyes contained none of her usual humour, they were set in a grim stare as she thrust two fingers into the mixture of powder and blood and once more went down the line to apply the mixture which had thickened into paint on the face of her Lybim in intricate symbols, before Danel applied it to her own.
With their war paint applied their oaths were complete. Vengeance or death, it would matter not to the Emperor.
