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Chapter 1.5: Alone in the Dark
Imperial Guard, Catachan Jungle Fighters (The Eye Pokers); Pre-Game

The march to Outpost XXXII was brutal. The seemingly benign jungle terrain of the last two days seemed to have turned as hostile as Catachan itself. Captain Lance's chest burn constantly from the wound, and his cough started acting up. Lieutenant Barrent had to be sedated and carried by stretcher; Speckles had to made a field amputation as the infection and gangrene was settling at an alarming rate. The men were flooded with a paranoid delusions of being pursued by their assailants and seeing their commanding officers almost dead did not helped their spirits.

Besides the forced marched, it took almost 3 days to return to the the main outpost. The placed seemed deserted; The Eye Pokers were supposed to be on location, receiving reinforcements. There were almost a thousands men were on base when Captain Lance took his Squad for patrol. Now, the outpost was practically deserted. There was no sign of struggle, and the civilian guards on the main gate did not seemed distressed. Something was going on.

- Hey you! Where are The Eye Pokers? Where is everyone?

- Uhhh... I guess you are it General. Everyone is gone to planetside... you know, for the 'Be Well' celebrations. I hear on the commercial vox-caster that the Prime Minister made a big fuss about celebrating with parades and stuff. Well, at least until the damned thing broke. Only thing I get is static now.

Lance signal everyone to rush in. He sent Lieutenant Marsellas and few men to take Barrel to see the Apothecary-Servitors. He and the twins were to see the Communications Station. Upon entering to the medical facility they were greated by an older woman.

- I'm Doctor Pruth... what seems to be the pro... OHHH.... By the Emperor! When you soldier boys stop this nonsense! Quick, move it to the stretcher. Bingo, Bango... on the double!

Two Apothecary-Servitors, that had seemed better days, moved closer to Barrel. They started scanning the wound, and paper started to spill from their mouths.

- Nothing I can do. As a matter of fact, I still have to amputate farther up the leg. I have no Bionic Replacements... just an old prosthetic. I can have one ordered for you, and it could be here in couple of days. Hmmm.. odd... I can't see to connect to the Administratum di Salud office to complete the order. I guess the prosthetic is due. Leave your buddy here... he should be fine in a week or so.

Meanwhile, Captain Lance arrived to the Communications Station. The place was no bigger than a closet; he had seen field commands bigger than this place. On one single desk laid an old military grade vox-caster. A young blond man sat with his blue eyes wide open.

- Name, designation and rank soldier.

- James Podd... no soldier. I'm a Systems Eng...

- Shut up! What kind of gay name is James? I bet you they call you Jamie Fancy Pants! You are almost worthless. The idiot at the main gate said everyone is gone? Who gave the order?

- Ahhh... don't get your panties on a knot, man!

The sudden gleam of the twins holding a pair of Catachan Fangs, made the young man reconsider his words.[/i]

- Be VERY careful... your next words would probably be your last ones. Again... WHO GAVE THE ORDER?

- General what-his-name... I don't know! You people all look like baby Ogryns to me! I know we got a request from Prime Minister Damien Molakai himself to have the Guardsmen as guests of honor at Prime. They left two days ago... no word from them, but we are not expecting any.

- Listen to me very carefully. How many Guardsmen are still on this forsaken place?

- I don't know... no more than 20. That is not counting you and whoever you brought to the party.

- Can we still go to the planet?

- Nope. There are no shuttles and the next supply transport is not due for 27 days. But not to worry Sarge, we can still see the parades on the holo-vision.

Captain Lance knew this was a trap. Based on descriptions, the assailants at the mining outposts were heretics. Now somehow they have gotten rid of a complete Regiment of his brethren. He knew the strategic importance of this place and he was stuck in the middle of a huge attack from the filthy heretic. Picking up the mega-vox, Captain Lance spoke to the compound.

- OK... This is Captain Wilford Lance and I'm assuming total command of this hell hole. From now on, until further notice, Outpost XXXII has become a military facility. No civilian transmission are to be broadcast and we are under Marshal Law. All military personnel is to report to the main hangar immediately. Lance, out.

He put the mega-vox down, and turned to the twins.

- Sergeant Salt, Sargent Pepper. Go to the Depot and requisition EVERYTHING you can find. We need to move from this pop-guns to some real weapons... lasguns! I want everyone issues full Carapace Armor, Combat Helmet, a Lasgun and 5 Hot Packs. Get with Lieutenant Marsellas and have him organize real guards for the gate and I want a 1 kilometer perimeter buffer zone.

The young vox-operator was terrified. Looking at him the Captain Lance said,

- You are one of us now, Fancy Pants. Welcome to hell, Jamie... welcome to hell.




HA! I could not resist! jd3 joins us back from a long leave (stupid real life!) He will be testing Chaos Cultists, Tzseench... unless he changes his mind. Anyway... Welcome back Jamie!

Nice work!

Did I mention that the ill fated regiment that departed Outpost XXXII met with an unfortuante warp storm incident which propelled them into the eye of terror where they are now enslaved as life-size dress up dolls gifted by Abbadon himself to his neice?

Terrible fate, just terrible.

I'm glad to be back and amd looking forward to playing next week!

LOL! Abbadon's niece... LOL! You cracked me up man!