It was yet another obstacle for Sergeant Trak’s convoy. Yet another opportunity for the city of Ixillium to throttle the last vestiges of his patience. The whole battle sphere was going to krek. Road closures, fallen debris, narrow streets, and the ever-present threat of xenos ambush had made advancing through the warren of high tenements a testing ordeal. Trak was so used to being a sitting duck to this day that he thought he should be categorised as endangered by the Divisio Biologis.

And now, as he had wrenched his leading Demolisher around a bend into the tightest krekking alleyway in the city, he had the joy of having their progress blocked by what seemed to be some fool’s parade float.

Exhausted, burnished in sweat, Trak pushed himself through the hatch and levelled an accusing finger at the bizarre armoured carrier wedged between the ashen brickwork. The vehicle was adorned with eccleisarchal banners, purity seals, gilded filigree, and a stubby prow-mounted cannon. It had non-standard tiers of platforms above its chassis where clusters of robed figures were vigorously expressing their annoyance.

‘Move that thing, right now,’ he bellowed. ‘Reverse or we will reverse it for you.’

Across the dusty and abandoned space, the carrier’s hatch punched open and a muscular woman in cerulean fatigues hauled herself into view.

‘The holy body of the Lux Invicta will not be sullied nor shall its progress be detained. It is thou who shall have to acquiesce and make way for the mobile cathedrum of the Confessor Sancificatus. Withdraw thine self, and be penitent!’

A spattering of glass baubles were dropped from above and shattered on the carrier’s steelwork, releasing a cloud of sanctified perfume. The woman didn’t flinch. The monks above murmured in benediction. 

‘”Thine?”, “Acquiesce”? You’re a krekkin driver for the Astra Mil,’ shouted Thrak. ‘I’ve got a fifteen-strong armoured column riding my arse, woman. It would take hours to back them out and even then they’d be exposing themselves to xenos fire. Our mission is critical. Back out, now.’

The woman seemed to nod in understanding. ‘What you seem to have, Sergeant, are problems of the flesh, and that is regrettable. We, however, are borne along by winds of the spirit and thus cannot be slowed. Our charge must be delivered to the men fighting in the city’s eastern reaches, where an injection of fortitude is urgently required. Only the Confessor and his vast oratory skill can accomplish this.’

A curtain twitched on one of the carrier’s upper tiers and a doddering, parchment-white face peered out.

‘What ever is the commotion?’

A shape beyond the curtain pulled the figure back. Trak heard someone say, ‘Back, Holy One. There could be snipers.’ Followed by a series of wheezing coughs.

‘Private Shoal,’ Trak snarled. ‘Go and get the Commissar for me, that’s a good lad.’

‘No need, Sergeant,’ said a sharp voice. ‘I am way ahead of you.’

Trak didn’t break eye contact from his opposite number as Commissar Yufen climbed the Demolisher’s side to join him on the chassis. ‘Vox-horn, please,’ said Yufen, and Trak reached down to pass him the receiver.

An ear-splitting boom rolled out over the rooftops, followed by a tortured orchestra of stonework and glass crashing to the ground. Both sides of the alleyway waited for the noise to recede. Nobody blinked. A cloud of dust rolled above.

Yufen lifted the receiver to his lips.

‘Lux Invicta. This is Commissar Yufen of the 204th Parnian. You may have just noticed that a building, perhaps several, has just been annihilated. There is a strong likelihood that the enemy ordnance that accomplished this grave heresy was fired from entrenched positions at the local spaceport. I have good news for you: we lead a convoy of strike vehicles that has been urgently rerouted across the cityscape for the exact purpose of nullifying this threat. You are currently preventing that mission from being carried out. You may also be aware that, as a Commissar, I am able to resolve this matter in whichever way I see fit. Lux Invicta, if you do not reverse your ostentatious backside within the next ten seconds, the 204th will be travelling directly through you.’

Trak flinched as a bang filled the air. It was another hatchway on the mobile cathedrum. He couldn’t suppress a groan as a familiar uniform came into view.

‘Yufen! Greetings! This is Commissar Attana of the 189th Parnian.’

Trak put his head against the cool metal of his tank and let out a sob. He was so tired, and this was so far above his pay grade. Could he nap through this? Would either officer shoot him if he did?

‘Attana! This is your doing! Ever since the scholum you have been a thorn in my side!’

‘I did not issue my orders, Yufen, I am merely following them through. I also did not give the order for you to be such a pathetically easy target for insults during our schooling.’

Private Shoal let out a soft “oof”. A distant monk recited the catechism of shots fired.

‘That is quite enough,’ snapped Yufen. ‘Sergeant, prepare to advance.’

‘Lux Invicta,’ yelled Attana, ‘prepare the rites of full engine burn. Our God is watching.’

What happened next stayed with Trak until his dying days.The nearby wall, halfway between the vehicles, simply exploded outwards.

A vast bulk followed through and did not stop. He would later discover it was a xenos monster named a Great Knarloc. In its vast serrated beak, it held half a Chimera transport. Screaming human voices flashed past his awareness. And then the monster had pulverised its way through the opposing wall. 

Leaving a gaping hole and a river of blood and oil in its wake.

Silence dominated the scene.

Trak took the vox gently from Yufen’s unresisting hand.

‘After you, Lux. By all krekkin means, after you.’