Trooper Jarek Venn
By the time Trooper Jarek Venn understood that the gate was lost, everyone senior enough to order a retreat was already dead.
The eastern gatehouse of Kasr Kraf had been under siege for more than a month.
More than a thousand Cadian soldiers had fought tooth and nail to hold it. They had defended every tower, battlement, staircase, and tunnel against one assault after another. Ground lost during the night was reclaimed by morning, only to be buried beneath fresh bodies before the day was over.
The bombardment had never truly stopped. During the last three days, it had become ceaseless.
Now its towers had been reduced to broken teeth, its battlements were buried beneath rubble, and the great adamantium doors no longer met in the middle. Twisted metal and the remains of a Leman Russ had been pushed into the opening to form a final barricade.
It was not enough.
Something struck the other side.
The wrecked tank shifted half a metre toward the defenders. Dust fell from the ceiling, covering Jarek's helmet and shoulders in pale grey powder.
Another impact followed.
The tank moved again.
"Brace it!" Sergeant Malk shouted.
The few soldiers still capable of moving threw themselves against the barricade. Jarek pressed his shoulder against the scorched hull beside them. The metal was hot enough to burn through his uniform, but he pushed harder.
Outside, thousands of voices chanted the same name.
Abaddon.
Abaddon.
Abaddon.
The name rolled through the ruins with the rhythm of artillery fire.
Jarek had been taught about the Despoiler before he had been old enough to carry a lasgun. Every Cadian child knew the enemy waiting beyond their world.
They learned to identify the markings of the Traitor Legions alongside their letters and numbers. They learned how to field-strip a rifle before learning how to drive.
Cadia had stood against the Eye of Terror for ten thousand years.
Now the Eye stared down upon them.
Purple lightning crawled across the sky beyond the gatehouse. The air tasted of blood and burning metal. Every shadow seemed to move when Jarek was not looking directly at it.
The barricade shuddered again.
A blade punched through the hull of the ruined tank.
It was too large to be carried by any mortal man. Symbols carved into its black surface burned with a dull crimson light. The weapon twisted, carving through the tank as though its armour were wet parchment.
"Back!" Sergeant Malk shouted.
The soldiers scattered.
The blade tore free. A clawed hand reached through the opening it had created and pulled. Metal screamed as the side of the tank was peeled away.
Jarek raised his lasgun.
A helmet appeared through the gap.
The warrior forcing his way inside stood more than twice Jarek's size. Old black power armour encased his body, its surface marked by the golden Eye of Horus. Parchment, chains, and human skulls hung from his shoulders. Behind the red lenses of his helmet waited something that had not been human for a very long time.
"Traitor Astartes!" someone screamed.
The Cadians opened fire.
Las-bolts struck the warrior's breastplate and burst against his pauldrons. Some scorched the black paint. Others left shallow holes in the armour.
None stopped him.
The Black Legionnaire forced himself through the opening and swung his blade.
Three Cadians died before they could move.
Sergeant Malk charged. His power sword struck the traitor's side and cut through one of the tubes feeding its armour.
The Legionnaire looked down at him.
Malk managed to shout, "Cadia stands," before a backhanded blow threw him against the wall.
He did not rise.
Jarek fired at the damaged section of the traitor's armour. The other survivors followed his aim. Red beams struck the same point again and again until the Legionnaire staggered.
Corporal Ressa seized a fallen meltagun.
She fired from less than five metres away.
The blast turned the traitor's chest into molten metal. He remained upright for a moment, smoke rising from the hole burned through his body, and then collapsed onto the gatehouse floor.
No one celebrated.
Hands reached through the opening behind him.
They belonged to men and women dressed in rags, scraps of armour, and flayed human skin. Chaos cultists climbed over the dead Legionnaire, screaming praises to gods whose names hurt Jarek's ears.
The Cadians shot them as they entered.
The first rank fell. The second crawled across their bodies. Behind them came horned creatures with crimson skin and burning swords.
Beyond them were more.
There was no final rank waiting behind the smoke. Every daemon the Cadians killed was replaced by another, and then another after that. They had been pouring against the gate for a month, their numbers never appearing to lessen.
The daemons seemed endless.
Jarek had fought cultists before.
He had fought traitor soldiers and even seen a Heretic Astartes die beneath the guns of a battle tank.
He had never fought daemons.
The first Bloodletter moved through the gunfire with impossible speed. Las-bolts burned holes through its arms and chest, but it did not slow. It vaulted over the dead cultists and landed among the defenders.
Its blade passed through Corporal Ressa from shoulder to hip.
Jarek drove his bayonet into the creature's back. The metal sank between its ribs, releasing a burst of heat and the smell of rotting meat.
The daemon turned toward him.
Jarek pulled the trigger.
His lasgun fired while still buried inside its body. The Bloodletter convulsed as light burned through its chest. Jarek fired again and again until the creature collapsed into ash around his bayonet.
More daemons forced themselves through the barricade.
"Fall back!" a wounded vox-operator shouted. "The inner line needs more time!"
More than a thousand Cadians had stood at the eastern gate when the siege began. Fewer than sixty remained standing when the order to retreat finally came.
Within Jarek's section, only six were still alive.
They withdrew through the gatehouse passage, firing as they moved. The cultists pursued without caution, climbing across one another in their need to reach the defenders. Bloodletters followed them, their burning blades cutting down anyone who fell behind.
Jarek reached the entrance to the inner courtyard and looked beyond it.
Major Thern's soldiers were still building the defensive line. Heavy bolters were being dragged behind barricades. Wounded artillery crews carried ammunition by hand. Civilians filled the streets beyond them as priests and medicae workers tried to move them deeper into the citadel.
Children were still in the open.
The enemy would reach the courtyard long before the line was ready.
Jarek looked toward the ammunition recess built into the gatehouse wall.
Several crates remained stacked inside. Most contained lasgun charge packs and heavy-bolter belts. Two were filled with frag grenades. Behind them sat autocannon shells and a demolition charge intended to destroy the gate's opening mechanism if the fortress was ever captured.
Jarek stopped retreating.
"Go!" he shouted.
The vox-operator turned. Blood covered half his face.
"Venn?"
"Tell the major the gate is gone."
"He can see that for himself."
Jarek almost laughed.
"Then tell him I bought him another minute."
Understanding crossed the other soldier's face.
He hesitated before raising one hand in salute.
Jarek returned it.
Then he turned back toward the enemy.
The passage was filled with cultists. Daemons towered among them, their swords scraping against the stone walls. Beyond the ruined barricade, more Black Legionaries advanced through the smoke.
Jarek dropped behind the ammunition crates and checked his lasgun.
Nineteen shots remained.
He selected the nearest cultist and fired.
The man's head snapped backward.
Eighteen.
Jarek shifted his aim.
Seventeen.
Sixteen.
The enemy charged.
He fired carefully, killing those closest to the ammunition recess. Each body caused another cultist to stumble. Each stumble delayed the horde by a heartbeat.
Fifteen.
Fourteen.
Thirteen.
A Bloodletter leapt over the bodies.
Jarek fired twice into its face. The creature landed beside him, blind but still alive. Its sword struck his shoulder and cut through his armour.
Pain spread across his chest.
Jarek fell against the crates.
The daemon raised its weapon again.
He placed the muzzle of his lasgun beneath its jaw and fired.
The top of its skull disappeared.
His lasgun clicked empty.
Jarek let it fall.
The cultists slowed as they surrounded him. Some laughed. Others whispered prayers while the Bloodletters pushed through them.
One of the traitor Astartes entered the passage behind the horde. The warrior's armour was black and gold, but his helmet had been removed. His face was pale, stretched, and covered in ritual scars.
"You have lost, little soldier," the traitor said.
Jarek leaned against the ammunition crates and looked through the gatehouse entrance.
Above the burning city, he could still see a narrow piece of Cadia's violet sky.
He thought of the training fields outside Kasr Myrak. He thought of his mother correcting his stance the first time he held a rifle. He thought of his younger brother, who had joined the Interior Guard only six months before the invasion.
He wondered whether any of them were still alive.
Cadia had never promised its children that they would survive.
It had only taught them how to stand.
Jarek removed a frag grenade from his belt.
The traitor saw it.
His expression changed.
Jarek pulled the pin.
"Cadia stands."
The Black Legionnaire lunged toward him.
Jarek released the lever.
For one final moment, the gatehouse disappeared in white light.
The grenade ignited the open ammunition crates. Lasgun charge packs ruptured together. Heavy-bolter rounds cooked off inside their belts while the demolition charge buried behind them split apart.
The resulting explosion tore through the eastern gatehouse.
Cultists vanished within the fire. Bloodletters were ripped apart and hurled back into the Warp. The Black Legionnaire disappeared beneath hundreds of tonnes of collapsing stone.
Both remaining towers folded inward.
Trooper Jarek Venn died without ever hearing the sound.
KIA: Trooper Jarek Venn - Age: 17 years, 311 days