Dead Man's Tale

by Faux Ray

A Korpsman, who has spent his entire life honing the art of death, is transported to a world full of life and without an Emperor to guide him. With no foreseeable way to return, he is forced to cooperate with an odd crew of criminals and antiheroes to unravel the mysteries behind his coming to this brand-new world.

2. Chapter 0: Mors Mihi Lucrum (PROLOGUE)

The triumph of victory is drowned out by the wails of the dead. We fight a losing battle in an ocean of blood. Hark to the preachers preach of the glory of conquest. May they veil your eyes a while longer. May our hope damn us yet.

---

He was a dead man. Of that, there was no doubt, not in his mind and not in anyone else's. He was a dead man. Fewer things could ever be as certain. So were his brothers and forefathers. To these dead men, death was the mission and the goal. And so these dead men walked. There was no salvation waiting for them at the end of their march. They did not deserve salvation. Instead, in the beyond, there was peace and redemption. Life was suffering. They suffered for their crimes. So the dead men marched towards atonement. This trooper marched. He didn't speak much. None of his brothers did. After all, dead men didn't talk. But his will and thoughts were voiced for him by the means of his lasgun. And yet there was an even louder voice. That voice spoke for the collective of their people. Their marching boots enunciated their will but it was the roar of artillery that described their intent.

This was the Death Korps of Krieg. These were the grim reapers of the Imperium.

Remember that you have to die.

It comes as no surprise to any knowledgeable leader, operative, or civilian of the greater Imperium that the Cicatrix Maledictum has driven many worlds, desperate and angry, disillusioned in the wake of damnation, to the reaching arms of Chaos. Bathed in the maleficent light of the Immaterium, their inner demons become manifest, their prayers turn to curses and their thoughts reach a different kind of god, who laugh as they whisper offers of deliverance. Thusly, world after world fell this way into the churning extremes of conceptual being. A cesspool of heightened emotion and twisted faith. This a tale as old as man. Some words, however, are more nuanced in their heresy. Not every act of treason, although heretical in nature, is blasphemous, a distinction readily ignored and irrelevant to the Imperium at large.

The Armory World of Skipario was always host to a pragmatic people. In their belief that the Emperor had forsaken them, the people of Skipario in turn forsook the Emperor. At the very least, the Noctis Aeterna shook their belief that the God-Emperor was all-powerful, their displaced conviction making way for the reality of a cruel galaxy. But the denial of the Emperor was not an acceptance of the Ruinous Powers. Home to the Skiparian Raider Regiments of the Imperial Guard, the men and women Skipario knew full well the dangers of Chaos. Mutants deviating too far from the genetic template of the standard man were still purged and cultists worshipping the Dark Gods were still burned. Yet when the Avenging Son extended his hand out to offer aid, Skipario did not reach back. After all, what had the Imperium truly given them but the blood of their own sons for a religion that has, objectively to them, been proven unstable? Knowing full well the temperament of the Imperium, Skipario dug in and prepared for war.

Skipario could be considered a valuable world. Whatever their previous value might have been was only magnified under the current state of chaos in the galaxy. Their Regiments were hardy and disciplined, specialized in insurgency and defensive warfare but put up a great fight even in standard deployment. Their armory covered a sizable amount of the Eastern Fringe. Their manufacturing capabilities were powerful enough to equate to a low-level Forge World. That alone was incredible, and important now, especially after the fall of Triplex Phall. An Exterminatus order was brought under consideration but the idea was ultimately discarded under council for a multitude of reasons. The Skiparians were a pragmatic people, so the saying went, and those that would tear humanity down are legion. Once the advantages of unification were once again made clear and the heretical leadership was purged from the world, the rest would see their folly for what it was and join their crusade.

That, at least, was the hope.

And one must have hope to have faith.

Skipario, a barren planet in the Cordus System, is the fourth planet from Cordus A03. It had a standard gravity, only slightly bigger than Terra's natural radius, and a standard atmosphere. Skipario lacked any moons but had a ring made out of what was, perhaps, once its natural satellite. It was the only planet in the System that had any sort of recognizable Imperial presence, apart from the outpost situated at the edge of the System, and this far away from the Throneworld, maybe it would be better off to not have an Imperial claim at all; but alas, dominion over all was humanity's birthright, so the flags were set and the Aquilas planted, the same symbols of grand authority and godhood knocked off their pedestals of grace and fervor. On a passing glance, it didn't look like much at all, but people said that the people made the home, so it seemed the rock had a saving grace. A deeper look would reveal its mineral-rich crust, besieged on day one by mining operations. As for the people, they were shipped across the various front lines or stayed at home manufacturing goods for the same purpose. There were no oceans on Skipario; there were large rivers, which seemed to go on forever, but no oceans. Interestingly, the entire southern hemisphere was bombarded with volcanic activity, yet the poles and polar regions were constantly frozen.

To the dutiful men of Krieg, it did not matter what kind of heretic the people of Skipario were. All it mattered was that they were. These were Heretics. Men vile enough to betray the trust and love that the God-Emperor of Mankind had placed in them. They were a blight on His vision of Humanity united under one banner. They could not accept the weakness of the souls. They, too, were subjected to the absence of His Light during the blighted days, but they accepted it not as an overpowering by the abominable Warp Gods, but rather a test of focus and will or, barring that, his forsaking of them. The dutiful men of Krieg had long since forsaken themselves, so to be forsaken by their God was no issue. In death, atonement.

In terms of galactic history, or rather Imperial history, Skipario was a relatively new addition. From the beginning, during human galactic expansion in the Age of Technology, Skipario was an unfavoured world. Its now coveted resources were far from a necessity and ruling corporations found its location too far from the greater human civilization to properly utilize. The planet, then, was settled by stubborn adventurers, retired thugs and soldiers, and fleeing criminals. These characters made the best of what they had, developing their pragmatic and stoic nature, which they used to build the town which would become the capital of Skipario, Juniporium. They made do with the planet's natural resources and what they brought with them on their ships and even the ships themselves to build the foundation of Juniporium. They would eventually come about access to STCs. It was a small town then, with the planet boasting a measly ten thousand people. Now, taking the median from the Imperial Census, the Administrative Census, and the Skiparian Estimate, the planet houses approximately seventy billion people.

The seventy billion people of the planet lived in one giant Hive City, and since it was the only population center in the world, it was the world, so it was given the name Skipario. Skipario was not a contemporary Hive City, filled to the brim with towering habitat spires and sky bridges, oozing with toxic sludge, and drowning with bodies. Instead, the shorter skyscrapers that made up the city were mostly offices and wealthy habzones. There were environmentally sealed parks, shops, stores, and restaurants. An open environment for the wealthy and the middle-class worker. Outside the towering walls surrounding the city, half a kilometer away from the city edges, the rockrete and adamantium are replaced with an endless landscape of barren red-brown rock. It was windy and it was cold, with storms brewing constantly above the surface. These storms were a staple of the planet. They came and went quickly, soaking the surface with rain or snow that would disappear with the next appearance of the sun.

Skipario's terrain was not much of an issue for an invasion. Most of it was flat and devoid of any flora, with cold temperatures and harsh winds. Any standard Regiment should be able to perform well. However, the planet's gravity was higher than other standard habitable planets, and a robust ground defense network prevented orbital bombardment. Concentrated fire from a single battery could knock out any lesser frigate, much less say what a whole city worth of them would do to a fleet. With a giant Hive City like Skipario, the battle was going to play out into a siege. Naturally, under these conditions, the job fell to the Death Korps of Krieg. A perfect testing ground for the Death Worlders. These dutiful men of Krieg would fight until the last, living to die for the Emperor.

The Warp blazed with power as it tore through the boundaries between worlds and deposited its package into realspace. This Imperial invasion force was fast approaching the hostile atmosphere. Their heading: south of the Hive City to avoid the aerial defense net placed there from the ever-present fear of the growing Eye of Terror. From the northern horizon, a traitorous fleet bored towards them speedily in an effort to intercept. Escort frigates broke off to engage. The Skipario fleet was outgunned and outmatched and quickly obliterated. There was a small colony on another planet in the System, but as their banner fell under the rule of Skipario, they too were readily destroyed. As the naval ships waged war in the skies, the transports began to dock on the surface. The 101st Siege Army made landfall on Skipario.

---

The Administratum's adepts estimated that the battle would end after five months of siege. The Death Korps had shells to last a decade. It was the second month now and the battle finally made it to the city border. The Skipeans' had a teaching doctrine hidden from the rest of the Imperium, one that would definitely be considered heretical. It was their culture and their people before service to the wider Empire. This means that most Skipean regiments were called back to defend their home planet, and those regiments complied, racing back to their homeland. Those that, by the will of the Warp, did not make it home before the invasion commenced found themselves facing the full might of an Imperial invasion fleet. Still, this meant that the battle on the ground was fierce. This was no regular Hive World PDF: this was a fully armed and disciplined Imperial Guard force, which combined with the populus and the PDF, numbered in the high millions.

The Skipean gravity meant that their people were shorter than the average human, reaching only about four to five feet. But their gravity also meant that they had stronger bones and muscles. On Skipario, they had home field advantage. Their unique characteristics made them an alluring choice for commanders seeking elite shock troopers. Skipean regiments were deployed en masse for Direct Action engagements. Their superior strength and tradition of warfare gave them an advantage in close-quarters combat. But their soldiers and mobile units could do little to the static lines of the Death Korps. Small unit raids could not overcome the unrelenting line firing of the Krieg trenches. Even if they made it into the trenches, one Skipean soldier could do nothing against ten bayonets, no matter how many physical advantages his planet gifted him.

If something surprised the Skipeans, it was the fanaticism that the Death Korps fought with. As former soldiers in the wider Astra Militarum, they knew well of the Death Korps. They heard of their unflinching philosophy in the face of death and were fully prepared to face it with their own loyalty to the cause. But it was their anger that the Skipeans did not expect. For the Death Korps, this was personal. Each Korpsman knew of the history that plagued their planet. Each Korpsman studied the military engagement known as the Siege of Vraks. This, for them, was too similar. Another planet whose own greed outweighed their service to the God-Emperor, and this planet didn't have Colonel Jurten.

393-1024-0830-Jeneth felt the same anger as his brothers. He had never fought a heretic before. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth had only ever engaged Xenos, the foul Tau and Greenskins, in combat since his graduation from training. Before even those savage aliens, he knew that these traitors were the worst. How easily they turned away from His light. The trenches were quiet, even as artillery rained fire on the city walls. Every resounding boom was followed closely by an explosion. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth labored to breathe as he followed 910-1021-1776-Mortith, his captain, and four other men into a frontline command bunker. The months spent here had allowed him to acclimate to the heavier gravity but that did not mean that the heavy metal plates he carried on him felt good.

The 113th Siege Artillery Regiment in their sector of the battle was doing well in destroying enemy advances but the city walls held. For miles inside the city, the ground was cratered and the sky rained ash but the city walls held; the carefully maintained green fields of ranches for the Bosallus Caballs, a native species that was split between breeds used for food and for riding, was all but burnt to nothingness, condemning yet another species to extinction: but the city walls held. For the Death Korps, this was unacceptable. Although a sustained artillery barrage would have destroyed the walls and projected calculations estimated a collapse of enemy outer line defenses within one month, the Commander of the Army ordered a push into the city before month's end. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth and 910-1021-1776-Mortith entered the bunker and faced Colonel 333 with a crisp salute. The colonel saluted back and then got straight to business. "The 221st Regiment towards the north have met with fiercest resistance compared to the rest of our fronts. The defenders there have actually the gall to exit the walls and raid their lines. Shock troopers have deployed using launchers and gunships to harass their command posts.

The east and west have made pushes over the walls but have failed to breach the wall walk defenses, which resulted in heavy casualties for both regiments."

The colonel paused there and then waved to the Skipeans inside the bunker with them. The Light had not all been snuffed when the Governor turned his back after all. Loyalists remained, fighting a desperate but failing guerrilla warfare. Tonight, however, these Skipean commandos were going to help the Krieg breach the walls. "There's a hidden underground passage that extends from the walls," one of the commandos said, his Low Gothic spiked with a heavy Skipean accent. The rank insignias marked him as the senior ranking officer of his posse. "They lead directly into them, the walls. The outsides are tough but we can easily disrupt defensive posts on top of the walls and place charges on the nearby gate locks here and here."

The Skipean looked at the Colonel who nodded at the three captains. He had heard this briefing before the two came in to make sure it was a sound plan. "This is Major Opelnox," the colonel supplied. "You will take your Grenadier company to accompany these Skipean commandos into the passage. You will proceed on foot with the following wave. Artillery will cover your advance. Once inside, you will destroy the locks to the main gate and hold position. Await further orders when completed."

With that, the mission briefing was done and salutes were given. The Skipean major gave a gruff scoff and turned to follow the exiting captains, all the while feeling the soulless stares of the 333rd Command Squad on their back. 910-1021-1776-Mortith and his Veteran Watchmaster made their way through the trenches undisturbed back to their posts. Their company was instantly at attention and waiting. "Watchmasters, convene for briefing," the captain ordered.

Six heavily armed and armored soldiers made their way to the makeshift box that they had. Their formation was irregular compared to the rest of the Death Korps. Instead of one company of five ten-man squads, their company was made up of fourteen operatives, each led by a Captain. The First Company Captain was given control of the unit as a whole. Each company was made up of 3 squads. The captain gave the floor to the major, who started to feel just a tad bit uncomfortable. He placed a map on the desk. "Right.

There's a hidden tunnel…" He paused, feeling deja vu. "There's a tunnel hidden here, leading into the inner workings of the wall. We're to enter and then hold it, then make our way here, where the gate operations lie, and here, where the mechanics to the gate is."

Another pause and he looked around. Hearing nothing he continued. "Once we're in, we're to await further orders from the Colonel. We head over with the next wave…" There didn't seem to be much to say and yet he had repeated it for the third time. "Questions?"

Further silence. He sighed and nodded in dismissal, staring at the map, wondering just how his beloved planet had fallen to this point. Just months before he was fighting off an Ork infestation with the Cadians and now he was raiding his own home. Feeling more and more morbid, he took out a cigar. It was then that he realized that the watchmasters and the captains were still watching him. He paused. "Is there a problem?"

"Your orders, sir?" 910-1021-1776-Mortith asked.

The major swallowed. The first captain's voice was piercing. Even the colonel's voice did not sound so dead to Opelnox's ears. "Orders?" he asked.

"You're the ranking officer on his mission, sir. Orders?"

Him? Lead these men? Opelnox coughed. "Oh, no, Captain. I'm just here to assist and advise. I'll be leading my own men. You are in charge of this operation for your… Grenadiers. I trust your judgment."

The captain nodded. "Second Company will ascend to the wall walk and disrupt local enemy defenses. Third Company shall defend our exit and prevent permeation of enemy reinforcement. First Company shall head to the gate controls." It was all said quickly. "Dismissed," he continued, and the watchmasters and captains dispersed.

One Grenadier walked up to the uneasy group of commandos and stared down at them for a few silent moments, before speaking in a raspy but clear voice. "This operation would never even needed to happen if it weren't for the incompetence of your people. Their lack of faith is what doomed them, but your inability to rally condemns you."

A commando surged upwards but was held down by his comrades. "We're… all allies here, trooper," Opelnox grated.

"We'll see how long that lasts," the Grenadier remarked before walking away.

They reconvened at the edge of the trench walls. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth checked his Hellgun one more time before slinging it over his shoulder. A few of his fellow Grenadiers had resolved to remove their Carapace Armor. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth understood their reasoning; the already cumbersome armor bogged them down twofold in the new gravity. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth kept his own armor on. Lasfire from the walls was fierce and there was no victory if there was no one to carry on the mission. But if he was to die, well, he was but one pebble in a rockslide. Someone else will take this place and Skipario will fall. The iron skull mask was his face and his vow of martyrdom.

Duty until death.

393-1024-0830-Jeneth stared at the ladders, bracing for the whistle. Major Opelnox walked up to him. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth and the other Grenadiers saluted him. An officer was an officer, even if they were not in the Death Korps. Major Opelnox returned the salute and walked over to 393-1024-0830-Jeneth. He looked the trooper up and down before finally speaking. "So… Sergeant, eh?"

It's Watchmaster, 393-1024-0830-Jeneth thought but didn't bother to correct the major. "Yes, sir," he replied.

"Hm… Is it true, then, that you're all children?" Major Opelnox asked.

He didn't know why he did. He could have been talking about the war or the upcoming wave or even about his lasgun. But there was a morbid curiosity that he needed to satisfy and he couldn't help himself. "No, sir," 393-1024-0830-Jeneth replied.

"N- no?" Major Opelnox let out in surprise. He had heard that they were. "Then, then how old are you?"

393-1024-0830-Jeneth didn't understand the value or logic to these questions. He thought perhaps the major was a little dimwitted. Perhaps, given the major's reaction to his response, he was displaying incompetence instead. "Sixteen standard years, sir," he answered.

Major Opelnox blinked. "Six- so you are a child…"

"No, sir," 393-1024-0830-Jeneth stated.

Opelnox flinched. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth's voice was cold, but there was no ice in them. It was not cold out of spite or anger, but rather of an unfeeling void. There was no emotion in his voice. The monotonous voice carried the distinct feel of a lack of use. Most of the Death Korps only spoke to reply to and relay orders anyway. "By the Throne…" Major Opelnox sighed. So, this is the Death Korps of Krieg, he thought. "I see… Hm. Sergeant at sixteen, huh?

You'll make captain soon, I reckon then."

The major had a smile on his face. It was a wavering smile but it was an effort nonetheless. The statement was a joke, an attempt to alleviate the mood and calm his own heart. But the Death Korps did not joke. "No, sir. This trooper expects to die before the end of this siege."

Even then, 393-1024-0830-Jeneth thought, a Quartermaster will come before Officer Training. Major Opelnox choked and looked away. "I see," he muttered. Silence. "Carry on then," he finally said. "By the Mother of Mercy," he uttered in his native tongue.

With that, the major walked away and 393-1024-0830-Jeneth focused back on the ridge. He could tell it was coming, they all could. The fire of artillery thickened and the unique thumping of mortars joined in. He tensed up. He had already placated the machine spirit before so he muttered a short prayer to the Emperor instead, asking him to bless his aim true. Then he finished it off with the Sign of the Aquila and unslung his rifle. A whistle pierced the air. Its sharp tone was obvious amidst the cannons. The wave went over the walls, but the Grenadiers waited, waited, three, two, one.

The captain called them forward. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth checked his chronometer. The eleventh hour.

---

The passageway was empty and unguarded. It seemed that in their arrogance the Skipeans assumed the Krieg would never find it. A mistake they will pay for dearly, 393-1024-0830-Jeneth thought. But of course, only idiots could ever be faithless. He turned back to survey the unit; a good five of them had perished outside but each company was still at fighting strength so the mission was to be carried on. The passageway, illuminated by golden lumen globes, was small and cramped, built with Skipeans in mind but allowed for the average Imperial Guardsman to cross, though not comfortably. Major Opelnox closed his eyes for a silent prayer as he was not given a chance to even mourn the loss of half of his men. The door was rudimentary. A passcode had to be entered to disengage the locks and a wheel on the center would be spun to unlock it.

Opelnox stepped forward and tapped at the keypad. The metal bars thunked as they popped out of their sockets, but still stuck to the frame of the door. Another commando, a Lieutenant it seemed, rotated the wheel and the door creaked forward. They were inside the wall. In an instant, Third Company raced inside, pushing past the indignant Skipean lieutenant. They split off and braced behind boxes and divots, lasguns raised. Left and right, the coast was clear. 560-6789-0421-Tanath, Third Company's captain, signaled to let the first captain know. The rest of the unit slowly entered.

The lights were red and blue, as to be expected, casting the corridors in an ominous shade of death. Second Company, led by 735-1930-4788-Keled, broke off from the rest of the group and ran up the thin metal stairs, which seemed to rattle and creak with a vengeance. Louder still were the rumbles that penetrated the structure from the sustained artillery bombardment. Prior orders were carried out quickly and efficiently. There was no need for words. First Company advanced right, hellguns at the ready. Their steps were heavy, for although they were shock troopers, they were not made for stealth. Everything about them screamed alertness, from their weapons to their armor, to their uniform. Shouts from the front echoed off the walls.

Skipean Guardsmen manning the inner walls had heard the commotion and come to investigate. They spoke in the native tongue, trying to gauge who it was. The three squads halted and took positions as lasfire immediately flew down range. The Skipeans cursed with an inflection obvious to any language in the galaxy and returned fire. They were calling for reinforcements. A different explosion rocked the ceiling. Second Company was engaged with the enemy. 910-1021-1776-Mortith raised his fist and swept it forward. "Heavy Stubber, up."

One Grenadier ran up, holding an autogun, and dropped to the floor with a heavy slam. He ignored the sudden loss of breath and jammed his finger on the trigger. Lead flew down the corridor, slamming into Skipean guardsmen caught out in the open, ripping into their flak armor and tearing them to shreds. The rest of the enemy dived behind cover and were suppressed, unable to get their shots out. "Company, advance."

Pinned down by heavy stubber fire and lasbeams, the Skipean defenders could do nothing but take potshots as the skull-masked invaders drew closer. One brave Skipean angeled himself on the floor and peeked out to take out the heavy stubber, but his eyes widened in fear as he screamed. Half a second later, promethium fuel ignited his body, burning it to a crisp. Smoke filled the area like fog over a swamp. There would be a smell, there always was, but the Krieg only knew the taste of their recycled air. 910-1021-1776-Mortith gave a quick glance around. Two minor injuries. The mission would continue. The company moved forward.

The vox channels buzzed to life. "G2 Actual, G1."

"G2, G1, send your traffic."

"Local enemy defenses neutralized, break, we are combat ineffective, please advise, over."

"Acknowledged. Hold positions, over."

"Roger, out."

With that, the vox faded back into silence. The company increased its speed to a light jog. By now, Skipean high command would have known about the infiltration and would be rushing to send units inside the walls. They needed to get the gate down in time or else they would be overwhelmed. If only they had Death Worlder support, but they were still mobilizing for their first-ever deployment and needed time. The 101st Seige Army would give them that time. A resounding clack echoed from beyond, hidden by shadows. The captain ordered a halt and everyone took defensive positions. The point man exploded.

It was the familiar thumping of a Heavy Bolter that rained explosive projectiles to their location. Enemy lasfire joined in, giving the Grenadiers no quarter. There was no way for their hellguns or heavy stubbers to penetrate the barrier and their flamer had no room to move up. Walking out of cover now would be a death sentence for them all and result in total mission failure. But the Grenadiers had another trick up their sleeves. One in the command squad, a corporal, braced himself and rolled on the ground to the center, bringing up a meltagun. There was a blinding flash and a muffled hiss. The corporal's body was then riddled with lasbeams and blown apart, but he had done his job. The bolter fire ceased following a loud roar.

With the enemy's heavy weapons emplacement neutralized, their cover destroyed, and their organization disrupted, the Grenadiers rushed forward, shooting everything that moved. However, these Skipeans were commandos, the same as Opelnox and his men, and wore similar Carapace armor, which took a few brunts of hellgun fire before going down. The result: two more casualties, but the enemy was killed. 910-1021-1776-Mortith turned to 393-1024-0830-Jeneth and ordered him back to report casualties. Opelnox's medic attended to their own wounded. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth walked over and surveyed the area. One corpse of the corporal and one wounded trooper. The trooper gurgled as he looked at the veteran watchmaster through cracked lenses. His message was clear: I cannot fight anymore.

Grenadier units did not have their own Quartermasters. Quartermasters were valuable; they were commissioned officers who had survived where other watchmasters could not and they needed protection to perform their duties. Such a role was unsuited for shock trooper units. As such, it came down to the captains and watchmasters within the units themselves to decide whether someone lived or received basic first aid. This trooper had lost both of his legs and half of his internal organs spilled onto the floor. There was no saving this one. The trooper's blood drained still and stuck underneath 393-1024-0830-Jeneth's boots. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth knelt and drew his bayonet. "God-Emperor, hear my prayer and take Thy loyal servant into Thy Light, for he has done his duty in accordance to Thy will, so that he may continue his service hereafter. Ave Imperator, the Emperor protects."

Shooting the top piece of the Carapace armor would not kill the trooper. Shooting the trooper in the face would damage valuable reusable equipment. As such, 393-1024-0830-Jeneth went and removed the trooper's mask, quickly jamming the blade into his eye. The dagger would pierce into the brain and into the brainstem, bypassing the thick skull and killing the guardsman instantly. "Requiescat in Pace."

He then collected any remaining powerpacks and grenades and picked up the meltagun. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth stood in front of his captain to report. "Sir, two dead."

Acceptable losses; no doubt that after they succeed, a quartermaster will come and redistribute any serviceable gear left on the body. 910-1021-1776-Mortith wordlessly took the grenades and powerpacks and distributed them around to the remaining Grenadiers. There were four dead and two of the remaining ones sported more serious wounds. Squad A was down to just one man, who was assigned to Squad B. The captain then looked at the meltagun in 393-1024-0830-Jeneth's hands and nodded. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth clipped the special weapon to his belt. Before the ten men could proceed, however, the vox chattered again. "G3 Actual, G1."

"Go for G1 Actual."

"Enemy contact. You need to move, over."

393-1024-0830-Jeneth glanced behind them. He could hear the distant sounds of lasfire and bullets. Third Company was under attack. If they got past, First Company would need to watch their back as well. "Acknowledged," 910-1021-1776-Mortith said. "Lock down, over."

"G3, roger, out."

"G1, this is G2-2."

"Go."

"735-1930-4788-Keled is dead. This trooper's the last. Stairway entrances sealed and booby-trapped."

That Grenadier was dead. Major Opelnox spun around to observe 910-1021-1776-Mortith, eyes flickering. "Understood," was all he said.

"Out," was the only reply.

Opelnox lowered his head and sighed. So they do deserve the moniker of Corpsemen, he thought. He looked up to see the captain and the veteran watchmaster looking at him. What now? he wondered. "Yes?" he asked.

"We need to move," 910-1021-1776-Mortith replied.

"N-now? But we have wounded-" Opelnox stuttered, indignant.

"Leave them. We must make it to the objective."

"Ahuo- hu- ah, we, we can leave a few men here to guard them, pe-"

"Negative. That will lower our combative capabilities too much."

Opelnox looked at his men, who stared back. He looked at the Grenadiers, who stared back. He gritted his teeth. Those men aren't too wounded, he relented. And the Grenadiers are poised to move. "I suppose… I suppose we will move."

"Major-" a commando called out.

"Enough! Let's move," the major said, fatigue clear in his voice.

A faint tide of resentment rose and fell. The company was on the move again. The rest of the way was more or less clear of enemies thanks to the massive wave of Korpsmen who was currently assaulting the outer wall, keeping the defenders occupied elsewhere. There in front of them was the command center, where the controls to the gate lie. Although the walls were thick and impenetrable, rising ten meters from fifty each layer for ten layers, the controls to the gate itself were only in the first layer. The formation burst through the doors, startling the Skipean men inside, only, there were women and children too. Surrounding this out-of-place group were bodies of Skipean PDF members that manned the gate. "Wait, wait!" an officer shouted. "No! Don't shoot!

We, we aren't hostile! We were trying to open the gate! To surrender! We had enough, really, we don't want any more of this."

Major Opelnox breathed a sigh of relief, stowing away his laspistol when the Krieg opened fire, ripping through the crowd of screaming civilians and soldiers. "Stop, stop! We said we'd surrender!"

Surrender? 393-1024-0830-Jeneth thought. He couldn't see the logic in that. These filthy heretics think they can just surrender? With no hesitation, his hellgun continued to fire. What he saw, what his comrades saw, was cowardice. These men dared to defy the Imperium and yet couldn't even see it all the way through. The civilians? If they didn't want to be on the side of the traitors, they should have fought for their home. Huddling here meant that they were no better than the rest of them.

For better or for worse, in the minds of the Death Korps, everyone has a part to play.

The loyalist Skipean Commandos had hands on their weapons, shaking in their armor. They were stunned. They didn't know what to do. If they raised conflict here against these Grenadiers, they would be back on the side of the war they fought so hard to stave away. But these Korpsmen were too cruel. To not bring up an argument was to condone their actions. It was a ferocious and unrelenting dilemma in their minds, but they had no time to even process it before 910-1021-1776-Mortith stood in front of Opelnox. "The gate, sir," he said.

"R-right," Opelnox replied.

The major walked over to the controls, which had taken fairly limited damage in the firefight, in a stupor and began to enter proper authentication for activation. 910-1021-1776-Mortith turned to 393-1024-0830-Jeneth and nodded once. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth turned around and flipped open a hatch on the floor. It revealed a ladder that dropped down to a tunnel. This tunnel would lead them to the mechanicals of the gate, the gears and hydraulics, and wires, where they can set the charges to make sure this gate never closed again. The rest of the command squad followed. The charges were set and the gates were lowered. The 333rd Krieg Siege Regiment now entered Skipario. The city will fall.

---

The Vox-caster scrambled to life in the control room as First Company waited for what was left of Third Company to join them. "G1, this is Regiment," the vox broadcasted.

The Colonel was on the line. The captain picked up the receiver to answer. "910-1021-1776-Mortith, reporting, sir."

"Casualty report."

"First Company down four, Second Company wipeout, Third Company down seven, over."

Static. "Captain, stand by for resupply and then head to the nearest battery for dismantling. Break, there will be transports."

"Yes, sir," 910-1021-1776-Mortith replied.

The Vox-caster cut out and the captain replaced the receiver. 910-1021-1776-Mortith then glanced over at Major Opelnox. The major was particularly pale and his eyes were dull. They glanced to and fro on the floor as if the details in the metalworking might put his mind at ease, or at least distract him. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth angeled his body slightly towards the remaining Skipean commandos. Silence resumed as the gaggle of men continued to wait before the major finally spoke. "Hey," Opelnox said to the veteran watchmaster. "What's your name?"

"393-1024-0830-Jeneth," he replied.

"That's a serial number," Opelnox remarked in a tired voice.

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. He had been with them long enough to know. "Captain…" Opelnox began. "Are... are you going to destroy everything? Level m- the planet, the entire city? I've heard the stories... That the Death Korps never leaves anything behind. Like at Derdoni and the likes..."

He didn't want to ask. He knew what asking meant for these Krieg Guardsmen and how that would alter their perception of him. But the sight he just witnessed was too shocking. He wasn't supposed to be a major. He was young and not experienced enough. He was only a captain a week before. Their unit escaped the walls to meet up with the 333rd with Major Iyernhand at its lead. He was executed a day later for objecting to their artillery bombardments and Opelnox was given a battlefield promotion. The joke he made to 393-1024-0830-Jeneth was also made in irony towards his own situation.

A major at 28 standard years old. But I guess to them… I must be ancient, Opelnox thought. "Negative," the captain replied. "The industrial sectors will be preserved. They are far too valuable to be destroyed. Keeping them will allow for this planet to quickly return to operational status once we purge it of these Heretics. Production must resume."

The industrial centers… on the opposite side of the globe. "Then... what about the habzones? The parks? The shopping- the- the civilian centers? What about everything else?"

What about everything that makes Skipario… my home, what it is? What it was? Opelnox clenched his fists. "Fighting close quarters in an unfamiliar urban environment severely limits the resources we can use and will waste too much time," the captain responded. "Allowing the enemies to maintain such a large home field advantage over us is tactically dimwitted."

"I see... Fair enough... I suppose… And… and the underground?"

"The use of chemical attacks will flush out any heretics near the surface and kill the rest. This will preserve the infrastructure and the integrity of the armory beneath the surface."

For a moment, the major wondered if it would be best if the civilian population took up arms as well. The thought was quickly shot out of his mind, his devotion due part to it, but also because he knew that the access codes and fail-safes for the armory were no longer under local control. Opelnox looked down, glancing sideways at his native comrades. They were stricken to the core and it was visible on their faces. His eyes swept to the trigger guards of the hellguns these Grenadiers held. All of them were ready to execute his men should they show signs of incompetence, or worse, an unwillingness to kill or die for the Emperor. "Of course," Opelnox whispered. "Of course."

Third Company arrived soon after and the silence continued, only broken by the Krieg checking their weapons, double check, triple check. The rumbling of artillery seemed to move further and further away. Prayers were uttered to the ever so rowdy Machine Spirits of the hellguns. So far, none of the weapons had exploded in their faces but they weren't about to take any chances. The reinforcements came soon after with fresh grenades and powerpacks as the inner walls were soon overrun with Krieg Guardsmen. Instead of small elite Grenadier units taking control of the other gates, the massive flood of Death Korps troopers would do it. A freshly decimated company was ordered to Grenadier status and their numbers filled the three Grenadier Companies. The 333rd First Grenadier Unit was back in full action once again, this time accompanied by a few Engineers to assist in the demolitions. The Skipean commandos said their goodbyes and departed back to the lines.

The unit had a mission to do.

Along with their detachment of Engineers, they would ride in Centaurs to the nearest battery station and destroy or commandeer heavy Skipean artillery. To save space, the Skipeans organized their orbital defense lasers alongside their mortars, cannons, and howitzers. The many orbital cannons within the half-kilometer clearing between the walls and the city proper had been slagged by artillery in the initial days of the battle. Those encampments were rubble. If they, and other Grenadier units, could take out a few more key defense points closer to the inner city, the Navy could begin to do effective orbital bombardments and leveling blocks. Whatever happened next was anyone's guess. All they knew was that they were guaranteed to meet the five-month goal at this rate and that was all that mattered. Mankind prevails.

The Grenadiers stepped out behind the wall for the first time, joining the tens of thousands of their standard infantry brethren in the cratered land of Skipario. For miles, there was only ash and dust. Artillery had done what it was meant to do. Ten Centaur transports were waiting for them. The Grenadiers and their accompaniment hopped into the trucks and they sped off in a column. When they were about a mile away from the area of operations, an explosion ripped through the air. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth, like all Krieg guardsmen, was not prone to much emotion, but even he felt an inkling of surprise at the sudden shockwave; a Heavy Bolter had just wiped out Third Company, Second Squad. The Centaurs ground to a halt as the men inside poured out of the vehicles, only to be peppered with hellgun bolts. Centaur gunners opened fire to suppress the enemy but sudden whining piercing shots made sure they no longer had the mind to do so.

In a war of attrition, no one won against the Death Korps. Thus, the Skipareans had long since set up ambush sites across the routes leading to the obvious targets. Against roaming units, their raid tactics suddenly became a lot more concrete and valid. A second Centaur exploded, screeching with pain as its hull burst into flame, and the Grenadiers scrambled for better cover. They hid behind the ruins they so carefully created and fired in the general direction of the enemy. But of course, they had no sharpshooting or long-range weaponry on their hands. This time, they were the sitting ducks. And yet death meant nothing to these men, for they were already dead men, and these dead men specialized in heavy infantry assaults. The Grenadiers began their counterattack.

Second Company rushed out of cover and raced toward the hidden enemy, allowing the ones behind cover to pinpoint their location. The fire that was spread out along the field swerved on an axis and focused on them. Lasbolts knocked them askew and bolts threw them backward. Third Company went around the flanks while First Company took shots from behind cover. Full distracted by the approach of the Second Company, the Skipean guardsmen didn't even realize it when they were ambushed. The firing stopped and the Grenadiers emerged from this scuffle victorious. 910-1021-1776-Mortith walked forward. The entire Second Company was eliminated: an acceptable outcome. He muttered a short prayer for them and the Unit moved onwards.

The rest of the journey would proceed through the ruins. Riding vehicles down the center line would draw too much attention. The marching allowed them to avoid further enemy checkpoints and they arrived at the encampment. It was a wide and steep dugout the size of two city blocks. They had to destroy the garrison while being down half their manpower. The Grenadiers jumped off the ledge straight into enemy line of sight, throwing all the grenades they had. Explosions rippled through the encampment as mortars were blown apart and fine artillery motor pieces were shattered. Lasfire immediately rained down on the Grenadiers, shredding them apart. In the end, they had not gotten nearly a quarter of the way through and they were down to less than ten men.

It seemed as if this mission was to end in failure.

Suddenly, bolter fire thumped through the air behind the Grenadiers. The shock troopers whirled around to meet the oncoming threat that had somehow outflanked them only to stop and stare in awe. If 393-1024-0830-Jeneth was more in touch with his emotions, he might have said that he was jealous. The Death Worlders, a 28th Founding Chapter based on Krieg itself. Born from Krieg to bleed Krieg blood for the Emperor in places where regular Krieg guardsmen could not hope to be deployed. Case in point, a special strike force of Krieg Marines dropped into the Spiral to target the city's nuclear-powered plasma generators, effectively rendering the entire world without power. Reinvigorated to fight alongside the Angels of the Emperor, the remaining Grenadiers rushed from their cover to complete their mission. Most of the Skipean defenders had fled anyhow. Seeing the sight of Krieg-like Space Marines drastically lowered their morale.

If the Krieg were already inhuman, what were these transhuman Krieg like?

The Death Worlders systematically poured through the dugouts, bolters flashing. The artillery pieces were no match for armor-piercing explosives. The objective was complete and the Death Worlders quickly left for their next objective, unburdened by the troubles that toiled mortal men. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth walked over to his captain. 910-1021-1776-Mortith had lost an arm. It wasn't necessary to offer him the Emperor's Peace, however, for he could get a bionic arm to continue to fight. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth reached an arm out to help his captain up when the sky was suddenly embroiled in shadows. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth looked up. An Imperial naval cruiser.

Yellow beams of the Emperor's might washed down, ionizing the atmosphere. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth nodded. Now the battle was truly won.

---

The war was no longer simple waves against enemy objectives. Now, the chaos of the battlefield, a Krieg battlefield, truly set in. On all fronts, Krieg regiments charged en masse night and day to break the defenders. Death Worlders broke holes that the Grenadiers exploited to allow for armor regiments and the infantry to swoop in and overwhelm the enemy. The objective was simple: head to the capital where the giant tunnel down to the Underground was located and deposit chemical charges. The heaviest orbital laser cannons were still intact at the capital, meaning orbital bombardment was not an option. However, even if it was, the Commander of the Army did not want to risk collapsing the tunnel and allowing the heretics to fester. That would mean their mission to reclaim this planet would fail. And that was entirely unacceptable.

393-1024-0830-Jeneth ran up the street, hellgun in hand. He had just returned from mandatory recuperation. All units that had served the two months on Skipario were transported to Lumiskey, a planet in the Cordus System with a more standard gravity. The stress built on his body needed to unwind. There was no need to kill soldiers when there was nothing to accomplish in their deaths. That would be a waste and the Krieg wasted nothing. On Lumiskey, 393-1024-0830-Jeneth trained and regrouped, allowing his muscles, organs, bones, and blood vessels to stop imploding on themselves. His equipment was cleaned and new ones were issued to replace damaged models. Then he was back on Skipario.

Cannon fire boomed like thunder as shells screamed overhead to bear the Emperor's Wrath on the enemy. Vulture Gunships roared overhead, racing like lightning to drop their payload and support the advance with their heavy armaments. Chimeras and Leman Russes ruggedly chugged alongside them, accompanying the early Grenadier action. One hundred and twenty-six Grenadiers entered the fray, all three 333rd Grenadier Units. A Chimera imploded on itself not so far from 393-1024-0830-Jeneth and he felt the shockwave tilt him off balance. He carried on undisturbed. By now, most of the Skiparean heavy weaponry had been commandeered. All that was left were lasguns and heavy stubbers, which did little to penetrate the Carapace armor. That wasn't to say that the defenders no longer had access to any heavy weaponry, such as Heavy Bolters or lascannons.

One such weapon flagged down a Vulture and sent it spiraling downwards to a fiery end. The Krieg kept advancing straight into enemy fire. Still, despite the heavy armor the Grenadiers possessed, they were still running through a very thick field of fire. More died every minute and there weren't going to be new Grenadiers to reinforce them, at least, not yet. It was only thanks to the efforts of the Death Worlders accompanying them that more of them did not die. Those Space Marines had already advanced further inwards. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth fell into a crawl along a ditch. A dead body of a fellow trooper fell into the ditch in front of him. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth simply pushed it aside and kept going.

There, at the end of the ditch, was the end of the hill. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth jumped up to meet a group of Skipean soldiers inside of a poorly dug foxhole. Their armor was rough and ripped and their gear looked more like a PDF soldier's than an Imperial Guardsmen's. So they have lost their best defenders then, 393-1024-0830-Jeneth thought, pleased with the conclusion. His finger pulled back the trigger and lasbeams at 28 megathules hurtled themselves into the enemies, ripping their bodies apart. A most satisfying pink mist arose from the foxhole and 393-1024-0830-Jeneth pressed onwards. With a shout, another soldier came up to him from the side, as if charging a Grenadier with a bayonet was more effective than shooting him from afar. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth blew his brains out only to reveal a second soldier behind him. The second soldier pushed the corpse of the first into 393-1024-0830-Jeneth.

The corpse fell into 393-1024-0830-Jeneth's rifle, forcing it to the side. By the time 393-1024-0830-Jeneth was able to step back and let the body fall, the soldier was already in front of him. He screamed a curse in his native tongue and tried to jam the bayonet into 393-1024-0830-Jeneth's unprotected left side. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth let go of his rifle and grabbed the rebel's lasgun with both hands, swinging his right elbow into the rebel's face. It connected with a satisfying crack. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth then leaned his head back and slammed it forward, ripping the rifle out of the rebel's hands and knocking him backward. Before he could bring it around, another lasbeam flew from lower on the hill, piercing right through the rebel's chest. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth turned to see a fellow Grenadier and gave him a nod. He dropped the enemy rifle.

His hellgun needed to be inspected. They were fickle things and prone to exploding at such rough contact. An initial lookover seemed to indicate that it was working fine. He spotted a rebel running away from the fight and took aim. The beam still hit true and it killed the enemy, but there was noticeably less kick to it than before. He spun his body to the right to face the ruins of a building, noticing shadows creeping out of them. One shadow raised a white flag. "Wait, wait! We surrender, we surrender!"

393-1024-0830-Jeneth fired, mowing them down. The screams of fear and pain turned into ones of anger as the mass of shadows charged at him, revealing PDF soldiers and old men. "Damn you, damn you, death to the Imperium!" they shouted.

Interwoven lines of fire cut these men down from all sides and they fell screaming. One of them crawled towards 393-1024-0830-Jeneth still, withering and gurgling. "Mercy, mercy, please…"

393-1024-0830-Jeneth pressed the trigger. His hellgun gave a final hiss but did not fire. Without thought, 393-1024-0830-Jeneth unclamped the rifle from the battery pack and pulled out his bayonet. "Mer-"

393-1024-0830-Jeneth jammed the dagger into the rebel's throat, causing his eyes to widen as he choked on his own blood. There was no mercy. No time to waste, 393-1024-0830-Jeneth quickly surveyed the area. Grenadier corpses were everywhere so he ran to the nearest one and picked up the hellgun to attach to himself. He gave it a quick test fire and found it operationally satisfactory. Unimpeded, he continued to advance. Then he ran into the trench. One shot to the chest quickly killed the nearest rebel. The trench lines were uneven and shallow, built by the Skipeans out of desperation more than anything else.

Heavy Bolter fire streamed down from beyond, hidden behind combat barriers impenetrable by hellgun fire, peppering the dirt in explosions. They were too far away anyway for any Hellgun to reach and too well encamped for the Vultures to target. They needed something different than a simple Grenadier unit to power through. There was a tense beating that vibrated the ground. Its rhythmic pumping different from that of an explosion. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth turned around to see a cadre of Death Riders. With their Krieg Steeds and explosive-tipped lances, they leaped over the trenches and ignored the enemies, charging straight towards the enemy turret. The sight of somewhat monstrous beasts made a few lesser-minded defenders turn tail and ran. Raised lances lowered into charging positions.

A bolt slammed into the chest of a Krieg Steed, ripping through its thick skin and tearing through muscle. The charge detonated, and yet when the smoke cleared, the underarmor remained intact. The Steed neighed ferociously, angered even, and carried on. Glancing shots and shockwaves did nothing to deter the drugged-up horses, whose own mission was as sacrificial as any Krieg guardsman. There were luckier shots, however, as a bolt cleared through an unfortunate Steed's eye socket. Its gas mask crumpled and the explosion of the bolt blew the rider clean off. The beast tumbled to the ground, headless, and the rider was promptly crushed under the endless hoofs. Lasbeams targeting the Steeds to no avail turned instead to their masters, but their breastplates kept them steady. They were true monsters in the eyes of the rebel defenders.

The resounding shot of a lascannon burnt clean through the middle of the formation. An entire line of Death Riders and their Steeds collapsed. Cereamite melted to slag and flesh burned to ash. Heads were vaporized. Bodies were bisected. But Skipean lascannons were few and the Death Riders were many. A second shot went wide, the white beam skimming over the top of the formation, singing through even their helmets. The Riders' hunting lances penetrated into the enemy lines, shattering both their bodies and their resolves. With the enemy defenses crippled, they drew their sabers and rode off further down the battlefield, leaving the Grenadiers behind.

A wave of Skipean PDF troopers charged from behind the lines. The large mass of them was sure to force the Grenadiers back. It was the same principle that the Death Korps followed. However, the circling Vultures' bolter rounds made quick work of them. The purring of a chainsword engine brought 393-1024-0830-Jeneth's attention to his right. A Skipean guardsmen officer, one of the last surviving ones, charged at him, screaming profanities. The officer's laspistol beams dissipated harmlessly against 393-1024-0830-Jeneth's armor so he threw the weapon at the Grenadier instead. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth got a shot off at the rebel's chest, but it only bore a hole through the thick upper chest armor and he kept charging. The chainsword's teeth dug into 393-1024-0830-Jeneth's hellgun.

The force of the blow forced 393-1024-0830-Jeneth to the floor and he was knocked on his back. The officer smiled maniacally and cleaved his weapon at the downed Korpsman. Before the attack could land, a lasbeam ran right through his head, killing the rebel instantly. The chainsword fell right next to 393-1024-0830-Jeneth's head, its last rotations sending dirt all over his gas mask. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth stood up, inspecting his rifle. It was broken. He threw it away and it exploded in an overcharged ball of fire as it landed. He would have to go look for another one. "Fall back, fall back!" someone amongst the rebels shouted.

Their retreat was hasty and unorganized, making for very easy pickings for the Grenadiers that rallied. When the rebels ran out of range, the Leman Russes and the Chimeras rumbled on. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth went to find his captain. The captain was on the Vox-caster, listening in to orders. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth glanced at 910-1021-1776-Mortith's arm. Under the dark blue, almost black greatcoat, you couldn't even tell it wasn't flesh. He turned to take in his Grenadier Unit, finding that at least half of them were still alive. The captain put away the receiver and everyone stood at attention. "There is a reported civilian bunker generating distress calls a few dozen yards from here.

We are to find and neutralize."

With that, the captain stood up and the unit moved out. The bunker was underneath the surface, which was why the artillery was unable to destroy it. The doorway was collapsed and the Grenadiers went to remove it. Light shone through the cracks and a murmur arose from beneath. They cautiously peered into the light, flinching as they saw the skull masks of the Grenadiers. But they were hopeful. The Grenadiers stepped into the bunker, finding it full of mostly children and elders. "Are- are you here to save us?" one of them asked.

They eyed the Aquila, trying to look past the monstrous visage. Without a word, 910-1021-1776-Mortith turned around and left. Confused, the people tried to follow but were blocked by two additional Grenadiers, brandishing their rifles. A small commotion arose. Fear leaked into their cries of outrage and demands. Down the steps came another trooper. He was carrying a flamer. The roar of the flames drowned out the screams of the dying. Peace at last.

The slow and stale marching to the capital, supported by armor and air units, would take another week and a half. But at last, they had the capital razed to the ground. By then, most of the fighting force was desperate elderly and naive children who did not wish to die a merciless death. If nothing else, the Death Korps held their tenacity in the face of the end to be at least somewhat reputable. Death Marines began the descent into the Underground for an initial surrounding sweep before the Death Korps dropped their bombs. Now, the Krieg entered the central palace. The Governor was hiding in his bunker with his family and a few soldiers. The honor of executing these treasonous men came down to the Commissar attached to the 333rd, as the Commander of the Army ordered them to be executed on sight. It was an order that the Krieg respected.

Five months of siege and 393-1024-0830-Jeneth finally got to see the man behind it all. The Governor was a lean man of military bearing. Even in this state, his robes were pristine. Each time he got closer, he received a kick to the head. Each time he got back up. Blood and snot streamed down his bruised face. He tried to grab the Commissar's coat hem with quivering fingers of rage. The Commissar scoffed. He had enough. "Seize him," he ordered.

393-1024-0830-Jeneth was lucky enough to be part of the complement that entered the plaza with the Commissar and the Colonel. He and his captain went up to the governor, whose family and posse were already dead, and grabbed his arms, lifting him to his feet. Pathetic, 393-1024-0830-Jeneth thought as he felt the traitor struggle in his arms. Commissar-Captain Tempust Bane walked up to the governor and kicked him in the groin. That finally got an agreeable reaction as he groaned in pain. This Commissar had served with the Death Korps since the beginning of his term as Commissar and survived long enough to supervise at the Regiment level, hence his rank. He had no qualms with their ways and was an excellent diplomat when the Krieg unit he was assigned to joined forces with another Regiment. That gas mask was as much as the Krieg's as it was his.

The Commissar-Captain turned around at the rumblings that permeated the building. The gas and chemical attacks on the underground had begun. "You're pathetic," Bane said, voicing the thoughts of every Krieg in the room.

Bane turned back around. His chainsword was wet, slick with the blood of the traitor's family and friends. Their bodies were still warm, eviscerated, or decapitated. "All of this, all the blood spilt, and for what? The Imperium supported this world for centuries and the instant the Beacon blinks, you turn your backs on the Emperor? We came here to welcome you back to the fold with open arms and you respond with battery fire. You would have been alone in this galaxy, facing Demons and Xenos alike. You're no Chaos-minded fool, sir. So when why?

Why did you betray us? I'll tell you. It was greed, Governor. It was ignorance. You wanted more than your worth. You thought you could do better. You killed your planet. You doomed your people. Your family."

The Governor blinked and turned to look at the bodies. His face became a mask of anger. "Support, Commissar? This is the extent of your so-called support. It was not ignorance, it was not greed. It was realization and it was chance. We have always been an independent people before we were coopted into your regime. You took our children and you took our ore. You fed us your tales of His omnipotence.

And then, once the Beacon failed the way it did, you expect us to keep to the propaganda you so readily spread? If he was truly so great, why did the beacon fail? We would not have bothered you. All we wanted was the recognition of sovereignty apart from a failing empire."

Bane stared into the governor's eyes and remained silent. He sighed. "Your recognition, Governor, was your right to existence. And that right was revoked, by thy own hand unto mine."

In a fluid motion, Bane drew his bolt pistol and cracked open the governor's skull, mincing his brain into mist. He holstered his firearm, satisfied with his work, looking on as the body slowly slid out of 393-1024-0830-Jeneth's arms and plopped onto the ground. "I believe," Bane started, turning to the Colonel, "that our mission is over."

Colonel 333 nodded when his Vox carrier ran over to him. "Sir, message from Command."

The colonel picked up the receiver. "Yes, sir?... Yes, sir."

Colonel 333 turned sharply towards the rest of the group, dialing on the Vox-caster's frequency selector. "All units, fall back, fall back, fall back."

"What's going on, Colonel?" Bane asked.

"Unknown, Commissar," Colonel 333 replied.

The men were already moving when bolter fire echoed across the city. "Colonel!" Bane shouted as they ran out of the palace. "We need a report!"

The colonel turned to his vox carrier. "Operator-

The colonel did not get to finish his order. A loud boom broke his words and for the first time in the longest time, he flinched as something washed over him. The sky split asunder with the mightiest roar. Purple and red energies swirled into a whirlpool of raw magic. Thunder flashed. No further explanation was needed. Anger sparked in 393-1024-0830-Jeneth's mind. Chaos was at play. Hell had come to Skipario.

---

The Death Worlders moved methodically through the facility. They were cleaning up one of the levels before the chemical bombs were dropped and reached a particularly large door. It was the entrance to a secondary power generator that supplied energy to the orbital bombardment batteries near the capital building and also the power to the Spiral itself. While the main generators were shut down and the surface was treated to a blackout, the underground sections of Skipario operated far too well. One of the Marines tapped at the control panel and the massive doors started to grind open. With perfect military posture, the team poured their way inside, not expecting and not finding any resistance. "Shut down the generator," the captain ordered and a Marine raced to complete the task.

Something exploded in the corner. The group dropped into battle positions and quickly changed their assumption. The sound was not that of ordnance but that of a generator firing. There was a second and then a third explosion all in different locations. It wasn't the sound of generators but those of engines. Knights, hidden from view and from sensors, stepped into sight and opened fire. Stubber rounds bounced off the ceramite armor, leaving no adverse effects, but the large caliber rounds of the battle cannon tore through entire squads. "Company, retreat!"

An entire Space Marine company had no choice but to abandon its objective and run as the Knights screamed. Surprising them even further was a contingent of human screams that joined alongside the horns of battle. Heavy bolter fire rained down the corridor as heavily armored Skiparean Stormtroopers rushed them. "Where did they come from?" a sergeant wondered as they made their way further into the facility.

Unfortunately for the Death Worlders, the corridors remained large enough for the Knights to follow. What remained of the company wound up at a dead end. "Captain! The augur is detecting a faint radiation signature beyond this wall!"

"This is a door," the captain noted.

"Yes. Scans indicate that the control console for this access point is behind at the observation post. A misdirection."

"Open it," the captain commanded curtly.

One Death Worlder broke away and ran over to the security room. It wasn't long before the wall hissed and began to move. The instant a line appeared down the middle, the air from the room was sucked inside. It was a vacuum, sealed by an airtight door. Slowly, the barrier clanked open and the Death Worlders moved inside. "Emperor's Light," the Captain breathed out.

Row after row of nuclear warheads stood upright inside the temperature-controlled doorway. "This is a stockpile of Exterminatus-level weapons."

"That's correct, Captain."The Captain whirled around to face a monitor that had flickered on. "I see you met our Anti-Astartes complement. How did they fare? Basic augmentations and heavy weaponry does astounding wonders. I'm Colonel Flashforn."

"I do not care for your name, heretic. These weapons. This is the reason you were so confident in defying the Light of the Emperor."

"I cannot deny that they did not at least help with morale. But that is not the reason. No, simple overconfidence. Overconfidence that will doom them. That has doomed them. So, these weapons will serve a different purpose now."

"Captain!" a Marine screamed.

The footsteps of the Stormtroopers were replaced with the heavy stomps of ceramite. The air was covered with an odious and foul stench. A choir of ghastly wails exploded around the corner and bolter fire erupted in the hallway. Mass reactive rounds flew into the midst of the Company, instantly downing the exposed Marines.

"I thought you were not affiliated with Chaos!" the captain yelled as he dodged a bolter round to the head.

"No, Skipario is not. But they are fools. Our leadership thought that we could resist on all fronts when the Imperium they so denied could not. The majority of the civilians on this planet were against Chaos. Those that were touched in those blighted days were purged. But did they really think they would get us all? We have always worshiped a god, Astartes. What is the difference between your Emperor and ours?"

"You are a fool, heretic. Chaos will consume this world and others in blight and waste. These weapons will help them destroy humanity!"

"Look at me. Do I look blighted? Captain, Chaos is not as you think. They are a force of nature. They are no more evil than your god is good. Don't you see? You have kept us away from a blissful collective consciousness of power all this time."

The captain ignored the colonel. They cannot get their hands on this stockpile! the captain thought. "Notify the fleet! Request an Exterminatus mission to the Master Colonel on my authorization!"

"Fleet, this is Death Worlders' Fifth Company! Death Guard appearance! The planet has possession of an Exterminatus-level nuclear complement! The Chaos Warband must not be allowed to claim it! Fleet, come in! Captain, I cannot! Communications are blocked!"

"Your signals won't make it out of here," Colonel Flashforn remarked. "I would feel apologetic. Even if I worship a different god, you are still the Angels I was taught to love… although, I suppose being from Krieg makes you a different breed automatically."

"Command! Command!"

---

The order was given for evacuation. The Death Worlders had already left. They were too valuable to try to stem the corruption that perverted the entire unground of a whole planet. As for the regular Death Korps guardsmen, it was a losing battle. The Death Korps gave their life for a purpose and there was no longer a purpose here. Still, they managed to cull the majority of the heretical population and kill their traitorous Governor, so their objectives were accomplished. All around the walls of the city, transports came and went, carrying their units. The Grenadiers, however, stood on top of the walls. They were the first ones in and were going to be the last to leave, defending the rear of their regiments.

393-1024-0830-Jeneth's equipment was freshened. His uniform was given a new coating of protective chemicals. His respirators were replaced. His armor was fixed. A meltagun was issued to him. His grenades were replenished. His hellgun was new. His bayonet was polished. He was even given a standard Lucius Pattern No. 98 Lasgun in case his hellgun broke down.

This was Chaos they were fighting after all.

A green mist slowly rolled across the horizon, setting off the horrendous sonic wails of the screamers. Heavy stubbers were cocked, Heavy Bolters were racked, and lascannons were primed. Artillery was taken off-world first. These were all they had to use. They were not going to make it out alive, but they had a mission to fight to the last. 910-1021-1776-Mortith looked at 393-1024-0830-Jeneth and nodded. The Company's Vox Master stepped forward as 393-1024-0830-Jeneth knelt. Colonel 333 had left something behind before he departed. The 333rd First Grenadier Unit's Battle Standard.

On its dark colors were the symbols of the regiment, the accomplishments of the Grenadier Unit, the skulls of the Imperium, and the Aquilla of the Emperor; this piece of intricately woven fabric usually flew with the Regimental Standard as it was too cumbersome to carry on actual Grenadier operations. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth clasped his hands and the Vox Master put the receiver in front of his face, broadcasting to all units on the channel. "God-Emperor watching over us. Praise be Thy name. Glory to Thy coming kingdom. Our life is Yours to use as You see fit. Hear me now to use us as Your sword, to display us as Your wrath, against Your Archenemy. Bless our aim true so that we may complete our duty, Thy Will, as it is done on Holy Terra. To purge the mutant, the heretic, and the alien.

Suffering is our prayer. Faith is our armor. In our darkest hour, shower us in Your Grace, in Your Light. In Your name, we fight. We will not falter. We will not fall until our last breath. No mercy, no quarter. Let us, the unforgiven, atone. In death, we dedicate our souls to you.

Ave Imperator, the Emperor Protects."

393-1024-0830-Jeneth's hands made the Sign of the Aquila and he lowered his head further. All across the wall, even through the muffling of their masks, came the response. "Ave, Imperator! The Emperor Protects! Fiat Justicia!"

The lines exploded with fire of all kinds as the first of the Lesser Daemons appeared on the horizon. They were disgusting creatures, cyclopses of rot and decay. Swollen and leaking, these once mortal men were now deformed footsoldiers of plague. With them were swarms of Nuglings, whose incessant giggling could even be heard from their distance. They radiated foul energies and death. From above, the skies seem to react to their appearance. The storms increased in fervor and thunder crashed ever loudly. Its whirlpool-like shape toiled and churned like the inside of a cauldron of filth. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth fired his hellgun into the crowd of Daemons.

Lasbeams and bolters were absorbed into their bodies as if they were nothing but blanks. Stray shots hit the flies, wasting precious power. However, the Commander did leave them with one more saving grace: all commandeered lascannons that weren't used to resupply the army itself. Lascannon beams melted through whole groupings of the Warp spawn, but they were running out of ammunition fast, and each shot did not fire nearly fast enough to keep up with the increasing horde. Any living thing that could have possibly survived the dominant Krieg Artillery in the siege surely died to the viruses they carried. The first of the Plaguebearers began to fall. Even their supernatural immunity to pain and damage was unable to stand against concentrated fire for a prolonged period of time. It was then that they started firing back. From behind the lines of the Lesser Daemons came the cultists, men who gave themselves to the Chaos Gods.

Chaos Spawn. Body and soul, these heretics were now something more than human, or perhaps, something less.

The eight-pointed star of Chaos branded onto their bodies and their banners brought revulsion to 393-1024-0830-Jeneth's mind. These were no simple traitors. Their new bodies were a symbol of such. He could not understand how men of the Imperium could ever fall to the temptation of those creatures of the Warp. Righteous anger fueled his shots. Some manner of mutant psyker must have started a cult during the siege. Now, these former Skipeans were oozing all manners of death. The bodies strewn on the battlefield before were but melting pots of new viruses and the chemical attacks unleashed on the underground only enhanced their abilities. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth ducked to avoid a bolter.

A message came on the vox. It was from command to all Grenadier ears. The last of the companies were away. Transports would not be returning to pick them up. This would be their last transmission. Duty until death. The vox went silent. The lasguns did not. Death was, after all, both the mission and the goal.

393-1024-0830-Jeneth's mouth twitched then. Slowly, it morphed into an open smile. That horde was the final nail in his coffin. What was there not to enjoy in the last moments of his life? 393-1024-0830-Jeneth sighed then. He would have preferred to die in a glorious charge instead of a last stand. Imperial Luck, it was, that they would meet a force like this only after it seemed total victory was at hand. If this Imperial Luck continued to play out, this planet would probably be declared lost and an Exterminatus order would be implemented. Still, his work had to have meant something even then.

There was a crack to his left. From the corner of his eye, he could see his captain knocked backward. The man quickly got back up. Another crack. This time he stayed down. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth knelt to check on his captain. The Carapace armor prevented penetration but it caved in his chest. The captain's breathing labored. "Krieg… stands…" he muttered before his head fell limp.

393-1024-0830-Jeneth took his captain's fresh powerpacks for himself and stood up. He was in charge of his company now, however, few remained. He turned around to look at the terrain. Empty. Everyone was gone. His head swiveled to survey the oncoming horde. Endless. Entirely acceptable. I am death. I am doom. Death to the enemy. Bring me peace, my Emperor. "Fix bayonets!"

393-1024-0830-Jeneth slung his hellgun over his right shoulder before grabbing his Lucius from his left. He unsheathed the monoblade dagger from his belt and swiftly attached it to the bayonet lug under the barrel of his rifle. The end would come on their terms and not cowering behind walls as the enemy overwhelmed them. Krieg blood split will be spilled on the battlefield. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth grabbed the 333rd Regiment Battle Standard."Charge!"

His men reacted instantly to his order, leaping onto the stairway ramps and down the wall. With no regard, they followed the symbol of their Empire and ran into the horde. All across the wall, other Grenadier companies did the same. A spear in one hand and a gun in the other, 393-1024-0830-Jeneth mowed down the cultists, only for them to get back up and charge again. Others that got closer were able to better blow the heads off of one, only to get stabbed by another. Their bodies instantly started to decay and bulge with puss and disease. Even the Grenadiers had to scream in pain as their soul was ripped from their bodies and their mortal flesh devoured. Five thousand men against an insurmountable tide. A thousand died in the first minute.

His and the other Grenadiers' monoblades cut through flak armor and Carapace armor like butter. It tore through flesh like it was made of air. And yet, even as the bayonets opened wounds, the Daemons and the cultists advanced. They felt no pain. Their faces were twisted into a caricature of ecstasy. When all the suffering in the world was tearing your soul apart, what else was there to be sad about? The wounds leaked death of all kinds. Clearly, bayoneting them wasn't going to do anything. Perhaps, in the long run, abandoning the lascannons was a bad idea, but they were going to run out of ammunition eventually, so it still all made sense.

The storms above thickened still. Acid rain started to pour around the capital. It was green like everything else. At first, it was only atop the entrance to the underground. Slowly but surely it was expanding in size. If it reached any survivors, it would melt their respirator tubes and they would die. But it was likely for them all to die before then anyway. 393-1024-0830-Jeneth missed the resounding thuds of artillery. His rifle would have to suffice.

But the Daemons would not be affected by the acid rain. They were made of the stuff and they reveled in it, experiencing impossible joy in it. The Daemons and the cultists were not affected. Neither were the Death Guard that were slowly progressing towards their location. Impossible, 393-1024-0830-Jeneth thought. Traitor legions? How did they get past the fleet in orbit? Krieg guardsmen weren't built to think, but even he could piece together what happened, roughly and crudely. Were they here all along? How much of this siege was their doing then?

There wasn't much red-hot rage within the Grenadiers as they noticed the Death Guard, but rather cold hatred. These traitors represented the height of heretical behavior and the lowest points humanity could go to fulfill their greed. They were entirely steeped in the Plague Lord's essence and were rotting away eternally within their grotesque shells. Their very essence the epitome of all that vile Chaos God stands for. Entire cycles of life and death played out in their grossly misshapen body. An eternal link between decay and growth. Ceaselessly toiling and churning. The anti-stagnant. It wasn't hard to understand the incomprehension the Krieg felt at the Death Guard's loyalty to Chaos then.

There was a rumble further in the horde, vibrating the ground. At first, it was only a shadowy outline. Then it came into the light. A creature towering over all others. Some manner of beast, sporting tentacles. It laughed and squealed and squelched. It didn't move as it did slither. The miasma was noticeably thicker around it. Distracted by the repulsive sight, 393-1024-0830-Jeneth was thrown to the ground by a cultist.

The cultist raised his plaguesword. The Warp Storm crackled. A bolt of lightning pierced from the sky. Pain. A golden light. Gott Imperator mi Seele schut.

Then it all went black.

Victory, as the galaxy burns. Victory, as the Imperium rots around us. Victory, as humanity rages against the dying of the light. Victory…

---

New series. Inspired by Lord-of-Change's Death Korps of Justice.

Grenadier Formation breakdown on .

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