it is better just to have faith。”
“Faith？” Larn asked。 “You mean in the Emperor？”
“Yes。 No。 Perhaps；” Bulaven said； his words growing as slow and thoughtful as his expression。
“I don’t know； new fish。 I used to believe in so many things back when I first became a Guardsman。
I believed in the generals。 I believed in the commissars。 Most of all； I believed in the Emperor。 Now；
I certainly don’t believe in the first two anymore。 And as for the Emperor？ Sometimes it is hard to
see His grace among all this carnage。 But a man must have faith in something。 And so； yes； I still
believe in the Emperor。 I believe in Him。 And I believe in Sergeant Chelkar。 Those are the two
articles of my faith； such as they are。”
“But there is something else； new fish；” he continued。 “Something just as important as faith。
Hope。 Davir is wrong about that； you see。 A man must have hope； or he might as well not be alive。 It
is as important as the air we breathe。 So； no matter how bad things get； new fish — no matter how
bleak they seem — you must remember not to give up hope。 Trust me； if you can hold on to your
hope； everything will be all right。”
With that； Bulaven fell silent again and Larn found himself remembering his talk with his father
in the farmhouse cellar on his last night at home。 Trust to the Emperor； his father had told him then。
And； now； Bulaven had told him to trust to hope。 Though in his heart he knew them both to be good
pieces of advice； as he looked out at the desolate and foreboding landscape around him they seemed
of little comfort。
A single shot rang out； the sound of it unnaturally loud after the silence。 Acting on reflex Larn
jumped back from the firing step in search of cover； only to fall backwards into the trench to land on
top of Davir； causing the stocky runt to awaken in a flurry of profanities。
“Marshal Kerchan’s bloody arse！” Davir cursed as he pushed Larn away。 “Can’t a man get any
sleep around here without some idiot jumping on top of him with two boots first！ What； you have
mistaken me for your mother； new fish； and you wanted a cuddle？ Get the hell off me！”
“There was a shot； Davir；” Bulaven said； still standing on the firing step； head crouched to peer
cautiously over the trench parapet。 “From out in no…man’s land。 A sniper； I think。 That is what the
new fish was reacting to。”
60
“He can react to it all he wants so long as he doesn’t keep leaping on me；” Davir said； grabbing
his lasgun and stepping up to the firing step beside Bulaven to gaze wolfishly into no…man’s land。
“So。 A sniper； eh？ Scholar； hand me your field glasses and we will see if we can find him。”
Soon； Scholar and Zeebers had joined Davir and Bulaven on the firing step。 Then； handing the
field glasses to Davir； Scholar turned to look over his shoulder at Larn standing at the bottom of the
trench behind him。
“You should come up and watch this； new fish；” Scholar said。 “It is important you learn how to
deal with a sniper。”
Taking his place on the step next to Scholar； Larn watched as the other men stared intently into
no…man’s land； scanning for anything out of place。 Until； indicating a shell crater perhaps three
hundred metres away from their trench； Davir’s wolfish smile became a broad grin of delight。
“There；” he said。 “I see him。 Keep your heads down — the little gretch bastard is already
looking for his next shot。 He’s not the brightest of sparks； however。 He may have painted himself
grey to blend in with the mud； but apparently； nobody told him a sniper’s not supposed to fire twice
from the same position。”
As though in response another shot rang out； raising a clod of earth as the bullet struck the
ground three metres to the left of the trench。
“Ha！ He’s not much a shot either；” Davir said； handing the field glasses to Bulaven beside him。
“Really； I think we should consider sending a letter of complaint to the orks about the quality of the
gretchin they choose for sniper duty。 This one is so poor a marksman； killing him seems almost a
waste of a lasblast。”
“It is another one of the hazards here； new fish；” Scholar said to Larn。 “Every now and again the
orks will equip a particularly level…headed gretchin with a long rifle and send him out into no…man’s
land to act as a sniper。 Of course； gretchin are hardly renowned for their marksmanship； so mostly
they are just a nuisance。 But we have to take them out； all the same。 Which unfortunately means that
one of us here will have to act as bait。”
“I vote for the new fish；” Zeebers said； sneering at him。 “He is expendable； after all； and you
never known when a gretch might get lucky。”
“Very kind of you to volunteer him；” Davir said； his las…gun at his shoulder as he sighted in on
the shell crater。 “Especially since； if memory serves； it is actually your turn to act as sniper bait。
Now shut your stinkhole and get out there。 And make sure you give the gretch plenty of opportunity
to shoot at you。 I want a clear view of him so I can be sure of a clean kill。”
Muttering darkly under his breath； Zeebers grabbed his lasgun and put his hands on the top of
the trench wall to the side of him。 Then； giving Larn a last poisonous glare； he pulled himself up out
of the trench and jumped into the open。 The moment his feet hit the ground he was off and running；
zigzagging with his body half…crouched as he sprinted across open ground to the next nearest firing
trench and threw himself inside to safety。
“No；” said Davir； still peering through his sights towards the shell crater。 “He is still in cover。
Maybe our friend is smarter than we think。 Or perhaps he simply finds Zeebers to be a rather
scrawny and uninspiring target。 Either way； I haven’t got a shot yet。”
“Again； Zeebers！” Scholar yelled； waving toward the next trench。
Discontent clearly visible on every line of his face even from a distance； Zeebers leapt from the
trench again and ran zigzag once more toward the next trench in line。
“He’s moving；” Bulaven said； gazing through the field glasses towards the crater。 “Looks like
he’s taken the bait。”
“Quiet；” Davir hissed。 “You are putting me off。” Then； exhaling slowly； he pulled the trigger；
producing a single sharp crack as the lasgun fired。
“You got him！” Bulaven said； passing the field glasses to Larn with a smile of exultation。 “Look；
new fish。 You see that？ He got him。”
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“Of course I got him；” Davir said。 Then； as he clicked the firing control switch on his lasgun to
safe； the wolfish smile returned。 “Though it was a remarkably fine shot； even if I do say so myself。”
Gazing through the field glasses Larn looked toward the shell crater； at first unable to distinguish
any sign of the gretchin in the grey landscape。 Then； he saw it： a small red stain lying across a grey
rock at the lip of the crater。 Abruptly； adjusting the magnification of the field glasses to take a closer
look； Larn realised he had been mistaken。 What he thought was a rock was in fact the gretchin’s
head； the red stain being the contents of the creature’s brains as they oozed through the hole in its
ruptured skull and dribbled towards the ground。 The creature was dead； the only sign of its passing a
smear of red against the all…encompassing greyness of the world around it。 A bright splash of colour
in the midst of a wasteland。
“Did you see how Zeebers did it； new fish？” Bulaven asked him。 “Did you see how he kept
crouched and ran zigzag from one trench to the next； so he wouldn’t give the gretch too much of a
target？”
“Yes； I saw it；” Larn said； sensing some unwelcome portent in the concern evident in the big
man’s manner。 It was almost as though Bulaven was warning him about something。 “But； why do
you ask？”
“Why do you think； new fish？” Davir grunted。 “Because； now Zeebers has been kind enough to
show you how it is done； next time we have a sniper it is your turn to act as bait。”
62
CHAPTER TEN
16：33 hours Central Broucheroc Time
A Daily Dose of Hell — Further Musings on the Frontline — Friendly Fire — Intimations of an
Unwelcome Burial — Another Consultation with Medical Officer Svenk — Corporal Grishen and
Certain Failures in Communications — Sergeant Chelkar Finds a Way to Make his Point
“Battery； make ready！” he heard Sergeant Dumat’s voice shouting in his earpiece。 “Gun crews
remove camo…covers and make ready to open the breech！”
As though an army of quiescent insects had been provoked into action； in an instant the artillery
park became a nest of activity。 Everywhere； gun crews rushed to their posts to pull away
camouflaged tarpaulins and make ready for firing。 Watching as the camo…covers were discarded to
reveal the huge and gleaming bores of the dozen Hellbreaker class cannons under his command；
Captain Alvard Valerius Meran allowed himself a moment of pleasure as he saw the extra firing
drills he had ordered for his men had worked。 There was no sign of slackness； ill discipline or
confusion in the workings of the gun crews。 The entire battery operated with all the smooth
efficiency of a single； finely tuned； well…oiled machine。
“Load ordnance。” Sergeant Dumat yelled； the strident tones of the command carried to the ears
of every man in the battery through the comm…beads inside the ear…protectors they wore to protect
them from the sound of their guns。 “High explosive rounds。”
Standing in the shadow of the burnt…out building that served as his de facto headquarters；
Captain Meran watched the four…man loading teams attached to each gun crew as they hurried to
disappear into the tarpaulin…covered ammunition stacks beside each gun。 A moment later they
emerged once more； each loading team gently cradling the shining and deadly weight of a metre
long high explosive shell between them。 Then； carrying them to their guns； the loaders lifted their
shells into the open breeches for the other members of the guns crews to ram them home。
“Load propellant。”
Again； delighting at every well…trained movement and flawless action； Meran watched as the
loading teams returned to the stacks to fetch the heavy barrel…sized cylindrical sacks of cordite that
served as propellant for the cannons。 Grunting under the weight； taking e