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“No；” Larn said at last； hating how weak his voice sounded and way it wavered。 “No。 You are
wrong。 You are wrong and I don’t believe you。”
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CHAPTER TWELVE
18：58 hours Central Broucheroc Time
Sector Command and the Portents of a Coming Storm — Larn Sulks — Davir at Last Finds a
Reason to be Cheerful — Meal Time in Barracks Dugout One — The Culinary Arts as According to
Trooper Skench — A Discussion as to the Advantages of Artillery in the Hunting of Big Lizards
“Here are the raw contact reports for the last half…hour； sir；” Sergeant Valtys said； holding out a
sheaf of papers as thick as his thumb in his outstretched hand。 “You said you wanted to see them
immediately； before they were collated。”
Sitting at his desk in his small office at Sector Command Beta （Eastern Divisions； Sectors 1…10
to 1…20）； Colonel Kallad Drezlen turned to take the papers from Valtys and begin to read them。
There must be two hundred reports here at least； he thought。 Each one recording a separate
incident of contact with the enemy。 Two hundred； when usually at this time of day we would expect
to get no more than eighty or so in an hour。 It looks like the orks are getting restless hereabouts and
that is never a good sign。 Something must he coming。
“How bad is it； Jaak？” he asked； raising his eyes from the reports to look at the sergeant。
“Bad enough； sir；” Valtys replied； still standing ramrod…straight beside the colonel’s desk as
though he thought he was on a parade ground muster。 “Five of our sectors report coming under
heavy shellfire from the orks。 Another two report incidents of massed assaults。 Then； we have
received something like a hundred different reports from across all sectors of contacts ranging from
raiding parties to an increase in the number of gretch snipers and scouts in no…man’s land。 Looks
like there’s a real shitstorm brewing； colonel； if you pardon my language。”
“Hhh。 You are pardoned； Jaak；” Drezlen said； looking up at the non…com’s grizzled face with a
quiet amusement born of long familiarity with his ways。 “What about Sector Commands Alpha and
Gamma？ Are they having the same problem with flying faeces？”
“No and I have to admit that’s what put the wind up me； sir。 Our neighbouring Sector
Commands say they’re having a quiet time of it。 Too quiet； if you ask me。”
“As though the orks were planning something； you mean？” Drezlen said； his face serious now as
he gave voice to the thought hanging communally in the air between them。 “Concentrating their
forces here； as though they are about to launch a major offensive？”
“Yes； sir。 Course； I know that’s not supposed to happen。 I know General HQ say the orks aren’t
smart enough to coordinate something like that。 But I’ve got a metal pin in me； holding my left knee
together from the time an ork shot blew a fist…sized hole in it。 Ever since I got it； that pin has always
started itching whenever the orks were up to something。 And right now it’s itching worse than a redarsed
monkey that’s been sitting in a mound of firebugs。”
“I know what you mean； Jaak；” Drezlen said。 “My gut’s the same way。 All the same； I wouldn’t
want to go to General Pronan asking him to order an alert based on the combined evidence of your
pin and my digestion。 I’ll need something a bit weightier than that。 Get me the collated statistics and
summaries for these contact reports ASAP。 Then； I’ll go see the general and see if we can get him to
take some action。”
“Begging your pardon； sir； but the general’s not on site。 He still hasn’t returned from the Staff
Briefing at General HQ。”
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“Spectacular；” Drezlen said； sighing in irritation。 “The one time we really need the old man he’s
off enjoying flatcakes and recaf with Grand Marshal Kerchan。 All right； then。 Looks like I’ll have to
be the one to put my head in the cudbear’s mouth。 Get comms to vox General HQ。 Tell them
Colonel Drezlen wants to put Sectors 1…10 through to 1…20 on Alert Condition Red。”
“You should try not to take it so much to heart； new fish；” Bulaven had said； going over to join Larn
as he sat alone in a corner of the trench。 “So； your great…grandfather killed a man and stole his ticket。
What of it？ It hardly matters now； does it？ It was a long time ago； after all； and anyone it might have
been important to is long dead by now。”
“It is not as though we meant anything by it； new fish；” Bulaven had said then； once it had
become clear Larn was not going to answer him。 “We were just talking is all。 You have to find some
way of passing the time in the trenches。 So； sometimes we tell stories and afterwards everyone gives
their opinion。 You have to understand it is nothing personal。”
“Granted； maybe we should not have been so forthright；” Bulaven had said next； while Larn
stared fixedly ahead and refused to look at him。 “Your story was important to you； I can see that
now。 We should have been kinder perhaps。”
“Perhaps you are right； new fish；” Bulaven had said at last。 “Perhaps it was a miracle and we are
all full of manure。 I am not a preacher。 I don’t know about such things。 But really； new fish； it is
making your own life hard on yourself if you just keep sitting there in silence。”
“Ach； leave him； Bulaven；” Davir had said。 “All your feeble…fabbling around the new fish is
giving me a headache。 If he wants to sulk； let him。 Emperor knows； it’ll be a damn sight more quiet
around here without all his stupid questions。”
Time passed。 Sitting alone in his corner of the trench while Zeebers stood on watch and the others
played cards； Larn found the heat of his anger had slowly cooled。 With it； he became gradually
aware of other things； sensations that until then had been masked from him by the intensity of the
emotions boiling within him ever since the Vardans had defamed his great…grandfather’s memory
and ridiculed his story of the miracle。
Emperor’s tears； but it is cold； Larn thought； suddenly realising he had been sitting in the same
spot so long his backside had gone to sleep。 Just as he was about to stand and stretch； to move about
in the trench in the hope of getting his circulation working； some lingering residue of his anger
stopped him。
I get up and move now the others will think I have forgiven them； he thought； hating how
childish the thought made him feel and yet at the same time helpless to resist it。 It would be like
giving in； he thought。 Like I was admitting I believed all the nonsense they talked before about my
great…grandfather stealing the ticket。 Then； his anger re…igniting at the thought the others might
think him weak； he resolved to sit where he was in silence a while longer。
Of course it doesn’t really matter what they think； he thought after some further time had passed。
It doesn’t matter if they think I have given in。 It doesn’t matter whether they think my greatgrandfather
stole the ticket or murdered anyone。 All that matters is that I know those things aren’t
true。 So long as I know that； they can believe whatever they like。 Still； he was not content。
Something deep inside him refused to let him move。
They have all been in this place too long； he thought at last。 That’s what it is。 That is why they
see dark motives in everything and can’t accept the fact of miracles。 Really； it is not even a matter of
forgiving them。 I should feel sorry for them。 Not angry。
Then； just as he had all but finally summoned the will to swallow his pride and move； Larn
heard the sound of a shrill whistle that seemed to come from the direction of the dugouts。
“Ach； at last；” Davir said； as around him the other men began to stand and collect their weapons。
“It’s about time。 I have been getting so hungry sitting here I was beginning to think about eating
Scholar’s boots。”
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“Really？” said Scholar mildly； checking to see if he still had his book with him。 “And there was
perhaps some special reasons you were considering eating my boots rather than your own； Davir？”
“What； you think I should eat my own boots and risk getting frostbite？” Davir said。 “No thank
you； Scholar。 Besides； you have such big feet there would be plenty of boot to go around。 Happily
though； we seem to have averted that particular catastrophe。 Time to get to the barracks and see
what culinary pleasures are awaiting us。”
“Come on then； new fish；” Bulaven said； standing over Larn。 “If you are last to the mess line
there won’t be much left for you。”
“You mean it is meal time？” Larn asked。
“A meal； yes；” Bulaven said。 “And a two…hour rest…period as well。 They rotate us off the line in
groups of ten fireteams at a time。 One whistle means it is Barracks Dugout One’s turn。 Our turn。
Now； come on； new fish。 The food will be getting cold。”
“Yes； come on； new fish；” Davir said。 “Believe me； you think your day has been bad enough so
far？ Well； you haven’t tasted Trooper Skench’s cooking yet。”
After so long in the cold of the trench； the interior of Barracks Dugout One seemed warm and
inviting to him now。 So inviting； in fact； that Larn found he barely even noticed the stifling stench of
smoke and stale sweat that permeated the air of the dugout。 Inside； a line of Guardsmen had alread