FOUR

Although everybody in the 597th had been thoroughly enjoying their opportunity to relax in the aftermath of the Adumbira campaign, they knew that at any time orders could come from above and rain on their little parade. Perhaps that was why they siezed every night as opportunity to celebrate. We had spent a few months getting the wounded back into fighting condition, reorganizing squads and units as casualties and promotions necessitated, and got as many of the chimeras up and running again. Thankfully, we managed to receive a resupply shipment before we were redeployed so a fresh influx of equipment, munitions, and mostly importantly, fresh new recruits filled our ranks and supply bins to the brim. Despite all of us being on the same planet, only two of the original five regiments were selected to participate in this new campaign – ours and the 22nd Kastaforian Heavy Infantry, who absorbed a few platoons' worth of men from their sister regiment in order to be brought to full fighting capacity. Along with us came a new Guard regiment formed from elements of the Adumbrian PDF that had performed admirably in the defense of the planet. Praise, free food, and limitless access to the parties of the nobility were all well and good but I always preferred a planet to give thanks by supplying a new regiment for the Imperium. Similar to the 597th, the Adumbrians were all veterans of intense combat, which meant at least we weren't getting a regiment of competent rookies. We still didn't quite trust them, though, as they were still considered PDF in everything except name and uniform.

But a servant to the Emperor is a servant nonetheless, even if their best attribute was not getting killed when all hell broke loose. Hopefully their leaders will be able to bang their heads together and make enough brain cells to work sufficiently long enough to make it through the next campaign in one piece. After their formation, we were warned that they would be on the next deployment so we were resigned to the pending problems and confusion that they were invariably going to cause. I remained hopeful, though, that they would manage to surprise us in the end. Well we would certainly be surprised just not how we wanted to be.

As the regiment was formed from the reminants of no less than twenty-one different PDF regiments, friction between the officers, soldiers, platoons, and even squads was to be expected. No prizes in figuring out who was the first person to be asked to help organize the new regiment and smooth out the ruffles. And in traditional fashion, that task was immediately passed from Cain to me and apparently, I was expected to be grateful for the opportunity. As most PDF units wouldn't know a commissar from an overly dressed nobleman, it was my job to make sure that the unit was given its crash course lecture in adherence to the Imperial creed. Cain recommended a few tactics for me, a mixture of complimenting and fear-invoking in order to ensure that the prospect of their first deployment didn't scare the shit out of them and I assume lead to dessertions.

I first full and formal meeting with the 9th Adumbrian Light Infantry Regiment a few weeks before we were to ship out. However I had briefly met with individual squads and platoons prior to the formal gathering. I was greeted by their colonel, Trevek was his name if I recall correctly. He had been praised for his tactical insight during the planet's defense, which was how he earned the honour of taking his fellow Adumbrians off-world, though he struck me as a bit brazen and probably a fan of too many old war holofilms. He would have to learn how to think more conservatively if he was going to be an effective leader. Unlike PDF units, Guard regiments could go a decade without getting fresh recruits, if they managed to live long enough to get any. Trevek might have been able to be reckless with the lives of his men before, thanks to having your main source of recruits all around you, but as a Guard regimental commander he would have to learn restraint or die with the rest of his men.

"Listen up you maggots!" Trevek shouted to the thousands of Guardsmen now standing at attention on a large rockcrete plot that used to belong to a nearby arena but was now just a pile of rubble. "This here is Commissar Abel and she's here to make sure you sorry lot have the stuff to be proper Guardsmen. So you better listen up or Emperor help me you're going to wish the heretics had gotten ya!" We stood on a raised platform at one end of the lot with a small vox unit set up so we wouldn't have to yell to get their attention (though Trevek did anyways). It may have been a bit unnecessary but his volume did get their attention, which he somehow managed to attain even though his teeth remained firmly fixed around an ever present lit lho stick. His method of gripping the lho stick in his teeth left him with a permanate devilish grin , which I found to be wholely unsettling.

I was a little taken back by the sheer mass of people standing before me. The 597th was just over two thousand troops but this regiment numbered in the several thousands of troops, probably due to the expectation that a large chunk of them wouldn't come back after the first deployment. Rows upon rows of young men stood at attention, or at least their best attempt at it. While gazing at the sea of men I easily and quickly spotted at least a dozen uniform infractions in the first row of troops. I could also see the pride in their eyes and honestly couldn't really blame them for it. Standing together as an newly formed Imperial Guard regiment, their flak armour and uniforms new with polished buttons and clips (and were no longer an unsightly collage of pastels like their former PDF garbs) soon to embark on their first deployment that would forever shape the history of their regiment…if it lasted that long.

"First off, let me just congratulate you on your accomplishments," I began, fighting down every nervous pang in my gut. Public speaking wasn't one of my strong suits and I hadn't addressed a group this large since…well, ever. "A few months ago you were a bunch of PDF kids who could have been considered nothing more than over-glorified praetors. But that was before the Ravagers came and your valour and determination helped keep this planet safe. You men proved yourselves to be worthy of carrying the title of Imperial Guardsmen, to be given the honour to defend His Imperium. I implore you to take a moment and congratulate yourself and those around you, for only the finest of the PDF are ever given this honour." I decided to leave out the fact that a Guard unit could strip a world of the bulk of its PDF troops in times of desperation but I wasn't going to rain on their parade; it was going to be one of the few things that would keep them motivated.

I noticed their faces all swelled with pride at my opening remarks but they surprisingly remained at attention despite what I had said. "No, seriously …congratulate the Guardsman standing to your left and work your way clockwise. I insist. I'll wait." That gentle prod was enough to get them moving and the crowd of several thousand turned into a bustling sea of chatter as the troopers carried out my instructions. What friction was present would hopefully start to melt away as few things brought a unit closer together than the acknowledgment of shared hardships. Just knowing the man beside you went through the same hell as you did wonders for respect, even if the day before you hated his guts. The first phase of Cain's suggested plan worked – I had boosted their confidence and reminded them of their unique position which they could hold on to with pride. Of course, now that the congratulations were out of the way it was time to get down to business and show them what it meant to be a regiment of his Divine Majesty's Imperial Guardsmen. Now came the second phase, the part where I can get to smash their ego into little pieces and get them pissed off at me. Apparently, according to Cain, the second-best thing to unite people was through mutual disdain In this case by making me the focus of that disdain. Normally I would disagree with such a tactic that seemed to run counter-intuitive with what both Cain and I had similar philosophies on – not treating soldiers like expendable pawns – but he was very reassuring and stated he used a similar strategy with the 597th when he first started with them.

"Got that all out of your system?" I asked rhetorically, snapping all the soldiers back into attention, once again with surprising tone and redirection back to discipline. I got the feeling that Colonel Trevek had drilled his troops to the bone before presenting them to me, likely from having heard from other regimental commanders that a commissar was liable to shoot the CO if their regiment was too sloppy (most wouldn't actually even consider that given the paperwork it would incur, not to mention guaranteed you of a lasbolt to the back at the earliest opportunity from the soldiers). "Good. Because that is the last time you're going to be congratulated for anything until after the victory parade of your next campaign. Which judging from the look of you, many of you will not be attending. From here on out you men are Imperial Guardsmen and I damn well expect you to look, behave and act like it. General Kolbe told me you were the best so I expect precision, discipline, and order, or else I will be very disappointed in you. Trust me, I am the last person you want to disappoint otherwise I will be the last person you disappoint. You may have gotten away with tussled uniforms, dirty weapons, unkept kit and sleeping through night patrols but the Emperor demands finer from his Guardsmen. You!"

Immediately, I pointed to a soldier at random in the front few rows knowing full well that if a commissar really wanted to, he could find something wrong with a soldier's attire. The soldier in question, Wyntirs I think his name was, looked absolutely terrified when I singled him out, not to mention the soldiers standing immediately to his left and right looking as though they had just dodged a bullet. "I count three buckles on that flak vest that aren't done up properly, both sleeve buttons are undone, and I'm willing to bet your month's salary that your boots aren't done properly either."

I couldn't see his boots, of course, but I once again banked on the all-too-likely possibility that they weren't done up properly given that nobody gives a shit about boot straps unless you're a drill sergeant. "Now would the Guardsman like to step forward to show me his boots or would he rather have ten minutes to return to his barracks and fix himself properly?"

Though barely above a squeak, Wyntirs managed to answer his choice for the second option, of course. I told him to run for it and be back in ten minutes or it'd be hell to pay. I also instructed the soldier standing to his left to time him and inform me if he was over ten minutes. It may have been a little harsh of me to single the one soldier out where there were plenty of equally atrocious displays of uniform around him…and it was probably even worse of me to tell the soldier to run back to the barracks given that they were at least fifteen minutes away by foot, one way. I wanted to see how he would react when he realized he'd be at least thirty minutes late and winded to boot. If he lied then at least he had the balls to lie right to a commissar's face; if he came back late regardless then at least he had the discipline to accept responsibility for his actions; if he never came back then…well, then I would actually have to chase after him and do something about it. He did eventually come back, completely winded, and tried to explain his tardiness between gasps of breath. Since I had set him up to fail I didn't bother with a harsh punishment other than a few days of latrine duty. Last I heard of Wyntirs he was a major in a stormtrooper regiment so kudos to him wherever he is now if he's still alive.

"As for the rest of you," I turned my attention back to the others, who were now looking a bit uneasy. "You think you're all top dogs now that you managed to kick a bunch of heretics off your world, eh? I got some sad news for you bunch; a little bit of heretic is barely the worst this galaxy can dish out. You may have lasted against an unorganized mob of blood-thirsty madmen with about as much aim as a blind ogryn but the real test comes when you're up against xenos with technology that makes your lasguns look like torches or with numbers so vast they swallow whole plains. What separates real Guardsmen from wannabe PDF boys is how you respond when a horde of Ork marauders is about to crash upon your lines like a green tidal wave. This time you held your own against an invasion of heretics – a real Guards unit could do that and sustain a third less casualties you people did. You have proven worthy of gaining the title of Imperial Guardsmen but the real question remains whether you're worthy enough to keep it."

I like to think I sounded far more menacing than I probably was in truth but I believe the effect was the same nonetheless. That confidence I had built up seconds ago was almost shattered, half of them wondering whether they had really been given an honour or a death sentence, but from that uncertainty they were going to be rebuilt into a proper unit. Otherwise, they were at best useless to everybody and at worst a liability to everyone around them. The other half looking aggravated, which was to be expected since I pretty much spat in the face of the praise I said they so rightly deserved; good, I thought, let them be angry.

"I've spoken with some of the other regimental commissars and commanders…most of them express a lot of doubt about your new regiment. You're being compared to whitestripes at best, canon fodder at worst. If you don't prove them wrong, none of you are going to live long enough to see retirement. Of course, everyone dies eventually so it's really a question of how you want to be remembered – the pride of your world or its embarrassment? Right now I'm leaning towards the latter."

I went on a little longer, making half-baked remarks about how none of the other Guard regiments were going to be taking them seriously, that some of units were taking bets on how many Adumrbians would be executed for cowardice, and generally anything I could think of to make them pissed as hell at the other regiments and ready to take on Horus himself if it meant proving themselves. Somewhere along the line I had thrown in Cain's name and how he was one of the only men who believed in their regiment and that he had staked his reputation on their success. It got them more motivated but I really wished I hadn't gotten Cain involved in it. It would have saved me a lot of grief down the road.

I ended my little speech explaining to them that what I saw before me was a mess and that if I seriously inspected them now I would have to borrow the Colonel's laspistol just to complete all the executions. I gave them, and the Colonel, a week to get the unit into proper order and that every soldier I found a fault in their uniform or kit would equate to a lap around the starport for the whole regiment. A week gave them plenty of time to deal with every little unpolished button and improperly tied shoelace and kept them out of my hair for a while. With any luck, and for a change it was to be on my side, the commissars that had been dispatched to be permanently attached to them would arrive.

Figuring that any mess I may have made would be the concern of the new commissars, I could leave the Adumbrians in their hands. That was my first mistake. The two commissars they sent must have drawn the short straws at the Commissariat because I wouldn't have trusted them to watch over my mess kit, let alone a newly formed regiment of armed troopers. The first, and more senior, was Commissar Wren: a lanky, balding, and borderline psychotic man with a slight delusion of grandeur. Rumor was he once cut a man's arm off and beat him to death with it. Oddly enough, he was often the easier of the two to deal with as his counterpart was Commissar Stimpsen, a man who didn't just fly in the face of logic but did bombing runs over it while singing 'Happy, happy, boom, boom!' The man was dangerously competent and I use the term 'dangerously' because half the time he didn't fully understand what was going on. Hell, I'm surprised he knew which end of a laspistol to point at enemies (or 'ze baddies' as he called them). According to a colleague's story, Stimpsen's platoon was once tasked with eliminating an enemy tank column. Well, under Stimpsen's 'leadership,' the platoon managed to blow up an entire city block and still missed the tanks (apparently by sending the wrong firing coordinates for the artillery barrage), only to be saved when a collapsing building managed to wipe out half the column, forcing the remainder to retreat. Trying to claim victory in such a blithering display of idiocy and sheer dumb luck is beyond words…

I honestly felt a little bad for the Adumbrians, who had less of a chance of making it through their first deployment now that they were under the commissarial guidance of the human equivalents of a live hand grenade and a rock. Cain reassured me that it wasn't my concern and attempting to intervene would only undermine the troop's confidence in their current commissars no matter how incompetent I thought the two of them were. That was my other mistake.

"So that's them?" Cain commented rhetorically as we stood in the starport; trucks, chimeras, sentinels, and troopers milling all about us in a frenzy that made a beehive look positively orderly. By some fluke, or simply the aura of respect that Cain emanated, we managed to avoid being crowded by troops or run down by vehicles, though I still wouldn't recommend the experience of standing at a starport with regiments loading onto transports as a pastime for the claustrophobic.

"The taller one is Wren," I answered, not that Cain needed to figure out which of the commissars in the distance was whom. He likely knew more about the pair than I did thanks to his exceedingly vast bank of contacts throughout the Commissariat and was a thorough enough man to make sure the regiments he served alongside were in capable hands. I'm not sure if it was from a sense of concern for the Adumbrians or, more pragmatically, a concern for ours.

From a distance the pair didn't appear to be any source of concern for us and from their vantage point we probably bore a similar resemblance to them. They stood, like us, as a pair watching as chimeras chugged passed them and servitors lugged storage crates about. I imagined their conversation followed along a similar line as ours with Stimpsen pondering aloud if that was indeed Commissar Cain standing in the distance, only to be verbally beaten back by Wren for even thinking of admiring somebody else other than him. The subtle smack to the side of the Stimpsen's head only added to my perceived vision of their conversation.

"Think they play tarot?"

"I doubt Wren would let Stimpsen anywhere near a game where betting is involved," I remarked. "The man's about as gullible as an ogryn."

"Now Abel, you shouldn't speak so ill of your fellow commissars," Cain informed me, though his tone conveyed a sense of understanding of my part. Though I knew he held contempt for a Commissar Beije, he did keep those thoughts internalized for the most part. His advice had merit so I decided to give it a shot. I was shortly able to put my trust in Cain's advice as Stimpsen apparently managed to distract Wren long enough to make a sprint over to our position, somehow managing to avoid being flatten by any of the dozens of vehicles that passed by. He was apparently oblivious to the traffic disruption he was causing. I was surprised the drivers showed so much concern for a Commissar but I suspected they simply didn't want to deal with the hassle of scraping his fat arse off the front grill, not to mention he could put a serious dent in some of the smaller vehicles; maybe even trip up a sentinel.

Since Stimpsen had absolutely no interest in me, even for the most basic of reasons, I was able to step back and let Cain work his charm on the oaf. His bulbous blue eyes gazed at Cain with a mix of admiration and joy, snapping a sloppy salute to him before offering out a hand. Of course, even at this early stage of his career Cain was more than accustomed to the blithering remarks of awe-struck soldiers, officers, and commissars alike and greeted Stimpsen as politely as he would a lord general. "Commissar Stimpsen, attached to the 9th Adumbrian Light Infantry, it is a great honour to make your acquaintance Commissar Cain. Truly an honour."

"It is always a pleasure to meet a fellow servant of the Commissariat," Cain replied graciously with a crisp salute, though he hesitated for an instant to shake the man's hand as he noted, as I did, that were some crumbs and stains on the glove of questionable origins. Likely, it was from Stimpsen's last meal, not that that fact brought any comfort since the man would eat pretty much anything. The two started going on into a conversation, though it was the general line of questions one would expect upon meeting a Hero of the Imperium – did you really kill so-and-so, what was it like to be at this place, were they really all that big, and so on and so forth. Amazingly, Cain maintained the same air of civility, which is far more than I could have said for myself. Unfortunately, when I said Wren was the easier of the two to deal with it was because Stimpsen couldn't take a hint if you glued it to the end of a shock maul and hit him with it. However, in the idiot's defense Cain did a good job of appearing amicable and maybe even enjoying the company, which meant that the ensuing problems it would create were entirely Cain's fault. Give Stimpsen an inch and he will take it to Terra and back.

We thought, wrongly, that the arrival of an irate Wren would relieve us of their presence. He, however, found plenty reason of the wrong reasons to remain in our presence and uncharacteristically allow Stimpsen to continue his incessant questioning. Not to sound like a broken holorecording but I was once again faced with the eternal struggle that came with being a woman in the commissariat. I can say with no hint of cynicism or self-depreciation that the constant attention did not come from my looks. I was not the most attractive woman to grace the battlefield as that was a title Colonel Kasteen could make a solid run for, but nor was I a hideous wretch even with the biotic eye. Though Cain would argue otherwise, I considered myself rather average and my youth was betrayed by my grayed hair, which was probably what drew Wren to me in the first place – an incorrect presumption that I was lonely old commissar who had long since dropped her standards.

The constant barrage of advances is the plight of any woman in the commissariat and dealing with it is the first piece of advice I give to any juvie looking to follow my footsteps. I learned to distance myself emotionally from people, as many women in my situation did, and it no doubt led to the reputation of female commissars of being stone-hearted women as frigid as the Valhallan glaciers.

Wren introduced himself to me first, which was my first clue of his true interests, and gave me a desiring look that I had seen numerous times and would see frequently throughout the remainder of my career. It immediately made me wish I had my faithful celibacy stick on hand. I don't know if I managed to keep my composure as well as Cain but even if I hadn't I doubt that Wren would have been deterred. Something in my behaviour must have tipped Cain off because he immediately attempted to interject himself into our conversation in his usual friendly and approachable fashion, introducing himself to the scrawny, balding commissar.

"Oh yes," Wren replied with a thinly-veiled indifference. "Commissar Cain, hm? Of that Perlia incident, yes?" Cain merely nodded in response, clearly not baited by Wren's attempt to feign ignorance of Cain's reputation in the hopes that Cain would simply leave in indignation. Undaunted, Wren returned his attention to me. "I heard a great many things about the 597th during the Adumbrian campaign, no doubt a product of your most inspiring leadership and resolve."

"Actually…I was wounded for the duration of the campaign," I promptly corrected him. "Cain and Colonel Kasteen are the ones you should be congratulating." I think I enjoyed the look on Wren's face far too much when he cast a sideways glance to Cain, who responded at the mention of his name with a grin, slightly veiled in smugness.

"Of course…my mistake," Wren corrected himself, his disappointed tone evident. "Nonetheless, I look forward to collaborating on our next deployment."

"As do I," I lied. The only thing I was looking forward to at the moment was getting onto the next shuttle off that rock. Cain must have read my mind (not literally of course, he was just good at reading people) cause he tugged me off towards one of the shuttlepads and said something about it being an unfortunate turn of events that we had to part ways in such a hurry. Alas, that failed to dissuade either of them as they tailed after us and decided to hitch a ride on our shuttle as well, bumping a few very irate medical orderlies onto the shuttlepad to wait several hours later for the next one. Though under normal circumstances would I never consider such an act, I managed to find Cain's aide, Jurgen, and took the seat next to him. Though Wren and Stimpsen invariably followed to continue pestering us the whole trip into orbit, at least we were able to make it as much of an annoyance to them as possible. Wren's gigantic nose proved quite useful for a change as he spent more time trying to keep his stomach down than make more trivial advances towards me. I merely slipped my gasmask on and took a quick nap.

The first official briefing between regimental officers, their commissars, and the Lord General leading the expedition did not occur for several weeks into our trip through the warp. Due to limitations of our troopship's conference systems, the briefing was more limited compared to that of the one prior to the Adumbrian campaign. Sitting around a circular table were the regimental commanders, executive officers, and commissars belonging to the four regiments aboard; the Valhallan 597th Ice Warriors with myself, Cain, Kasteen, and Broklaw; the 9th Adumbrian Riflemen with Wren, Stimpsen, Trevek, and Laquor; the 22nd Kastaforian Heavy Infantry led by men whose names I can't recall since I dealt very little with them; and the Krieg 11th Armoured Division, which had the 5th Heavy Armour Company currently attached to it, led by a Colonel von Vismarck, a Major Scheilt, and their commissar, Waffans.

As you could imagine, sharing a troopship with so many soldiers from Krieg was a huge boost to my morale. I spent as much time as I could among their numbers and managed to forge an acquaintanceship with Commissar Waffans. He was about as gloomy and fatalistic as you would expect given his heritage but he was a pleasant fellow when he was able to unshackle himself from his commissarial duties, which he did quite readily once ale and cards were introduced into the mix. I believe Cain took a genuine liking to him too, though it's hard to tell at times when he does truly enjoys somebody's company or puts on his polite façade (there were even times when I wondered what were his true thoughts of me). However, even my relatively short time spent with Cain had altered my perception of my duties and I actually found myself somewhat shocked when Waffans executed a Krieg soldier for disorderly conduct – an act for which Cain would have simply assigned latrine duty or a light flogging. I had to remind myself that everybody viewed their duties as a commissar with different eyes and my perception of my duties tended to revolve around what made the most practical sense in terms of achieving my goals. Usually they involved surviving and winning but I could technically be satisfied with one of the two.

I smiled and nodded to Waffans when I saw him take his seat only a few chairs down from my own and was infinitely relieved to see Wren all the way on the far side of the table. The Adumbrians were, as to be expected, the last to show up since the colonel wasn't too familiar with the inner layout of an Imperial troopship. The Kastaforians, I noted, looked far sterner than before and that 'fresh, new' look of their uniform seemed like all but a distant memory at that point. For better or for worse, they were a Guard regiment now and the others deferred them the respect they deserved. There was an air of tension in the conference room, no doubt due to the haste in which our units were assembled and deployed, not to mention the concern that naturally arose when the powers that be decided that a Stormblade super heavy battletank, belonging to the Kriegs, was going to be needed in the next mission. Personally, I felt a slight hint of confidence knowing that the rolling mass of death would be aiming its weapons away from me.

A grubby, oil-stained techpriest had been working under the table for the past twenty minutes in order to get the holoprojector functioning properly. When a blue, glowing aquila finally appeared above the table there was a brief, restrained cheer from the audience, only to be followed by a sigh of disappointment when the image began to flicker out of focus. The techpriest started to angle one of the projector rods, causing the image to distort in various dimensions depending on which way the projector rod was facing. Calls from the audience helped guide the techpriest's hands until finally a unanimous 'hold it there' came from us and the techpriest back away from the projector slowly, muttering prayers to the Omnissiah under his breath.

With the technical difficulties out of the way, the image flickered to that of a star map highlighting a sector of space I wasn't too familiar with and likely everyone else shared a similar sentiment. The arrangement of stars and systems looked like every other sector of space, though Cain was the first to correctly identify the space as located within the Damocles Gulf region of space. That led to a realization that left me feeling suddenly very uncertain about my future and continued existence.

"Hello? Is this thing working?" A voice echoed from a device at the center of the table just next to the holoprojector. Nobody was certain at first if the voice was referring to us but once again Cain seemed to be on the ball and responded first.

"We can hear you Lord-General Zyvan," he answered, clearly using the full title for all of our benefit. Apparently the device worked two ways as Zyvan acknowledged the response with a hint of satisfaction, taking a brief moment to greet Cain personally as well. Apparently the pair had something of a rapport with each other.

Since there was obviously no visuals involved in the briefing, the Lord General asked for everybody to sound off in order and once he was satisfied that all the necessary parties were present he continued with the briefing. The map zoomed in on a particular sector of space, showcasing several star systems – some of which had Imperial icons overtop while others had the blue icon of the Tau Empire. There was an unsettling amount of blue displayed on the map.

"I am getting a strange sense of déjà vu," Cain commented as he looked at the map, noting the planet that got highlighted at the very center of it and was noted by an icon that was half aquila and half Tau.

"Unfortunately, you're going to wish this was like Gravalax," Zyvan answered and for a moment Cain looked disconcerted, if only subtly and for a briefest of moments (and I wouldn't have noticed had I not been looking in his direction at the very moment). "As you are all aware, ever since the end of the Damocles Gulf Crusade back in the seven hundreds, the Tau Empire has been slowly encroaching on our space, picking off isolated and poorly defended systems one at a time. In turn, these planets would be used to apply more pressure to neighboring systems to abdicate their authority and renounce the Imperium." Zyvan had to pause briefly as various slanders and insults were hurled towards xenos that weren't even near our current location but seemed to make the officers feel better nonetheless. Wren seemed particularly venomous in his remarks about the 'opportunistic bluies.'

"Unfortunately, due to more pressing advances from other more serious threats, we have not been able to muster significant forces in order to combat this growing threat. What little forces we can muster, though, are often unable to hold back Tau military forces for very long, especially after Tau naval forces maneuver to cut-off supply routes. Normally, a force our size would not be wasted on an endeavor into the Damocles Gulf but Segmentum command has decided that allowing the Tau to continue to infiltrate our space would seriously undermine the confidence and stability of the region."

That went without saying; the Imperium's indifference to the Tau threat has persisted over the centuries, ever since the Damocles Gulf Crusade, and as a result the number of Imperium-held worlds that have fallen to the Tau has sky-rocketed to astronomical proportions. One could argue that it was hardly their fault, as it did seem at the time like the Imperium was abandoning those planets. Imperial forces pulled out in a hurry to combat the Tyranid threat and with no hope for backup, the Imperial citizens and forces left behind had two difficult choices; annihilation or annexation. As planet by planet fell to the Tau, the prospect of Imperial assistance seemed all the grimmer and many planets folded without even so much as an ounce of resistance. A part of me would deplore them for their cowardice and how quickly they abandoned the Imperial creed but I could imagine how hard it would be to maintain faith when everything you believed seemed intent on leaving you to the enemy's mercy. As the past decades of my career have shown, the underestimated threat can quite often become the greatest threat.

"So we're going in to show the other planets that the Imperium hasn't given up on them?" Broklaw asked rather rhetorically.

"That would be correct. Segmentum Command has chosen this planet – Magnus Viridis." A few screens of data appeared next to the star map, listing various details about the planet. The first thing I noticed was just how little population there was on the planet; there were barely a few million, which was hardly a footnote compared to the billions on most inhabited worlds.

"This is a paradise planet," I commented, noting another detail in the provided data. "I see we're going for the symbolic victory rather than the strategic one."

There was an audible sigh from Zyvan, noted by the hiss of static that followed it. I clearly hit a note he had been hoping to avoid but couldn't ignore now that it was out in the open. "I'm not going to lie to you Kasteen…"

"It's Commissar Abel actually," Kasteen corrected him.

"What? Really? Oh…sorry, I forgot you were here."

"I get that a lot," I sighed.

Zyvan continued, "As I was about to say, Magnus Viridis holds little strategic, military, or even economic value but Segmentum Command was very explicit in their orders that this planet be the one to protect."

"And how many noblemen and aristocrats have vacation homes on this planet?" Cain interjected.

"A lot given the urgency," Zyvan admitted.

Paradise worlds were rare in the Imperium and were generally left as untouched as possible in order to preserve their natural beauty. Many were made into recreational and vacation destinations for the wealthier populations and, given the size of the population, there were likely thousands of vacation homes located there. No doubt the pressure came all the way from the Administratum's highest echelons of power. Citizens be damned, those summer homes needed to be protected from xeno corruption!

"Let me start from the top, over the past few years the Tau have been pressuring the governor of Magnus Viridis to join the Tau Empire, which increased as more neighboring planets and systems fell to the Tau. The governor remained resolute in his defiance but when supply vessels became scarcer and scarcer, he was forced to turn to Tau for trade arrangements in order to keep the planet running."

"Can't really blame a governor for wanting to protect his people," Cain noted.

"True...and you can't fault the governor for not knowing that the reason the supply ships weren't showing up was because Tau forces had been blasting them to pieces before they could get close to the planet."

"Underhanded bastards!" shouted the Kriegan colonel, which was a sentiment I certainly shared.

"Underhanded, yes…but it worked," Zyvan continued undaunted. "Without supplies the governor turned to the Tau but continued to send distress signals out for assistance in removing the threat. We are part of a relief force sent to join other Imperial forces already on Magnus Viridis to maintain Imperial control over the planet."

"Seems a lot like Gravalax," Cain added once more, defying the lord general's original dismissal of the comparison.

"I wish it were that simple…" Zyvan sighed once more. "However, among those forces deployed before us was an Astartes strike team that had been assigned to forcibly remove the governor from power." A few officers made remarks that the man got what was coming to him but I sensed a huge 'but' was about to come up.

"And?"

"They failed. They were pushed back by loyalist forces on the planet and we have lost contact with the team."

"An Astartes strike team got pushed back by a bunch of PDF flunkies?" Waffans said in astonishment, earning him a few hateful glares from the Adumbrians and Kastaforians.

"Perhaps I should have mentioned this early," Zyvan said as the holoimage flicked to a picture of an aged man, scarred heavily by Emperor knows what and missing a major portion of his jaw and forehead. "This is Governor Gavilant, more specifically, though, Govenor-Militant General Gavilant of the Cadian 212th Heavy Infantry Regiment."

The news stunned us almost as much as the news that the Astartes had failed. We weren't dealing with some half-witted governor who only got the job by birthright but a former Imperial general of a Cadian regiment who had earned his position by killing whoever it was that had threatened the planet years before. Turns out, Gavilant had arrived at Magnus Viridis forty years earlier, pushed off Eldar forces that had been raiding the planet, took over as governor, and had remained there ever since…including the regiment that held unyielding loyalty to the man. I could imagine the Astartes surprise when the supposed PDF turned out to be battle-hardened Cadian stormtroopers. Even a team of Astartes would have trouble pushing through that level of disciplined firepower.

"I'm guessing the good governor decided to reevaluate who his friends were," Cain deduced. Sure enough, once the assassination attempt had gone belly-up, the governor turned to the Tau and their military rolled in.

"Right now, Tau forces are pushing hard across the planet, cutting down any PDF units that retain Imperial loyalty as well as the other Guard units that arrived with the Astartes. They're losing ground and fast. At the time of the last transmission, Tau forces were moving in on the only remaining starport still in Imperial control. Two regiments of Catachans as well as another Cadian regiment are currently holding out around the city of Vertens, though they've lost a bulk of their heavy armour already. I don't need to explain to you that if they lose that starport, there's very little chance we'll be able to mount a successful counter-attack against the Tau."

Most of Viridis was undeveloped and covered in lush forests, jungles, and oceans. In fact, only about 5% of the planet's surface was developed, which consisted of the few major cities on the planet and the scattered manors and estates that were generally isolated from the main path of the Tau forces. Trying to make a beachhead in the middle of a forest would be difficult at best but most likely suicidal given our enemy. From what Cain has told me of Tau military technology, they were a scary bunch even if their appearance may seem a bit comical at first glance. A Tau hovertank can tear a hole through a Leman Russ well beyond the Russ' firing range. That alone was a scary thought and I felt all the better about having a stormblade on our side. Tau technosorcery aside, they also had other xeno allies to deploy as needed, including Kroot who were apparently quite at home in a jungle environment.

"Seems straightforward enough," Kasteen concluded. That was true enough and Cain whispered to me that Gravalax may have seem simpler in terms of military tactics but it had been a far more convoluted situation than what official records stated (records which I would eventually be made privy to). We may have a hot landing to look forward to in Vertens but once we cleared the Tau from the city we could continue to push onto the planetary capital. Thanks to its relatively small developed landscape, there wasn't a whole lot of territory that needed to be conquered before we could say the planet was under our control. In fact, judging by the planetary map that was now displayed, there were only a few cities that needed to be secured for planetary dominance…and they were all connected by the same major highway that ran through the center of each. It was all fairly simple, militarily speaking.

Of course, then Zyvan added, "I guess I should mention the Ork problem as well, then."

Frak.