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trials and shootings should nip any problems in the bud in that regard。 And while we’re at it； I will
tell Vlin to add Dushan to the list。 Yes； another purge。 That is exactly what is needing here。
Calm and satisfied now； he turned his attention back to the object that had originally provoked
his displeasure。 Lifting the data…slate from its position on the table where Vlin had left it； the Grand
Marshal looked again at the words and graphs of the report still visible on the shattered surface of its
display screen。 The findings of the report were bleak。 Based on current estimates of ork birth…rates
and the rate of attrition of men and materiel inside the city； it concluded Broucheroc could only
survive another six months at most。
Six months； the Grand Marshal thought grimly。 I shall have to remember to tell Vlin to add the
name of whatever traitor compiled this report to the list as well。 Imagine claiming this city has only
six months left to live； when any fool knows the siege is on the verge of crumbling and victory is
within our grasp。
Mentally making another note to himself to have the report suppressed； Kerchan tossed the dataslate
away and sat in silence for several minutes。 Feeling weighed down by the heavy burden of
responsibility on his shoulders； his brooding mood of earlier returned。 I am assailed on all sides by
troubles； he thought。 Bad enough after a long and glorious career for a man to find himself shunted
to a sideshow war on a planet of no importance。 Worse； to then he condemned to a long siege with
no prospect of relief from other sources。 But it does not matter。 The genius that won me my battles
in the past has not deserted me。 I am still a great leader； and my plan is sound。 Soon； I will break
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this siege and reclaim this planet for the Emperor。 And； when I do； the fools among the Lord
Generals Militant responsible for sidelining me to this awful place will find themselves embarrassed
to see me celebrated and revered for all my victories。 I am the Grand Marshal Tirnas Kerchan。 I am
still in control of my own destiny。 I will win this war。 And； soon enough； I will be able to add the
name “Hero of Broucheroc” to all my different titles。 I will not allow matters here to go any other
way。
Then； noticing a single page sitting alone among the flotsam spread of maps and documents
lying across the table； the Grand Marshal saw something there that excited his interest。 It was the
latest edition of The Veritas； the city’s twice…daily newsletter and； as so often in the past when he
felt weighed down by all his troubles； the Grand Marshal turned to the newsletter in the hope of
comfort。
Orks Defeated in Sector 1…13； the headline read。 Jumael 14th Victorious！
Yes； he thought； reading the story written below it。 It doesn’t matter what the others say； here is
the proof that I was right all along。 The proof of impending victory and the proof my battle plans
are sound。 We are winning victories。 We are defeating the orks。 We are winning this war。
It says so right here in the news。
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CHAPTER ELEVEN
17：54 Central Broucheroc Time
Boy and the Taking of Broucheroc’s Children — Trench Repairs Parts 1； 2 & 3 — Questions as to
the Whys and Wherefores of Survival — A Reappraisal of the Tale of his Fathers
His name was Boy。 Granted； his Ma had given him another name but she had been dead for more
than three something years now and he had been so young he could no longer remember what it was
she had called him。 Instead； he had taken the name the auxies used for him when they tried to catch
him to take him to the machine…men and their big making…places。 “Come here； boy；” they would
say。 “We don’t want to hurt you； boy；” their voices breathless from running； their stupid faces red
and panting； trying to chase him as he danced away from them across the rubble。 Some of them； the
clever ones he guessed； would even try to trick him。 “We have food； boy；” they’d say。 “Come down
here and we will share some with you。” But they could never fool him。 He was Boy； and he lived
wild and swift and free in the ruins of this city。 Try as they might； the auxies and the machine…men
would never get him。
Now； the cloak he had made from rat skins and scavenged sacking…cloth wrapped tight about
him to keep out the cold； Boy crouched hidden in a hollow in the rubble waiting to see if one of the
children of Cap’n Rat would take his bait。 The pickings had been good this week； with Cap’n Rat
sending at least one of his children along each day for Boy to kill and eat。 In return Boy had done
right by the Cap’n just liked he’d promised him： forsaking all other gods and praying to Cap’n Rat
over each of his kills。 As far as agreements went Boy reckoned it had been a pretty good one。 Only
problem was； despite the fact he had been waiting in the same place for hours now； so far today the
Cap’n didn’t seem in any great hurry to live up to his end of the bargain。
Then； at last； Boy saw signs of progress。 Tempted from his burrow by the promise of easy
pickings； a rat emerged from a nearby hole in the rubble and moved quickly across the rocks
towards the bait。 Until； coming to the small piece of greasy flesh Boy had set out as a lure； the rat
paused with whiskers twitching warily as though some inner instinct had alerted it to danger。
Too late to be twitching with your whiskers now； Brother Rat； Boy thought； a feral smile playing
across his cracked lips as he aimed his slingshot and loosed the taut string to let fly with a two…inch
metal nail。 Shouldn’t oughta have been so greedy； coming out in the open in the suntime like that。
Flying fast and true the nail took the rat square in the back of the neck； stabbing through its spine
and into the skull。 On his feet and moving before the nail had even hit its target； Boy jumped from
cover to race scampering across the rabble to retrieve his prize。 Grabbing the dead rat by the tail； he
turned and ran back to find refuge again in his hiding place。 Then； pulling the nail free and daubing
two smears of the rat’s blood across his cheeks； he knelt to send a silent prayer of thanksgiving to
his unseen benefactor。
Praise’m； Cap’n Rat； he thought as he looked down at the body of his catch and considered its
worth。 Praise’m for making so many of your children。 Praise’m for making them big and fat。 And
praise’m for sending them to me so I don’t starve。
It was a good rat； fine and sleek； with the kind of big meaty haunches he knew would make for
tasty eatings。 Nor did the value of the rat to Boy end there。 He could make clothing from its pelt；
sewing thread from its sinews； needles and traphooks from its bones； teeth； and claws。 No part of the
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rat’s body would go wasted。 By virtue of the survival skills he had learned first by watching his
mother and then on his own after her death； Boy could find a use for anything。
Abruptly； he found himself thinking of how things used to be when his Ma was still alive。 He
remembered the cellar where they used to live； her kind and careworn face； the soft lullabies she
would sing to drift him off to sleep。 He remembered sitting on her knee as she told him the reasons
they must stay in hiding。 “They say we must give up our children；” she had told them。 “The
generals。 They say children are a distraction in wartime； that the people of Broucheroc must all
serve in the auxiliaries while their children are cared for in the orphanariums。 But I don’t believe
them。 I think they want to give the children over to the Adeptus Mechanicus — the machine…men —
so they can train them to be workers in the manufactoriums； the big dangerous making…places。 But I
won’t let them do it； my baby boy。 I won’t let them take you。 No matter what happens； you can
always know your Ma will keep you safe。”
His heart growing heavy； Boy remembered other things as well。 He remembered the sound of
thunder rolling across the ground above their heads one night while they crouched huddled in the
cellar。 He remembered the cave…in and his mother’s body lying crushed among the rubble。 He
remembered her eyes staring at him； cold and dead from a face covered in a thick layer of dust。 He
remembered crying for hours； scared and lonely； not understanding how it was she could have left
him。 Then； his own eyes stinging wetly at the corners； Boy found he didn’t want to have anything
more to do with remembering for a while。
Sucking a breath of air and rubbing the back of his hand across his face to clear his eyes； Boy
decided it was time to head back to his warren and get to eating Brother Rat。 Too smart to just head
there directly in case anyone was looking； he took the long way； cutting a twisting path through the
maze of shattered buildings and mounds of rubble all around him。 Then； as he crossed near the
summit of one of the mounds； he noticed something that gave him pause。 A smell； almost。
Something gathering on the wind…
For a moment； feeling a sudden chill at the base of his spine； Boy stood looking out toward the
east。 Before him the city seemed quiet； its deserted streets appearing every bit as dead and lifeless as
the mined burnt…out buildings that surrounded them on every turn。 Boy was not fooled。 After