One of the first things you should know about me is that my life is pretty rough. That's an understatement, really—my parents kicked me out onto the streets when I was barely old enough to walk, and everyone in my hometown did nothing but avoid me. If they weren't ignoring me, they were shouting at me to get as far away from them as possible.
With no other options, I resorted to stealing from street vendors and anyone foolish enough to leave cash unattended. Things didn't go smoothly, and when I got caught, I was faced with two choices: join the Planetary Defence Force or be sent off to do hard labour on a remote mining colony. It wasn't much of a choice, but looking back, I was fortunate to at least have one. As luck would have it, there were plenty of openings in the PDF after the Imperial Guard had recently come through to replenish their ranks.
I considered myself fortunate. I had three meals each day, a warm bed, and a paycheck—albeit a significantly reduced one due to my past mistakes. Nonetheless, it provided me with a reliable source of income. The only downside was the way everyone kept their distance from me; I assumed they were informed that I was there seeking atonement for my crimes. Strangely, other inmates seemed to integrate seamlessly. Yet, it was still an improvement over my previous life, and I often regretted not enlisting sooner. Perhaps then I wouldn't have experienced the relentless ache of hunger so profoundly.
Things improved somewhat after I completed basic training. Although my fellow PDF members continued to maintain a distance, they did seem to respect my abilities. Even that meticulous drill instructor couldn't dismiss my shooting talent—despite that incident where I tried to impress him by shooting the brim off his cap. I still wince at the memory of the lashes I received that day.
It was less than a year before I found myself enlisted in the Imperial Guard, specifically the Tarhalis 24th Infantry Regiment. I heard they were bringing in many recruits due to a blunder by the army's commander. Word on the street is that they were sent to confront an enemy armoured unit armed only with lasguns.
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Editorial Note
Regrettably, the rumour is accurate. An unseasoned general inadequately positioned his troops ahead of a significant confrontation with a heretical raiding force. The army's only success in fending off the attack came from the tremendous sacrifice of the 101st Mordian Regiment, which valiantly held the enemy at bay long enough for the rest of the army to regroup.
The 24th endured nearly 50% casualties in that battle, resulting in the loss of many of their seasoned soldiers, including the regiment commander, Colonel Renarex Faris. Colonel Faris, along with the rest of his command staff, was incinerated by a heretic flamer.
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While serving in the PDF, I encountered a group of misguided pirates who mistakenly believed our world was an easy mark. They soon found their ships obliterated and themselves encircled by us as the few escape pods that made it to the surface opened. The expression in the Colonel's eyes echoes the look I saw in that pirate leader's gaze. That should have been my first indication that something was off.
I only wish I knew just how bad things would get. I swear I unit was cursed by every demon who ever existed. If I had known what I would encounter, I probably would have run as fast as possible to get away. Necrons, the metal soulless killers that still invade my nightmares. Then there were Ork WAAAGHs of such magnitude that they could have conquered the galaxy. Not to mention the demons and their heretical worshippers. And that was merely the tip of the iceberg. I still can't fathom how I got to retirement with just a handful of scars and a few augmented fingers.
The metallic clang of heavy boots on the transport ship's deck echoed through the cramped hold, mingling with the low hum of the engines. The ship, a scarred old hulk of ceramide and steel, rocked gently as it cut through the void between worlds—one more weary relic of the Imperium, bound for who-knows-where. I stood near the edge of the holding area, my heart thrumming in time with the vibrations beneath my feet, my fingers tracing the edge of my weapons stock.
"Recruits!" he called, his voice booming with authority, though I could hear the slight tremor in it. "Welcome to the Tarhalis 24th Infantry Regiment. I'm Colonel Evander Thorne, your commander. Today marks the beginning of your journey into valour and honour!"
Colonel Evander Thorne. The air stilled around me, thick with anticipation. He was a statue of authority, his medals gleaming like stars against the otherwise drab ambience of the transport.
"Welcome to the Tarhalis 24th!" Thorne continued, his presence magnetic as he surveyed the sea of eager faces, all cloaked in the same muted hues of our regiment. "I understand many of you are anxious. We're not here to coddle you. We're not here to simply survive. We fight, and we fight hard!"
I caught him scanning the ranks of Troopers—elbows shoved into rifles, shoulders hunched with the weight of uncertainty. I took a deep breath; he certainly had a way of making us feel like we were about to leap into the jaws of something great—something terrible.
"Every one of you will face your fears. Each of you will fight for your brothers and sisters-in-arms. You will make mistakes, and you will learn from them. How you face the chaos of battle will define you as soldiers of the Tarhalis 24th!"
A murmur rippled through the assembly. I glanced sideways at Shira, my bunkmate, who grinned at me, excitement shining in her bright green eyes. We'd been inseparable through training. Well, as soon as she got used to being in my presence. I don't know what she meant when she told me that, but I didn't care.
"Remember: chaos does not always mean defeat! It can be an opportunity—a chance to rise and become legends!" Thorne's voice was resolute, electrifying the atmosphere. "Now, I know this isn't home for most of you… and soon you will understand what it means to leave your humanity behind, but you do this for the Emperor, for the Imperium. You do this for your families, your friends, and for every soul that cannot fight!"
Around me, fists clenched tight around weapons, the sympathy of fear transformed into a fierce communal resolve. I could feel a pang of nerves washing away, replaced by something raw and invigorating.
"Soon, we will land on Perditus IX, a world steeped in war. The Xenos filth has laid claim, and it is our duty to reclaim what is ours. It will be an honour to bleed for the Imperium alongside each of you. Together, we are the storm!"
The ship lurched again, and I steadied myself against the bulkhead. I could almost feel the energy in him ricocheting through us. Colonel Thorne's words churned within me, commandeering my thoughts until every doubt was drowned. I was terrified, yes, but there was a fire smouldering inside my chest, ignited by promises of brotherhood in arms, by the purpose that awaited.
"Now, take some time to get to know your new brothers and sisters at arms," Colonel Thorne said softer this time. "We will be landing in a week at the earliest. When we do, the people by your side could mean the difference between making us back alive or going to meet the Emperor. Dismissed."
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Editorial Note
It was not unusual for men and women to serve alongside each other in the Imperial Guard. Distinguished units where this was standard practice included the Omicron Rangers, Tanith First, and Calderon Rifles. However, since women constituted less than ten percent of the total forces and the majority served in single-sex regiments, the presence of the Tarhalis 24 Infantry Regiment likely piqued the curiosity of those observing.
Tarhalis Prime, a distant and underdeveloped planet, is infamous for its brutal environment and is often seen as a forgotten corner of the galaxy. The landscape is dominated by arid deserts and rugged mountains, with only a handful of small, isolated communities scattered throughout. Given their limited population, all military regiments on Tarhalis are composed of mixed-gender units.
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"Troopers of the Tarhalis 24," he began, his voice a deep rumble that resonated through the steel walls. "You stand here not as individuals but as a collective force of Imperial might."
The Colonel carried on, calling out names one by one. My heart raced with every announcement, each new assignment given to the selected individuals. I tuned out after a few names, my attention drawn to a tech priest approaching our shuttles for inspection. They always unsettled me; there was something eerie about their mechanical demeanour and monotonous voices. The faint sound of a servo skull whirring overhead caught my attention, diverting my focus back to the Colonel. He cleared his throat, his eyes scanning the crowd before settling on me.
"Seraphine Voss!" He barked, my full name echoing around the hangar. My heart raced. "Step forward."
"Yes, sir!" I replied sharply, standing at attention.
"You've been assigned to Fourth Squad, First Platoon, under the command of Sergeant Altan Carris." His gaze swept over the ranks again. "We depart shortly, and I expect everyone to conduct themselves with the utmost professionalism. A squad is only as strong as its weakest link. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir!" we chorused, a rumble rippling through the ranks, almost forgetting the dread looming over us.
The Colonel's steely expression softened for just a moment as his gaze landed on his men—a flicker of pride, perhaps. "Good. Prepare yourselves. Dismissed!"
The crowd buzzed with energy as the Colonel departed, and I directed my focus back to my new squad. As I approached, I was met with a mixture of curiosity and caution. The troopers eyed me as if gauging my worth. It's better than the looks of disgust people normally give me. I stepped forward, trying to project confidence despite the pit in my stomach.
"Trooper Voss reporting for duty, sir," I said, standing rigidly before Sergeant Altan Carris.
He was a man of considerable size, with a wide chest and a steely glare that seemed to slice through anything or anyone who dared to cross him. Yet, there was a certain warmth in his eyes that gave me hope. I said, my voice steady but my heart racing.
"Welcome aboard, Trooper Voss," he replied, a nod acknowledging both my presence and the weight of the world on our shoulders. "This is your squad. You're going to be seeing a lot of each other in the coming days. I expect you to commit to them as they will commit to you. Let's go around the table," Carris ordered, pointing to a makeshift bench cobbled together from crates. "Introduce yourselves, but keep it brief. We have a mission briefing soon."
"Corporal Lira Jorin, Carris's," said a petite woman with piercing blue eyes and a cascade of dark hair. Her confidence shone through the timbre of her voice.
"Trooper Saxon Grieve, vox operator," chimed a lanky fellow who barely made eye contact, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his shirt.
"Trooper Rhys Tilog, medic if you need one," said a stout man who looked like he could shoulder a tank and still manage to crack a smile.
"Trooper Vera Oncek, heavy weapons," a brawny woman declared, her arms crossed defiantly over her chest. She met my eyes with a fierce determination that I respected.
"Trooper Yin Korr," said a wiry man, his hair buzzing close to his scalp, eyes darting around as if scanning for a danger only he could perceive. He fell silent after, his anxious glances threading an invisible barrier between him and the rest of us.
"Trooper Mikah Blesk," announced a grinning man with an unkempt beard and an air of reckless enthusiasm. His demeanour was infectious, but I couldn't help but notice that the smile he flashed me seemed to falter when our gazes locked. It was fleeting, like a shadow passing over the sun.
"Trooper Davis Kreel," boomed a broad-shouldered man who wore an ever-present grin, his tone suggesting behind-the-scenes mischief.
"Trooper Orion Vek… heavy weapons assistant," said an unassuming fellow with a mop of light hair that fell into his eyes, barely whispering his introduction before shuffling back.
As their eyes swept back to me, I felt a palpable shift in the air. It was strange — a feeling tightening my throat like a noose. Unease surged inside me, a reminder of childhood incidents where people steered clear from me, whispers trailing in my wake. What made me stand apart? I scarcely knew.
"Alright, Sera," Sergeant Carris said, breaking the momentary silence that had weighed down upon us. "We're a team here. Your past doesn't count. You're among friends now, so treat them as such."
"Understood, Sergeant," I replied, forcing my voice to remain even.
"Good. I've got to report to the LT, so can someone find Voss a bunk? And remember, we have a mission briefing in an hour," Sergeant Carris says before leaving.
As Sergeant Carris left, my squad members shifted, their eyes downcast or focused on their feet. No one spoke, though I could sense their hesitation bubbling under the surface, like energy stored in a charged weapon waiting to fire. I glanced around, trying to catch their gaze. The small talk that usually peppered such gatherings was stifled, subsumed by a quiet apprehension. I could almost see the invisible line they had drawn around me—one I didn't truly understand.
"Uh, I'll show you your bunk!" said Corporal Jorin, her voice quick and cutting through the atmosphere. She flashed a friendly yet hurried smile as if she were making an escape rather than an introduction. "Follow me."
As I followed Corporal Jorin through the ship, I scanned our surroundings, absorbing the metallic aroma and the echoes of distant mechanical scuttling. We passed by bustling troopers, their spirits high in loud banter that soared above the thrum of the ship.
"So, what's your background?" Jorin asked once we turned a corner. She walked briskly, her dark hair trailing in a loose ponytail.
"A thief from the capital who was given a chance to serve," I replied, half-anticipating the judgment that might come from it.
"Seriously? A thief?" Her blue eyes widened, almost incredulously. "You don't see that every day."
There was an edge of disbelief woven with curiosity in her tone. I could sense her desire to probe further, to understand, but I also felt her caution. I almost laughed at the irony — a thief entering the hallowed ranks of the Astra Militarum.
"Let's just say I've had my share of survival lessons," I said, letting a flicker of a smile escape at the memory of my reckless escapades.
As we continued, she stopped suddenly in front of a cluster of bunk beds in a cramped troop quarters.
"Here's your spot," said Jorin with a small gesture towards the lower bunk. "Mine's above you, so you'll have someone to bother if you're bored."
"Thanks," I replied softly, taking in the familiar scent of recycled air.
"Welcome aboard, Trooper Voss," she said. Still, her smile faltered, and I could see her glancing sideways as if gauging the reaction of some unseen force hovering between us.
So it's going to be just like when I joined the PDF. They were distant at first but soon warmed up to me. Shira, my bunkmate, back then explained that people just needed some time to get used to me whatever that means.
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The hour passed quickly, and while I tried to talk with my new squadmates, they always seemed to find some excuse to be elsewhere. In the end I spent most of the hour before the briefing hearing about my friends who came over from the PDF with me talk about their new squads. I hardly saw my new squadmates until we were forced together again for the briefing.
The metallic scent of the ship clung to the air, mingling with the buzz of nervous voices rising in the briefing room. A flickering holo-projector cast shivering images of towering habitation spires interwoven with glistening factories—Agrian-7, a hive world ensnared by the claws of Ork forces. My heartbeat quickened. This was my first deployment, and I could feel the anticipation coiling tightly in my gut.
"We have received troubling intelligence regarding an impending Ork attack on Agrian-7. Here's what we know…"
I took my place at the rear, trying to gauge the reactions of the seasoned troopers around me. Some stood unwavering, while others exchanged raised eyebrows as if measuring the weight of their own experiences in combat against the looming threat.
"The Orks have already taken the southern continent and are moving towards the plant's main starport located on the northern hemisphere," Colonel Evander Thornet's voice rang out, authoritative yet laced with a hint of urgency. "This would be a significant loss for the Imperium. Agrian-7 supplies our war machines with the vital components they need to continue the fight. We'll land at Feren's Rock—a fortified outpost on the eastern edge of the continent. From there, we will reinforce the remaining Imperial Guard regiments already staving off the Ork advance," he continued, his gaze sweeping across the assembled troopers. "Expect heavy resistance. This is not a mere skirmish; it's a fight for our lives and the millions above us in those towers."
As Thornet detailed the assault plan, I felt the weight of my Long-Las strapped to my back. It was an odd comfort, cold and heavy yet familiar. We trained obsessively for situations like this, but nothing could ever truly prepare me for battle's raw, impending chaos.
"Our intelligence suggests the Ork horde is being led by a particularly savage Warboss called Grommuk Skulltaker," continued Colonel Thornet, the gleam of determination igniting in his eyes. "This Warboss has a reputation for overwhelming brute force, and he's rallied a considerable amount of Orks to his banner. Their sheer numbers could crush us if we aren't vigilant."
A murmur rippled through the troops, and I felt a knot tighten in my gut. I was not the only one who had heard the tales—stories passed down through grim whispers of the gory battles fought against Orks, the carnage left in their wake, and the whispers of dread that grew louder with each report.
"To defend Agrian-7, we must be united," Thornet continued, raising his voice to cut through the rising tension. "We are here to protect the Imperium, to serve the Emperor, and to preserve the lives of the civilians who dwell within those hive towers. Understood?"
"Yes, sir!" the chorus of voices rang back. However, I could sense a flicker of uncertainty—it was there between unyielding determination and the gnawing fear of the unknown.
As he laid out the strategy, I concentrated on absorbing every detail.
"Expect reinforcements to arrive from the fleet, but don't rely on them. Your lives are in your hands, and you must work as a cohesive unit. Failure is not an option."
The atmosphere thickened to a near-suffocating intensity as Thornet emphasized the stakes. My mind raced, weaving through emergency drills and grim training sessions, but it was now real. There were lives at stake—my life, my new squadmates, and the countless souls still inhabiting Agrian-7.
"Prepare yourselves for the battle ahead. I will inform your platoon leaders about the training schedule by the end of the day. Until then, you are all dismissed,"
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Editorial Note
To give some backstory to the events that led to the Tarhalis 24 Infantry Regiment deployment on Agrian-7 I added the record of the space battle as told from a certain agrrogent admirals point of view. I swear we have too many high-ranking officers with attitudes like his serving the Golden Throne.
The Fall of Agrian-7. Written by Rear Admiral Gad Xanthet.
I've always believed that defeat was a fanciful notion—a mere inconvenience for those too weak to manifest their fates. As an Admiral of the Imperial Navy, I've spent years on proud vessels, each gleaming with the Emperor's insignia. Victory after victory had lent me a confidence bordering on arrogance; I revelled in the tales of my prowess, my name echoed through the ranks with hushed reverence. The Orks, after all, were little more than a brutish inconvenience—savage greenskins who gnawed on their own teeth and bellowed from the depths of ignorance.
Yet, as I stood upon the bridge of the Vigilant Dawn, gazing out at the sprawling hive world of Agrian-7 from orbit, a nagging voice at the back of my mind warned me that I might have miscalculated this time. Below me, Agrian-7 sprawled like a behemoth under the darkened sky, its colossal habitation towers stretching high and its intricate network of manufacturing facilities glimmering in the muted glow of countless lights. The Imperial symbol shone over the world, promising order amidst chaos—a promise that was about to be shattered.
"Admiral," came the voice of my aide, Lieutenant Verus, pulling me from my reverie. "Scans show multiple xenos signatures emerging from the outskirts of the system. It appears to be an Ork fleet."
I dismissed the warning with a wave of my hand, my chin raised high. "Let them come. They are doomed to fail against the might of the Imperial Navy. Have the fleet ready for battle but do not deploy just yet. I want them to feel the weight of our presence."
"Understood, sir." But I could see the unease in Verus's eyes. He had served me loyally, but even his unwavering support wavered as he watched the xenos energies gather before us.
Hours passed, and the Ork fleet surged into view—an ugly amalgamation of crude ships that constituted their fleet, cobbled together from the wreckage of countless battles, each vessel a vessel of contempt, its hull painted in garish yellows and greens. I could scarcely contain my contempt.
"Look at them!" I scoffed, laughter escaping my lips before I could suppress it. "A flying scrapheap led by no doubt an equally primitive warboss. We shall obliterate them in mere moments." I turned my back to the viewport to survey my crew, their eager faces lit by the pale glow of consoles and readouts. "Ready the shields and arm the weapons!" I bellowed, my voice rising above the dull thrum of machinery. "They'll see who truly holds dominion in this segment of the void!"
As the distant Ork fleet moved closer, blackening the star-studded backdrop like an impending storm, I began to feel the thrill of anticipation churning within me. The thought of mopping the decks with these wretched greenskins filled me with a fervour that blunted any lingering doubts. The histories would speak of my triumph, of the great Admiral Celestian who crushed the Orks above Agrian-7. I envisioned the Imperial propaganda turning my victory into legend.
"Admiral," Lieutenant Verus interjected, a trace of hesitance creeping into his tone, "their formation… it's irregular. They seem to be spreading out, almost—"
"A bait trap!" I interrupted, dismissing his concerns as my arrogance entangled the logic that had served me well in the past. "They're trying to deceive us into a foolish split. But they'll find no opening in our formation. Prepare to engage. All weapons remain ready!"
As the Ork horde approached, the chaos in their ranks began to resolve into something darker, a strange cohesion that sent a ripple of foreboding through my gut. The moment came. The Ork flagship—a grotesque structure, almost phallic in its flawed design—blared its warhorn across the void, rallying its fleet of scrapstarships into a fearsome display of firepower.
"Admiral, they are firing!" Verus warned, his voice edged with urgency.
"Fire at will!" I roared, confidence churning my blood into fire.
My voice cut through the surging rush of adrenaline; it felt like a rush of divine justice. The Vigilant Dawn shuddered as its prow-mounted cannons discharged, spewing brilliant beams of lancing energy that tore towards the Ork vessels with righteous fury. Other ships in my command followed suit, their weapon systems unleashing a symphony of destruction—a glorious display for the Emperor's realm.
The Orks, in turn, unleashed their own wave of fire, a chaotic cacophony of projectiles littering space; rockets screamed out, and great green energy beams flashed like warped fireflies across the galactic expanse. I sensed every fibre of my being electrified by the battle. Harnessing this momentum, I leaned into the fight, smirking as the blasts from the Ork ships disintegrated against my shields, flickering but standing firm.
The initial clash was as satisfying as a deep drink at day's end, yet I could not shake the growing unease crawling along my spine as the tide of battle shifted. The Ork fleet wasn't just flooding my scanners with stray blasts; they were coalescing into a singular force that felt unnaturally coordinated for brutish beings. Was it possible they moved with more precision than I had anticipated? A trick from their warboss, perhaps?
"Admiral," Verus said again, urgency tingeing his voice, "they're manoeuvring around our flanks. Their smaller ships are exploiting the gaps in our formation!"
"Concentrate fire on—"
Suddenly, the Vigilant Dawn jolted violently, throwing me against the command rail—a sickening sensation like thunder cracking over a calm field. Buckling my knees, I stabilized myself, fury igniting as I glanced at the viewport. An Ork ship—a ramshackle monstrosity adorned with crude spikes and misfit engines—had collided with our starboard flank. Ablaze with orange and green fumes, it latched onto our hull. Its ram was hooking into the very vessel designated to hold the Emperor's ideal of perfect order!
"Boarding parties incoming!" barked Verus, panic breaking through his fervent loyalty. Something primal screamed within me, but it was buried beneath layers of bright temptation to battle. As if sensing my rising fear, the Orks roared a battle cry, shattering whatever semblance of control I believed I wielded.
"Grab the lasguns!" I ordered, my voice throttled and filled with defiance. "We'll send them back to the void!"
Horrific renditions of combat surged across the bridge, as gunners scrambled to repel the invaders breaching our sacred ship. I rallied my crew, scanning for the pride that had once absolved my fears. Yet, as the yoked weight of the xenos brutes filed through the gaping rents in our hull, they poured in like a toxic tide of insanity. I could see their mottled green skin, slashing weapons and wild eyes drinking in chaos like sanguine orbs of fate.
"Hold the line!" I barked. "For the Emperor! Do not falter!"
My men had faced xenos filth before; I had made sure of that in preparation. We pushed back the first wave of invaders with relative ease, the echoes of lasfire punctuating the ringing in my ears. With every fall of an Ork, my spirit surged; they would learn that no greenskin would ever stain an Imperial ship!
But as the fighting raged on, the tide shifted. More Orks fell upon us, a seething horde that seemed to multiply with every life cut down. I caught glimpses of my men being overwhelmed, their faces pale with newfound doubt as more and more dies went forth into the chaos.
"Admiral!" Lieutenant Verus croaked through the overwhelming din and smoke. "We must abandon ship!"
"Never!" I shouted, rallying my last reserves of dignity. I was not a coward. I was an Admiral of the Emperor and would die as one!
But as I watched my command fall apart around me, despair clutched at my throat. We had not merely been bested; we had become prey, and the fangs of the xenos raced toward our throats.
"Admiral, the engines are down! We can't maneuver!" Verus cried, his wide-eyed terror undulating within me.
Ultimately, we managed to repel the Orks that boarded my ship. Still, in the aftermath of the battle, I could only watch as the Ork fleet bypassed my crippled vessel and headed straight for the planet.