Chapter 1
Imperial Cruiser Spirit of Vengeance, 0800 Hours
Corporal James Stokes of the 92nd Daruvian Regiment stood in formation in one of the many hangers onboard the Spirit of Vengeance. Standing with him were the soldiers of the 2nd Company, numbering at exactly two hundred and fifty men. The 92nd Regiment, along with three hundred other regiments from the planet Daruvia, was created due to growing concern of an Ork incursion into the sector. Each regiment from Daruvia numbers at around thirteen hundred men. Due to the huge population of Daruvia, the raising of the regiments was of little issue. Because of the urgency of the situation, the company was hastily armed and rushed through two months of training before being loaded onto the Spirit of Vengeance and departing for a patrol.
"2nd Company! Attention on deck!"
James snapped to attention in a pose that was taught to him just a few days prior. Footsteps echoed through the hanger as a group of officers walked along the line of guardsman, halting in front of the middle of the formation. A grizzled middle aged man stepped forward, his uniform decorated with various medals and ribbons. After surveying the men in front of him, he shook his head in dismay.
"I'm Colonel Alexander Darius, your Regimental Commander," he began in a stern voice as his eyes continued to dart up and down the line. "From this point onwards, you are no longer men with rights and privileges, you are property of the Imperium of Man and I expect each and everyone of you to serve the Emperor with no doubts or fears."
The room grew eerily silent, followed by the sound of boots impacting the metallic floor of the hanger.
"It is to this end," the Colonel said. "That I introduce you to your Regimental Commissar, Commissar Zharkov."
A tall, gaunt man walked alongside the front row of the company, his expression was cold as his icy blue eyes stared at the face of every guardsman in the front row of the company, his face torn apart by war contrasting with the fresh, young faces of second company.
"Your lives now belong to the Imperium," the Commissar boomed. "You shall not hold any possessions, show any fear and, most importantly, you will not question the orders of your superiors."
A sudden burst of laughter sounded somewhere down the line. Instantaneously, the Commissar stormed towards the sound. He halted in front of a young soldier with a smirk on his face.
"Name and rank, maggot," the Commissar shouted, spitting on the boy's face as he talked.
"Guardsman Robert Jorger, sir," the guardsman said energetically, still bearing a grin on his face.
The Commissar's expression changed to that of fury. "Guardsman Jorger, you will not make any sound unless your superiors or the Emperor himself speaks to you, do you understand guardsman?"
Guardsman Jorger gulped as he was berated by the officer, suddenly regretting his actions. "Yes, Commissar," he whimpered quietly.
But the Commissar had not finished with his demonstration. "Step forward, guardsman," he said.
The young soldier marched forward, halting beside the Commissar and turning on his heels to face him.
"Well than," Zharkov began. "Where are you from guardsman?"
"Hive Steadfast sir," the recruit responded, fear creeping into his answer.
Commissar Zharkov stepped closer to his prey. "I see, where in the Hive?"
The Guardsman paled before answering. "The lower levels, sir."
Zharkov's scarred face relaxed as he heard the recruits answer and smirked. "Ah, it appears we have a gutter rat in our company," he said. "Tell me, guardsman, are you prepared to serve the Emperor, even if it results in your death?
Corporal Stokes and two hundred and forty eight other soldiers cringed when they heard Smith's answer.
"I am prepared to serve the Emperor sir," the guardsman said, confidence returning to his voice. "Even in death, if need be."
The Commissar chuckled. "Very good Guardsman, I am very glad to hear that." Commissar Zharkov raised his laspistol in a mechanical manner and proceeded to blow the recruit's brains out.
A deafening roar filled the hanger and the metal floor was showered in blood as Smith's body hit the ground with a loud thud. The soldiers of the 92nd all flinched in unison as their company was reduced to two hundred and forty nine men. Without missing a beat, Zharkov turned towards 2nd Company, gauging the soldiers reactions.
"The next man whom makes a sound shall be reassigned to a penal legion," the Commissar shouted. "Is that understood, 2nd Company?"
"Sir, yes sir!" The company shouted in response, answering in a single voice.
The Commissar simply nodded and stepped back, returning to his position beside Colonel Darius. The Regiment's commander waited for the Commissar to stiffen before he spoke again.
"The reason I am visiting this company, is too inform you of your role in this regiment."
The Colonel made sure he had the attention of the men before continuing.
"As you may know, the 92nd is a mechanised regiment, and this company shall be the tip of the spear. You will ride into battle, bathing the enemies of the Imperium in lasfire and this, gentleman, will be your mount."
Commissar Zharkov gestured at the control room of the hanger. The hinges of the loading door roared to life, as the huge device slowly slid open, revealing four rows of armoured vehicles.
"This gentlemen, is a new design fresh from the bowels of the Forgeworld Artemis," the Colonel said with enthusiasm. "These are modified Chimera IFVs, their armour has been reinforced and a turret has been added, based off that of the Predator Tank that our comrades in the Adeptus Astartes use."
2nd Company stood in awe as they admired the machinery in front of them. After waiting a few moments, Colonel Darius spoke again.
"In two days time, we will make planet fall on a world called Plataea. There, we will train with these machines until this company is familiar with them. Your company will envied by the entire regiment, gentlemen."
The Colonel called the Company Commander forward before he and the commissar departed.
"2nd Company! Dismissed!"
The mess hall aboard the Spirit of Vengeance was filled with life as Guardsman and Naval personnel alike flooded into the room. After receiving a serving of gruel, Corporal James Stokes took his tray and approached a table in the corner, occupied by his squad. As he neared the table, his squad leader noticed his presence and beckoned him over.
"Ah, Corporal," he shouted over the laughter and conversation occurring around them. "Sit down."
James set his tray down and took a seat next to Sergeant Killian.
"Sergeant, heard any news from the LT?" James asked.
Killian thought for a moment before responding. "Rumour has it, there's something going down tomorrow. The boys in 5th Company can't keep their mouths shut about it."
"Maybe if they weren't so damn useless, they would be able to keep their mouths shut," said a guardsman sitting opposite to James.
"Almost like yourself perhaps," Sergeant Killian said with a grin on his face.
The guardsman glared at Killian, but remained silent.
"Regardless," the Sergeant continued. "I would try and get some decent shuteye tonight Corporal, we may need-." The Sergeant was interrupted as the mess hall door opened, revealing a hulking figure in pitch black power armour. Immediately, the company commander burst from his seat and quickly strode to the door. The entire company stared in bewilderment as the door shut behind their commander and the entire room was engulfed in silence.
"What the gak was that?" Asked one of the younger guardsmen at the table.
"No idea guardsman, it looked important though," Killian responded.
A moment later, the officers in the room stood and ordered their platoons to exit the mess hall. The guardsmen rose and glanced around in confusion for a moment before the Lieutenants began to encourage their men to move with a barrage of insults. The naval personnel watched with blank expressions as the guardsmen stormed out of the room at the urging of their leaders, the entire mess hall clearing out in seconds.