These are the memoirs of Inquisitor Marcos Iliad of the Holy Ordos of Xenos. I have put my pen to velum to help those that come after me learn form my knowledge and the mistakes I have made in a long and controversial career. I embark on what I feel will be my last mission out to the Halo Stars in pursuit of a man I once called friend, may the Holy Emperor forgive me.

As this Fearful office has unfurled behind be I have made decisions that would warp a lesser mans soul, but at the same time that lesser man would not have been part of the corruption that I helped bring about as he would not have thought him self infallible. And that is the first lesson I wish to impart to you my readers, only the God Emperor him self is infallible. You are only a man trying to follow his will. Ambition, self confidence and personal worth are dangerous things. No these thing have brought the greatest servants of the Emperor to the ruinous powers, and me to the point that I am at now.

As an Inquisitor I have the power to put men to the sword, whole world to the flame of Holy Nuclear fire, and in the past I have done both these things, but it was not always like this. Once I was a staving retch from the under hive of Stacks on the planet of Lo, with nothing but an empty belly and a shard of metal rapped in rags. This whelp would go every seventh day and listen to the raggedy clerics of our local shrine to His Greatness preach of how our gang wars where “a penance for our sins” and that they would “wash us clean in Holy Battle”. I lived for those seventh days like I did for food. I ached to sit beside boys I hated and had tried to kill the night before a listen to the singing of the one Sister that attended our Shrine. As I sweated in fever from wounds I received in these battles I prayed to His Holy Highness that I would not die, not from fear of death but for the will to serve Him, and in my fifteenth year I got my chance.

I thought it would be a seventh day like any other, the sister singing and the clerics preaching but instead there where men in fine close with weapons there, talking to our unkempt spiritual advisors with a look of distain and loathing. Only two did not have this look. One was the largest man I had ever seen, at least 2.40 metres with muscles on his muscles and a weapon of such beauty that it almost made me weep. Its gold and gun metal outer case sawn brighter that anything I had ever seen, a Sacred Bolter the size on my torso. This man was talking quietly with on of the clerics, no sneer, on a serene smile as his muted work washed over a man who was in total fearful awe of this Adonis that stood before him. It was at this point I noticed the other that did not look with distain. He was the opposite in every way to the other, a small stocky man wearing a coat that looked two sizes too big for him, and he was looking right at me.

I met the man’s gaze and he did not flinch or look away, he just held me eye till someone spoke to him and his eyes moved from mine. This was the first time I met Commissar Astarsy, a man of such worth and faith that I have no right to speak his name, but at this time all I new was this man of small stature was twice the man of the beautiful hulk. He did not move with the same confidence as the large one. His gaze was always shifting in a way I knew, looking for threats and sizing the people around him. At his side sat a simple black and gun metal las pistol and a chain sword the likes of which I would never see again. In times passed I have asked the servants of the Omnissiah about this device and only one has known of it. It was called the Chain of Virtuous Fire, a blessed artefact of which I believe there has only been one found, or that is what I have been told by members of his cult. But I write of things I will tell in the future and I must stay on point for now, the small man walk over to the large, patted him on the arm and said in a clear and almost lyrical voice “time to get this started.”

“Agreed,” said the mountain and he nodded to Deacon Brarr.

“All gather around and here the word of the all Powerful and Holy God Emperor. Today is a great day for you all as these people have come in answer to the prayers you have all made for the last ten years and offer you a chance to enter Holy Service in His name. This is Brother Marine Harrot who is here to fine the worthy that will be the Emperor’s own fist to smash his enemies. You will be tested by a Brother Tech-Priests of the Adeptus Astartes Chapter The Brotherhood . The testing will be hard and painful but if you prevail you will have unrivalled power and a prestige place at the right hand of his Holy Majesty.” The words filled my hart and soul like a salve to an infected wound and for the first time in my life my battle prayers made sense. This was what we had been fighting all our sort lives for; this was the very point of our short lives. I would become as the statue in our minuscule temple of the Brother Marine and be warm well fed and huge, and most of all safe in my Holy Armour as on of the Emperors Space Marines.

“Ok make a line in front of the Shrine,” said Deacon Brarr as he marshalled us in the first cue of our pitiful lives. We all bustled with fear, excitement and anticipation of what was about to happen. I had made it to the middle of the line and watched as the first boy went in, and then the creaming started. A mut6ed buzz went up through the line and many boys started to sob in terror.

“Shut your traps you worthless whelps!” shouted one of the well dressed man with a look of disgust on his pudgy, well fed face. The short man also had a look of disgust but was not looking at us. He was looking at our chastiser and his expression spoke said he was looking at a man that had never known hardship, never known the fear one feels before a battle when there was a chance you would never come back. The fat man saw the look that little man was giving him and the sneer was removed from his face in an instant, replaced with one of shame and alarm. As my gaze moved back to the small one I sae he was staring at me again, this time with that mystifies smile I would one day come to love. Again I held his gaze and gave a little smile back but it was not confining.

The boy that had entered returned from the Shrine beaded with sweet and blood. His air was on of agony and happiness, a juxtaposing I would only see five other times that day. The Space Marine came up to the boy and clamped his hand on the boys shoulder rasping torture through the young lad’s body.

“Welcome young bother,” he exclaimed with a great smile, “Stand with me as you will in battle.” Then the next boy reluctantly went into the Shrine.

This went on for many hours with some boys coming out crying, some walking out looking soulless, others stumbling out in sheer agony. A few had to be carried out and six where carried out dead. Those that walk out where swarmed on by the men in nice clothing, with fake smiles on their faces and whispered words in there eyes that made the anguish on their faces lessen and there eyes burn with desire. Those that where not good enough to become Astartes where more than good enough to bolster the ranks of the soldiers of the spire houses. The obese and corrupt lords of Hive Stacks new that to train these boys was to make a better class of soldier than they could ever recruit in the mid hive. They where tempered by Battle prayer from the age of seven and sharpened by a hunger for a better life. When each had got his quota he skulked off towards the Lift Hall looking back with distaste at a world he would hope never to see again. Then it was my turn.

I walk through the door of the shrine with all the hope in the world. Our Small Temple to the Magisty of the God Emperor was not a splendid affair. It was made of sheets of metal hammered and bolted together in a basic cube, with status lovenly yet crudely carved from the local stone that made up the subterranean wall of this level of the hive. Standing there was a Space Marine in strange brass armour, helmet shill on and a Holy Mechadendrite coming from inside it.

“Lie down on the table,” he told me in a rasping tinny voice. To this day the image of that Monster of a man is still imbedded in my mind, with his bazaar gun at his hip and tiny clicking pinchers coming from his fore arm. I did as he said and the Sacred Machine above loomed down over me like it was judging my sins.

The great metal man turned to me with no emotion or malice in his voice and stated, “Ready your self boy. This will hurt like nothing you have ever experienced,” And so the pain began.

I had resigned myself to the pain and had believed that I would not scream. I held out for what seemed hours but enviably succumbed to my base instinct and howled in anguish. Hours passed and still I scream. I did not know why my testing was taking so long only that I wished it would end. I prayed repeatedly to His Holy Protector, To Saint Drusus to overcome the pain, to Vidicus to ease my suffering, and then the Sacred Testing was over.

I stumbeled off the table and turned to the Marine.

“Why was my testing so long?” I asked still though gritted teeth.

“It was no longer than any other, three minutes.”

“But… No! I was on that table for ours?”

“All feel that there time is hours during the testing, time seems to not have the same quality in that space as it does in reality.”

“But how?” I asked still in pain from the ordeal.

“I believe it is an element of the test. The Sacred Machine Spirit of the Iliad Draws out time to the candidate’s perception. You could have thrown your self of the table at any time. Part of the test is to see if you can resolve your self to stay through the pain.” The Brother Tech Marine had not taken his attention off the data slate he was inspecting the whole time we talk until now.

“I am sorry young one but you have not passed the test.”

“What?”

“It pains me when one has come so close to give this news. You have all the physical requirements necessary to be a Brother Marine but your body has have too many illnesses in its short life to except the Holy Gift of the Gene Seed. You must leave now, but not in shame. I have had many young boys on this table and you I must say held out the longest without screaming. Forty eight seconds is a momentous time.”

I was destroyed. This had only been a hope for a number of hours, but it was the hope I had pinned my future on. I had been nothing and now I would return to nothing. The Emperor had not found me worthy enough to become His Right hand. I walked out of the little temple for the last time and the great Brother Marine smiled at me, but I walked away from him.

Then the vultures closed in with their promises of “50 Thrones a month,” and “free bed and board,” or “chance to better your social standing.” This was all ash in my mouth, brine to the thirsty. I did not want their consolation prizes, I just wanted to be left alone. To end my life in this pitiful place and never amount to anything. Still they whispered snake like to me, trying to tempt me to their service with oaths and things. I needed them to stop, I needed them to leave me alone, they kept speaking and I needed them to back off.

“In the name of the God Emperor will you GET OUT OF MY FACE!” the shard was in my hand before I knew what I had done. The blood gushed from the highborn’s arm and all moved back.

“You little ****. You little ****! You cut me. I do not believe you cut me!” he reached to his belt where a finely crafted mono sword sat and was half way through pulling it when his expression changed from one of anger to one of fear. It was only then I noticed the barrel of the las pistol pressed against his neck.

“Choose your next action carefully by noble friend, actions have consciences,” Said the small man in his lilting tone.

“What… What are you doing? This… This is not war time. You have no power over me,” responded the highborn with a bit more confidence.

“That is true my stammering dandy, but you are about to destroy Imperial property and it is my Emperor given duty to protect that property,” the barrel of the las pushed a little harder against the fools neck and all his confidence was gone. His sword slipped back into its scabbard and he returned to his small group of boys and servants to have the gash dressed.

I looked this small man in the eye once more and saw no malice of pity. He gave me the same roguish half smile he did the first time I had seen him staring and walked up to face me.

“Why did you save me,” I ask with a flat tone that came from the pain both physical and metaphysical.

“The Emperor has a path set out for you lad and it’s my job to put you on that path.”

“But I failed the test, I can’t become a Brother Marine.”

“The Emperor has other work than just that of Marine,” he said ruffling my hair. “Come on boy,” Commissar Astarsy directed me away from the other nobles, “time to leave this place and not come back till your bones rest here.”

Together we walked in silence, thought the ruined halls of the under hive of Stacks to a place I had only glimpsed in fear as I ran from the laser blasts, but now I could drink in its full glory as it loomed in front of me. The great Lift Volts of Stacks where a sight to behold. Great statues of saints and heroes arrayed like titan filling our view as we walked onwards, not sculpted from the local rock like those in our meagre temple, but carved from the finest Plascreet in the old Imperial style. Lift doors 20 metres high, as magnificently carved as the statues marked the entrance to another world, a world I thought I would never get to see. The ground before lifts was held by two hundred and twenty two PDF troops in hardened bunkers and Heavy Snubber pits, all wearing the pale brown of the Elite Guard. These men I have feared my entire short life looked at me with something akin to respect as I walked shoulder to shoulder with this diminutive man towards the forbidden life that existed beyond those gates.

“Why did you choose me?” my voice did not sound of my self as I asked the question, dry in my throat from the exertion of the Testing.

“Because you’re too precious to die in a place like this boy,” he responded with his half smile.

“I am nothing, just another lost soul in the night.”

“If that was so then I would not have come here and raised you from the hive.”

“But why me? Why not one of those other boys. There was stronger than me, better able to serve the God Emperor, Blessed be His Name.”

“That may be true boy,” he said still looking me level in the eye, “but they never looked me in the eye without malice or pride.” He gave me another pat on the shoulder and looked me up and down. “What’s your name boy?”

“Scrap Sir,” I responded with a modicum of shame. The name I was given came from the place I was found as a child, on a scrap heap at the bottom of a garbage shoot. I had been teased all my live that I had been thrown out by a spire family that had not wanted me, but it was more the case my mother had just left me there because she was too young and scared to raise me her self.

“Well I don’t know why but I have the feeling that some day I will be kneeling before you boy and I aren’t kneeling before someone called Scrap.”

“Kneel before someone like me sir!” I exclaimed. “I could never see a person like you kneel before the likes of me.”

“The Emperor has work for you my young friend,” told me with not so much as an ounce of sarcasm, “I think that is why I came down here.”

“The God Emperor does not even know I exist sir.”

“He knows we all exist boy, He knows, watches over us and puts us in the places we need to be.”

“But I’m not important?”

“Only He knows who is important and who is not. I was drawn here to bring you to the place you have to be.”

“But I was not chosen to be a Marine. I am worthless.”

“Am I worthless?”

“No!”

“And I was not chosen to be a marine also.” The fact hit me in the face like a power armoured fist. Commissar Astarsy was a child of the under hive too. He had gone through the testing and also had not been picked, just like me. It was not hard to think of a Demigod Marine raised from the hive and made great as they where made so by the God Emperor’s had, Hallooed be His Name, but a man like this made his way him self. I thought that he would have come from some great Spire Family. “My father and mother where members of the Administratum. They came down here when I was very young to do a survey of the under hive. I don’t know when they died only that I was soon a child of the prayer gangs like you. I was seven when my testing happened. The Brother Tech Marine did not want to give it to me saying I was too young,” Commissar Astarsy laughed at the memory that played out behind his dark brown eyes. “I pulled my shard on him and told him to do it or I would gut him. I swear I heard a chuckle in that vox of his. I got up on the able and he started his test. Tell me boy, is the pain etched in your mind too?” he said with a touch of pain in his voice.

“Yes sir,” I answered with awe in mine.

“Well needless to say I failed as I was too young. When I went out no vipers swarmed around me. I was alone and in pain, sat on that lump of rock out side the Temple and recited the one prayer I could remember from my mother and father. There was an adept of the Administratum in the group that recognised the prayer. He look me from the under hive and put me in the Schola Progenium where I look training as a Commissar.”

“And that is why you came down to the testing?”

“That and I felt I had to do a penance for the souls of my mother and father. I believe saving you is that penance. And now for a new name for you lad. The man that saved me from the under hive was called Marcus Tenant. What about Marcus for a name?”

“It sounds like a good name sir”

“Now what about a surname?”

“Can I choose that sir?”

“Of course, what do you have in mind?”

“The Holy Testing Machine is called the Iliad sir. I want to be called Marcus Iliad.”

Commissar Astarsy smiled his sly smile and gave a firm sharp nod. “Marcus Iliad. That sounds like a name I can kneel before.”

The great lift finally reached us and we walked inside the gapping edifice. Within its walls stood two Tech Priests of the Cult Machanicus and their four Servitors, tending the Sacred Machines and operating the winch systems. I had seen Tech Adepts before as they had processed through the under hive to carry out repairs on the archaic equipment that was till running there, but I had never been this close to one of the red robed priests of the Omnissiah. This was the first time I had seen that there was a connection between these men and the Brother Tech Marine that I had met earlier that day. Although these men had more meat that metal there where strange pipes coming from their heads to their chests, Mechadendrites protruded through holes in their red cloaks and as they said their Sacred Prayers to the Machine God and Holy Emperor their voices has the same quality as the metal man that tested me. As the doors began to close one of the priests swung a censer and the lift filled with pungent smoke. Though it was new to my senses to this day the Blessed Incense of the Adaptus Machanicus is my favourite smell. At times I feel troubled I go down into the engine room of my ship and inhale that sent and it clears my mind.

As the lift travelled upward Commissar Astarsy and I set in silence. I do not know when I succumbed to the tiredness my body and mind felt, but when I was awoken I looked out at the bustle and colour riot that was the Mid Hive, and I drank it in. I sit writing this in closes that cost as much as some of these peoples wages, but back then all I knew was the drab greys and rust browns of the under hive. Here where bright reds, yellows, shiny metals and for the first lime in my life greens. My life to that point was devoid of green, something I once tried to explain to Arna my feral world companion, but now green had come into my life and I could not get enough of it. Then I saw more green that I could imagine. I green thing the size of a statue sitting under a shaft of light from a great lamp on the ceiling.

“What is that thing,” I stopped from my questioning as I realised I did not know my saviors name.

“Commissar Astasy boy,” he answered to my silence.
“What is that thing Commissar Astasy?”

“It’s a tree boy,” he said with a dark look on his face. “You will come to hate them I three short months”

Three months was how long I was on the troop transport True Name of the Emperor with the 37th Stacks Guard. In this time I was inducted into the Imperial Guard of the Imperium with Commissar Astarsy supervise my training personally, as is the way with the Duty of Prayer Gang Apprenticeship, instructing me in how to shoot, track, make simple fortifications and prepare the machine spirits of the Sacred Equipment I was supplied with. I did not have the standard load out of an Imperial Guard, “You will be going into the scout unit I am responsible for. Not an easy assignment boy for someone out of the belly of a hive, but you will handle it. You are my apprentice and I expect only the best from you, do I make my self clear?”

“Yes sir. All Clear Sir.”

“Good boy.” Commissar Asarsy turned to the small door of his and my quarters where I had been sleeping on the floor. “Come boy. We go to meet the rest of your squad. Take no shtick from them boy you are more a man than anyone of them will ever be.”

I followed him down the long corridor, passed the gun range I had learned to shoot in, through the mess I had eaten in every day for the last 2 months to strange looks of the other Commissars there, up as set of stairs that went into the inky dark of the next deck up, bypassing rooms filled with men all dressed the same in their grey and black uniform being inspected by others is crisp officer’s uniforms, to a small room with only ten men in it looking worse for wear.

“Oh look who it is. Our glorious leader has returned,” said a large man with the biggest set of sideburns I have seen to this day.

“Watch your tongue Balius or I’ll have it out of your mouth,” replied my mentor with a sneer. Most of the others in the room paid use no mind and just carried on doing what they where doing.

“Who’s the snot gov?” asked another as he looked up from his book. This one looked very out of place in the group. He was hansom with the look of the men that had came down on the Day of Testing, also he kept his uniform immaculate.

“This is Marcus Illiad. He will be joining your squad. And Lord Von Toffa, on your feet when you address me,” Commissar Asarsy moved like a laser beam and trailed Toffa to his feet. The man seemed shocked at the reaction and smartened up his close as he stood there.

“What did he do?” said another as he was standing up, this seem to me enough for the Commissar.

“Nothing Drax.” he said to the squat man with bad pox scars all over his face.

“Then what is he doing with us?” asked another weaselly man standing in the corner, this one I did not like the look of.

“He is my apprentice Crant”

Crant sneered me a bad attempt of a smile “Welcome to Recon Squad, First Company, Second Battalion, Thirty Seventh Regiment, the Stacks Guard. Or as we like to call it The Not Quiet Penal Boys.”

“Crant you magnificent bastard. Leave the boy alone and go see cookie about those cake roots like I told you an hour ago or you’ll have my boot up your Arse,” said a voice from behind me. I looked around and all I saw was a carapace breast plate. As my eyes moved up I, by the grace of the God Emperor, finally arrived at a face. His armour showed the chevrons of a sergeant of the regiment and more battle honour than I had ever seen or would see on a guard. His hair was long and in a very neat bun of plats at the back with facial hair the same red colour. This man looked out of sorts with these reprobates and even with me and Commissar Astarsy.

“Going now Reggy,” said Crant as he skulked off out threw the door.

The large man looked down at Commissar Astarsy with a smile. “Good to see your back with us Commissar. Is this the boy you where telling me about?”

“Yes Sergeant of the Regiment, this is Marcus Iliad. Marcus this is Sergeant of the Regiment Arna Pacanten.” Little did I know it then but this man was to become by best friend and confidant. As I go to my death in this Infernal Waste of stars, God Emperor Save us, he sits in the next room, relaxed and with out fear as he always is, a mountain of a man with a trusty Cross bow on his back and a prayer in his heart. He is my friend, and I have brought him to his death. Holy One forgive me.

“Ok sunny lets have a look at you,” Arna said putting both his had on my shoulders and positioning me in front of him. “Looks like a likely sort Commissar, could you not have gotten him into a good squad instead with this lot of reprobates’?”

“I want to have him with me Sergeant of the Regiment to continue his training.”

“I can understand that but this lot of Ork holes will have him corrupted in about a day. Forth platoon in looking for a replacement if I was you I would put him with them. Keep the boy strait.”

Fear rose in my stomic as I thought that perhaps Commissar Astarsy would listen to this man and I spoke up. “Sir if you don’t mind I want to stay here with the Commissar.” The mood had changed in the room as the first word had left my mouth. First of all I thought I had spoken out of turn then Arna looks at me.

“Kiddo I work for my bread. You get this one for free but you never, ever, call me sir. Sergeant of the Regiment, or Reggy if there is not an officer about, present company excepted, but if you call me sir again I will stick my fist so far down your throat that I will be able to tickle you feet. Do I make my self clear?”

“Yes Sergeant of the Regiment,” I replied trying to show in my face how sorry I was for the faux pas I had made. Arna looked at me for a long time studying my face as though looking for something.

“You are right Commissar, just like you. I should be seeing fear in his expression but instead I see only regret at offending me,” he looked away from me and too the Commissar.” Are all the people from your strange under hive world like this?” he asked.

“if you spend your childhood in a Prayer Gang Sergeant of the Regiment you ether die or get forged and tempered. This one is the finest sword I have ever seen.”

Chapter Two My First War.

I had fought and killed since I was seven years of age but I had never been in anything like a war. Arna tried to explain it to me in the days before the drop but I just could not realise the concept. To me war was the prayers we said the His most Gracious Majesty the God Emperor. People fighting in hand to had combat for His Glory and to ready our self for the Holy Testing. The idea of fighting over an idea, much less one that concluded that someone new better than the plans that the Great Teacher of Mankind had set out for us, was something ludicrous to me. I knew that the wellbeing of man was His greatest worry, so why would someone go against that. As I sit here now I know there are many reasons one would go against the will of Terra, and not all without reason. I have seen famine ravaged worlds rise up in rebellion simply to keep food for to sate a starving child. And I have helped put these insurrections down God Emperor forgive me. But at the same time I have seen the Ruinous Powers whisper words of temptation into the ears of planetary lords and stoked their greed to bring about discord on a world. This planet was something else entirely, but I did not know it at this point. All I know was that I was going into my first war and I could not wait to get out of this ship to see what would happen.

I looked at my load out on the bed in front of me with awe and honour. We did not carry a conventional load out in battle as we where designed to operate behind enemy lines. My Sollix Pattern IX Lasgun took pride of place on my bed and in my heart. Not an ounce of it gleam stood out on that rifle, all blacked by the smoke of the small oil burner given me by Commissar Astarsy, in the way he had showed me. I had it’s stock folded out and it’s melee attachment was prepared the same, a knife so sharp it edge could only be seen by a Tech Adept. Then there was my shovel. To Arna this was the most important piece of kit I had. With it I could dig foxholes, build fortifications, cut down trees, clear rubble or “Hit someone up side the head with it and crack their skull like an egg.” Arna found it most hilarious when I asked him with no humour what an egg was. Our armour and other weapon was the most nonstandard thing about the unit. Commissar Astarsy had payed for it all him self out of his own money, a fact that seemed to grate with Toffa, as he said that his family “could buy that rattling 10 times over.” I punched him in the mouth for that and had to peel cake roots for a week. This light flak, with the cameleoline properties built in and a net for over the face, was said to have cost him almost one thousand Throne Geld a set and he had just given it to each of us. Off course we had to take care of it and he had told the others if they sold it before their Term of Holy Service was up he would shoot them in the back of the heads. But this equipment was all here for me to use and keep if I completed my term with the guard. I remember putting my hand to my shirt and gripping my shard at that point. The shard was the only thing I had kept from my life before. it was old, worn and was a blasphemer to get an edge on, but it was a representation of my soul, it was etched with little prayers to the God Emperor and it had saved my life more time than I cared to remember. I packed and put on my kit and readied my self for what would come. I looked around and saw the rest of my unit beside me and felt ready for anything, but war is not like that. War is cruel and brutish. For all my fighting on Stacks it was not total war, and I was going to find out just what total war actually meant in turms of human cost.

Crant, Toffa, Drax, Balius, Arna and I sat with Commissar Astarsy in the drop pod. Looking around me all where checking kit and weapons making sure that their five point straps where secure. The True Name of the Emperor was making a west east transverse of the planet between one hundred and twenty four and two hundred and eighteen longitudes on its 24th parallel, we where getting dropped first and then the rest of the regiment would get dropped at the main beachhead. The Imperial Navy where ahead of us making a Box picket to hold the troop transports a window that allowed them to get their men on planet fall, the 37th Stacks where in the spear head our troops would be the first on the ground. The operation had no Astartes element as the mission suggested that it was a simple planetary uprising, so guard forces and Ecclesiarchy auxiliary in the form of Adaptus Sororitas would be the only ones in the battle. And then red light was on telling us the drop pod was readying to go.

The tention in the pod quickened and Drax started praying. I always found it strange that how religious this low wall of muscle was. He was holding on to the knuckle bone of his younger brother praying like his life depended on it to both his kin and the Emperor. Drax was a known trouble maker in the company an had been put with Commissar Astarsy’s squad because no one else wanted to have him, but when he was around the Commissar every officer admitted he was the consummate Guard, loyal, hard working and upright. He was from Waste processing on Stacks in the Mid Hive and they where all known for their hyper superstitious worship of the God Emperor, to them a member of the Ecclesiarchy like a Commissar was bad luck to offend, he also believed that “being dropped out of a perficly good ship in a ten man iron coffin was complete madness.” Sergeant of the Regiment Arna Pacanten how ever seemed to be the most afraid of all of us. He was as pale as a ghost and was holding his harness as though his life depended on it. Arna had been like this from the moment he set foot inside the pod and in later years would tell me that “no matter how brave you think I am Marcus up put me in a confined space and all my bravado goes strait out the lack of windows.” Commissar Astarsy and my self had resigned our selves to the situation as we where taught in the Prayer Gangs and so where sitting quietly praying into our self and the rest showed the normal amount of nerves equated with men about to drop into the unknown, all but Crant. He sat there dispassionately with his rolling up sleeping roll beside his head trying to get some sleep. Crant was a man that did not have emotions or feeling, he just moved through life with fake smiles and a danger to him. I would come to know Crant as a good man in a fight but a dangerous man to cross, and also I would come to know that even a man like this could make you cry at his death.

The green light cam on in the drop pod and gravity failed. I had only experienced weightlessness once before, that was on my shuttle ride up to the True Name of the Emperor but this somehow felt different, more exhilarating. I looked over to Commissar. He gave me a smile back but there was not the same joy in it that was in mine, he new what was coming. The weightlessness lasted for about only a minute and then gravity return extenuated by the shaking and the roar of the wind. Drax started praying even louder as though the God Emperor could not hear his voice over the scream of the wind. I on the other hand loved every minute of the ride down to the planet. As an Inquisitor I do not ride drop pods now but back then it was my favourite thing about being in the guard. I have one on this ship and if I find the man that did the unspeakable in the name of this Holy Ordos on a planet I will ride it down and kill him with my own hand, but back then the only thing I could think about drop pods was that they where the greatest invention the Blessed Omnissiah ever gave man.

The straight rail altimeter showed us only at six kilometres now and the first set of retrorockets kicked in making the shaking even worse. It also had the affect of giving us four positive gees in the gut that made Toffa launch come up. I gave a little “awe” with a humorous edge and he shot daggers at me with vomit staining his chin. I look at the altimeter again and it now read three kilometres and the stage two retos kicked in. another jolt, more vomit from Toffa and the pod started to slow the shaking had got a lot more extreme at this time and the little needle of the altimeter started to reach the bottom of the rail. The pod hit the ground with an almighty bang shaking the whole pod like we had been hit with a huge hammer, I let out an equality huge scream of joy and the inside of the pod was quiet.

“Great that’s all we need,” commented Balius looking at me with a weird expression, “this one is a bloody loony.”

“That was the most fun thing I have ever done in my life!” I said in response to the Balius’s look.

“Boy after we finish this campaign we must get you a woman,” Toffa gave me a look disbelief.

“For what?” I asked looking bemused.

“To have sex with of course,” replied Toffa.

“I don’t want to have sex with a girl, the other ones will kill you if you do,”

Before anyone got a chance to comment on that statement Arna spook up with worry in his voice, “Has anyone else realised that the door of this drop pod have not opened yet?”

Commissar Astarsy turned round and looked at the Altimeter. “This thing is saying that we have not reached the ground yet.”

“I’ll take a look at it now,” said Drax as he started unbuckling his harness. There was a strange groan that came from under the pod.

Arna face filled with horror and he shouted “Drax leave that harness. Brace for inpac…” he did not finish speaking before the groan became a crack and we where falling again.

The fall ended a second later with a large bang, a screech of joy from me and the doors opening. Everyone undid their harnesses and moved out of the pod with the well trained grace and urgent need of a group that had done this many time before.

We where in a large furnisher factory filled to the brim with wooden planks, tables and chairs. The falling pod doors had turned a small preposition of these to kindling and as we sprinted head long out of the large metal seed splinters sprayed in all directions. It was only then we noticed the scared old man at the end of the room, shaking in muting fear. Crant Ran up to the man and hit him square in the face with the folded stock of his lasgun, knocking him hard to the floor. Arna moved up and pulled Crant away.

“Did you have to do that you dumb Slash!” Crants only gave the Sergeant of the Regiment a cold smile and walked off.

Arna leaned his sizable bulk over the old man and looked at the cut on his face with concern. “You ok old timer?”

“You… You are the evil heretics that lord Gronda told us would be coming. Get away from me!” the old man scurried away from Arna as fast as he could as though the bigger was infected by a decease. Commissar Astarsy looked the old man straight in the eyes and then looked away

“Disinformation. The lord of this world is playing a dirty war. If the populous think we are all infected with heresy and they are good God Emperor fearing people then we will have a fanatic fight on our hands.” Astasry walked over to the drop pod and lifted out his pack. He took of his long coat and peeked cap and donned his armour with the same camellia qualities are ours. Arna also removed his pack but instead of the sophisticated colour shifting material he withdrew a large green net with many pieces of material tied to it. That was not the only piece of none standard equipment he had. He also carried a large cross bow with a quiver of bolts tied to his leg, the points of which had the quality of my mono edged knife. I would learn to love that crossbow and the silent kill advantage it would give us in the time to come. The Orks Of Farlar would come to know it as “da deff fowa” and have a strange sense of awe for Arna, but for now it was just an archaic weapon this Sergeant of the Regiment carried as something of an anachronism.

Arna walked back to the elderly man and look down at him. “Do not worry we are not going to hurt you,” he looked at Crant, “any more. We need to know if there are any troop movements in the area and what sort of forces they would be.”

“I’m not telling you heretics anything, not on my life. The Clerics have told me of your types coming to our world to.” The was a quiet woomp and a small black hole appeared in the old mans head. I looked round and Commissar Astarsy had his laspistol in his had.

“What did you do that for Commissar?” asked Arna in an astounded voice.

“He was not going to tell use anything and he would have given away our movements.”

“But if we had have explained it to him then we might not have to have killed him!”

“The main problem with that we would not know if it had worked or we where walking out to have a company follow in our foot steps. No Sergeant of the Regiment it is better this way.”

Arna Just looked at Commissar Astarsy with a blank look of disbelief, lifted his pack onto his shoulder and got his men in order. Over our years together I have gotten that look many times, it is the thing I think that has more than once stop me from going over the edge. Arna is a moral compose when other instruments have failed, but on this occasion the Commissar was right. These people would not have believed a word we said and soon we would see the lengths they would go to stop the men that had come to liberate their world.

We moved out from the furnisher factory and I entered the outside world for the first time. The first thing that struck me was there were so much light and green, trees and bushes littered the road ahead of us like a regiment on parade, with little flowers growing in between. And then there was the sky. Most born within the walls of a hive almost always gain a measure of terror, but not me. No, I revelled in it. With the freshness of the air that had never in its life been processed and the warm sun on my face not giving you the prickly feeling of the growing lamps back on my home hive this was like heaven.

Must of the squad did not seem to join in my joy of the outside. Commissar Astarsy looked completely dispassionate, Arna had a scoul on his face that would have frozen a star, the rest of the men hand the look that any Guard that has served with hivers knows when they transition from inside to out. The only exception to this was Toffa who breathed in a great breath and hit his chest with both hand. Toffa was a bit of an anomilly in both the Guard and our squad. He was noble born and did not let anyone forget it reminding us that his family owned an entire spire back on Stacks. He had bought his way into a commission with the Thirty Seventh Regiment and was in officer training. The sorry went that he had been propositioned by an instructor and had turned him down. The man had taken it badly and had attended to take what he wanted by force. It was said that the instructor would never able to take anyone by force again and the man had to be pensioned of from the Guard. This had landed Toffa in the Glass House and his family had tried tapped every resource to get his death sentence commuted. It was not known how they had found out about Commissar Astarsy but they approached him and asked if he would be able to help. Within a week Toffa was out, in the unit and able to suck air again.

“Weapon in hand Lord Von Toffa. We just dropped into this area and we do not know if anyone seen that pod hit home,” said Commissar Astarsy eyeing the world around him. We seemed to be in a picturesque village in a small valley, there were no people on the streets and no trouble in site. This how ever did not seem to make anyone feel any better and I would come to know in fact this was a very bad sign. If know one was out to greet you then they where somewhere else planning to do something similar. We moved out in a bounding overwatch like the Commissar had showed me and came to the end of the village. It was then we saw the men and women coming towards us with a look of murder in their eyes and weapons in their hnads

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As they came toward us it was obvious that these where not soldiers. There was about sixty of them that moved in no formation and where grouped together in a large bunch, their weapons hell high shouting slogans as they walked. We new they where walking to their deaths but these people were that riled up they thought that they were marching to a victory.

We fanned out, taking up defensive positions where ever we could get cover and give our designated field of fire. It was not a hard thing as there was not a single projectile weapon among our attackers, only farm implements and the occasional sword.
“Hold your fire to they are within 50 metres and then flanks lay down support and middle hit single aimed shots. This should not be hard but I do not know if they will brake and run when they loose numbers. We might end up in a close fight so fix melee attachments now so we don’t have to worry when they are in close,” said Commissar Atarsy as he set his chain sword against the low wall he was taking cover behind.

We had position now all we had to do was wait. I was in the middle so would be hitting individuals and would take the brunt of the attack if they closed. We where outnumbered six to one but I did not feel scared, I was armed and armoured and for the first time in my life trained. At that point I felt like I could have fought all of them single handed and taken them all with out help. I was a warrior of the Imperial Guard and would not be defeated by some serfs that had not raised a hand in anger in their lives. By this point they had closed the distance, we opened fire.

I picked off a large man in the front with a single shot to the head which made his it explode with hydrothermal shock hitting another woman in the face with a chunk of his skull, ripping away a piece of her cheek. She fell to the ground, not dead, but squealing in pain and out of the fight anyway. My second shot hit another man in the chest leaving a finger sized hole about where his right lung was. He held his chest as though he had just been punched and not hit with a searing shaft of light. For a second I thought he was not going to go down, but then he seemed to start having trouble breathing as air filled his chest cavity. He would be dead of suffocation is two minutes. The next thing that happened seemed to be caused by some psychic phenomenon but is was simple group psychology. The crowd seemed to move as one and split in all directions, some going for buildings, others simply running off out into the fields.

“Like shooting Grox in a pit,” Drax shouted over to me as he hit another woman in the back with laser fire. Everyone in the group seemed to be having a good time killing the town’s folk, knocking down men and women with ease as they fled, all except Arna who had stopped and was just watching now with a look of sorrow on his face. I only looked at him for a second before hitting a young man in the back of the calf with another shot, before long they where all gone, dead or injured. The only movement in the area was us, moving up to the scene of the carnage and the dying squirming on the ground. I walked over to the one I had shot in the leg, he was trying to crawl away. I smiled down at him, brought my las to his head, and pulled the trigger. This was the first person I executive in the service of the God Emperor

A laser does not just leave a nice little hole. Thermodynamic shock explodes the water that is in cells and leaves a large cavity in the body when hit, but when it hits a wet brain within such a large pressure vessel as a skull to contain that steam you tend to get an explosion. That is what happened when I hit this young man in the head with my laser. Parts of his skull flew in all directions in a spray of shrapnel, giving me a strange felling of power and satisfaction at the sight. Others where finishing off the rest of the dying that lay around the small paddock that had been the site of this battle. To this day I do not know the name of that small town I in which I partook in may first fire fight, it was just some backwater on the world of Dreath, but till this day I can still see that young mans brains on my boots. I did not feel it at the time. Coming out of a prayer gang live is a cheep thing, but I now know that even one Imperial Subject can make an important difference on a world. A purge should not be taken as a simple thing, but thought out and scrutinised over till you know that there is no one that can be saved safely. Exterminus needs even more thought as you know that no one will or can be saved and that you will have to live with killing a lot of insistent people along with the guilt. I did not know this back then though like many inquisitors no not know it know.

“Ok everyone moving out in a scattered formation and keep your eyes open,” called Commissar Astarsy was he moved through the bodies killing the living.

“Should we not go after the people that got away from us?” asked Toffa as he wiped blood off his melee attachment.

“No time. We have to move out in case PDF heard that fight,” said Arna, walking through the carnage with a disheartened look on his face.

“Well come on then. This craps shoot gave me a boner and all but I want something that fire back for a laugh.” I some times wish Crant had not said that. I always think that by tempting the God Emperor, bless His Holy Name, he would have still been alive today

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Thanks very much guys. I am glad you are enjoying it. i would be happy with any feed back you could give me on the story and the characters as it helps with divelipment. but if you just want to read too that is fine

We yawped out fast with no idea if the Planetary Defence Forces where on our heals or not. The terrain was easy, mostly fields with no boundaries and simple streams and drainage ditches, but the pass was growling and after 20 miles we made camp exhausted. Camp was a simple affair. We set out our bed rolls in a circle after finding a small depression in a field and bedded down. At dusk we all stood to and serched for any one following, but it seemed we where clear. Arna took the first watch then it would be Crant, then me. Crant nearly always pulled the second and hardest watch. The commissar gave it to him as he was the one man he did not truly like in the squad.

Crant was and ugly son of the God Emperor, about five foot seven and one hundred and eighty pounds. He seemed almost with out emotion and never really seemed happy or sad. You learned to deal with it but there was always a feeling at the back of your mind that at any moment this man could turn on you and kill you as soon as look at you. The Commissar always took the middle watch with him, I believe more to protect us than because it was the most likely time for a raid. Crant had been ofloaded on Commissar Astarsy because they could not prove he had killed an officer and wanted him somewhere he could be watched and somewhere he could not do any harm.

That was how the command seen the reconnaissance unit, a place to put people you did not want. That is why Crant call the squad the Not Quiet Penal Boys. We where considered the dregs of the regiment and not fit to work with the others in it, but somehow the Commissar had from this filth made a fighting unit that had saved the regiment from walking into any amount of traps and had fed back information that had won then a lot of battles. So as usual command hated him for it.

I of course could not sleep as the excitement of the day was still fresh in my mind. The whole way through Arna’s watch I just lay there with my eyes close on an impossible quest for dreams. As the swap happened though I got up and joined The Commissar and Crant by the portable heater.

“Can not sleep boy?” Commissar Astarsy asked me as I crawled over.

“No sir. I am too filled with the joy of battle to sleep.”

“Ha!” Crant laughed as he looked out into the darkness for any movement that might come our way.

“Shut it you. Keep your voice to a whisper,” said the Commissar looking over at Crant.

“Yes sir,” Crant replied sarcastically. Commissar Astarsy just flicked him a look and went back to me.

“You need sleep boy. It is your watch next and you have to be alert. Although we here not followed from the village it does not mean that we will not happen upon on of their patrols. You must stay aware in a place like this or your life and the lives of you comrades will slip from your grasp quickly.”

“I understand that sir. I do. But I have tried for the last three hours to sleep and nothing has come. I will be alright tomorrow honest and I will not fall asleep during my watch. Can I just sit with you and Crant?”

The Commissar’s face grew it’s smile again and he look deep into my face. “I don’t see…” The sound of the solid projectile zipped pass us and into Crants head. It was not like a laser blast. A small hole opened on the near side and large chunks of skull exploded away on the other. There was still time for him before he died though to turn and look at both the Commissar and my self. Then he just fell over.

I froze. Not out of fear or grief, but out of the shear randomness of a sniper. Crant had just been sitting there talking to us a second ago and then he was no more. He just stopped being. No time to ready him self for death, no time to say battle prayers so his soul would be ready to go to the Emperor. Just a crack and then no more.

Just behind me there was a strange sound, not the crack of a solid projectile, more of a whiz pop. I would later find out that was the sound a solid projectile made as it crossed past your ear. A Tech Adapt told me it is something called the Doppler affect. A second or so after that I felt a heavy object hit my chest and I was knocked of the stump I was sitting on to the ground. At first I thought I had been shot, but when I looked down I saw the squat form of Drax was on top of me holding me flat behind the small earth bank we had dug when we had set up camp.

Drax had come from another part of the under hive. When the regiment was being recruited they were short about 100 men, so they went down to the under hive with knock out gas and got the men they needed. This was after the regiment was trained so these man were just handed the standard kit shown how to shoot a las rifle and pointed at the enemy. After the battle of Femur Ridge Drax was the only survivor from that 100 men. No one knew what to do with him, so the Commissar took him into his squad and Drax had been with him ever since.

Drax had not said as much as two words to me since I had joined the squad. The most I had got from him was a couple of grunts, but this was not nastiness on his behalf, it was just Drax's way. He was a man of few word, simply, quiet and insular. He had grunted thing at me during my training with the squad. Took my las rifle of me once and showed me how to reset the apertures, but had not shown any friend ship to me. Till this day that he saved my life.

“Has anyone seen muzzle flash from that snub rifle?” shouted Commissar Astarsy as he poked his head over the bank and got a face full of dirt as another round impacted just beside him.

“In that clump of trees was past on the way here. Up in one I think,”whispered Toffa kicking dirt into the small fire we had made to douse the flame. Drax had crawled off me now and was hiding behind his own bit of bank.

Arna had seem to disappear, then I noticed a heap of green out to our left slowly moving away from our camp. “The Reggy is going to need someone to draw fire if he is going to get a bead on that sniper,” before the Commissar could finish speaking, I was off running.