

*Part 1*
Captain Eran Greydo swung his power sword, in a sweeping over head blow that all but sliced his burly mutant opponent in two. Ungracefully, he yanked the blade from the gently smoking wound as the distinctive smell of burnt meat and bone filled his nostrils.
Even as the blade tore free, another mutant came scrambling over the pile of dead at the captains feet. The monsters bestial face was twisted in hate, drool dripped from its fang filled mouth in anticipation of the feast to come. A twist of Greydo's wrist and a gentle squeeze of his hellpistol's trigger sent a las bolt straight into the slavering beasts face, killing it instantly. The chaos beast's body flopped backwards into the path of three of its charging companions; they fell to the ground in a tangled heap.
It gave Greydo an unwelcome moments respite from the fighting, a moment in which conscious thoughts flooded back into his mind. Angrily and without thinking he savagely kicked one of the dead mutants lying at his feet. This was certainly a fight the captain was not enjoying. It was not a fight that he had even expected to be in. Neither did it help that he had to soil the finely crafted blade of his power sword with the blood of these foul mutants. He preferred to conduct a small ritual of cleansing on the weapon, before he entered battle. The sword and a small black and white picture were all he had to remind him of his parents. Both, given to him on the day he departed his home planet. Such was the life of an imperial guardsman; Greydo knew he had little chance of seeing either his place of birth or his parents, again; even if he managed to live to retirement.
The picture, which was constantly nestled in the pocket above his heart, was taken moments after his father had proudly presented the hand crafted power sword to him. It would have cost his parents a full year's wages, even for his father, an officer in the Cardonsun PDF. All the time during her son’s departure for war, his mother had fought back her tears; trying not to shame the family, by crying in public. It was a memory Greydo knew he would take to his grave. Though at the time he had not known how much he would cherish such a simple memory.
Tearing his eyes from the blade he focused upon the ground before him, he was surprised to find it empty. Finally the mutants attack had broken. In increasing numbers they were turning and fleeing the battle field. They left the vast majority of their number lying dead upon the blood soaked earth.
A cold, deadly, anger seized Greydo and he lifted his hellpistol. Flicking the shot selector he unleashed a hail of las bolts into the backs of the fleeing mutants; unwilling to let any get away from his vengeance. It aggravated the panic and fear that was sweeping through the handful of living mutants: somehow they managed to increase the pace of their race for safety. At forty meters, Greydo switched the selector back. Marshalling his anger as his old instructor had taught him all those years ago; he began sniping, picking off mutants one at a time until they finally reached a distance too great for his weapon.
Angrily, he shoved the pistol into its hip holster. Deactivating the power sword he whispered a prayer of thanks to its machine spirit, before reverently slipping the weapon into the scabbard hanging from his belt. All the time he was engaged in a private battle with his own anger, a battle he lost.
The sight of so many dead mutants littering the ground before the imperial lines should have been a pleasing sight for any loyal imperial warrior. It did nothing for Greydo. He was angry that the mutants had advanced so close to his lines, as far as he was concerned, there was only one person to blame for that: Enginseer Ti Cranmec. The Adeptus Mechanicus priest had failed once again to keep those odd motorised gun carriages and the multi-lasers they carried operational.
Captain Greydo had taken a dislike to both the techpriest and his four odd charges the instant he had laid eye's upon them both. The machines in particular had looked like trouble: so far they had lived up to that expectation. It was such an odd design that Greydo's mind asked questions about the sanity of the designer.
Not that it was the first time he had been lumbered with second rate equipment. It was the way of the imperial war machine; the best equipment went to a commander's favoured units. In this case it meant Greydo and his company had to hold this mountain pass, as well as the armies flank with ineffective fire support.
Greydo had raised the question of the odd machines with Cranmec, who had promised he would do his best to keep the machines operational. It had not escaped the captain's notice that the techpriest had called the machines: “unsanctioned”. The captain was not sure what that meant, but was sure it was not good.
He looked across to the nearest of the gun carriages positions and searched for the techpriest; there was no sign of him. The captain reached for his vox bead and opened a channel. Crackling static instantly filled his ear. That was another thing that was beginning to try Greydo's patience. Vox transmissions were beginning to break down and none of the army's techpriests could explain why.
“Enginseer Cranmec, report now”
“Captain Greydo, first sergeant Drugan and I are just finishing with the tarantulas. Is there any assistance I can offer you?” crackled Cranmec's deadpan voice.
Greydo cursed under his breath and wondered just how long it could take to set up three tarantulas.
“Those warp damned gun carriages of yours failed again man; I almost lost this position for thrones sake. Would you kindly stop tinkering with those sentry guns and give me some assistance where it is truly needed. If it's not too much trouble,” snapped Greydo, unable to restrain himself.
“Yes captain I will return to your position with haste. I'm sorry the machine spirits of those motorised gun carriages are proving most cantankerous. It is perhaps not surprising, considering their unsanctified nature.”
“I don't bloody care about their nature, just get over here and sanctify the damn things if that's what it takes. That is, after all, why you were assigned to my command was it not?” Even as he said it Greydo regretted that last bit. Technically enginseer Cranmec was not under Greydo's command.
“Yes captain, I was charged with attending the machine spirits of all the machines currently assigned to your company. I am just about to activate the last tarantula; then I will of course attend the gun carriages.”
Greydo knew the flat, emotionless tone of Cranmec's voice was not just a product of the vox robbing the techpriest's words of any emotion. It was just one of many things about the techpriest that reminded Greydo how different the priest was from the rest of humanity.
“Just get your damned ass back here prompt,” said Greydo before terminating the connection. He stalked off in search of some water, muttering several unflattering oaths about enginseer's and the Mechanicus.