once more。
“Now；” he said； “seeing as you’re standing about here on your own； I take it you’ve not been
assigned to duties yet？”
“No… I… my company was destroyed and…”
44
“Go see Corporal Vladek；” the medic said。 “He’ll sort you out。 Tell him Medical Officer Svenk
sent you。”
“Corporal Vladek？”
“Over there；” the medic said； pointing to one of the dugout entrances as he turned to walk away。
“Barracks Dugout One。 Vladek is our quartermaster — the biggest scavenger； thief； pack rat； and all
round scrounger in the sector。 You’ll know him when you see him。 Oh； and a word to the wise； new
fish。 Don’t drink any more than two cups of Vladek’s recaf。 Or else； next thing you know you could
be charging the ork lines on your own in a one…man assault。”
Walking down the rough earthen steps underground into the dugout； Larn was greeted with a warm
blast of air thick with the smell of smoke and the odour of stale sweat。 Eyes watering at the stench
of it； he stepped past a couple of Guardsmen playing dice just inside the doorway and made his way
into the barracks。 Inside； he saw two lines of rusting metal bunks arranged either side of an iron
stove at the centre of the room where a group of Vardans sat talking； eating； or cleaning their
weapons。 For a moment； Larn considered asking them if any of them had seen Corporal Vladek。
Then； seeing a flabby unshaven Vardan in a stained undershirt sitting alone at a table in a corner of
the room； Larn remembered the medic’s description and knew he had found his man。
Crammed on ramshackle shelves and in alcoves cut directly into the earth of the wall behind the
corporal was a treasure trove of scavenged equipment。 Larn could see lasgun power packs； frag
grenades； boxes of dry rations； shotgun shells； bayonets and knives of all shapes and sizes； spades；
picks； hand axes； lanterns； uniforms； helmets； flak jackets； even a large metal claw that could only
have come from the arm of a dead ork。 Meanwhile； on the table and the floor around him were a
number of standard issue Guardsmen’s field rucksacks； the contents of which the corporal was
currently busy digging through with the grim enthusiasm of a bandit chieftain surveying his latest
spoils。
“Corporal Vladek？” Larn asked； approaching the table。 “Medical Officer Svenk said I should
come see you。”
“Ah； more cannon fodder；” the corporal said； pushing the rucksacks aside to clear a space as he
looked up at Larn with the glint of a smile in his red…rimmed eyes。 “Always good to see some new
grist for the mill。 Welcome to the 902nd Vardan； new fish。 Find yourself a chair。 You would like
some recaf？ I have some brewing。”
Turning to the battered pot of recaf perched precariously on a small hotplate beside him； the
corporal produced a pair of enamel cups and filled them to the brim with black steaming liquid。 He
noticed Larn staring darkly down at one of the rucksacks still left on the table。
“Here we go。 Two cups of Vladek’s special recaf； nice and hot；” the corporal said。 “Sadly； we
have to make do with a ground…up concoction of local roots and tubers rather than the real thing。
Even the Emperor himself would be hard pressed to find any real recaf in this hellhole； and we all
know he can work miracles。 To give it a bit more kick I mix in a tenth of a dose of powdered stimms
which； incidentally； works wonders for the flavour。 But I see you seem to be interested in one of my
latest acquisitions； new fish。 Though； from the expression on your face； I have a feeling you’re not
about to make me an offer。”
“This rucksack；” Larn said； feeling dead inside as he looked at the words Jumael 14th stamped
on the side。 “It could have belonged to one of my friends。”
“I wouldn’t be surprised；” Vladek said； then gestured at the pile of rucksacks lying on the floor
beside him。 “If not this one； then perhaps one of these other packs did。 So？ What of it？ It is not as
though this equipment is likely to be of help to its previous owners anymore。 While it could mean
the difference between life and death for someone still living on the line。 It is a simple matter of the
fair and logical distribution of resources； new fish。 Which； in this case； means that the living get to
keep the things the dead no longer have any use for。 Besides； if I hadn’t had the foresight to liberate
these packs from the bodies of the dead； someone else would have。 You would have preferred I had
45
let the militia auxiliaries get them so they could make us trade for the contents？ This is Broucheroc；
new fish。 Forget all that nine…tenths rubbish。 Here； possession is the whole of the law。”
“And if I was killed？” said Larn； angrily。 “Would you loot my body as well？”
“In a heartbeat； new fish。 Your lasgun； your bayonet； your pack； your boots； not to mention
whatever medical supplies the esteemed Svenk was kind enough to leave you with。 Anything that
might be of use to us。 But you needn’t feel so put upon。 It is the same for everyone here； myself
included。 If I am killed tomorrow； I should expect to have my equipment stripped and re…allocated
before my body even goes cold。”
“Not much likelihood of that happening；” Larn spat。 “Not with you sitting warm and safe in here
in this dugout while outside good men are dying！”
“Good men？” Vladek said； his voice low with menace as the warm facade of moments earlier
abruptly faded。 “Don’t talk to me about good men dying； new fish。 In ten years in this stinking
cesspit I’ve seen men — good and bad — die by their thousands。 Some of them were friends of
mine。 Others weren’t。 But any one of them was worth more than you and all your idiot recruit
friends put together。 You think just because I’m sitting here I don’t know what it is to fight？ I was
killing the Emperor’s enemies when you were still sucking greedily at your mother’s teat。 How else
do you think I ended up with a leg like this？”
Taking an enormous combat knife from the table before him Vladek smacked it down against
his left leg for emphasis； the flat of the blade making a dull metallic noise through his trouser leg as
it struck his knee。
“You have an augmetic leg？” Larn said； shocked。
“Augmetic？ Phah。 The chance would be a fine thing！ Along with everything else bionics are in
short supply hereabouts。 This is a Mark 3 Non…Motive Prosthetic； Left Leg Model。 I had to barter
the salvaged parts from a knocked…out sentinel for it； never mind what it cost me to get the damned
apothecary to fit it。 Now； I think it’s time you sat down and stopped your mewling； new fish。 Before
I become so offended at your big mouth and flagrant disregard for my hospitality that I waste this
good recaf by throwing it in your stupid snot…nosed face。”
Hearing someone laugh in another part of the dugout； Larn suddenly realised the other Vardans
must have heard every word Vladek had said to him。 His face burning with shame and
embarrassment Larn took a chair and sat opposite the corporal with eyes lowered； unwilling to meet
the other man’s gaze for fear his cheeks were still flaring scarlet。
“Drink your recaf； new fish；” the corporal said； the storm of his anger passing as abruptly as it
had started。 “We will begin again； you and I。 Wipe the slate clean。 I know it has been a hard day for
you after all； and so I am willing to make allowances。 It is not every day that a Guardsman finds he
has been dropped on the wrong planet。”
“You know about that？” Larn said； stunned。 “Did one of the men I was in the trench with tell
you？ Repzik said—”
“Repzik is dead； new fish；” Vladek said。 “He died in the last attack。 We talked about good men？
Well； Repzik was one of the best。 I knew him nearly twenty years； all told。 From back on Vardan；
even before we were drafted into the Guard together。 The parts from the sentinel I used to buy this
leg？ It was Repzik who went into no…man’s land to get them for me。 Like I said； a good man。 But
no； to answer your question； it wasn’t Repzik who told me about your misfortune。 It was Kell。
Though by then I had heard about it from other sources anyway。”
“Other sources？ Who？”
The Navy。 About half an hour ago Sector Command forwarded us a message from an orbiting
troopship； requesting that we inform the Guard company they’d just dropped that this planet wasn’t
in fact Seltura VII。 Apparently they forgot to tell you this； what with all the excitement of the drop
and so forth。 A regrettable oversight caused by a temporary failure in the lines of communication。
Those were their exact words I believe。 A S。N。A。F。U。； as we call such things in these parts。”
“A S。N。A。F。U。？”
46
“Situation Normal All Fouled Up。 An apt and well…used acronym here in Broucheroc。 Though
you can substitute other words for fouled if you so desire。”
“But if they have realised their mistake； does that mean I am being reassigned？” Larn asked； his
heart grown suddenly hopeful。
“No； new fish。 Frankly； the fact the troopship chose to relay the news of your company’s
predicament at all was more by the way of an afterthought。 The main purpose of their message was
to demand to know what the hell we had done with their lander。 I am told their response when they
heard the lander had been shot down and would not be returning was unrepeatable。 By now； they are
likely already underway again and far from this planet。”
“So； I am stuck here；” Larn said glumly。
“You and the rest of us； new fish；” Vladek said； bending forward to delve through a boxful of
grey…black coats sitting under the table。 “Now； drink your recaf and we will see about getting you
sorted。 A new greatcoat in urban camouflage pattern would seem as good a place to start as any。 It
will help you blend in and make you less of a target； not to mention keeping you warm。 This time of
year it’s cold enough to have a man passing ice cubes every time he voids his bladder。 I have one
here that should fit you perfectly； give or take。 No need to worry too much about the blood on the
lapels。 I am sure you will find it brushes off easily enough once it has had time to dry。”
Ten minutes later； courtesy of Corporal Vladek’s scavenged stores； Larn found himself the new
owner of a greatcoat； a pair of woollen gloves；