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had known back home。 As though； momentarily released of the shadow of war and horror； they had
reverted to their true selves。
As he watched them； Larn began to understand for the first time that each of the Vardans had
once been like him。 Each of them had been a green recruit。 Each of them had once been a new fish
and he realised there was hope for him in that thought。 If each of these men had somehow learned
how to survive the brutalities and privations of this place； then so could he。 He would learn。 And he
would survive。
And then； comforted by that warm and happy thought； before he even knew it； Larn was asleep。
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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
20：01 hours Central Broucheroc Time
A Mosaic Coloured in Blues； Greens； and Reds — A Dream of Home — A Bombardment Again —
Zeebers’ Behaviour is Perhaps Explained — Sergeant Chelkar Rallies the Troops — The Myth of
The Big Push
“You ordered us to Alert Condition Red！” the general roared； his voice so loud that the Guardsmen
and militia auxiliaries seated at their work stations around them in the Situation Room gave a
collective jump。 “Have you taken leave of your senses？”
“If you would allow me to explain； sir；” Colonel Drezlen said； his expression tight as he stood
facing the older man； fighting visibly to keep his own temper in check。
“Explain？” General Pronan thundered。 “What is there to explain？ You have grossly exceeded
your authority； colonel。 I could have you court…martialled for this。”
“I had no choice； sir；” Drezlen said。 “We were faced with an emerging situation； and you were
elsewhere—”
“Don’t try and lay the blame for this debacle at my door； Drezlen。” The general’s cheeks grew
florid with rage。 “You will only end up making matters worse for yourself； you hear me？ I know
very well I was away from Sector Command。 I was at General Headquarters； where fortunately I
was made aware of your alert order in time to quash it before all hell could let loose。”
“You… quashed it？” Drezlen said； appalled。 “You countermanded the alert？”
“Of course I did。 Have you any idea of the fuss an alert order can cause？ Troops are seconded
from other sectors all across the city； extra supplies are sent up； reserve units are brought forward to
the front。 Sweet Emperor； man！ Don’t you know a sector has to be on the verge of being overrun
before an order to go to Alert Condition Red is warranted？ Never mind the fact that； by issuing an
alert on your own authority； you violated the chain of command！”
“You countermanded the alert；” Drezlen said quietly； his face ashen。 “I can’t believe it…”
“Yes。 And by doing it I likely saved you from a firing squad；” the volume of the general’s voice
had fallen； his manner growing more composed as his anger abated。 “But you can thank me for that
later； Drezlen。 First； I want you to start giving me some answers。”
“Answers？” Drezlen was curt。 “Very well； general。 Let me give you all the answers you could
want。” He turned towards a nearby Guardsman seated beside a control panel covered in dials and
switches。 “Corporal Venner？ Activate the pict…display and bring up the current situation map for our
sectors。 Let us see if we can show the general exactly why I believed we had reached Alert
Condition Red status。”
At the flick of a switch the large rectangular pict…display set into one of the Situation Room’s
walls suddenly hummed into life； a small white dot appearing in the middle of the black screen
before expanding to cover its entire surface。 Then； as Corporal Venner worked another series of
switches； the situation map for Sectors 1…10 through 1…20 appeared on screen。 A mosaic coloured in
blues； greens； and reds： blue for the areas under Imperial control； green for the parts held by the
orks； red for the territories whose ownership was currently being contested。
“I don’t understand；” the general said； looking up at the pict…display in confusion。 “I don’t
remember seeing all this red on the board when I left for General Headquarters this morning。”
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“Matters have developed considerably since then； general；” Drezlen said。 “As of fifteen minutes
ago no less than ten of the eleven sectors under your command are currently being attacked by the
orks。 In each case； the pattern is the same： massed assaults preceded by lengthy bombardment by
enemy artillery； as well as coordinated attacks on vital facilities by gretchin suicide bombers and ork
troops。 Currently； it is unclear how many of these assaults are the real thing and how many are
intended only as diversions to put pressure on our resources。”
“Diversions？ Lengthy bombardments？ Coordinated attacks？” the general’s expression was
incredulous。 “Have you lost your mind； man？ You’re talking as though the enemy were working to
some kind of coherent plan of action。 For the Emperor’s sake； these are orks we are talking about！
They don’t have the brains or organisational ability to put anything like that in motion。”
“Be that as it may； sir； it appears that is precisely what they are doing。 So far； we are holding on
by our fingernails。 But if you want to see just how bad things here could get； take a look at Sector 1…
13。”
“1…13？” the general said。 “What are you talking about Drezlen？ The situation map says Sector 1…
13 is blue。”
“Yes； sir。 And what is more； it is the only sector that has yet to be attacked。 And I ask you；
leaving aside for a moment the fact that our enemies are orks； what does that suggest to you？”
“You don’t mean？” the general blustered。 “But that is impossible； colonel…”
“Ordinarily I would agree； sir。 But there seems to be a pattern here。 And； given that pattern； we
have to ask why would the orks launch a major offensive against every sector to the side of it and
leave Sector 1…13 unmolested？ Unless what we are seeing on the situation map are only the opening
moves of a larger assault intended to tie up our forces and allow the orks a clear ran at their real
target。 Imagine it； general： if the orks were to launch a full…scale assault on Sector 1…13 now； there
would be precious little we could do to stop them achieving a sector…wide breakthrough。”
“But if that happened； our forces in other sectors would have to retreat or risk being cut off。 It
could turn into a rout。 No。 It is just not possible； Drezlen。 They are orks。 Savages。 They are not
clever enough to have…”
For a moment； turning to gaze intently at the pict…display before him the general fell quiet。
Watching the old man’s troubled face as he silently wrestled with all he had heard； Colonel Drezlen
felt a sudden sympathy for him。 General Pronan was an old school solider； thoroughly indoctrinated
by his forty years in the Guard in the belief that all aliens were little better than animals。 The idea he
might have been outmanoeuvred by them； and by orks for that matter； would be hard for him to
swallow but it was a matter of evidence。 Slowly； Drezlen saw a grim look of resolve come over the
general’s face。 He had made his decision。
“All right； then；” the general said at last。 “Let us assume for the sake of argument your theory is
correct。 Can we reinforce Sector 1…13？”
“No； sir。 As I say； all our forces are tied up fighting off the orks in other sectors。”
“What about our forces already inside Sector 1…13？ Who do we have stationed there？”
“Company Alpha； the 902nd Vardan Rifles； commanded by Sergeant Eugin Chelkar。”
“A single company？” the general’s voice was a dry whisper。 “Commanded by a sergeant？ That’s
all we have？ But； Holy Throne； if you are right and the attack comes—”
“Yes； sir。” Colonel Drezlen said。 “If that happens； then two hundred and something Guardsmen
are all that stands between us and this entire map going green。”
He dreamed of home。 He dreamed of spring： the earth of the fields wet and rich as the seeds were
planted。 He dreamed of summer： the sky blue and endless overhead as rows of golden wheat grew
ripe below it。 He dreamed of autumn： the same sky now thick with lazy smoke from the burning of
the stubble after the harvesting was done。 He dreamed of winter： the fields dizzyingly empty； the
ground hard with frost。 He dreamed； his dreams a jumbled montage of people； places； memories；
recollections。
91
He dreamed of home。
He dreamed of the days of his youth。 Of the change of the seasons。 Of happiness； peace and
contentment。
And then； he awoke to hell once more。
Starting awake at the sound of an explosion overheard； for an instant Larn had no idea where he
was。 Gazing blearily about him in confusion； he recognised the dugout and realised he must have
fallen asleep on one of the bunks while the others were talking。 Then； he heard another explosion
much louder than the first and looked up to see a thin trickle of soil fall downwards through the gap
between two of the wooden planks that made up the dugout’s inner ceiling。
“That was a close one；” he heard Bulaven’s voice say calmly。 “I wouldn’t like to be above
ground in the middle of this one。”
Becoming fully awake； Larn realised he had inadvertently fallen asleep on top of his mess tin。
Wiping away a chunk of congealed gruel that had stuck to his uniform； he turned to see the Vardans
were st