Commissar Delecta’s Moment of Heroism
None of this is my fault, understand? You can blame my producer, since it was his decision to cut costs by booking travel with the camp followers of the 119th Chorzin Grenadiers.
Impasse
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.
Rations
‘By the Throne, what’s that smell?’ Fallon pushed aside the flaps of the tent and stepped into its poorly lit interior. ‘Rations.’ The Kid glanced up, before returning his attention back to the cans on the heater.
The Grox Herder
‘Move! Move!’ The sergeant's voice rang between lasfire, greenskin roars and cries of men. ‘To me, Venn! Now!’ Something whizzed past his ear, close enough to chill the skin.
It’s The Thought
Guardsmen break in different places. In aggregate, however, educated prediction is possible. There is a significant corpus of data.
What a Drag
Dust drifted through the shattered streets, turning the morning sun into pale streaks of light that bled through the haze. Private Tomas Grell sat with his back against a mound of shattered stone.
Nothing Significant to Report
Lieutenant Cobral Janner was bored. Eight years on a deathworld, guarding a secret fortified warehouse containing a strategic stockpile of spare clothing, equipment, weapons and vehicles, and he had yet to fire his lasgun in anger.
Pending Refit
The sand had teeth on this world. They’d been a jungle regiment once. Their fatigues were still a blotched green, unsuited to this sun-blasted hellhole.
Heresy
The bunker door slammed shut, dulling the wail of sirens and thunder of shell impacts to a low hum and faint thudding.
Tinnitus
The jungle spewed the stench of wet loam, burning ozone, and freshly spilt blood. The Tyranid swarm's cacophony was absolute, a relentless tide of alien shrieks tearing through the canopy.…
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