Ashes in the mud

Shadows of Conviction

The battle was over, but the field still smoked and stank. The clouds hung low and gray, making the morning darker than it should have been. Elara Vorenn stood on the edge of the trench, the cold cutting into her skin, the weight of command on her shoulders. She hadn't wanted it. She hadn't expected it. Not yet.

Around her, the survivors of the Imperial Guard moved like ghosts in the fog. They tended the wounded, gathered what gear they could, whispered prayers for the dead. The cadet commissars had fought well, but at a steep price. The air reeked of wet earth, ozone, and smoke—reminders of the Necrons they had barely beaten.

Two Leman Russ tanks loomed in the fog, battered but standing. Gauss blasts had scored their armor, but they still ran. They had held the line, their guns breaking the enemy. A Basilisk sat nearby, its big Earthshaker cannon silent now. It had spoken all night. Its crew, filthy and tired, worked fast, knowing they might need it again soon.

Hedek came up, his boots crunching in the debris. The dawn threw long shadows on his face. "Vorenn," he said. "Command wants a debrief. They need to know how we held."

She met his eyes, searching for something that wasn't there. "We held because we had to," she said. "But at what cost?"

He stared back, his voice steady. "Cost doesn't matter. Survival does. Every moment we're here, the Imperium gets stronger elsewhere."

She looked at the tanks, at the weary soldiers trying to fix a broken Chimera. The sun touched the metal, showing the scars of the fight. "We need to move the tanks, the artillery," she said. "We can't leave them, but the roads are a mess."

Hedek nodded. "Mud will slow us down, but we can't leave them. Those tanks are worth a hundred men in this."

A vox-caster crackled nearby. An officer ran up, his uniform torn and bloody. "Commissar Hedek, Cadet Vorenn," he gasped. "Orders from High Command. Advance to Grid 7-C. Necron activity there. They think another attack is coming."

Elara's face hardened. "We can't hold here, let alone move forward. The men are spent. The tanks—everything is stuck in the mud."

Hedek's eyes stayed cold. "Orders are orders."

She stepped closer, her voice rising. "With respect, sir, we can't charge blind. We need reinforcements. And time to move the tanks."

He turned to her, his eyes sharp. "Watch yourself, Vorenn. Doubt leads to treachery. Are you questioning the will of the Imperium?"

The air was still. The soldiers around them pretended not to listen.

Elara took a breath. "I'm questioning the sense of sending what's left of us into another death trap without a plan. We have the equipment to win—if we use it right."

Hedek studied her, his face softening just a bit. "Maybe there's another way."

She waited.

"There's an old fortress at Grid 7-C. Abandoned years ago. We take it, set up a base. Use the tanks, the artillery. Hold until reinforcements come."

Elara thought about it as the sun climbed higher, pale in the sky. "And we dig in?"

He nodded. "That's the idea."

She gave a slow nod. "I'll gather the men. Get the tanks moving."

As she turned to go, Hedek called her name. She stopped, looking back.

"Command suits you," he said quietly. "Just remember the line."

She held his gaze, her voice steady. "I know where the line is. But sometimes you have to push it, for the Imperium."