This story is an unofficial story based, without permission, on the Warhammer/Warhammer 40,000 intellectual property owned by Games Workshop Ltd.
"Well, you're where you should be
All of the time, and when you're not, your with some underworld spy or the
Wife of a close friend, wife of a close friend, and you're so vain"
"How truly benevolent of the Emperor! To grant us an entire division with which to defend our humble hive! Delightful, delightful! I cannot tell you how happy I am to have you here, Lord-General!"
Governor Alphonso Gonsalves was not looking at Lord-General Julian Montego, who stood behind his desk, ramrod straight. Gonsalves was facing away from Montego, gazing out the glass wall of his office at the very top of New Gurgenstein's main tower. Outside, Imperial drop ships were busy at work, descending over the city and deploying troops from the 207th Kazarkanian across the great wall surrounding the city, into the streets, and even into the massive trench network that had been constructed outside, now replete with a series of electrified bunkers and defensive artillery with which to meet the Ork army when it came. The dropships looked almost graceful, silently (or at least it seemed silent, from the soundproofed office) and quickly going about the work of preparation. Preparation for the organized slaughter on a truly mass scale that defined life in the 41st millennium.
"Yes, quite. I can assure you that we will accomplish our mission as swiftly and efficiently as possible here on Hargon," Montego replied, rather coldly. He had little time for the faux niceties of a cheap politico such as the governor.
"Wonderful then. You have the complete cooperation of my military commanders. You might want to converse with General Flaviun. He commands my personal bodyguard unit. It is a regiment sized group of storm trooper-level soldiers. You may find their aid quite useful during the coming siege."
Montego paused. This was something he had not expected.
"Yes, Governor, of course. I will seek out the good general imminently. For now I must go and see to the emplacements of my position for the defense of your city. As for my troops, I have granted a number of them leave passes within the hive, as they are not needed immediately. I assume that is fine with you?"
"Oh yes, Lord-General of course, no problems, no problems. Every soldier needs to have a little fun from time to time, eh?" The governor winked slyly.
Montego smiled, and turned to leave the room. He was not amused, and he was quite sure that he trusted the Governor far less than he could throw him.
***
"TO THE EMPEROR, BOYS!"
"TO THE EMPEROR!" the cries returned.
Corporal Michael Callus grinned widely and chugged the blackened, thick, lager he had been using to toast with. He was an infantry solder in the third company, second battalion, first regiment, of the Kazarkanian 207th assault infantry division, and today was a good day, regardless of how bad tomorrow might be. They may have been told that, upon returning from Abaddon's Unlucky 13th, they were being thrown right back into the fray, this time against the Orks, but at least for now the Imperium was letting them have a few drinks in the meantime. Some of them anyways. Callus' company had been one of the very few lucky enough to receive leave passes, and life was good.
Callus sat back down at the table with his squad mates. Some of the boys, including the Sarge, had been killed on Cadia, which left Corporal Callus in command of his buddies. Namely, his PFC and best friend, Steve Haydn, his tech specialist, Omar Jackson, his heavy weapons man, Frankie "Ox" Zimmermann, his medic, Joe Brenner, and the nervous young com-operator, Milton McClellan. A mousy and red-haired lad of nineteen, McClellan was both the youngest and greenest of the crowd, a transfer from another squad. Ox was a big man, with a totally shaven had and huge muscles. Jackson possessed the even darker skin of Kazarkia's southern continents, sharp brown eyes, and a close cut buzz. Brenner was an older, more tired guy than the rest of the squad, at least forty with hair that was already starting to gray. Haydn was tall, well built, and confident, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and skin unusually pale for his home world, he was the poster-child Guardsman. As for Callus himself, he was muscular but wiry, with close cropped black hair and dark brown eyes that caught the gazes of many an attractive young lady.
And Callus was looking at one right now. A young blonde girl of about twenty, with a full red lips, a plunging neckline, and more than generous cleavage. Every girl in the place was eying a guardsman, in their well pressed gray and black uniforms, tight berets, and muscular, well built bodies, they were hardly the stuff of the local Penal Legion. But this one was looking right at Callus, and he was looking right back. Between shots, Steve leaned over and said under his breath;
"Whose your girl over there Mikie?"
"Cool your jets, Private I know what I'm doing."
Haydn chuckled, taking another swig of ale.
"Yea just like you knew exactly what you were doing when you charged that nest of 'gaunts on Tarflin IV?"
"I did know exactly what I was doing! We won the battle didn't we?"
"Sure, thanks to my heroic rescue of you."
"Oh yea, real heroic, you charged in after me and we were both about to get mauled when air support showed up. Not that that dame over there is anything like a nest of Tyranids."
"Excuse me? She's a woman, isn't she?"
"Good point."
Callus finished his beer and put it down.
"Well gents, it's been great talking to you, but I've places to see and people to do, so I'll have to excuse myself," Callus said with a smirk, getting out of his chair and strolling over to the bar.
"Well, hello there, excuse me if I seem forward, but I'm new in town, and I sure would like to know your name, Miss," Callus said, leaning against the bar with a raised eyebrow and his most charming smile. She smiled back.
"I'm Brandy, soldier. What's yours?
"I, Brandy, am Corporal Michael Callus, of the third company, second battalion, first regiment, 207th Kazarkanian assault infantry division. A genuine hero, as they say."
"Oh, a hero are you? Have you come to save me from the big bad Orks?" Brandy asked, with a chuckle and a smirk to match Callus' own.
"I do believe that's the mission statement."
"Now, as a soldier in the service of the Emperor, aren't you sworn to personal celibacy...corporal?" Brandy asked, running a finger down his chest.
"I suppose I am, technically. But to be honest, I've never been an overly religious man," Callus replied.
"Oh, well to tell the truth, I am a very religious girl, myself."
"Are you?"
"I am. In fact, I often sit down with my local preacher and get religion...all night long."
"Indeed? Well Brandy, I am sure your Preacher is a very nice man, but, I think that tonight I have a better idea..."
***
Michael Callus stirred and woke up. He was lying on a dirty old mattress in an under hive flat. He thankfully remembered how he had gotten from the makeshift barracks that he had been ordered to stay in. It wasn't that far. In any case, he was not due back until the afternoon. Brandy lay next to him, clothed in nothing but the white sheet that lay draped over her. Callus smiled, remembering how much he had enjoyed watching her undress herself. And how much he had enjoyed the rest of what followed. Brandy stirred, rolled over, and opened her eyes, looking at him. She grinned.
"Hey there, soldier."
Callus grinned back, leaned, in, and kissed her. His personal communicator was beeping, annoyingly. Reaching over for his pants, he picked it out of the pocket and checked his messages in text format.
"CHANGE OF PLANS. GET BACK HERE NOW. THEY WANT THE BATTALION ARRAYED IN PARADE FORMATION AT 11 SHARP. -HAYDN"
Suddenly, Callus' eyes were bugging out of his face.
"Gonna have to take a rain check on that breakfast, babe," he said hurriedly, kissing her on the cheek and leaping to his feet, pulling on his pants.
"What? Where the hell are you going?"
"Duty calls, babe!" Callus cried out, pulling on his dress jacket and beret and slamming the door shut behind him. He was off.
"YOU'RE A REAL rather unsavoury chap, what-ho old bean?!" was the last thing he heard Brandy say to him.
"Funny how most of my relationships end that way," Callus thought, as he began to run.
Hive World Terra