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“Well； I wasn’t specifically commenting on it； new fish；” Repzik said。 “But since you ask； you’d
be right enough。 This place isn’t Seltura VII — wherever in hell that is。”
Stunned； for a moment Larn wondered if he had somehow misunderstood the man’s meaning。
Then； he looked out again at the treeless landscape and was struck by all the troubling
inconsistencies between what he had been told to expect on Seltura VII and the stark brutal realities
of the world he saw before him。 They had made the drop three weeks early。 There were no forests。 It
was winter rather than summer。 The war here was against orks； not PDF rebels。 A catalogue of facts
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that； with a dawning horror born of slow realisation； pushed him inexorably toward a sudden and
shocking conclusion。
Holy Throne； he thought。 They sent us to the wrong planet！
“I shouldn’t be here；” he said aloud。
“It’s funny how everyone tends to think that when they’re waiting for an attack to begin；” said
Repzik。 “I wouldn’t worry about it； new fish。 Once the orks get here you’ll soon find yourself
feeling right at home。”
“No； you don’t understand；” Larn said。 “There has been a terrible mistake。 My company was
supposed to be going to the Seltura system。 To a world called Seltura VII； to put down a mutiny
among the local PDF。 Something must have gone wrong because I’m on the wrong planet。”
“So？ What is that to me？” Repzik said； his eyes as he looked at Larn seemed little warmer than
the landscape around them。 “You are on the wrong planet。 You are in the wrong system。 Not to
mention probably the wrong war。 Get used to it； new fish。 If that is the worst thing that happens to
you today； you will have been lucky。”
“But you don’t understand—”
“No。 It is you who does not understand； new fish。 This is Broucheroc。 We are surrounded by ten
million orks。 And right now some of those orks — maybe only a few thousand or so； if we are lucky
— are getting ready to attack us。 They don’t care what planet you think you should be on。 They
don’t care that you think you’re in the wrong place； that you’re wet behind the ears； or that you’re
probably not even old enough to shave。 All they care about is killing you。 So if you know what is
good for you； new fish； you will put all this crap aside and start worrying about killing them
instead。”
Shocked at the man’s outburst Larn said nothing； his reply dying on his tongue as he saw Repzik
turn away from him to gaze darkly into no…man’s land once more。 As though by some sixth sense
the other Guardsmen in the trench had already done the same； all of them staring hard into no…man’s
land as though watching something happening out there of which Larn was entirely unaware。 No
matter how hard Larn tried； he could see nothing。 Nothing except grey…black mud and desolation。
Frustrated； wary of asking the others what they were looking at for fear of drawing another
angry outburst； Larn turned to glance around him。 Behind him； hidden from his sight when he had
first landed by a gentle sloping of the ground； was a series of firing trenches and foxholes。 All of
them led down towards sandbag emplacements that covered the entrances to a number of
underground dugouts set among the shattered husks of buildings at the outskirts of the city。 Now his
eyes had become accustomed to the relentless grey of the landscape； Larn could see other firing
trenches around and to the side of their trench — their parapets cunningly camouflaged to look no
different from the countless chunks of crumbling half…buried plascrete and other detritus that lay
scattered across this wasteland。 From time to time a Guardsman would suddenly emerge from one of
the trenches to run half…crouched； zigzagging from one piece of cover to the next until he reached
the safety of either another trench or the entrance to one of the dugouts。 Behind them； in the
distance； the main body of the city stood brooding across the horizon as though watching their lives
and labours with disdain。 A city of ruined and battle…scarred buildings set against a grey and
uncaring sky。
This is Broucheroc； Larn reminded himself。 That is what they said the city was called。
“There；” one of the Guardsmen said beside him。 “I see green。 The bastards are moving。”
Turning to gaze once more into no…man’s land with the others； for a moment Larn found himself
vainly struggling to see anything among the wearying grey of the world about them。 Then； suddenly；
at ground level； perhaps a kilometre away； he saw a brief glimpse of green flesh as its owner stood
upright for a split second before abruptly disappearing once more。
“I see it；” Larn said； the words jumping breathless from him； unbidden。 “Holy Emperor！ Is that
an ork？”
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“Hhh。 I only wish orks were as small as that； new fish；” Repzik said； spitting over the parapet
into no…man’s land again。 “That’s a gretch。 A gretchin。 Keep looking and you should be able to see
some more。”
He was right。 Ahead； Larn saw the creature stand upright once more。 This time it stood where it
was unmoving； its green flesh plainly visible against the contrast of the grey backdrop of the
landscape behind it。 Then； after a moment； Larn saw another dozen creatures appear beside it； all of
them standing still and motionless as though trying to smell something on the wind。 Each of them
perhaps a metre tall at most； their stunted green bodies appearing curiously hunched and misshapen
inside their rough grey garments。 Watching them； Larn felt himself recoil in instinctive horror at his
first sight of an alien species。 Until； before he even knew what he was doing； his finger was on the
trigger of las…gun at his shoulder as he sighted in on the Xenos。
“Don’t bother； new fish；” Repzik said； laying a hand across his barrel。 “Even if you did manage
to hit one of the gretch at this range； you would be wasting your ammo。 Save it “til later。 Save it for
the orks。”
“I don’t like it；” one of the other Guardsmen said。 “If the orks are sending their gretch out like
that it means they’re planning on hitting us with a frontal assault。 Another one。 What is that now？
Something like the third one today？”
“Third time is right； Kell；” the Guardsman called Vidmir said； his face grim as he pressed a
finger to his ear to listen to something on his comm bead。 “You’ll have to remember to remonstrate
with the orks about their lack of originality when they get here。 From the reports I’m hearing over
the tactical net； you should soon be getting the opportunity to do so。”
“What is it？” the other Guardsman — Kell — asked； while the rest of the men in the trench
turned to look at Vidmir。 “What have you heard？”
“Sector Command says auspex is reading a lot of movement in the ork lines；” Vidmir replied。
“Sounds like Repzik was right。 They’re going to be hitting us hard； and in numbers。 Though； from
the sound of it； I think there’s more to this than just a matter of the orks getting excited over killing
the new fish’s friends。 Could be they were already getting ready to launch an offensive。 Which
would be bad enough； except it sounds like our own side is trying to get us killed as well。 Battery
Command are refusing to give us artillery support until they are sure this is really a full…blown
assault and not just a feint。”
“A feint； my arse；” Kell grunted。 “When have you ever known an ork to do anything by halves？”
“Agreed；” Vidmir said。 “But； irrespective； it looks like we’re going to have to repel the orks on
our own。 Emperor help us。” Then； turning towards Larn； Vidmir gave him the cold flash of a
graveyard smile。
“Congratulations； new fish；” he said。 “Looks like not only did you manage to get yourself
dropped right into the middle of hell but you picked a bad day in hell besides。”
Repzik； Vidmir； Donn； Ralvs and Kell。 These were the names of the five men who shared the trench
with him。 Larn had learned that much about them at least in the quiet time as they waited for the
battle to begin。 They were from a planet called Vardan； they told him。 They and their regiment； a
group of hardened veterans known as the 902nd Vardan Rifles； had come to the city of Broucheroc
more than ten years ago and had been here even since。 Ten years！ He could hardly believe it。 Nor
where those the only things that Larn had learned from the Vardans。
“I don’t understand it；” he said； looking out at the group of gretchin on the other side of noman’s
land。 “What are they waiting for？”
Ten minutes had passed since the first alien appeared。 Though the numbers of those waiting with
it had now increased to perhaps a couple of hundred； still the ranks of gretchin stood exposed and
out in the open on the other side of no…man’s land。 Occasionally a squabble would break out； two or
three of the aliens suddenly breaking away from the main group to fight a bloody battle with tooth
and claw while their fellows watched with lazy interest。 For the most part the aliens simply stood
35
there unmoving； their feral faces turned to stare unblinkingly towards the human lines。 It was an
unnerving spectacle。 Not for the first time； Larn found himself fighting the urge to take his lasgun
and fire at them