front of him。
“It’s about time；” Hallan said。 “I swear my stomach’s so empty I was starting to think my
throat’d been cut。” Then； as Vorrans arrived at the table and began to hand out the mess trays：
“Zell’s tears； what took you so long； Vors？ This food is barely warm！”
“It’s not my fault the mess line is so crowded this time of day； Hals Vorrans said。 “Besides；
yesterday when it was your turn at mess duty I don’t remember you getting the food here any faster。
And anyway； remember what you said then？ Your exact words were ‘It’s not like this slop tastes
any better hot。’ That’s what you said。”
“Excuses； excuses；” Hallan replied； before turning his attention fully to the contents of his mess
tray。 “Though I was right enough about this slop。 Back home we wouldn’t have fed this to the grox。
Still it fills a hole； I suppose。”
“Fills a hole is right；” Jenks said； pulling a spoon from his mess kit and using it to prod
suspiciously at the sticky grey stew in his own mess tray。 “You should keep back some of this and
take it into battle with you； Hals。
“Anybody gets wounded you can use this stuff to glue them back together。”
“I try to pretend to myself it’s alpaca stew；” Larn said。 “You know； like they make back home。”
“And does that work； Larnie？” Jenks said。 “Does it make it taste any better？”
“Not so far；” Larn admitted with a shrug。
“What amazes me；” said Vorrans； “is here we are； surrounded by wheat fields on every side in
one of the most productive farming regions on the entire planet。 Yet； every day； instead of giving us
real food they give us this reconstituted swill。 If you ask me； it makes no sense。”
“Well； that’s your mistake right there； Vors；” Jenks said。 “Asking questions。 Don’t you
remember the big speech Colonel Stronhim gave us on the first day of induction？”
“Men of the Jumael 14th；” Hallan said； his voice taking on a false gravity as he mocked the stern
patrician tones of their regimental commander。 “In the months and years to come you will find
yourselves assailed by a thousand questions every time you are dispatched to a new theatre of
operations。 You will ask yourselves where you are going； how long will it take to get there； what
will the conditions be like when you arrive。 You must put such things from your mind。 The Guard’s
divinely ordained command structure will tell you what you need to know； when you need to know
it。 Always remember； there is no place in a Guardsman’s mind for questions。 Only obedience！”
“That was really good； Hals；” Larn said。 “You captured the old man’s voice perfectly。”
“Well； I’ve been practising；” Hallan said； delighted。 “Though I tell you there are only two
questions I want answered： where are they sending us for our first posting； and when is it going to
happen。”
“I wouldn’t hold your breathy on that count； Hals；” Jenks said。 “I wouldn’t expect them to tell us
anything of the sort until they’re good and ready。 And anyway； even if they have decided where and
when we’re going； you can be sure we’ll be the last to know about it。”
17
CHAPTER THREE
15：17 hours Imperial Standard Time
（Empyreal Variance Revised Approximation）
Answers in the Briefing Room — Warp Sickness and the Rhythms of Sleep — On the Care and
Handling of Imaginary Ordnance
“We should be there in three weeks； maybe four；” the naval officer said； standing illuminated in the
glow of the star chart on the pict…display behind him。 “Though given the vagaries of warp travel and
the relativity of time in the Empyrean； you should understand that giving anything even resembling
a definite answer in this regard is entirely out of the question。 Furthermore； there is always the
possibility that what may seem like three weeks to us may prove to have been a somewhat longer
period once we emerge from the warp。 As I say； time is relative in the Empyrean。”
The officer droned on； his sentences strewn with terms like “trans…temporal fluidity”； “real…space
eddies”； and a dozen other similarly indecipherable phrases。
Sitting in the confines of a briefing room already made cramped and stifling by the presence of
an entire company of Guardsmen crammed inside it； Larn found himself forced to suppress a sudden
yawn。 Two months had gone by since the day he had first passed muster on the parade ground； and
for the last four weeks of that period Larn’s regiment had been billeted on an Imperial troopship en
route to what promised to be their first campaign。 Four weeks； and today at last their superiors had
finally decided to tell them where in hell it was they would be going。
“Seltura VII； gentlemen；” Lieutenant Vinters the company commander said； stepping forward to
address his men as the naval part of the briefing ended。 “That’s where we are going。 And that is
where you will get your first chance to serve your immortal Emperor。”
Behind the lieutenant the image on the pict…display abruptly changed； the naval star chart giving
way to a static image of a round blue world set against the blackness of space。 With it there was a
stirring in the room as； almost as one； two hundred Guardsmen leaned forward from their lines of
metal chairs for a better view。 Then； satisfied he had their attention； Lieutenant Vinters used the
remote device in his hand to change the pict…display once more； revealing an aerial view of a forest
landscape。
“Seltura VII is heavily forested；” Vinters continued。 “Over eighty per cent of the planet’s
landmass is covered in temperate rain forest。 The climate is mild — not unlike that back on Jumael
IV； I’m told — though with something like twice the mean average rainfall per annum。 It should be
about early summer by the time we arrive to make planetfall； so you can expect the weather to be
hot and wet。”
Finding himself yawning once more； Larn hurriedly raised his hand to cover his mouth。 Even
travelling through the depths of the void； Sergeant Ferres had not let up on them。 If anything； Ferres’
daily training regime since they had left their homeworld was harder than it had been back on
Jumael IV； the only difference being they did their training now in one of the troopship’s loading
bays while sardonic naval crewmen paused in their own duties to watch them with sneering smiles。
Every day； Ferres had had them running training exercises from breakfast to lights out。 It was not
just the effect of today’s exertions that had left Larn feeling so exhausted。
They had been on the troopship nearly a month now； jumping in and out of the Immaterium for a
few days’ warp travel here； a few days there。 Each time； during every night they spent in the warp；
18
Larn had been troubled by terrible nightmares。 In his dreams he saw alien landscapes populated with
strange and horrific creatures — dreams that had him waking in a cold sweat in his bunk every
night； his heart heavy with a sickening and nameless dread。 Warp sickness； the ship apothecary had
called it when half of the regiment had reported for sick duty after their first night in the warp。 You
will get used to it in time。 For Larn； the pills the apothecary had given him to help him sleep had
proven of little use。 He had not had a decent night’s sleep in weeks。 While； no matter how many
pills he took； every night he spent in the warp seemed just as bad as the first。
“Obviously； for reasons of secrecy； there is a limit to the details I can give you at this stage as to
the specific operational aspects of our mission on Seltura VII；” Lieutenant Vinters said。 “What I can
tell you is that we have been sent to help suppress a mutiny among elements of the local PDF and
restore the legitimate government to power。 If Intelligence is to be believed we can expect heavy
resistance on the part of rebels。 We are the Imperial Guard； gentlemen。 We will prevail。 Of course；
we may take it for granted we are likely to experience some hardships at first — not least in matters
of acclimatisation to local conditions。”
Acclimatisation； thought Larn； that’s half my problem。 The warp sickness is bad enough but it
feels to me like it should have been lights out hours ago。 Larn knew that in order to acclimatise their
body clocks to the thirty…hour day/night cycle of their destination world； the light…cycle in the parts
of the ship inhabited by his regiment had been altered accordingly。 Even after weeks now of living
by the new cycle； Larn was still finding it difficult to adjust。 He felt time…lagged； in the grip of
constant fatigue； as though his body was wondering why it was still awake。 As hard as the warp
sickness was to endure； Larn found the strange sleep rhythms he was now forced to live by made his
sleeplessness infinitely worse。
“But as I say； gentlemen；” Vinters said； “we are Guardsmen and we will prevail。 I know this is
to be your first campaign。 Be assured； your commanders have faith in you all the same。 Now； I think
that covers everything。 If you have any questions you may refer them to your sergeants。”
With that； the lieutenant pressed the remote device once more； causing the image on the pictdisplay
to fade away to darkness as the assembled Guardsmen rose and filed silently from the room。
Though as Larn walked away with the others； he found himself wondering how well Lieutenant
Vinters really knew the character of the men under his command。
For； from among all the men in the company； who in their right mind would ever dare refer a
question to Sergeant Ferres？
“You call yourselves soldiers？” Sergeant Ferres yelled； his voice echoing stridently off the bulkhead
walls of the loading bay。 “I’ve seen higher lifeforms sticking to my father’s arse after his ablutions。
Now； attack that blockhouse like you mean it or I’ll make the whole lot of you sorry you ever
crawled from your inbred mothers’ idiot wombs！”
Five hours had passed since the briefing。 Five hours which Larn had spent in one of the
troopship’s loading bays with the rest of his platoon； experiencing the latest training regime to issue
from the febrile mind of Sergeant Ferres。 All around them rectangular shapes had been painted on
the metal floor。 Shapes representing the imaginary outlines of bunkers； fixed emplacements； and
block