Chapter 2

Marsh Silas watched as Lieutenant Hyram shuddered, keeled over, and vomited. His coughing filled the chamber.

The platoon sergeant approached the nearest corpse. From the man's neck, he could see a metal chain with two metal discs. He took them carefully into his hand.

"Dog tags. This man hails from the Interior Guard."

"What reason for this bloodshed, then?" Sergeant Honeycutt asked, looking around. "Soldier and citizen alike hang here."

"I think our reason can be found right here..."

Everyone looked at Inquisitor Barlocke. He had veered away from the others and was standing by what appeared some kind of stone altar. It was drenched in blood. Turning around, he held out his hand. "Sergeant, your lamp."

Marsh approached him. Behind the altar was a large flat rock. Painted in blood was the Star of Chaos Undivided. Eight lines with triangular points, all varying in size, jutted out from within the thin inner circle, cutting through the thick outer rim. Dagger points filled the void in between each shaft.

Voices murmured short prayers. Marsh stiffened.

"Marsh Silas! Mottershead and Holmswood are reporting in," Drummer Boy said. "Second Squad found the Vox unit all busted up and dozens of the Interior Guard troopers murdered in their beds. First Squad found a hatch to the basement in the hall. They found more bodies and symbols of Chaos."

Marsh Silas inhaled sharply. The garrison had been murdered by cultists. The survivors had turned to the Ruinous Powers and were hiding somewhere on the cape. In the fields? In the houses they passed? And here they were, just a single platoon, separated. They had to act.

He turned to the Lieutenant, and took his arm.

"Sir, we're about to be up to our necks in cultists. I think we ought to regroup and make a stand at the hall, call in reinforcements."

"But we haven't seen any cultists yet. And the Inquisitor is in command, staff sergeant," Lieutenant Hyram said timidly.

"I think it's best if we fall back to a more defensible position. The bridge should do," Inquisitor Barlocke said. "Pull the squads back to the Chimeras. You there, with the Vox, radio the regiment. We need everybody here. We don't know the extent of this corruption or how it originated. Move!"

###

All three squads and the specialists met in the square, among the abandoned market stalls, and quickly made their way back to the Chimeras. The men on guard duty said they hadn't spotted any movement. Marsh ushered them all in. The command squad and one of the Heavy Weapons Squads took to the first APC, the infantry squads dispersed among the other four Chimeras, and the Special Weapons Squads occupied the rearguard. Once everyone was inside, Marsh joined Third Squad in the second to last vehicle. Falling into line, the convoy began to draw away from the town.

Standing in the turret, facing the town, Marsh Silas watched for activity. Nothing in the town stirred. No movement, no lights. Why? This wasn't just plain heresy; such violence was clearly influenced by Chaos. Where had the cultists gone? They couldn't have just up and walked away? There was only one way off the cape, via the Mason Bridge. Somebody would have seen such an exodus despite its remote location.

About five hundred meters from the town, he turned around in the turret, resting one hand on the pintle-mounted Heavy Bolter. As his thoughts lingered, his gaze fell. That's when he noticed something on the road. A small yet peculiar bump just off to the side. The tan earth surrounding it seemed disturbed. As they passed by, he leaned over the edge of the turret and looked at it. There were no other bumps in the road, just treadmarks. Turning around in the open turret, he continued to gaze at it. The rearguard Chimera, just a short distance behind them, rolled over it. Marsh's eyes widened.

A column of earth shot upwards from the forward, left corner of the Chimera. It wasn't a mighty explosion, but enough that the front of the vehicle was demolished and it veered off to the right side of the road. It stalled there, its face nothing but twisted, smoldering metal.

"Halt! Halt! Halt!" Marsh cried into his Vox-link. The entire convoy braked hard. Gunfire erupted from the flowers on either side of the road back near the knocked out Chimera. Muzzle flashes appeared and disappeared among the yellow flowers. Ducking back in, he kept a finger to the side of his helmet. "Lieutenant! We've got hostiles approaching the rearguard! Requesting orders!"

Silence. "Sir? Sir, do you copy?"

"I don't...I don't know...I don't know..." came the weak voice.

"Damn it," Marsh swore as the bullets pinged against the hull. "Alright, alright, alright...Master Sergeant Tindall? Get these beasts turned around into line formation. We'll dismount and use the Chimeras as cover. Heavies, stay inside and man the side-mounted lasguns. We've gotta get the specials outta there before they're swarmed!"

The engine roared to life as the Chimera turned around. Pulling the gunner down from the turret, Marsh jumped back up. Bullets whizzed over his head as he watched the movement of the convoy. Their Chimera took to the center, staying on the road. Two rolled into the flowers on their left flank, as did the other two on the right. Intervals were maintained. Bobbing up and down as gunfire trained on his position, he struggled to view the stranded Chimera. He could see the disheveled shapes of cultists, raggedly dressed, carrying second-rate autoguns, racing for the disabled APC. Some clambered on top of it. Several went to the turret and used one of their rifle barrels to open up the turret hatch. A jet of flame suddenly burst out, burning the cultists around the turret. Their clothes, hair, and faces caught fire. Screaming madly, they tumbled down. Emerging from the turret was Corporal Tatum, his flamethrower hot. Turning around, he hosed the remaining cultists with flame, sending them flailing off. He then pulled himself out amid the gunfire and jumped down, followed by some of the surviving specialists.

Jumping back down, Marsh Silas ordered the hatch to be lowered. Everyone stormed out and the squad assembled behind the Chimera. Racing to the command squad, he slid next to wide-eyed Lieutenant Hyram, who was keeping one hand on his helmet and the other clutching his lasgun to his chest. "Sir, sir..." Marsh said, grabbing him his strap and jostling him. "Sir...sir...fuck it! Master Sergeant Tindall!" He hollered into the APC. "Move your Chimeras forward, slowly! Hit them with multi-lasers!"

Streams of red light peppered the flowers, cutting down the unarmored cultists as they rose. Yet as one fell, another took his place. They seemed to be rising from the fields of flowers, like undead who had long been buried beneath their petals. Slowly, the APC's rolled forward, their treads flattening the flowers, cutting swaths through them. Troopers stayed right behind them, occasionally squeezing off a few shots around the corner before ducking back. Men cycled their magazines and charge packs with a fury. Marsh walked up and down the line of Chimeras, going from group to group. "Aim low, you men! Aim low, fire slow! Choose your targets! Keep it up!" As their outgoing fire began to focus, losing its initial ferocity in favor of precision, he returned to his APC.

Looking around the corner, he saw the survivors taking cover behind the wreckage of the rearguard. Several Guardsmen were lying dead in the dirt, one slumped over in the turret. Arnold Yoxall, the demolitions expert, primed a satchel charge, and tossed it into the field to the left side. Moments later it exploded, sending dirt, flowers, and limbs flying into the air. On the right, Tatum continued to cast fire into the encroaching horde of cultists, setting the flowers ablaze. The rest armed themselves with plasma guns and were firing as quickly as they could into the flowers or around the Chimera, keeping the enemy at bay. Even the sniper, Bullard, and his spotter, Derryhouse, took up medium range arms to protect themselves.

Scrambling into Tindall's APC, Marsh went to the turret, and began firing the Heavy Bolter in short controlled bursts. He focused on the muzzle flashes, or the quick figures dashing through the flowers. One burst there, another there. A man got up in the hopes of rushing the Chimera. Another burst. A hit! The heavy rounds riddled his waist tearing open his flesh and knocking him to the ground. One more was coming. One burst, two more. Another hit! One of the rounds struck and opened his head. His form crumpled over, lifeless. With teeth clenched, ear drums ringing, eyes focused, he continued to rake the ragged enemy line with bolts. The automatic fire was like a scythe cutting down swathes of flowers. Yellow petals filled the air, stalks were slashed to pieces, and blood splashed everywhere.

Cultists attempted to set up missile launchers taken from the Interior Guard arsenal. But they were not trained in such arms, and took too long. Men on the pintle-mounted guns got them before they could even launch a missile. Others were riddled by the turret-mounted multi-lasers, firing at a tremendous rate.

The Chimera line approached the smoking wreck of the rearguard. Tindall maneuvered to the side of it as Marsh Silas leaned over the side. "Get behind us!" Quickly the remaining specialists fell in behind the rear of the APC.

Sinking back inside, he went out to meet the soot covered men. "Is everyone alright?" he asked over the noise.

"One piece, Marsh Silas!" cried Sergeant Stainthorpe, smiling widely as he planted a heavy hand on the platoon sergeant's shoulder.

"Where are they coming from? Did you see?"

"There's some kind of spider hole on either side of the road. I saw it with mine-own eyes!" hollered Tatum.

"We ought to plug those holes!" Yoxall added.

"Right! Tatum, Yoxall, Hitch, with me!"

Keeping the Chimeras advancing towards the town at a steady pace, the four men sprinted towards the left flank. Reaching the farthest Chimera, Marsh could see what they meant. With so many flowers cut to ribbons, burned, or flattened, he could see the tunnel entrance quite clearly. It was a simple, square hole with wooden framing, just wide enough for a man to squeeze through. A cover with false flowers was off to the side. How they manage to cut through the peculiar roots of the fast-growing flowers didn't matter to the men at that moment. As the Chimera rolled up next to it, the men inside fired side-mounted lasguns down into it, cutting down each cultist attempting to scramble out. When sufficiently suppressed, Marsh and Hitch slid up to the hole, pulled the pin on a fragmentation grenade, and dropped it inside. The explosion resulted in screams and dust. While Yoxall primed another satchel charge, Tatum dipped his flamethrower inside and pulled the trigger. More wretched screaming rose up and flames licked the edges. When the charge was ready, Yoxall tossed it in and they retreated back to the safety of the Chimera. The explosion collapsed the entrance to the shaft and the earth some meters beyond it. Judging from the moans and the limbs protruding from the disrupted earth, it had not been dug deep.

The four men repeated the same task on the right flank, rolling and sprinting between the Chimeras. The second tunnel met the same fate. With their flanks secure, they turned their attention forward. Once more, Bloody Platoon was approaching the town. The cultists stranded in the field did not flee, forming a staggered line. As the Chimeras began to approach, the cultists continued to fall. More came from the village dwellings, but their line was bowing. Lasbolts peppered their legs, tore away their flesh and clothing. So many high caliber rounds struck single targets that their chests were blown open, revealing ribs and intestines. Wounded cultists were flattened beneath treads or executed with a single shot to the head from a carefully aimed pistol as the Guardsmen passed. Soon their line in front of the town was crushed, though another was forming on its edge, dispersed among their homes.

Order was being restored. Even Lieutenant Hyram overcame his stupor and was now firing as he walked slowly behind the corner of a Chimera. Cultists took up positions inside their dwellings or behind the rockcrete walls, rendering their light autoguns and lasguns practically useless. He was firing his lasgun at a cultist behind one of the walls; each red, blue, or golden lasbolt seared by far over the targets head.

Marsh put a hand on the officer's back. "Sir, you're firing too high. Lower your weapon a bit...there you go. And don't pull the trigger sir, see? You're pullin' it. Squeeze it, sir! Squeeze it! There, there, feel that resistance? Good, good, now fire!" The lieutenant still missed. "Make sure the butt is pressed firmly into your shoulder, like this. Here, let me...there you go, sir! Alright let's do some proper killin' then!"

Taking to his knee, he aimed, and squeezed the trigger just as Hyram did. With a single shot, Marsh dropped the cultist. "There you go sir, you nailed him!"

"But I didn't𑁋"

"Yes you did, I saw it! Keep it up, sir!"

Over the vox-link, Tindall's raspy voice rose up.

"Marsh Silas, we're about to hit the edge of the town. Going in any further will be dangerous for the Chimeras."

He was right. The town, while somewhat sparse in its density, was still too narrow for armored personnel carriers to be of any assistance. They would be sitting ducks for grenades or missiles. Now it was time for the infantry to do their work

As the Chimeras stopped, Marsh waved his hand in the air.

"Form up on me!" Each of the three infantry squads, the remaining specialists, and the heavies assembled around him, taking cover behind three of the Chimeras, were still spewing Heavy Bolter and multi-laser fire into the town. "Listen up𑁋can everyone hear me? We're assaulting the town."

Marsh judged from the cultists' retreat the majority were assembling at the old Interior Guard barracks and at the hall. Both structures would be their objectives. First Squad would take the remaining specialists and the Heavy Weapons team operating the autocannon up the right flank of the town would tackle the barracks. Second and Third Squad were to advance house-by-house with the missile launcher team. Each squad had a man armed with a grenade launcher as well, and they would blow apart each house. They would then proceed up to the hall and clear it.

Standing up and checking his lasgun briefly, Marsh looked at the men. "Mortar team, lascannon team, deploy here! Heavy Bolter teams, deploy on the right! Ready?"

"Ready, Marsh Silas!" they all shouted.

"Move out!"

Seizing one of the yards from the cultists as they charged from the Chimera line, had an excellent location to fire at the buildings surrounding them. Corporal Knaggs and Trooper Fletcher deployed the launcher on its tripod and fired a missile into the building directly across from their position. It blew a large hole right in the front. As rockcrete dust settled, disoriented cultists stumbled out, holding their ears or covering their eyes. In that brief moment, bathed in broad daylight, Marsh Silas could see their grayed skin, their wild reddened eyes, their teeth bared like fangs. Skin clung tight to bones and they struggled to lift their autoguns, giving them a terrible, shambling way of moving. Instead of speaking, they just blurted insane babble, hissing, spluttering, growling, and roaring.

With the rest of the Guardsmen, Marsh shot them down as they flooded out. Taking two men from Second Squad𑁋Logue, who used a highly customized autopistol with an extended barrel, clip, and stock, and Foley, who utilized a standard lasgun as well as a heavy double-barreled shotgun𑁋and stormed through the gaping hole. Inside, their eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness. Several cultists in tattered clothes were trying to find their footing. All were quickly dispatched, falling over the disturbed furniture.

In the corner of the room, they found an open hatch. Marsh Silas figured they must have had more tunnels, or at least some kind of connected basement structure they were hiding in. They dropped a grenade down the hatch for good measure.

When he came back out, he saw that Second and Third Squads were already clearing more houses. Dead cultists littered the ground. Bodies were strewn in the market stalls, slumped over stone walls, in heaps on open grass. Whooping loudly, Knaggs fired another missile into a house. Second Squad stormed in, merrily firing their weapons. Third Squad's grenadier blew the door off another house. When the frags they lobbed in detonated, they stormed in. One cultist attempted to break through, sprinting out of the door. Queshire came out behind, screaming at the top of his lungs. Thrusting his lasgun forward, the bayonet struck the fleeing cultist square in the back. Crying out, she fell down to the ground, face-first. Queshire, along with a second man, kicked the cultist over and bayonet her to death. Blood coated their blades.

It became a quick, rhythmic action. Grenadiers would blow off a door, a frag would follow, the team would rush in, kill everyone in sight, and drop another grenade through the basement hatch. With each house, the tactic was performed quicker and quicker. Bloody Platoon was hitting its stride, the way a bricklayer or a digger would gain their second wind and work harder. House after house was assaulted and cleared. Onto the next they would go, to the next, to the next.

Explosion after explosion rocked the right flank. Ordering Logue and Foley back to their squad, Marsh ran off to join Third Squad. They either cleared or demolished every house up their way. Now they were pinned down behind the stone wall of the last house they had cleared, which was just across from the large blockhouse that acted as the Interior Guard barracks. Crawling along the ground, he came up to Bullard the sniper, who was at the end of the wall.

"What's your situation?" Marsh asked as heavy stubber rounds slammed into the opposite side of the wall.

"Some cultist with a heavy stubber is attempting to disrupt my life, Marsh Silas!" Bullard answered.

"Not much of a problem then," Marsh jested, "seeing as you do that every time we've gone on furlough."

"Well that's of mine-own makin'! When it comes to a fuckin' Chaos worshipper on a stubber, that's an entirely different affair."

"Throw a smoke grenade!"

Bullard primed the canister and whipped it towards the barracks. It landed right under the firing port of the heavy stubber. Moments later, thick white smoke enveloped the front. Jumping to their feet, Marsh and Bullard charged the barracks, slamming into the side of the wall beside the firing port. Attempting to squeeze a grenade into the port would see one of their hands blown off. Looking around, Marsh looked for alternatives. Then he looked up at the roof, which was not any higher than two men.

Quickly, he tapped Bullard on the shoulder to get his attention and motioned to the roof with his thumb. Bullard leveled his long-las, holding it like a plank of wood. Marsh put one foot on it, then Bullard lifted him as he reached up. Snatching the edge of the flat roof, he clambered up and shouldered his lasgun. He extended a hand and pulled the sniper up as well. Going over to the small vent covering at the top, they knocked it off with the butt of Marsh's rifle. Then, Bullard armed a grenade and dropped it down the tube. Crouching low and covering their ears, they felt the deep boom reverberate inside. Pained screams rang out and dust flew from the vent and firing ports. All gunfire from within ceased.

When he rose, he spotted Sergeant Mottershead and Second Squad already moving up the slope to the hall. Spotting Marsh, Mottershead made a sweeping motion with his arm. It was the signal for 'all clear.'

Jumping down with Bullard, Marsh rallied First Squad and the Special Weapons experts to him. They went to the heavy door, which they found to be locked. "Yoxall, blow it."

Yoxall dropped his rucksack and opened it up. He pulled out a thin, cylindrical melta chargee and went to the door. He placed it at the base of the door, primed the charge, and attached the detonation wire. Running back, he carried the spool and loosed more wire until he reached the others. First Squad and the specialists took cover behind the ferrocrete wall of the yard. Moments later, the bomb went off in a deafening explosion. A terrible hissing rose with it as intense heat boiled the water in the air away. Looking over the wall, Marsh could see the door melting into white hot slag. Even the initial blast sheared away a great deal of the rockcrete, casting a thick cloud of gray dust. Screaming from within grew louder. Cultists began to stumble out, covered in burns, their flesh seared away. Some clasped their eyes and ears, gripped and covered their exposed bones and blackened skin. As they attempted to get out, they were further burned by the melting metal. First Squad rose up and shot them down.

Marsh pointed at Tatum. "You're up!" With a grin, the flamethrower-wielding Guardsman jumped over the wall. Keeping his distance from the intense heat of the still melting doors, he adjusted the pressure on his weapon, and pulled the triggers. A stream of flame sprung through the door then expanded just inside. It was like he had unleashed a massive fireball. Flames burst from the firing ports and up through the vents.

After a moment, he pointed at Yoxall and Tatum. "Keep hitting it with fire and charges until it's gone! The rest of you men, come with me!" Imperial barracks often didn't just occupy the ground level. More often, they were used as pillboxes, while the actual barracks was underground. It was safe to assume that a great deal of the surviving cultists were assembling below.

Jogging over to Second Squad, which was seated just in front of the hall amid a dozen or so cultist corpses, he found them trying to open the large doors. Mottershead turned to face the platoon sergeant.

"Marsh Silas, we've got more cultists down on the beach. Third Squad could use a hand."

He sent First Squad down to bolster the attack. Clearing the beach would be a more difficult task. There wasn't as much cover and the beach huts could be easily destroyed. Luckily, it gave the cultists no place else to go besides their cavern or the sea. Only the hall remained as the last true obstacle. Marsh ordered Mottershead and Second Squad to get on either side of the path. They were to keep their weapons trained on the door. It was peculiar, he thought, that no gunfire was coming from the ports on either side of the entrance. Were they waiting for them to storm in? Was the door even barred? Had any of the cultists had the tactical sense to use the building for a last stand?

Everyone sank to a knee or stood firm, keeping their weapons up. Marsh proceeded up to the heavy door. Not a single sound rang out within the hall, although with the battle din permeating from the beach, he wouldn't have been able to all the same. Slowly taking the large vertical handle, he pulled on it. It wouldn't budge.

"It's locked this time. Yoxall, we need you up at the𑁋"

Suddenly the door swung open into the hall. In that same instant, Marsh saw a terrible darkness inside, impenetrable like the cavern. Suddenly, a massive, pronged object jutted out and struck him square in the chestplate. The impact knocked the wind out of his chest and sent him over a dozen feet down the path. Landing hard on his side, wheezing for air, he regained his bearings and looked back up. Emerging from the door was a pale purple-skinned monstrosity, with two blackened arms and huge, dull, separated claw-like fingers at the end. They looked like the carapace of a shelled sea animal, oozing and dripping with some manner of clear fluid. Its legs, arms, and armored torso were slender like a woman's, but the head was devoid of hair, and its eyes glowed a haunting red. Instead of lips it possessed two rows of thin, razor-sharp teeth, shaped into a grotesque smile.

"Daemonette!" someone cried as the monster released a shrill scream. Cultists stormed out, brandishing machetes, knives, swords, and clubs. Shooting and yelling, the squad retreated in all directions. But Marsh wasn't fast enough. His eyes caught the daemonette, and in them he caught something strange. Its slender, humanoid features became more prominent, almost alluring. Part of him longed to meet it, another to flee, and in between both, his fear froze his feet to the ground. Laughing, the daemonette sprung down the slope and made for Marsh. To fight the allure of the daemonette was a herculean effort. He thought of the God-Emperor, recited prayers in seconds, pictured the regimental colors, anything to drown out the grip on his mind. Something within him began to fight, a mysterious presence of mind and body. He had not yet fully overcome it, but he was able to raise his M36. With one agile, elegant move, it leaped towards him, its claw pointed right at him. Holding his lasgun by the stock and barrel, he caught the claw with it. He fell on his back and held his lasgun as high above him as he could, just to keep the dull crab-like prongs away. Any sharper and they would have pierced his breastplate moments earlier. Throwing all his might, he pushed back against the daemonette's arm. But it possessed a strength that he could not summon. It's delectable laughter goaded him to give in, let the claws drive into him. Gritting his teeth, he watched as the two prongs slowly descended, coming closer and closer to his unarmored lower abdomen.

Suddenly he heard the tremendous, cracking report of a powerful lasgun. A thick stream of red struck the daemonette's shoulder. The impact was so damaging the entire arm was nearly severed. Howling and screeching, the daemonette staggered back. Marsh looked to his right. Approaching him was the Inquisitor. Casting aside his lasgun, Barlocke drew his eight-chamber shotgun. Slowly and deliberately, he fired. The first shell struck, splashing the daemonette with flame. One after the other, closing in on the daemonette, he fired and fired. Each inferno round exploded against the screaming creature, struggling to attack. But each powerful round sent it stumbling back. When all eight shells were spent, he drew one of the Ripper pistols and unleashed a full clip. Dozens of small, venomous rounds struck the already scorched, staggering monster. Piercing its armor, the effects of the poison could already be seen coursing through its black, visible veins. Burned and poisoned, the beast sank to its knees. Cultists streamed from the hall in an attempt to overtake the Inquisitor. The squad returned, however, and cut them down before they could even take several paces away from the threshold.

Holstering his pistol, Barlocke drew his power sword. Activating it, blue energy enveloped the blade. In one swift, elegant motion, the Inquisitor ran the blade through the daemonette's center. Just as quickly, he withdrew it, spun around, and cut the monster's head off. Blasphemous black blood leaked from its wounds and ran down its torso from the stump. The head tumbled onto the ground and rolled down the hill.

Another pair of arms hooked themselves under Marsh's shoulders and lifted him up.

"I've got you, sergeant!"

It was Lieutenant Hyram. He handed him his lasgun. "Are you alright?"

"Yes sir, thank you," Marsh grunted. He looked over at the Inquisitor, who sheathed his power sword.

"Let's finish this," Barlocke shouted, leading Second Squad and the specialists into the hall. With a terrific war cry, they met the cultists within. From where he stood, Marsh Silas could hear bayonets puncturing flesh, lasbolts, plasma, gunfire, cultists' death throes. Finally retaking air normally, he followed them in. Lieutenant Hyram was at his side. By the time they managed to get into the hall, nearly forty or more bodies littered the floor. These had been the last fighters the cultists could offer, armed with simple melee weapons that couldn't even hope to pierce flak armor. Men stepped over the bodies, finishing off the wounded. Below, he could hear Second Squad killing those remaining in the cellar.

At the rear door that they had discovered before, they found the Inquisitor. Barlocke led them back outside into the stark sunlight. The trio stood at the edge of the cliff and looked over at the beach. First and Third Squad drove the cultists from the cavern and from the beach huts. All the survivors were now running into the sea, slogging through the surf, attempting to swim away. All of the Guardsmen stood on the beach, whooping, hollering, and laughing as they shot at the retreating Chaos-worshippers. The men with autoguns fared better than those with laser weapons.

A bustle on the left caught Marsh's eyes. The two Heavy Bolter teams moved up and set up their tripod mounted weapons at the edge of the cliff. With gleeful smiles, they began raking the water with the bolts. Cultist after cultist fell into the water, or sank beneath the waves. Bullard arrived and began sniping targets as well. After some time, the firing subsided. Only a few cultists who managed to swim underwater were now bobbing in the distance. Lieutenant Hyram was looking at them through his magnoculars.

"They got away."

"The sea will take them, sir," Marsh said, wiping the dirt from his face with the back of his gloved hand. "They won't be able to fare the channel."

"Where could they possibly be going?" Hyram said.

Raising his own magnoculars, Marsh gazed at the opposite side of the shallow channel. Across from Army's Meadow by some fourteen kilometers was an island Kasr of old. Destroyed millennia ago, the dark gray bones of Kasr Fortis still stood high. It practically covered the entire island. Studying the shore, he saw where the old piers had been. There, he saw small fishing boats. Near those boats, he saw shadowy figures retreating to the safety of the ruined fortress-city.

Handing his magnoculars over to Barlocke, standing on his left, he pointed at the piers. The Inquisitor looked for a few moments, then handed them back. Pulling the tactical scarf from his face, he stared ahead grimly.

"It appears whatever corrupted the dwellers of Army's Meadow came from the dead Kasr."

"We'll have to notify the regiment," Hyram said.

"For now, sir, let's secure the area, round up the wounded, and tally the dead. We can't do anything about Kasr Fortis now."

###

The town, lacking its own name, had always been synonymous with the cape it sat upon. Like most places on Cadia, it was old, though not proud like the modern Kasrs. Marsh Silas could not understand why those squatters eschewed martial Cadian society. Without the discipline, their consumption by the Ruinous Powers was inevitable. Without the rigors of Kasr life defending them from the Eye of Terror and its millions of infiltrators, they were exposed. Now, they paid for it with their lives.

As he walked back to the Chimeras with Lieutenant Hyram and Inquisitor Barlocke, he surveyed the remnants of the town. Every building, ranging from common dwellings to tool sheds, was destroyed. Most had several large, gaping holes in the sides or ceilings. Missiles, grenades, and mortars made short work of them. Soldiers of Bloody Platoon carefully crept among the wreckage, searching for any survivors to exterminate. Occasionally a laspistol or an autogun went off, signaling the end of a wounded cultist who went unnoticed. Among themselves, there were no wounds beyond grazes, burns, and cuts. Although, their losses were a bit heavier; half of the specialists were dead along with the three-man crew of the rearguard Chimera. Among the infantry squads, there were only several dead in total.

Thinking back to his days before Bloody Platoon, Marsh knew they hadn't fared too badly. By the grace of the God-Emperor, they faced raggedy cultists rather than the more organized worshippers, or, Emperor preserve him, the Traitor Legions. Even if one group of Chaos Space Marines had been present, they would have been lucky to have even one squad left. Although, he knew the men of Bloody Platoon would disagree. He wasn't giving them enough credit; they fought against the legions of Chaos before. Of course, the entire regiment had been there, and a firing line, five bodies deep, of Guardsmen, could stop almost anything in its tracks.

"Look, Marsh Silas, we found one alive!" cried Drummer Boy. He and several others, keeping their distance, surrounded a man in priest's garments.

"By the Emperor, even the priest turned," Lieutenant Hyram murmured.

The man had graying brown hair and a scraggly beard. His violet eyes seemed more intense than the average Cadian, although Marsh felt sickened to make the comparison. Before him was no real Cadian, just a weakling seduced by Chaos.

"Kill him and be done with it," Marsh said as he took out his pipe.

"No, we should interrogate him," Lieutenant Hyram countermanded.

"But sir𑁋"

Hyram didn't listen. He walked up to the priest and pointed at him.

"You there, tell me, what happened to the children."

Marsh blinked. He expected a question relating to Kasr Fortis, or how exactly the corruption began, what drove them to tear one another apart, or even the number of cultists that remained before the attack. He hadn't even thought of the children. None were seen among the live cultists, or the dead in the various buildings across town.

First, the priest rose onto his knees. He stared at Hyram for some time. Slowly, he smiled. Then he laughed.

"We heard the voices of Chaos, uplifting us, freeing us. We have little, but always wanted more. More, more, more..." he took a long, wet, breath. "...blood for the Blood God, pleasure for the God of Excess, for Nurgle, the God of Decay and Death, and praise Tzeentch, the Architect..."

"The children, damn your eyes!" Marsh Silas shouted, stepping up beside Hyram.

"Oh, they joined us. All joined. The strong were taken. We gave the weak to the sea."

A chill ran through Marsh. The priest grinned an evil smirk. Clenching his teeth, he turned around. Standing near the Inquisitor was Logue, holding his custom autopistol. He was a bit of a menacing looking chap, with a stubble of blonde beard and violet eyes that lacked any vibrance. He kept his helmet low, which cast a shadow over his narrow face. Nothing ever disturbed Logue's taciturn expression.

After a moment, he nodded at the Shock Trooper. Logue walked forward, passing Marsh. The latter turned to see him push Hyram gently to the side with one hand, raising the stock of his custom autopistol to his shoulder. The smug expression disappeared from the priest's eyes.

"You may kill me, but rest assured, he shall return and strip your souls from your very𑁋"

Logue emptied the entire magazine into the converted priest. The Chaos worshipper let out a brief cry of pain as his body shuddered with the rapid-fire impact, then slumped over. For good measure, Foley approached with his own autopistol, and fired a single shot into the dead man's head. With that, the men dispersed and resumed their duties. Marsh Silas went over to the lieutenant and cleared his throat.

"Better to let some questions go unanswered, sir."

Hyram stared ahead sorrowfully.

"I think I acted like a coward today," he said.

"No one knows how they'll act when the first shot is fired, sir," Marsh said as he lit the tabac leaves in his pipe. He puffed on the pipe and sighed. "May I ask, sir, what you did before you came here?"

"Administrative work. I operated a supply office of clerks and orderlies on Cypra Mundi."

Marsh Silas grunted. Hyram took off his helmet and exhaled sadly. "Who do you think he meant by 'he?' Who was he talking about at the end?"

"Perhaps his dark god, though I would know little of it. I'd rather keep it that way."

"No, not a god," Inquisitor Barlocke said. "He speaks of a man."

"What man?" Hyram asked. The Inquisitor stared ahead rigidly. He seemed lost in thought for a time. Then he blinked himself from his stupor and then nodded graciously.

"Quite sorry, lieutenant, but I must keep such information to myself for the time being." Before either Hyram or Marsh could speak, he continued. "I am glad I chose you to accompany me. You men of Bloody Platoon are fierce fighters, although you certainly make a mess."

"Comes with experience, Inquisitor," Marsh Silas smiled, toasting him with his pipe. "If you want something wiped off the face of the planet, come see us." Inquisitor Barlocke chuckled slightly, then went off to collect his weapons. Turning to Hyram, he patted the officer on the shoulder. "Fear not sir, it is your first day o' combat. More days a-coming, and you'll find your footing."

The sound of engines roared in the distance. Looking down the road, he could see a convoy of Chimeras coming down the road. He chuckled. "And so the men of Second and Third Platoons finally arrive, although they've missed the action Best put on a good appearance all the same, haven't we, sir? Bloody Platoon, fall in!"

Word Count: 6,332