Vex Chronicles 2: Outbreak

Behind imperial lines

Ede Prime, trenches

"This is how you keep morale up." Conscripted trooper Platinos shoveled the next portion of cheese rye into his mouth.

Welcius nodded. "A simple gesture like fresh food works wonders. Better than to wave around pistols, and scream about field executions."

Platinos smacked in agreement as he chewed.

High command had handed fresh food to the trenches. The old blocks would remain in their pockets today. It was a food for the poor. But it was much better than the typical pressed blocks of wheat, chemicals and sugar.

"This can't be cursed wheat if it tastes so good." Platinos nudged the plaster figure around his neck. "I'll get some more. If your Emperor is grateful, I can secure us another portion."

"It's our emperor," Welcius berated his new friend.

"Your Emperor sits on his golden throne. My Emperor bled for us. And now we have to bleed for him."

Platinos was up and sprinted to the front kitchen before Welcius could get another word out. Why did Platinos had to be a Blood of the Emperor follower...

Welcius leaned against his shovel and let his glance wander through the half dug trench. The old veteran was of the 2nd Air Rangers. But this had nothing to do with air. He felt more like a ground mole than an air ranger. But this work had to be done, trenches had to be dug and gun emplacements erected and manned.

But this wasn't how Eredian regiments operated. Noble officers would stay far away from the fighting to send out the drop teams out. Tactical strikes against important installation, unprepared formations, supply lines and command bunkers of the enemy. But the enemy barely had those. Those tech cultists had a mobile force supplied through the air itself...

Now they were forced into a defensive position. The own guns on the farm districts kept them prisoner. Worse, the corrupted Mechanicus had cut all means for long distance communication. The PDF in Ede Prime couldn't even tell what factories and military installations around the farmland were still in loyal hands. The only choice was to dig in and hold out while drop attacks scattered the enemy forces before they could amass.

The troopers and conscripts weren't stupid. They knew how bad it looked. Frustration and mistrust ran deep. And it didn't took long until Welcius again heard shouted protest. It came from the kitchen...

Welcius put his shovel aside and moved to stop a catastrophe. But it was even worse than he had feared. People were in uproar. One of the mad preachers, a Blood of the Emperor flunky, worked hard to keep it like that.

"The wheat is cursed!," the preacher thundered. "It sprung from the soil, corrupted by chemical abuse. A soil that called the avengers to our world!"

Welcius shook his head. As if the soil could be the cause for an army at their gates! But some lost souls had searched for any kind of culprit. And it was easy for the farm worker to give the bad seed to the rigorous farming techniques of the prefectii agrarium.

Conscripted refuges had swelled their army too fast. Many of them had fled from the farms just to be drafted. Discontent was brewing in those undisciplined new regiments. And it was not helping that only every third had a rifle. Ammunition was equally scarce. No wonder many had searched shelter in the fast growing new Imperial cult and its apocalyptic preaching. And even the Ecclesiarchy priests and examinatii had more or less given up to stop this development.

Welcius had been given a rifle, an old lascarbine Mark-III with a lightweight foldable stock. The rifle of choice of the Eredian Air Rangers. Short, lightweight and easier to carry during a grav-chute drop. And the reduced precision did not mattered if you'd jumped straight into the thickest of battle.