Necropolis by Dan Abnett

making camp.
    “My men have dug latrines over there and there are a number of worker washrooms and facilities still operational in the sheds to the left.” Daur pointed these features out in turn. “So far, the main water supplies are still on, so the showers work. But I took the liberty of setting up water and fuel bowsers in case the supplies go down.”
    Corbec looked where Daur indicated and saw a row of tanker trucks with fuel clamps and standpipes grouped by the western fence.
    “Sheds three, four and five are loaded with food and perishable supplies, and munitions orders will arrive by daybreak. House Command has requisitioned another barn over there from House Anko for use as your medical centre.”
    Corbec gazed across at the rickety long-shed Daur pointed to. “Get Dorden to check it out, Mkoll,” he said. Mkoll flagged down a passing trooper and sent him off to find the chief medic.
    “I’ve also set up primary and secondary vox-links in the side offices here,” said Daur as he led them through a low door into what had once been the factory supervisor’s suite. The rooms were thick with dust and cobwebs, but two deep-gain vox units were mounted on scrubbed benches along one wall, flickering and active, chattering with staccato dribbles of link-talk. There were even fresh paper rolls and lead-sticks laid out near the sets. The thoroughness made Corbec smile. Maybe it was the worker-mentality of the hive.
    “I assumed you’d use this as your quarters,” Daur said. He showed Corbec a side office with a cot and a folding desk. Corbec glanced in, nodded and turned back to face the captain.
    “I’d say you had made us welcome indeed, Daur, despite the facilities granted us by your hive-masters. Looks like you’ve thought of everything. I won’t forget your trouble in a hurry.”
    Daur nodded, pleased.
    Corbec stepped out of the offices and raised his voice. “Sergeant Varl!”
    Varl stopped what he was doing and came across the hangar space double-time, threading between billeting Tanith. “Colonel?”
    “Rejoice. You’ve won the supplies duty. Those sheds there,” Corbec glanced at Daur for confirmation, “are for storage. Raise a detail and get our stuff housed from the trucks.”
    Varl nodded and strode off, calling up volunteers.
    With Daur and Mkoll beside him, Corbec surveyed the activity in the billet. “Looks like the Ghosts are making themselves at home,” he murmured to no one in particular.
    “Ghosts? Why do you call them that? Where are you from?” Daur asked.
    “Tanith,” Mkoll said.
    Corbec smiled sadly and contradicted the sergeant. “Nowhere, Captain Daur. We’re from nowhere and that’s why we’re ghosts.”
     
    “This is the only space available,” Commissar Langana said flatly.
    “Not good enough,” Dorden said, looking around the dimly-lit hangar, taking in the shattered windows, the piles of refuse and the layers of dust. “I can’t make a field hospital in here. The filth will kill more of my regiment than the enemy.”
    The VPHC officer looked round sourly at the doctor. “The vice marshal’s orders were quite specific. This area is designated for medical needs.”
    “We could clean up,” Trooper Lesp suggested. A thin, hangdog man, Lesp was skulking to one side in the doorway with Chayker and Foskin. The three of them represented Dorden’s medical orderlies, troopers who had been trained for field hospital work by the chief medic himself. Gherran and Mtane, the only other fully qualified medics in the unit, were looking around behind them.
    “With what?” Dorden asked. “By the time we’ve scoured this place clean, the war will be over.”
    Lesp shrugged.
    “You must make do. This is war,” Langana announced. “War levels all stations and makes us work with the bravery in our limbs and the ingenuity in our minds.”
    Dorden turned his grizzled face to look directly into the puffy visage of the political officer. “Do you make that crap up yourself, or does someone write it down for you?”
    The orderlies