"What the hell is that?" asked Graeme, craning his head to see down into the forest.

"Sweet Emperor’s teeth," muttered Cal, pushing his eye to his scope.

The thin, man- shaped creature approaching the Valconian encampment was over two meters tall,a good head over Tibbo, the largest Guardsman in their squad, in the whole platoon. Its flesh was a golden brown, almost a yellow, and contrasted sharply with the black spines that protruded from the back of its skull. It was dressed in an elaborate harness of leather straps that ran over its torso, and extended around its limbs. A fur cloak was draped over its shoulders. Graeme could see a variety of primative weapons, pouches, and talismans hanging from the straps. There were probably more under the cloak.

“It’s a Kroot,” murmured Graeme. “I’ve heard of them.”

As it passed near the watch tower, it looked up, directly at them, and Graeme met its white, pearly eyes. The creature was unsurprised, he realized. It had known they were there all along. Probably before they had known it was there.

“I’ve got a shot,” whispered Cal, still watching through his scope.

“Stand down, soldier. Let’s see what it wants.”

Graeme swung his legs over the edge of the observation platform and slid down the ladder to the ground, landing just behind the Kroot.

The alien strode into the camp, its back-jointed legs bending inhumanly. It ignored the score of lasguns leveled at it and walked calmly to the center table where Captain Kerak , Lieutenant Terias, and most of the other officers were talking. Plans were being made for storming the cultists’ southern command post. A vellum map was spread out over the table, and one of the officers had stuck a knife in at the post’s co-ordinates.

“...Chimeras are useless from here on in.”

“Agreed, but if we could get them here... and here-”

“Grrreeeetingz,” the tall creature squawked. Its voice was harsh and hard, the solid beak of its mouth not made for some of the fine, soft subtleties of the Gothic language. “You arrre Kerrrak? You arrre the commanderrr?”

Kerak looked up from the map, looking the alien in the eye without blinking. “I am. Command had sent word that a Kroot warsphere had entered orbit. What do you want here?”

The creature bowed its head politely before looking the officer in the eye again and lacing its fingers behind its back. Its confident posture reminded Kerak of a high hive noble he had met once, years ago. “I am Nirrrok Te, mazter zhaper of the Krrroot of the Plateau Warrrzpherrre. I have come to offerrr ourrr zerrrvizez az warrrriorz. My kindrrredz arrre at yourrr dizpozal, forrr the prrroperrr prrrize.”

“Prize?”

“Prrrrize,” nodded the Master Shaper. “The cozt.” Someone chuckled, but cut themselves off quickly. Kerak looked down at the map. He’d been considering this a suicide mission, that his men would be all but wiped out trying to take the Clayites’ heavily fortified command post. The post had no strategic value, and he knew his assault was really a costly diversion to draw attention from the western front. If he managed to take the objective, there might be a commendation, but the war would roll on just the same.

The war always rolled on.

“How much?”

Graeme gasped. “Captain Kerak, you honestly can’t-“

“How much, Nirok Te? What do you want in return?”

The alien’s head twitched slightly, cocking to the side. “Knivez,” it said, pointing a thin, gnarled finger at the monofilament blade stuck in the map. “Many knivez of thiz dezign. Alzo ammunition. Waterrr. Otherrr itemz.” It held out a ragged scrap of material with writing on it. Kerak realized it was a thin piece of leather. He took the list and glanced over the Kroot’s spiky, jagged handwriting.

“This is a large list. How many soliders are we talking about?”

The master shaper’s head twitched, and it made a confused clicking noise.

“How many of your people will aid us in exchange for these goods?”

“All of my kindrrredz arrre at yourrr dizpozal.”

“How many? I need numbers.”

The alien clicked its tongue again, its eyes darting back and forth, and its fingers wiggled up and down behind its back. Graeme had to stifle a laugh when he realized the master shaper was counting. “Two hundrrred- forrrty- seven Krrroot, not counting ourrr beaztz.”

A murmur of approval passed through the officers. If the stories of the Kroots’ fighting ability were true, this was better than getting another regiment.

“I’ll have Sergeant Graeme and his squad escort you to our supply tents” he said, handing off the list. “They’ll pull the supplies you’ve requested. You’ll get half now, half when the rebel command post is under our control. I can only give you ten of the knives. They’ll all be in the second half.”

The master shaper slowly blinked its beady eyes and nodded, bowing its head low. “Agrrreed.”

“Oh, the commissar’s gonna have our heads for this,” muttered Terias.

Kerak kicked him under the table. “How long until you can have your... kindreds... here?”

The Kroot made the confused clicking noise again. “They arrre herrre alrrready,” it said, staring at the Captain. This time, it also managed to get the confused inflection into its words.

“Yes, I know. But how long to get them down to the surface and get them deployed?”

“They arrre herrre alrrready,” repeated the master shaper. It stretched out a long, bony arm and let out a low whistle, followed by three hard chirps.

The forest shifted around the encampment, branches and bushes moving ever so slightly as the Kroot slid into the clearing. They were all around the tents, dropping out of the trees, sliding out from under the parked Chimeras. Dozens of them, all inside the perimeter boundry.

Lieutenant Terias turned and found himself face to face with one of the aliens. It was less than a meter behind him, so close he could smell the meat on its breath. There was red warpaint slashed across the creature’s face, and Terias dimly realized it wasn’t paint....

The Kroot cawed softly at him, and the Guardsman was sure he saw a glimmer of amusement in the alien’s milky eyes.

The assembled force of Kroot mercenaries had bivouaced inside the perimeter. Or so the soldiers had been told. After retrieving their first load of supplies, the aliens had vanished back into the forest. Through the trees, a few brown, conical tents eventually appeared, and a few large, ape- like beasts, but no sign of the Kroot themselves.

Graeme’s squad and a few others had gathered around one of the small UV heaters. The jungle cooled off suprisingly fast at night. A few had grabbed the lightweight, monoweave blankets from their packs, sensing they might not get another chance to rest for a while.

“Clay of the Great Shaper,” muttered Cal. “Where do they come up with these names?”

“Maybe there’s a heresy handbook,” offered Torrin.

“Feh!”

Dairon looked up from his Uplifting Primer. “What does it mean, Clay of the Great Shaper?”

“It means they’re schmecking Chaos filth, kid. It means we’re going to kill them for defying the Throne. That’s all it means.”

Graeme pulled out a hip flask. He’d filled it on Rhanda Prime, but couldn’t remember the name of the clear liquor. There wasn’t much left anyway, he realized, swallowing a third of it.

“So, is it true what they say about the Captain?” This from Dairon again. He was the youngest in the squad, possibly the youngest in the platoon. If there was anyone younger, they didn’t look it. Dairon was one of three hundred new Valconian recruits, eager sign-ups who’d reached the rest of the regiment after eight months in transit. They’d been spread out through all the platoons, no more than one to a squad, to minimize the damage they could do.

“Depends,” shrugged Graeme, taking another swig and turning the heater up a notch. “What do ‘they’ say?”

“They say he was on Tantus IV. That he’s one of the Five.”

Cal snorted and pulled the thin blanket around his shoulders, huddling down next to the tree stump. He pushed his feet closer to the heater.

Graeme nodded at the private. “He is. According to him, though, there were six of them, originally. Six survivors. One poor schmeck committed suicide during his debriefing.”

“How come?”

“Apparently seeing twelve thousand men killed, an Astartes Company wiped out, and an entire world stripped bare around him weakened his mind. Go figure.”

A grim silence fell over the men.

“Anyway,” continued Graeme, “Command thought it was too demoralizing to let out, so the official report was that only five people survived. And Kerak was one of them. So tomorrow ought to be a walk in the park.”

“Hey, get an eyeful of that,” hissed Torrin.

Two Kroot were just visible in the jungle, walking parallel to the cluster of men. Each of the aliens held a handful of thin chains and leather straps. Out in front of them, stretching the leashes taut, were a dozen creatures, roughly canine in appearance.

The men watched the creatures move slowly through the woods. “What do you think they’re like?” murmured Dairon.

“They’re aliens. Who cares.”

“I’ve heard,” announced Kerrum, “from a reliable source, that they’re all cannibals.”

Graeme snorted a laugh.

“Swear it by the Throne. Met up with a guy on Rhanda, says he’s seen them eat their own babies.”

“Shut up,” said Torrin.

“I heard in basic training they’re faster than humans,” piped up Dairon.

“Well,” said Graeme, “I know one way to answer all of our questions.”

He stood up and whistled. The Kroot reacted immediately, their heads snapping to face the group of soldiers. The sergeant gave them a come- hither wave, and after a moment, the Kroot led their charges out of the woods, stopping a few meters from the fire. One, the slightly taller one, was more decorated than the other, and carried a variety of hooks and blades on its harness. Graeme could also see what looked like an Eldar pistol shoved under one of the leather straps.

“Greetingz,” it said warily. Its voice was low, but the pitch carried it easily over the distance between them.

He gave a friendly salute. “Sergeant Kurtis Graeme, Valconian Swords 14th. We were wondering if you’d care to sit with us for a while.”

“Why?”

“My men have never... worked with non humans before. I thought it would be good for us if they could have some time to get accustomed to you.”

The Kroot nodded and turned to its partner, uttering a fast, low string of clicks and chirps. The other alien took most of the leashes and vanished back into the woods. The remaining warrior kept one of the hounds with it, a tight grip on the braided strap of leather that held it. “I would be horrred to join yourrr gatherrring,” it said to them. “I am called Loucann Kirrrha Dinarrrt. I am the zhaper of my kindrrred.”

“Shaper?” asked Dairon. “What does that mean?”

“He’s an officer,” explained Cal quietly.

The Kroot made a motion that could have been a shrug. “In a mannerrr of zpeaking,” it nodded.

“What’s with the dogs?” asked Torrin.

“My kindrrred specializez in trrraining the houndz forrr hunting. It haz been ourrr honorrr and rrresponzibility forrr many generrrationz.”

“You take all of those things into battle with you?”

“Thoze and morrre. My kindrrred currrently haz....”

The shaper stared ahead for a moment, and they could see its tongue wiggling in its mouth. “We have thirrrty- zeven houndz with uz.”

“That’s a lot of dog food,” murmured Graeme.

“My parents ran a farm,” blurted out Dairon. “I used to help with all the animals, feeding them, making sure they ate well.”

Loucann blinked and cocked his head at the youngster. “Then you arrre a shaperrr az well.”

Dairon glanced around nervously. “Ummmm, sure, I guess.” Cal smirked as the Kroot lowered itself to the ground next to the young Guardsman.

“Sir, I have to object,” insisted Terias. The lieutenant was fidgeting, obviously fighting an urge to pace in the command tent. “We can’t depend on the Kroot. They’re mercenary scum. They’d just as soon work for the cultists as for us.”

“But they’re not,” said Kerak. “They’re working for us.”

“For the moment, maybe.”

“We only need them for the moment. Then we’ll all be off this world and on to somewhere else. Besides, with their abilities in the forest, this may have just gone from a near- suicide mission to a surprise attack.”

Commissar Leviticus cleared his throat. It wasn’t the first time he’d cleared it since this conversation had started. “Captain, may I ask you again not to refer to our orders as a suicide mission?”

“You can ask, Anton, but I won’t listen.”

“Captain Kerak--”

“Commissar, I’m being asked to throw these soldiers against impossible odds simply to help make a loud noise. You know this as well as I do. Five hundred men against almost five thousand. The Clayites have the high ground, and they’re dug in. I will not tell lies to my men simply to make Command look better. My men will go into this knowing what they’re in for.”

“Very well.”

“As we’ve seen, the Kroot are master of fieldcraft.” Kerak picked up his slate, gesturing at the vellum map with it. “We deploy the majority of the Kroot here.”

The lieutenant scoffed. “In the front line? My understanding is that firepower is not their strong point.”

“True. But for the main thrust of what I’m planning they shouldn’t have to fire more than one or two shots each. I’ve spoken with Nirok Te, and he will hold aside two of his kindreds. With them guiding us, we can deploy part of our forces here and here.”

“Right in enemy territory.”

“Lieutenant, what exactly is your problem with this?”

“Permission to speak freely, sir.”

“You have been so far.”

Terias shook his head again. “Sir, this... this is a brilliant move. But it depends entirely on an undependable group. We’re trusting the Kroot with the lives of every man here. It’s not worth it.”

“A wise man once pointed out that a mercenary is worth three men,” quoted Leviticus. “One more on your side, one less on their side, and one of yours who can be working elsewhere.”

“These things aren’t men.”

The commissar nodded. “Yes, I know. They’re aliens who are willing, for whatever reason, to die for the Golden Throne. And when they do, they will be dead aliens, which also serves the purposes or the Emperor, bless his name. I believe most Guardsmen would call this a win- win situation.”

Kerak nodded. “Grigori, I know you’re not fond of aliens. You know I’m not either. Beyond Imperial doctrine, we’ve both got our reasons to hate them. But right now they’re the lesser of two evils. The Kroot are a resource and I mean to exploit them against the Clayites, with or without your approval, old friend.

Terias shook his head. “They’re backstabbing, honorless animals, sir. They’ll turn on us the moment someone offers them a better price.”

“I don’t think so. Nirok Te is known in this sector. He’s worked unofficially with Imperial forces several times, and seems to go out of his way to avoid siding with our enemies.”

“So far.”

“Be that as it may, they are now our allies, and they shall be treated and used as such. Is that clear, Lieutenant?” Kerak snapped, cutting off another objection.

Terias glanced between his commander and the commisar. “Clear, sir.”

“Without the Kroot, I have little doubt most of the men in this camp will die tomorrow. With them, I hope to keep most of us alive.”

The commissar cleared his throat again. “Who are you considering for the infiltrators.”

Kerak looked at Terias. “Opinions?”

The lieutenant stared at the map. “Websser would be no good. That bionic leg of his hisses whenever he moves to fast. They’d hear him coming a kilometer off. Jonns would be my next choice. His squads good at this kind of covert work, and they’re not saddled with one of the new recruits.”

“Agreed. Unfortunately, he’s the only squad not saddled with one. Which means sending in someone inexperienced.”

“If I may,” offered Leviticus, “Sergeant Graeme has shown exemplary work with his squad. I believe he may be our best choice.”

Terias nodded. “He’s got good men. A tight squad. I’d agree to that.”

“Then we’ll leave Websser, Talus, Grun, and Steffof on the front line with you. No wwhat about here....”

Cal was still studying the hound, making eye contact with it. Loucann, sitting cross- legged by the heater, had kept himself between the animal and Dairon, and it had sat calmly on its haunches by his side. “I thought they were supposed to be really nasty.”

“They arrre trrained to be zilent and behaved while they arrre leazhed.”

“He have a name?”

“Zhe is female, and zhe haz no name.”

“Evil- looking things,” muttered Kerrum.

Cal leaned over and reached out a hand to the creature, palm up. “Awwwww, I bet you’re not so bad, are you, girl?”

The hound lunged at the end of its leash, snapping its teeth at the sniper. He yanked his fingers away with millimeters to spare. The animal strained against the braided leather straps that connected it to the shaper, its claws flailing as it worked its jaw in the air, its eyes locked on Cal’s. It never made a sound, except for a faint hiss of deep breathing.

“Vicious shmecking thing,” he muttered, wiping oily saliva from his hand. There was a line of red where one of the razor- like teeth had grazed his fingertips.

“Carrreful,” warned Loucann. “They do not like alienz.”

“But they like you,” chuckled Graeme.

The Kroot turned to him, making the same confused sound the master shaper had made earlier that day. “Of courrrze,” it said. “I am not an alien.”

There was a moment of dead silence around the shrouded heater, and then the men burst out laughing. “You’re all right, Loucann,” smiled Parkar, pulling out a pack of nic-sticks. “Join us for a drink or a bite to eat?”

The Kroot shook its head, making the spines on the back of its skull sway. “I will eat much tomorrrrow. But thank you.”

“I heard you’re fast,” said Dairon. “Kroot, that is. Very fast.”

“We arrre,” agreed Loucann, “comparrred to humanz.”

Graeme held out a pocket-flame for Parkar, who leaned his head towards it. “How fast?”

“Thiz fazt,” replied the alien, holding up Parkar’s nic- stick.

The men howled with laughter, which seemed to unnerve the Kroot for a moment. Then it nodded and bowed its head, holding the stick back out to Parkar.

Torrin glanced over the ground around him and held up a small twig. “Okay,” he grinned, “let’s see that again.”

The three men stepped from the command tent and Kerak’s escorts fell in a step behind them. It was much cooler outside.

“You arrre prrreparrring forrr battle?”

Kerak jumped at the voice, inches from his shoulder, and two of the escorts swung their rifles. Leviticus had reached for his bolt pistol, but stopped a moment before drawing it. Terias had drawn his, and still held it aimed at the speaker.

The Kroot had appeared out of the darkness behind the captain, between them and the tent.

“You arrre honorrring yourrr anzeztorz beforrre the battle?”

“No,” said Kerak. “We are... discussing your role in tomorrow’s assault.”

Nirok Te nodded. “The ztrrrategy we dizcuzzed earrrlierrr?”

“Yes. Will your kindreds be able to guide our troops?” “Azzuming yourrr men can operrrate with a rrreazonable degrrree of zilence, therrre zhould be no prrroblemz.”

“Good. I would like to move out three hours before dawn.”

The Kroot glanced up at the sky, checking the stars, and nodded.

“Very well then. I’m going to walk the lines and then try to get three hours of sleep.” He gave Terias and the commissar each a sharp salute. “Gentlemen.”

The commissar saluted back. “I believe I may join you, Captain.”

“Please.”

“Lieutenant,” croaked the master shaper. “A worrrd, if I may?”

Terias glanced at the departing officers. “If it’s quick. I have my duties.”

“Of courrrze.” Nirok Te bowed his head. “I would advize you to mind yourrr worrrdz forrr the next few dayz. My people arrre known forrr ourrr trrrracking ability, ezpezially ourrr zharrrp earrrz, and many of them would be extrrremely angrrry if they had hearrrd the terrrmz you uzed a zhcorrrt time ago.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“ ‘Merrrcenarrry zcum’,” repeated the Kroot, blinking its eyes slowly. He could hear a faint rasping sound when it spoke, and he realized it was the alien’s tongue rubbing on the inside of its beak, helping it make the sounds of the Gothic language. “ ‘Backztabbing, honorrrlezz animalz.’ Thoze werrre yourrr worrrdz, yez?”

Terias stretched up to his full height, uncomfortably realizing he was still a good half- meter shorter than the master shaper. “What are you driving at, mercenary? Are you threatening me?”

“I am not. You rrreprrrezent ourrr employerrr and ally, and you arrre unfamiliarrr with ourrrr wayz. Howeverrr, zome of the ‘merrrcenarrry zcum’ I lead arrre not az forrrgiving orrr underrrztanding az I am, and take theirrr battle oathz az a matterrr of grrreat honorrr. They would take extrrreme offenze to zuch inzultz againzt theirrr kindrrredz.”

Nirok Te leaned in even closer, and the master shaper’s face filled the lieutenant’s view. He could see the thin membranes that covered its pearly eyes, smell the oily scent of its skin. He could see rows of parallel scratches along its serrated beak, and realized the Kroot had filed a series of sharper points onto the jagged edge of its hard jaw.

“Many of them would feel the need to corrrrect zuch an inzult and rrreztorrre theirrr honorrr. It would be verrry difficult forrr me to ztop them all.”

“I’ll... keep that in mind.”

“A wize choice. Feed much, feed well, Lieutenant Terrriaz.”

And without another word, the alien turned and vanished into the night.