++ The enemy will give no quarter, therefore you shall give no quarter ++

Finn was out of bed before the klaxxon even went off. Injuries that he would have previously moaned about were now relegated to business as usual. He stretched and twisted, grunting as his back produced a satisfying ripple of clicks and cracks. Opening his locker door to grab his uniform he took the time to admire his new physique.

Weeks of hard training with a calorie-controlled diet and regular doses of low-grade steriods and stimulants had transformed his body beyond all recognition. There was not one ounce of wasted fat on his body and his latest medical had shown that he was down to three per cent body fat. Gone were the days of snacking at his desk, slobbing at home and eating convenience food.

There was aldready a buzz in the air as the rest of his dorm hastened to get dressed. Today they were going to find out their vehicle assignations and meet their commanders for the first time. The Elsimation Imperial Guard had three streams of recruits. The first and biggest was of the lower ranks up to Corporal. The second stream was for Sargeants and the third and smallest by far was that of the Officer's Corps.

With Sergeants making up the majority of vehicle commanders, this meant that for the first three weeks of training the recruits were kept completely separate. Because they were mechanised infantry the trained was split into infantry training - which they had now completed - and vehicle training, which they were now entering into.

The excitement in the air was palpable, finally they would be getting their hands on over [figure] tonnes of pure bestial metal. No more gruelling night marches with over one hundred pounds of kit on their backs, they were going to travel in style. Even their PDF instructors seemed to be a tad happier. This did not stop one of them from making Silex do ten laps of the parade ground with his rifle held above his head, but everyone agreed that they seemed to be a tad friendlier.

[check to see if they knew what regiment they were going to be in. if not, cover them getting their beret and badge]

'Troopers! Listen carefully. Your instructor will call your name and the designation number of your vehicle. When they do so, break ranks and double-time to your vehicle. You will meet your commander there.' This was the first time that they had seen, let alone heard, their commanding officer.

'Before they commence, I would like to congratulate you on completing your infantry training. I promise I won't get all sentimental on you,' he paused as a ripple of chuckles passed down the line, 'nor will I belittle your achievement. We are going to face SOME of the meanest xeno bastards in the universe. What they don't know is that we've made you THE meanest bastards in the universe!

Your PDF instructors will now pass out your regimental badges. Affix them to your crap-hats and wear them with pride. When you have completed your vehicle training you will be given your regimental beret and will truly be Imperial Guards! I salute you.' He snapped out a crisp salute which set his impressive rack of medals jangling.

There was a crash of boots as the recruits snapped to attention, slamming their boots to the ground and saluting the officer back. Palms towards the officer they held the salute for the required count of three before dropping their hands to the side. The PDF instructors then walked solemnly down the line handing out the regimental badges and shaking the hand of each and every one of them.

The instructors then started to call out the designations. Finn prayed to the Emperor that he, Kraiman and Silex would get the same designation. Silex had recently been promoted to Corporal which meant that he would be commanding the dismount section of his designated vehicle.

'Please Emperor, oh please, Emperor' he recited this time and time again as the ranks around him thinned and recruits made their way to the vehicles arrayed behind them.

'Singeorge, Kraiman, Silex. Vehicle designation Vir013.'

His heart leapt into his mouth as he turned ninety degrees to the right and then broke ranks. Looking at Kraiman and Silex he saw similar panic in their eyes.

'Did he just say fugging Vir? VIR? I think someone just killed my puppy.' Kraiman looked close to tears as they double-timed over.

Singeorge strained to see the commander stood by their vehicle but his view was blocked by the other crews. Finally they reached their vehicle. The commander was stood with his back to them, looking at a track link.

'Sergeant, Driver Singeorge, Gunner Kraiman and Dismount Commander Silex reporting for duty.' Within the heirarchy of the Elsimation Mechanised Infantry the command heirarachy of a vehicle was Vehicle Commander, then driver, then gunner and finally dismount commander. Unlike other units in the guard, they did not call their vehicle commander 'sir' or 'maam' unless they were Warrant Officer 1st class - such as Regimental Sargeant Majors - or fully commissioned officers of at least 2nd Lieutenant.

Ignavus Vir turned with a large smile on his face. He opened his arms wide, 'Boys! You wouldn't believe the strings I had to pull in order to get us all reunited! Come and meet the Lucky Lady!' he chuckled to himself, 'I thought that with a designation of zero thirteen that I had better come up with a good name.'

Singeorge hadn't felt such crushing disappointment since finding out that he was going to be called up. He doubted he could feel worse if someone proved that the Emperor didn't exist. Judging by the looks on their faces, Kraiman and Silex felt exactly the same. All the excitement they had felt about being introduced to their vehicle was gone.

===

'We're dead. I don't give a kakk what anyone says. We're dead. That bastard couldn't command a piss-up in a brewery. And what slit gave us the designation of zero thirteen? I'm surprised they didn't call it 'bullet magnet' as well!' Kraiman was well and truly worked up. He paced up and down the floor of the dorm whilst those who had been luckier with their assignments happily went over the events of the day.

After being introduced to their commanders and vehicles, they had then been introduced to their troop, platoon and company commanders and the command staff. Fortunately they had the good fortune of having some of the most experienced and respected commanders there were.

From there they had then gone for their first drive. During the infantry training they had also been in simulators for their respective trades and so the drive down to the range had gone smoothly, but the live firing had - for V013 - been disastrous.

Kraiman was one of the best shots in the regiment by far and showed a natural ability for laying the autocannon dead-on target. Unfortunately for him, Vir was a hesitant and panicky commander. His directions had confused Kraiman and so he had engaged targets that were outside of their designated lane and - even worse - engaged the one friendly target that had risen up. Every shot had been a dead-on kill each time but that counted for nothing when targets were left intact and friendlies left burning.

By the end of the exercise Vir had resorted to screaming over the intercom at Kraiman and punishing him with kicks to the back of the head every time he realised another mistake had been made. Laying the blame squarely at Kraiman's feet he had developed shoulders that were waterproof they were so slippy. This had result in Kraiman having one of the highest marksmanship scores in range history and the unenviable job of having to clean the whole troop's main weapons.

'I hate to say this but we have to give him a chance.' it was true, bile rose in Singeorge's throat at even saying the words, 'If we think negative, we're going to be negative. It will be a self-fulfilling prophecy.'

'What the warp are you talking about? Put kak in, get kak out? Fug off man. We're the laughing stock of the regiment and it's only day one! You wait until he gets us lost and blames you! Or sends the dismounts out under the tracks of another unit!'

Silex winced at the last. The death rate amongst dismounts was already high due to the fact that they often had to leave the comparative safety of their vehicles and storm enemy positions. This was compounded by the fact that if their commander ordered a stop and drop in the wrong place they would dismount, fan out, and be run over by other vehicles in the troop.

'All I'm saying is we need to give Vir a chance, because if we don't we will be dead. We need to be the best we can to make sure we get back to the girls.'

=======

Two weeks in and Vir had not only failed to improve, he had taken a turn for the worst. His map-reading skills were fine when they were in a class-room environment, but as soon as they were in a moving vehicle he could not tell up from down, left from right.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Time and time again V013 would either turn up late or turn up at the wrong place. His target designation was still off and Kraiman had started to tune out his instructions entirely and engage targets at will. Silex and the dismounts had been forced on a number of occasions to cover far too much ground in an assault. On exercise this was not too bad, but in a real assault they needed to be dropped as closely to their objective as possible. Just ten metres could make all the difference and in one spectacularly awful drop the dismounts had been left one hundred metres from their objective and eliminated in under three seconds by the training servitors.

Thoroughly demoralised the crew had watched Vir degenerate from mere imcompetency through to being a drunk and a stim addict.

Convinced that Singeorge wanted his position, he had made it his mission to make Singeorge's life sheer hell. Amazingly, considering his incompetence at everything else, he had been very successful at accomplishing this. Singeorge had lost count of the number of times he had been on charges and had given up seeing a full pay chit due to the number of fines he had received for his infractions. Things had got so bad that he had even caught the eye of the Regimental Commissar, a fatherly-looking figure of a man who had said in his fatherly voice 'Son, if you don't improve soon I'll have you mind-wiped and stuck into a servitor role before you can plead for help.' That had been a particuarly BAD day for Singeorge.

Now they were grinding their way through the poetically named 'Dingly Dell', a small wood that was in the lee of the more machismally named 'Hill 236'. This was their first live-fire exercise and nerves were at an all time high. Already they had seen the effects of an artillery strike on their first objective - which they had miracurously found first time, on time - and now they were following a rolling barrage towards their second objective. In the briefing they had been told that they were facing a full company of target-servitors. Obviously the servitors would not be firing live rounds but they would be firing simslugs from their support weapons and low-strength las bolts from their rifles. The risk of injury was high and the adrenalin was flowing as shrapnel from the barrage in front of them pinged off the hull.

'Remember Men', Singeorge hated the fact that he could always hear the capital on men, it was one of Vir's favourite sayings and it drove them mad, 'as soon as we hit the marker the dismounts will disembark and peel to the left and assault the position in front. As they do so we will continue to roll forward and provide cover with smoke and autocannon. 'The marker he was referring to was a glowing tracer round designed with a long burn time and it drew closer with every second.

Singeorge nursed the Chimera forward, trying to keep pace with the barrage whilst ensuring that the didn't get too close. Every time shrapnel pinged off of the hull it drew a wince.

All too quickly they reached the market, just as the barrage stopped. Vir hammered his fist down onto the smoke grenade release button, laying down a thick barrier of smoke.

'Go, go, go!' Silex lead his dismounts out of the back of the carrier peeling to the RIGHT as per their briefing and NOT as Vir thought they should. Rifle butts tucked into their shoulders they advanced in a wedge formation, engaging any target they could glimpse.

A trooper took a burst of las bolts to the chest and fell screaming to the floor. Quickly Silex called for a medic and urged his section on. A heavy bolter opened fire and another trooper went down, the yellow bone of her shin bursting through the skin. Her screams could be heard even above the cacaphony of noise.

'Kak! Get down people! Suppressing fire!' Silex looked to his left and saw that the dismounts of zero twelve were pushing forward.

A glance to his right showed that the troopers of zero fourteen were similarly pinned. To make matters worse, the beacon on top of their carrier was flashing to indicate a kill.

Shadowy figures started to emerge from the smoke and he realised that the servitors were launching a small counter-attack, taking advantage of the smoke to get close in. As they did so their fire got more and more accurate, scything down troopers from zero fourteen.

'Delta zero one three to delta zero one two.' Silex had to shout as he used his bead.

'Delta zero one two go.' The noise was incredible, he barely heard the acknowledgement, even though the squad was only fifty metres to his left.

'Delta zero one three. Heavy resistance to our twelve. Twenty per cent casualties. Delta zero one four ineffective. Request you adjust advance to ninety degrees and flank resistance. Over.' Ineffective was a cold word to use. The dismounts from zero one four were not ineffective, they had been wiped out to the man. Their unconscious bodies rocked with further impacts as the servitors raked fire across them to make sure they weren't getting up.

'Delta zero one two. Acknowledged. Altering advance.'

Kraiman was having the time of his life. For once he was able to fire upon real moving targets that reacted the way they should when shot. He had already reduced the sand-bag bunker to their front to wreckage, destroying the servitors that were manning the heavy bolter within and was busy trying to track the targets in the smoke that were causing Silex so much trouble.

Silex's voice sounded tinny as it came out of his headphones, 'Carrier zero one three, Watch out for delta zero one two, they're swinging across our front.'

'Roger Delta zero one two,' another servitor was reduced to spare parts as it lumbered out of the thinning smoke. He spotted a number of shapes moving across their bow and tracked his fire to the right. A carrier lurched to a halt next to zero one four, clearly lost and late. It leant its fire power to his and they started to chew a section of trench to pieces. Kraiman commed them to make sure they were aware of the infantry moving from the left. Receiving an acknowledgement he rotated the turret even further to the right.

'What the fug are you doing Kraiman! Targets twelve o'clock. Engage!' Vir punctuated his order with a kick to the back of Kraiman's head, forcing his eye hard onto the sight.

'Negative, they're friendlies commander, engaging entrenchments to two o'clock.' He could barely see due to the tears the blow had drawn and he knew that he was going to have one hell of a shiner over the next couple of days.

'Don't fugging back chat me you ignorant slit! The carrier to the right is enaging them and you will too!'

Kraiman took a quick look out of his right-hand vision slit and then ducked back onto the scope. From what he could see the new comer was engaging the same target as he was. It was just the angle that made it look as though they were engaging to his front.

'Negative commander. Carrier is engaging same target as me.'

A scream of pure and incoherent rage nearly burst his eardrums and kick after kick started to rain down on his shoulders. He twisted round and saw that Vir was literally foaming at the mouth, 'Don't try to make me look stupid you low born ape! I know what you're doing and you won't succeed. I'm the commander. Me. You won't make me look stupid again! Every failure has been your fault, yours and your friend's. Overriding main gun.'

Kraiman watched in horror as Vir took control of the gun and rotated the turret back to the left. Delta zero one two had been forced to go to ground just in front of them as they engaged the servitors pinning Silex down. The magazine on the gun cycled and a round dropped into the chamber.

Suddenly delta zero one two started to move again, surging forward as they succeeded in eliminating a particularly stubborn servitor.

'Diiieeeeeeeee,' Vir was completely lost in his own world, loosing a three round burst directly at the troopers. The first two missed, but the last struck the tail-end trooper. One second Kraiman was looking at a man he had known as Jonas Nokeene and the next he was looking at a number of body parts as the high-explosive round tore him apart.

All hell broke loose over the comms-net as the casualty chip Nokeene was wearing registered his sudden demise. The servitors immediately powered down and specially installed chips on the carriers set the guns to safe. In less than a couple of seconds, the din of battle was replaced by virtual silence.

'What the fug have you done? What the FUG have you done!' Kraiman surged out of his seat and lunged for Vir. A kick to his face forced him back down and the barrel of Vir's pistol kept him there.

'I've done nothing,' Vir hissed sending speckles of spit flying, 'nothing. Do you understand? The carrier to the right, the one that was lost, THEY have just killed a member of delta zero one two. And if you try to say anything else I will fugging well kill you before I'm arrested. Do you understand?

Kraiman stared into Vir's eyes. The pupils were dilated to the point of making up the entirety of his eyes and he shuddered with terror at the knowledge that Vir would follow through with his threat there and then, most likely blaming him for the mistake.

Vir's next words confirmed this. 'Judging by your record on the range, people will be all too ready to put this down to your crass incompetency. The crows will feast on your flesh. Do you understand?'

To his everlasting shame Kraiman nodded. 'Yes'.

With a satisfied grunt Vir popped the commander's hatch and started to lever himself out of his chair, 'Talking of crows, here's one now.'

Kraiman popped his hatch and pulled himself out, sitting on the turret. Singeorge was already out and he sidled over.

The two of them watched as the Regimental Commissar - the Crow behind his back - arrived on scene. Vir immediately snapped to attention and started to speak earnestly to the Crow. He pointed at zero one four and then at the carrier - zero two zero - which had turned up out of position.

Kraiman hadn't noticed until but Vir had cunningly traversed the turret back to the right, whereas the turret of zero two zero was still pointed to the left, directly at Nokeene's remains.

'We've got to say something. We can't let them take the blame,' Singeorge kept his voice as low as possible, barely moving his lips.

'You didn't see him Finn. He's fugging mad. He said he would blame me, and it's my word against a commander's. I wouldn't last five minutes. Oh kak.'

The Crow had obviously heard enough, the gunner of zero two zero was manhandled over to him. Sobbing he started to deny any guilt,

saying that Vir was lying, that he wasn't to blame. There was a sudden movement, a sharp crack, and the gunner dropped bonelessly to the floor. The Crow holstered the small calibre pistol he had drawn.

Vir slowly turned and stared at his crew, a sickening smirk on his face as he made his way over.

'You owe me on Kraiman. The Crow was convinced that you'd killed that dumb kak Nokeene. Lucky for you I persuaded him otherwise. Orders are to return to base. Don't spare the equini Singeorge, I need a drink and a smoke.' Too busy clambering back into the turret he missed the look Kraiman and Singeorge shared.