Silence descended once more.
Maghernus sighed, tension ebbing from him as his breath misted in the cool air. Andrej was adjusting the slide rack settings on his modified lasrifle. The weapon emitted a pulsing, charged hum that set the dockmaster's teeth on edge.
'That was a stern talking-to, no? Not many will run now, I am thinking.'
Maghernus nodded. It took him several moments to speak. 'What's that rifle?'
'This?' Andrej finished his ministrations, gesturing to the thick power cables feeding from the rifle's bulky stock to the humming metal power pack he wore between his shoulders. 'We call them hellguns. Like yours, only brighter and louder and hotter and meaner. And no, you cannot have one. This is mine. They are rare, and only given to people who are right all the time.'
'And what's that?'
'This is a det-pack.' He tapped the hand-sized detonator disc hanging from his belt. 'Used for sticking to tanks and making them explode into many pretty pieces. I once had many, now I have only one. When I use it, I will have none, and that will be a sad day.'
Maghernus wanted to ask if Andrej was really a storm-trooper. He settled for saying ''You are not exactly what I expected''.
'Life,' the soldier said, looking off to the side in what appeared to be distracted consideration, 'is a series of very wonderful surprises, until a final bad one.' Turning to the entire group, Andrej buckled his helmet's chin strap with a grin.
'My handsome new friends, it is soon to be time for war. So, my beautiful ladies and fine gentlemen, if you want to remain beautiful and fine, keep your heads down and your rifles up. Always aim from the cheek, with your eyes down the barrel. Do not be firing from the hip - that is the best way to feel excellent about yourself and yet hit nothing. Oh, and it will be loud and scary, no? Much panic, I think. Always wait one second before pulling your trigger, to make sure you are aiming at something you should be aiming at. Otherwise you may be shooting other people, and that is bad news for you, and worse news for them.'
The gangs of workers began to disperse across the docks, taking up positions in alleys between warehouses, behind crate stacks, around the edges of buildings and on the various floors of multi-storey hangars and work blocks facing the sea.
'Come, come.' Andrej led his group into the shadows of a loader crane, ordering them to spread out and take cover around the huge metal strut columns and cargo containers close by.
'Sir?' called one of the men.
'My name is Andrej, and I have said this many times. But yes, what is the problem?'
'My gun's jammed. I can't get the power cell back in.'
From where he crouched at the head of the group, Andrej shook his head with a melodramatic sigh. With his goggles over his eyes and the infantile grin plastered across his features, he looked like some breed of gigantic, amused fly.
'One has to wonder why you would be taking it out in the first place.'
'I was just—'
'Yes, yes. Be nice to the weapon's machine-spirit. Ask it nicely.'
The dockworker looked awkward as he turned his gaze down at the rifle. 'Please?' he said, lamely.
'Ha! Such reverence. Now click that lock switch on the other side. That is the release catch, and you need to slide it back to get the cell back in.'
The man dropped the power cell from his shaking hands, but slapped it home on the second try. 'Thank you, sir.'
'Yes, yes, I am a hero. Now, my brave friends, a siren will soon begin to sing. When it does, it means the enemy is within range of our artillery defences, which are sadly too few in number to make me smile. When I say it is time to be ready, you are all to sit up and start looking for huge and ugly beasts to shoot.'
'Yes, sir,' they chorused.
'I could become used to that, oh yes. Now, listen with both ears my wonderful fellows. Aim for the bodies. It is the biggest target, and that is what counts if you are new to this.'
'Yes, sir,' they said again.
'There is a very beautiful woman I would like to marry after this war. She will almost certainly be saying no to my proposal, but hey, we will see. If she says yes, you are all invited to my wedding, which will be in the eastern territories where the weather is much less like being pissed on by the sky every day. Also, the drinks will be free. You have my word on this. I am always truthful, this being one of my many glorious virtues.'
A few of the men smiled, despite themselves.
The siren began to wail. A banshee's keen across kilometres of docks, howling over tens of thousands of frightened Imperial souls. Muffled thumps started up in response as the Sabre-class defence platforms opened fire on the incoming fleet.
'It is time,' Andrej grinned again, 'to earn some very shiny medals.'
'For the Emperor,' one man breathed the words like a mantra, his eyes closed, 'For the Emperor.'
'Oh, no. Not for Him.' Andrej fastened his rebreather mask, but they could still hear the smile in his voice. 'He is happy on His Golden Throne, a long way from here. This is for me, and it is for you, and that is more than enough.'
The sirens began to fade, one by one, until a last lone wail sputtered out.
'Any moment now,' Andrej said, leaning up to aim over the top of the container he'd been kneeling behind. 'We will have company.'
The first vessels crashed into the docks with the noise of a storm wave breaking against the shore. With no finesse, without even slowing down, they crunched into the gangways and loading platforms, ferociously beaching themselves. Doors and portals immediately blasted open, disgorging a tide of foul alien flesh onto the docks.
The very first of the alien beasts to spill from its underwater scrap-pod was a brute, easily half again the size of its lesser brethren, bearing a trophy rack on its hunched shoulders with human skulls and Astartes helms from other wars on other worlds. It had been leading its tribe across the edges of the Imperium for decades, and in a fight with all else even, would have been more than a match for a lone
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