First and Only by Dan Abnett

to fight and don’t let them see you coming.” That’s not much, I suppose.’
    The Vitrian considered this. ‘It certainly… lacks the subtle subtext and deeper doctrinal significances of the Vitrian Art of War,’ he said at last.
    There was a long pause.
    Caffran sniggered. Then they both erupted in almost uncontrollable laughter.
    It took some minutes for their hilarity to die down, easing the morbid tension that had built up through the horrors of the day.
    Even with the bombardment thundering overhead and the constant expectation that a shell would fall into their shelter and vaporise them, the fear in them seemed to relax.
    The Vitrian opened his canteen, took a swig and offered it to Caffran. ‘You men of Tanith… there are very few of you, I understand?’
    Caffran nodded. ‘Barely two thousand, all that Commissar-Colonel Gaunt could salvage from our homeworld on the day of our Founding as a regiment. The day our home-world died.’
    ‘But you have quite a reputation,’ the Vitrian said.
    ‘Have we? Yes, the sort of reputation that gets us picked for all the stealth and dirty commando work going, the sort of reputation that gets us sent into enemy-held hives and deathworlds that no one else has managed to crack. I often wonder who’ll be left to do the dirty jobs when they use the last of us up.’
    ‘I often dream of my homeworld,’ Zogat said thoughtfully, ‘I dream of the cities of glass, the crystal pavilions. Though I am sure I will never see it again, it heartens me that it is always there in my mind. It must be hard to have no home left.’
    Caffran shrugged. ‘How hard is anything? Harder than storming an enemy position? Harder than dying? Everything about life in the Emperor’s army is hard. In some ways, not having a home is an asset.’
    Zogat shot him a questioning look.
    ‘I’ve nothing left to lose, nothing I can be threatened with, nothing that can be held over me to force my hand or make me submit. There’s just me, Imperial Guardsman Dermon Caffran, servant of the Emperor, may he hold the Throne for ever.’
    ‘So then you see, you do have a philosophy after all,’ Zogat said.
    There was a long break in their conversation as they both listened to the guns. ‘How… how did your world die, man of Tanith?’ the Vitrian asked.
    Caffran closed his eyes and thought hard for a moment, as if he was dredging up from a deep part of his mind, something he had deliberately discarded or blocked. At last he sighed. ‘It was the day of our Founding…’ he began.
    Five
    T HEY COULDN ’ T STAY put, not there. Even if it hadn’t been for the shelling that slowly advanced towards them, the thing with Drayl had left them all sick and shaking, and eager to get out.
    Corbec ordered Sergeants Curral and Grell to mine the factory sheds and silence the infernal drumming. They would move on into the enemy lines and do as much damage as they could until they were stopped or relieved.
    As the company – less than a hundred and twenty men since Drayl’s corruption – prepared to move out, the scout Baru, one of the trio Corbec had sent ahead as they first moved in the area, returned at last, and he was not alone. He’d been pinned by enemy fire for a good half an hour in a zigzag of trenches to the east, and then the shelling had taken out his most direct line of return. For a good while, Baru had been certain he’d never reunite with his company. Edging through the wire festoons and stake posts along the weaving trench, he had encountered to his surprise five more Tanith: Feygor, Larkin, Neff, Lonegin and Major Rawne. They’d made it to the trenches as the bombardment had begun and were now wandering like lost livestock looking for a plan.
    Corbec was as glad to see them as they were to see the company. Larkin was the best marksman in the regiment, and would be invaluable for the kind of insidious advance that lay ahead of them. Feygor, too, was a fine shot and a good stealther. Lonegin was