Gussying up his jacket one more time and re-adjusting his freshly cleaned red beret, Major Conrad Kane did what he could to look his best for the meeting he had. He stood within a somewhat narrow concrete hall with a series of fluorescent lights lining up the ceiling, not far away; he could hear the bustle of the communications rooms as vox operators and scribes gathered reports and sent messages to different sections of their army. A somewhat rusty steel door stood before him, it was decorated with a golden Aquila with a plate underneath that said "Only in death does duty end."

Like many men from his homeworld of Catachan, Conrad was a strongly built man when compared to people from other worlds. He wore a green vest, a pair of standard issue uniform trousers, a red beret with a golden Aquila on it and a pair of wristbands. He had a square jawed, grizzled face and scars from an entire life-time of fighting to show that like any Catachan worth his salt was the meanest son of a bitch in the Emperor's glorious armies.

For weeks now, the combined forces of the Imperial Guard had been stationed on this rather miserable and pathetic little excuse of a planet called Varadan III. It was the kind of world with multiple biomes, some of which had seasons that passed and in this particular region which was more on the tropical side, Conrad and his men of the Catachan 147th, found their posting to be extremely boring. The local flora and fauna weren't all trying to eat them and the carnivorous predators they encountered were practically kittens compared to the least dangerous things back home.

The only thing that kept their posting interesting were the greenskins that decided to play boy scouts in this jungle. So far from what they have encountered, the orks that were on this planet were a bunch of tough bastards who seemed to like getting up close and personal more than the usual ork. At least he didn't have to worry as much about getting riddled by a storm of lead and instead could focus on trying not to have an axe buried into his skull.

Knocking on the steel door, he heard a man's voice speak from the inside and beckoning him to come in. Placing his hand upon a biometric scanner on the wall by the door, the sensors read out his palm prints for a second and the door opened up to reveal the rather ostentatious office inside. It looked more like a high class hotel room than an actual military office with its lavish curtains, fancy paintings and expensive nal-wood furniture.

'Good to see you again Major!' came the friendly voice of Colonel Montgomery of the 34th Scintillian Fusiliers as the man stood up and extended a hand towards Conrad who gave the noble-born fop a firm handshake. Like the rest of Fusiliers, the Colonel was dressed as if he were going to a planetary governor's ballroom party

Conrad's feelings on the Scintilians was mixed at best because on one hand he has had a lot of bad experiences with these "noble" regiments and often they were not the best guys to go trekking in the woods with. On another hand though, they were good shots and on more times than he could count, Conrad or a lot of the other guys could depend on the Scintilians lay down a mean and surprisingly accurate volley of fire from heavy weapons and mortars. In the case of the Colonel, Conrad's opinion of the man was somewhat positive because the Colonel was the kind of guy who had a habit of sharing some expensive brands of drinks which the Major could never even afford on his pension.

Taking a seat on the chair in front of the Colonel's desk, Conrad looked to the man who seemed to be a lot younger than the Catachan but in actuality was old enough to be his great grandfather. Violin music played in the background as a rather ancient looking device composed of a wooden box with a metal wand and a needle scratched against the surface of a black disc while a brass trumpet-like device created the actual song. He imagined that if he were some under hive street rat who somehow managed to steal even a quarter of what was in this office, he would probably be set for life.

'So did you hear the news Major?' asked Montgomery as he went towards a polished nal-wood desk and fetched two crystalline glasses and a large round bottle which contained some amber liquid.

'That the regiments are all combining?' replied Conrad with some disdain 'I heard about that, looks like we are going to be buddying together I suppose.'

'Well not our regiments for sure' the Colonel then said as he went back to his desk and set down the glassware. The Colonel then sat down again and from a drawer behind the desk, he produced a data-slate which he handed to Conrad. 'You might want to have a drink before you read it' the Colonel then said and Conrad knew that it must be bad.

Waiting for the Colonel to pour a glass for each of them, the noble born officer then raised a drink to toast the Major who reciprocated the gesture before consuming the beverage. Feeling the pleasant heat as the expensive whisky went down his throat; Conrad then looked to the data-slate to see what the whole thing was about. It was an official letter from the Ministorum, announcing the combining of the multiple regiments into three full strength ones to make up for the losses in the last campaign on Khyber.

Shaking his head as he remembered that last campaign, Conrad had lost half of his regiment along with three other regiments of fellow Catachans against those damnable xenos machines, the Necrons. Over a two dozen regiments and even three companies of Space Marines from different chapters came in to purge the planet of the aliens and by the end, fifteen the regiments survived (each having lost many soldiers) and even the Space Marines themselves a lost a whole lot of guys. Tough bastards those Necrons who don't even have the decency to stay dead once you blast them, it was amazing that they had somehow even managed to win.

As he looked through the list of which regiments were forming up into what, he saw with some amusement that the Scintilians were being grouped up with the Savlar Chem-Dogs, Attilans, Kanaks and a lot of Abhuman auxiliaries. Looking to the Colonel who was already pouring himself a second drink, the noble born officer instantly lost his friendly demeanor and he gave Conrad a look that just said "please shoot me now". Looking back to the Dataslate to find who his regiment was with, Conrad's saw that the Catachan 147th was going to group up with the Cadians, Tallarn, Death Korp and a lot of flyboys from the Elysians, that didn't seem so bad he guessed as he looked to the Colonel who then handed him another data-slate.

Taking the slate and worried that he would find something terrible in it, his eyes widened as he read its contents. It seemed that officers from the different regiments would be transferred around to orient themselves with those they will be working with and that within the next five hours, the 147th was getting a visit from the Death Korps. He saw the names of the officers who were being transferred and he didn't find his name but for the one who was being sent to his regiment all he saw was "Commissar- A153".

Oh great! He thought rather caustically a damn Commissar even! They might as well be sending him an ork with a big red target symbol painted on it. He was going to have one hell of a time try to keep the other guys from fragging this Commissar A153. Normally he would not care when one of those bastards gets himself killed but after that last incident on Gherema, his men didn't need any more heat from the Commissariat.

'Know anything about this A153?' asked Conrad as he noticed the Colonel pouring another set of drinks for the two of them.

'I have heard stories' said the Colonel whose face was becoming pinkish.

'What kind of stories?' questioned Conrad who needed to know just exactly who he was going to be dealing with.

'From what I have heard Major' replied the Colonel 'a complete Space Marine that one'. Raising an eyebrow in curiosity, he allowed the noble born officer to continue as he took another drink. 'I have heard stories of this, Commissar A153 taking on a swarm of enemies from greenskins, tyranids, heretics and even the devils of the warp itself' said the colonel who began to slur a bit in his speech.

'Why not send this Commissar to the Inquisition then?' asked Conrad 'I am sure those psychos need more mindless drones for their job'

'I have no idea Major' said the Colonel as he began pouring himself another one 'I heard that this Commissar doesn't talk though, had to take some sort of vow of silence on Nephalia VII along with a whole Regiment of Death Korps while defending some Ecclesiastic Shrine from rebels.'

'Uh huh? So we have a silent Commissar then?' questioned Conrad 'I guess that means my guys won't be given any warning when they mess up?'

'I really wouldn't joke about that sort of thing' said the Colonel who now looked like he had too much to drink. Conrad could agree for he honestly hated the idea of this visit and he took another gulp of whisky. He just hoped he was ready for when the sump hits the fan.

'Now that's a load of Grox-shit! Sir!' shouted Sergeant Brock as he slammed his meaty fists on the metal desk where Conrad would normally write up or review reports. Several other officers both commissioned and non-commissioned were gathered around the Major and voicing their displeasure, especially when this Comissar was arriving within the hour.

'I know you bastards hate this as much as I do but listen up!' shouted Conrad 'if any of you whoresons even so much as think of Fragging this Commissar without my say so, I will shove my Fang so far up your asses that it will cut your tongue! Do I make myself clear!?' A grudging series of yes sirs followed for they had all been arguing it for some time now. 'Look I know you are all pissed' continued the Major 'but we don't need any more heat on us after that incident with Constantine'

'Yeah but that guy got himself infected by those Genestealers!' said another officer named Marx for they had recently also participated in a campaign against the Tyranids on an Agri-world called Gherema.

A Commissar named Jeronus Constantine who had been assigned to the local PDF became infected by the Genestealers and had tried to kill the Catachans once they clashed with a nest of the damned things. Of course they were forced to kill the Commissar in self-defense but that was not the way the Commissariat saw things, the only way they had managed to get out that mess alive was by Conrad asking a favor from Lord General Augustus Theron. It was a good thing the General had some connections and friends here and there in high places and the Catachans were "pardoned" under the condition of being sent to the campaign on Khyber which ended up being one huge disaster.

'That's all in the past now men' spoke Conrad as he looked them in the eyes and continued 'just make sure that this Commissar doesn't end up dead and don't do any stupid shit that will give the bastard a reason to shoot you, got it?'

Another unified series of yes sirs came from the officers and Conrad released a sigh of relief as he dismissed them. When the men filed out and left his office, the Major rubbed the temple of his forehead for he still felt the effects of the strong drink he shared with the Colonel. Reaching for a water flask tied to the side of his belt, he took a swig of tepid, recycled water and he tried not to think too much about how many times someone pissed it out.

He spent the next few minutes sitting there before a beeping sound from his chronometer began and he knew that it should be time. Getting up from his seat and putting his officer's beret on while grabbing an Accatran pattern model 34 shotgun, he walked out of his office and through the narrow halls of the Regimental HQ again. He passed by the opened door on the side of the HQ and out into the spacious clearing of the jungle where their base had been set up.

It was the standard style of Imperial Guard outposts of which was mostly composed of bunkers from which troops could use to fight inside and underground tunnels which they can use to navigate around. Heavy defense turrets as well as smaller and lighter ones were placed around the perimeter along with barbed wire fences and mine fields to deter and attackers. On one side, they even had a few blocky Mechanized Command structures where vehicles could be dropped in. One structure that quite literally stood out was the Bastion which served as the main landing pad for the base.

Heavy Bolter turrets lined up along the walls of the Bastion as a Valkyrie dropship prepared to land. And that must be our guest he thought with no amusement as it slowly touched down to the ground. Several brightly uniformed Fusiliers stood in serried ranks around the landing pad as if the Emperor himself decided to pay them a visit.

There were a few of his fellow Catachans gathered as well but most of the others should either be out on patrol or hunting the enemy. The Valkyrie slowly made its descent with the rear section facing them and soon after it landed on the metallic pad, the compartment section opened up with a loading ramp extending downwards. Two figures descended from the Valkyrie, the first he could see was heavily tattooed Savlar officer wearing a breathing apparatus around his mouth and the other was the Commissar whose face was concealed by a gasmask.

Having fought alongside the Death Korps of Krieg in the past, Conrad found them to be a tough and tenacious bunch who were ruthlessly efficient in completing their missions. He also had some contempt for the Death Korps for they mostly didn't bother with things like self preservation or coming up with a plan and often had seen them throw away their lives to complete objectives that could have also been done so had they bothered to use their brains. As the two officers descended from the Valkyrie with the Savlar fellow going to the Colonel, Conrad saw the Commissar walk up to him and his gathered Catachans.

From what he could see, the Commissar was a rather skinny and short looking man whose coat was fully buttoned up and he could see the gorget of some carapace armour underneath the coat. Like the rest of the Death Korps, he saw not a inch of flesh from the Commissar whose blank eye lenses regarded them with no way of knowing what the Commissar was thinking. What was quite notable about the Commissar's equipment was that instead of being armed with the usual sword and pistol combination (which in the case of the Krieg officer was a Cadian Hellpistol and Powered Cavalry Sabre), he also carried upon his back a Powered Spear like those sometimes used by Rough Rider Officers.

Quickly ordering his men to stand at attention, the Catachan saluted the Commissar with parade ground precision and Krieg Officer returned the gesture with a sharp salute as well. Conrad then stepped forwards to the Commissar and extended his muscular right arm towards with hand held out. The Krieg Officer then firmly shook his hand with Conrad saying rather none too honestly about what an honour it was to have the Commissar around.

Of course, the Commissar said nothing and nodded while reaching for one of his pockets and producing a piece of neatly folded paper which he handed to Conrad. What is this? Library Day? Thought Conrad who was wasn't expecting to be reading so much today as he gently took the piece of paper and began to read its contents. According to the paper, the Commissar's assignment was to observe and evaluate the Catachan's activities for the next 24 hours while also providing them assistance in fighting the xenos threat.

At the lower right side of the paper, he saw the official wax seal of the Lord General himself and he knew that this was one of the old man's way of reminding Conrad and his men on how much they still owed him for Gherema.

'Right then, do you want to get billeted first or should I just show you one of our sentry posts?' asked Conrad and the Commissar looked at him for a moment before nodding and looking towards the jungle. 'Okay…' Conrad then said as he lead the Commissar to the jungle and he could not quite help but feel like he was talking to a rock.

The trip outside of the base was a relatively awkward and uneventful one as the Commissar followed Conrad and eight of his most veteran men in silence, each carried a headset with a vox bead to allow short range communications. Fortified Listening Posts equipped with twin-link heavy bolters had also been set up around the perimeter, the machine spirits within their targeting systems were capable of differentiating between man and xeno and the moment an ork or a grot stick its ugly head out, the alien would get their faces filled with Bolt Rounds.

The Commissar gripped his hellpistol which seemed a bit too bulky for Conrad's taste and the poor bastard must be feeling extremely hot underneath such thick clothes that probably would have been better for a more cold weather environment. Whether the Krieg Officer was actually uncomfortable or not, Conrad did not know, his men on the other hand kept their eyes open for greenskins. Most were equipped with Las-carbines, Accatran 34 Shotguns or other weapons that were easy to carry around while one of the guys who was nicknamed Chef (on the count that he was also their regiment's cook and was also professionally trained in giving first aid) had a heavy flamer with a back mounted pair of promethium canisters.

At the moment, they were heading to one of Listening Posts north of the base where a couple of bunkers had also been set up around it for the sake of providing a forward camp for the Guardsmen. From there, the Fusiliers and the more reconnaissance oriented elements of their Regiment kept watch on the orks who had a base further up north. As they moved, Conrad heard a distant series of explosions and the distinct sound of ork gunfire.

His headset then picked up a signal from the outpost where a call for help was being made. Muttering a curse in the Emperor's name, Conrad looked to his men and ordered for them to double-time it. The Catachans easily maneuvered through the brush and foliage of the jungle while the Commissar did a surprisingly admirable job in keeping up. It did not take long for them to find the forwards camp under siege as their fellow Guardsmen held the line against the foul green tide.

The voices of several dozens of orks roared "WAAAAGGGH!" as they swarmed up the hill where a punishing volley of bolt rounds, bullets, lasers, explosive shells, mortars and rockets slammed into the horde with dozens of orks dying each second. From what he could see, the bunkers were still intact with the muzzle flashes of the heavy guns lighting up from the firing slits. From his own experience of fighting orks, Conrad guessed that there were at least a couple hundred of the xenos out there in the jungle.

'All right everyone, form up around me' Conrad shouted 'Chef your up front with Marco and Garet! Cook the bastards!'

The three men moved to the front of their squad with Chef hefting his Heavy Flamer while Marco and Garet were armed with las-carbines. Looking to the Commissar who now carried his activated power sabre in his right and hell pistol in the left, the Krieg Officer then nodded to them while flipping the safety off of his side arm. He then organized one group to have four men and another with the Commissar, himself and a man named Lars who was equipped with a carbine.

'Search and destroy!' shouted Conrad who was confident of the skills each of his men had and the Guardsmen dispersed and they disappeared into the jungle.

Pressing the trigger of his shotgun, Conrad unleashed a hail of buckshot into the exposed back of an ork Loota armed with a heavy stub gun. The alien roared in pain as green blood blossomed from its back while its weapon continued to fire erratically with some even hitting its kin. The other orks glanced back to see what had killed their comrade and one eye-patched alien had its face reduced into a pulp as Conrad blasted it while the Commissar closed in cut down another with his sword and he gunned down the last with his pistol.

Speaking into the vox-bead of his headset and listening to the communications chatter, his squad was doing a great with job eliminating the ork heavy gunners with surprise attacks and ambushes. With the focus of the greenskins entirely upon the bunker, the Catachans found it rather easy to sneak up on them, speaking of which as he heard a rustle amongst the foliage to his right. Conrad quickly then swiveled his shotgun to the right and he fired another hail of buck shot into the jungle where he was rewards with a loud high pitched scream of agony.

'Damn Gretchins…' muttered the Major as he looked to the Commissar who nodded to him.

Gesturing for the Krieg officer and Lars to follow him, they followed a set of coordinates from the outpost where upon a sentry tower; a sniper team had a good view of the jungle around them. As they moved through the brush, they smelled the stench of burning ork flesh as the aliens screamed in agony while the heavy flamer of Chef roared its blazing fury.

Moving past where Chef and his squad had ambushed a group of greenskins, Conrad's team made their way to a series of large guns mounted on wheels and operated by teams of Gretchin and Snotlings. Standing out among the greenskins was a rather large ork wearing a welding mask with several bionics attached to its flesh and a large powered claw. An ork Mekboy thought Conrad in recognition for this particularly troublesome type of greenskin.

Setting down his shotgun into the tall grass, Conrad then began to detach a number of frag grenades from his belt and he handed it to the Commissar and Lars. Ordering them to wait for his signal, the Major first counted to three before he detached the pin of one grenade and he hurled it to the nearest gun. The Commissar and Lars followed suit and the stupid aliens did not even notice when the explosives landed in their midst.

The grenades detonated under the crude alien siege guns while causing bits of grots and metal to fly in many directions. Those grots that survived were confused for a moment before their natural cowardice overcame them and the little aliens fled into the jungle. As the dust and smoke cleared, Conrad cursed to see that the Mekboy was still standing for a bright sphere of defensive golden energy surrounded the greenskin.

'Oh sweet Emperor! That ork has a shield!' hissed Conrad and as if by some sixth sense, the Mekboy looked in their direction and roared a feral warcry before disappearing in a flash of orange lightning. 'Oh shit!' shouted the Major as he grabbed his shotgun and leapt to the side and in a blink of an eye, he heard a loud sound like the crack of lightning which was followed by a flash of light and the splintering of wood as the ork's claw slashed into a tree.

Landing with a roll into the brush and feeling a mild pain as thorns cut into his bare flesh, he quickly turned back to face the Ork Mek Boy who pulled out a Slugga Pistol. The Mekboy opened fire at Lars who screamed in pain as an solid slug round caught him in the right shin and blowing off that part of the leg. The Mekboy laughed in amusement as he stomped towards the injured soldier but was halted as a barrage of lasers struck the alien's shield from behind.

Looking to see the Commissar who continued to pour a withering hail of fire from his Hellpistol, Conrad fired another shot at the Mekboy but the buckshot had little effect on the defensive shield. Quickly reaching into a pouch on the side of his belt, Conrad fished out a couple of Amputator Shells which he loaded into his Shotgun. From his experience in dealing with shielded targets, the best thing one could do was either use something it can't protect against such as poison gas or failing that, hit it with everything you got and try to deplete it.

With a loud clack as he pumped his shotgun, he saw the Mekboy's attention was now focused on the Commissar who charged the alien with his Sabre and Spear which were both wreathed in power fields. The Commissar plunged his powered spear into the Ork and a bright flash of light emanated as the shield did its job, the Mekboy swung its claw at the Krieg officer who backed away in time and followed up with a slash from his sabre. Conrad then fired his shotgun at the ork and again he saw the flash of light from its energy shield, muttering a curse and hoping that they could pierce its barrier soon, he saw a barrage of laser bolts strike the Mekboy from behind as Lars managed to prop himself up and shoot at the alien.

The Mekboy seemed confused for a moment of whom it should deal with but the Commissar's assault which was almost dance-like in movement soon made the officer the alien's prime target. Despite having fought for more than ten years in the Imperial Guard and traveling to many different worlds, Conrad found himself in utter awe of the Commissar's footwork and skill as he masterfully wielded both spear and sword in a deadly grace that probably would have even given an Eldar a run for its money. Soon the Commissar's attacks paid off and Conrad saw the energy shield begin to flicker.

Bringing his shotgun up again, he took careful aim at the alien, waiting for the Commissar's next strike before finally, he squeezed the trigger. Feeling the familiar recoil of his weapon as it launched another hail of micro-explosives from within the Amputator Shells, he watched with deep satisfaction as he got some payback for Lars by blowing the Mekboy's right leg off while another series of laser bolts struck its back. Before the Mekboy even hit the ground, the Commissar delivered a single swift and letha thrust from his and he impaled the ork right between the eyes.

The Commissar then let go of his spear and he used his weight and momentum to knock the now dead greenskin upon its back. Glad that the fight was now over with, Conrad then grabbed a med-kit from his belt and he went towards Lars while calling for a real medic. The Major did his best to assist his comrade while using what basic medical training he had, fortunately, it was enough to keep the man alive long enough for his squad to regroup and allow Chef to do his thing.

When the wounds of Lars stabilized and the men of Conrad's squad were able to collectively breathe a sigh of relief. They soon noticed that the war cries of the orks were now replaced by cries of terror as they fled from the outpost en masse. Wondering what had happened and how their guys were doing, Conrad quickly ordered his squad to move out and prepare to move towards the outpost.

Passing over mounds of dead xenos, Conrad was quite impressed at the number their guys did on the greenskins. The hill on which the Listening Post stood was pockmarked with craters and burn marks as hundreds of alien corpses littered it. The barricades which they had set up from barbed wires, pit traps filled with spikes and even wooden stakes lodged into the ground were all completely overwhelmed by dead orks. The thin needle-like sentry tower still stood and he saw one of the snipers wave at him.

Waving back at the marksmen, he saw the various number of both Catachan and Scintilian guardsmen filing out of the bunkers to sweep the area. Among the guardsmen, he noticed a group of men who stood out for they wore the uniforms of neither planets. Quickly, he recognized the beige uniforms and green battle armour of a Cadian pattern and judging by how heavily armoured these troops were, he easily figured out that they were Kasrkins.

The Kasrkins fanned out with each of them holding up either Hellguns or heavy Plasma Guns which had power cables which were attached to their backpack mounted batteries. The Elite Cadian troops gave them quick nods or a salute as they went about finishing off the dead greenskins with laser bolts to the skull or knives to the throat.

'Well I didn't expect to you here, Sir!' came the boisterous voice of Captain Berric, a fellow Catachan Devil who hailed Conrad from inside a bunker and behind a propped up Heavy Stubber.

'Looks like you guys really had a party down here!' called out Conrad in a friendly manner for Berric had been a good friend of his since even before joining up with the Guard.

'And we'd be dead too if it weren't for the Cadians!' replied Berric and Conrad looked to the Kasrkins again.

One of the Elite Troops looked towards Conrad for a moment and the soldier began to remove his helmet. The Kasrkin was an equally grizzled looking man like Conrad with short cropped hair, scars and purple eyes like many folk from Cadia.

'You can thank us some other time Major' nodded the Kasrkin as he looked to the Commissar who stood close Conrad. 'Is everything to your satisfaction, Commissar?' asked the Kasrkin in a manner that held a note of familiarity towards the Krieg Officer. The Commissar nodded and then saluted the Kasrkin with his sword and the Cadian then looked back to Conrad and said 'mighty high praise then, I will be sure to send word to the Lord General.'

The Kasrkin then put his helmet back on he rejoined his men in finishing off the wounded orks. Looking back to the Commissar, Conrad gave the man a long look, trying to get at least something out of the faceless figure who he had to admit, actually seemed like an all right sort. He then saw the Krieg Officer stab the points of his sword and spear to the ground bloody ground and he removed his Commissar cap which he tucked into under the crook of his right arm and he began to undo his gasmask.

When the mask came off, Conrad was surprised to see the face of a young lad with lanky blonde hair who was probably in his late teens, maybe younger than Conrad by a little more than a decade for the Catachan Major was already nearing the big three oh. The Commissar's flesh was very pale and the skin around his eyes was bruised from the goggles of his gasmask while the very eyes themselves were purple like that of the Cadians but as dead as the lenses that concealed it. There was also something off about the Commissar's appearance which seemed to nag at Conrad as he studied the youth closely and then it suddenly hit him with the force of a sledgehammer.

'Y-you're a girl!?' blurted the Major who was completely flabbergasted by the revelation.

The Commissar then nodded to him and placed her gasmask underneath the crook of her left arm along with her hat. She then raised both of her hands with the index fingers pointed upwards and she pressed them into the part of her cheeks a little above the side of her lips. A slight smile was briefly etched upon the Commissar's features before she lowered her hands and went back to putting on her gasmask and hat.

When the Commissar finally reclaimed her weapons from the bloody ground, Conrad was not quite sure exactly how to respond to this. Looking behind him to see if the other guys in his squad saw it, he immediately noted their equally stunned expressions.

'Err all right men! Back to work!' said Conrad who still couldn't quite believe what just happened.

It was going to be a long day of clean up now with all the dead orks around and it wouldn't take long before the aliens begin to stink up the place even more or regroup and have another go. As the guardsmen went about with piling up and burning the bodies, Conrad found himself unable to look at the Commissar in the same way and he found the desire to leave a primed grenade in the officer's pockets, gone.

He guessed that making the rest of the regiment feel the same way as he did had become a lot easier.

Author's Note: I am aware that this story is an "In Space" Version my previous tale, Espada Del Sol.