Chapter Two: Defense
Let the Emperor be my shield when I need protection, my sword when I need to fight, and my guide when I need to find hope.
A hymn from the Book of Saint Sabbat.
Gaunt was seated in his private chamber, reading the nights data-slates from the various scans, when there was a knock on his door.
'Come.'
The door slid open to reveal Brin Milo, Gaunt's assistant and the all-round good luck charm for the Tanith Ghosts. The young man was a classic example of the people; dark haired, pale skinned and with a blue tattoo over one eye. He stood smartly to attention before the Commissar, and ripped off a salute in his black fatigues and camo cloak. The look of utter concentration on his face almost made Gaunt smile.
'Yes Milo, what is it?'
'Sir, Sergeant Firth from the Albion Regiment wishes to speak with you.'
'Send him in,' Gaunt said, taking a seat. He was currently in his shirt and braces, his well muscled frame glistening slightly with sweat in the stuffy chamber. Milo nodded, and nodded to someone outside the door. Sergeant Firth came in, and nodded to Gaunt.
'Sir,' He said, his face a serious mask, 'We've just lost Bunker 67.'
Gaunt's smile faded; he had just though the officer was coming to thank him for the coffee. Cursing his stupidity, he stood up and grabbed his bolt pistol from the holster that hung from the back of his chair, checking the magazine was fresh.
'How long?'
'Two minutes ago.'
'Why didn't you vox me?'
'The lines are down. I only had enough time to order the retreat from the nearby bunkers.'
Gaunt nodded; he was mildly annoyed that the Sergeant had made an order without his consent, but it was the order he would have done.
'May I ask you not to make such an order without my approval again?'
'Sorry sir, but this can't wait. I think I know what's out there, and how they're escaping detection.'
Gaunt pulled on his battle dress, and nodded.
'Go ahead.'
'Remember that hot air pocket you pointed out? Bunker 67 had detected movement coming from it, but when it passed over them there was no visual contact with the enemy. What I think they're doing is skirting around the edge of the storm, just close enough to have their heat signatures hidden and stay hidden from sight. The only way we can track them is by movement, and that isn't the most precise way of tracking a target at the best of times.'
'So we know they're out there, but not exactly where?'
'Well, they'll be in the storm itself, keeping up with the gas pocket. When it passes over a bunker, they can pretty much attack from wherever they want with little warning.'
'Excuse me Sergeant,' Said Milo, who had been standing to one side, 'But wouldn't they be torn to shreds by the storm?'
'You've faced Chaos before lad,' Firth said darkly, 'I should think by now that you'd have given up trying to find common sense from a Chaos army. Their soul objective is to wipe out the enemy, no matter how many people they loose. And they wouldn't need many people either; a few armed with anti-bunker weapons could come out of nowhere and blast a position straight to hell, and simply slip back in again before support could arrive.'
'So what you're telling me is that they can strike just about wherever they want now, and we can't track them?' Said Gaunt. Sergeant Firth rubbed his chin for a moment, and smiled.
'Not necessarily. I have a device that might help us out, not standard issue mind you.'
'Any help would be appreciated Sergeant,' Gaunt said. Firth grinned, and threw a salute.
'You can count on me sir! I'll gather my lads and get to work setting it up.'
'Very good Sergeant. Milo, since the vox unit is down I'll need you to relay my orders. Do you think you can do it?'
Milo smiled, a nodded.
'Good. Get Mkoll and his scouts to help you. I need every single Bunker we have left guarded and fortified. If we can hold out until the Swords arrive, we should be able to make a fighting retreat .'
Milo and Firth both saluted, and hurried to their respective tasks. Gaunt did the last button on his battle dress up, glanced at himself in a shattered piece of glass that served as a mirror, and strode out into the corridor. Already there were Ghosts and a few of the Volgan Defense Force soldiers were rushing to their positions, las guns held ready in arms. Gaunt strode towards the nearest Bunker, and turned to find Milo standing waiting for him.
'Sir, all bunkers from 20 to 45 are manned and ready for combat. The command is spreading through the tunnels as we speak.'
'Good. Have Colonel Corbec take the right flank of tunnels, and Major Rawne the left flank. If we're to be without communications, then I want my best commanders taking charge at least. Tell them to use their initiative if something comes up.'
'Yes sir,' Milo said, hurrying off through the press of bodies. The Ghosts in the bunker with Gaunt were looking at him expectantly, waiting for his command. The squads Sergeant, "Shoggy" Domor, gave him a grin, his optical implants whirring as he focused on the Commissar.
'Is this it sir?' He said. Gaunt grinned.
'Lets hope so, otherwise I've just made myself look a right fething idiot. Now man your posts men! If you see anything, report to me and start shooting!'
Rawne and Banda were still spreading the message of the armoured companies imminent arrival when Trooper Maxim, a member of Scout-Sergeant Mkoll's squad, caught up with them.
'Major Rawne sir!' He gasped, skidding to a halt from his headlong run, 'Message from the Colonel-Commissar!'
'Feth, what now?' The Major growled.
'The enemy sir! They've blown Bunker 67 and are heading for the defense line. Gaunt wants you on the left flank sir!'
'Gakk!' Banda cursed, 'That's at least fifteen tunnels away! We won't be able to make it in time to set up a decent defense.'
Rawne riled at that; if this had been Gaunt or Corbec of Koela or any of those other fethers, then no one would have doubted for a second that they could have made it in time. No one seemed to think he could o a damn thing right! Well, THAT train ended here.
'Maxim, go gather the squads around here. Have them split into ten man teams and tell them to meet me in the cargo bunker in a minute. Go man!'
The scout gave a hesitant salute, before rushing off. Banda gave the Major a questioning look.
'Just what is it you've got planned?' She asked him. Rawne leered at her.
'Wait and fething see,' He growled.
Corbec had been assembling the men in his section of the underground bunkers for evacuation, when he received the message from Gaunt by Mkoll.
'Sacred feth!' Corbec hissed to Mkoll, 'Are you sure?'
'I'm not sure about anything at the moment,' Mkoll whispered back, 'The vox link is still down and I can't get any damn confirmation about if there IS a target, let alone where it is if it exists.'
'Well, if Gaunt says to defend the bunkers until backup arrives, then we defend the bunkers till backup arrives,' Corbec said with a shrug. He turned to the Ghosts, and barked out the names of the squad leaders. Larkin, Varl, Soric and a dark, lanky officer from the Tanith called Garson stepped forward.
'Alright, listen up. Gaunt thinks there's a chance we could be attacked before the armour arrives, so I need you to break open the weapons and pass them around.'
'But we just finished packing the things!' Larkin began, but Corbec glared at him and he fell silent.
'I don't care what you just did, just organize the boys and get up them fething ladders. I want fire teams in every defensible post we have, and get someone to man the fething defense guns; by the sounds of the reports, they have something big out there, and I want something that might be actually capable of taking it down.'
The Ghosts scattered, dragging munitions boxes down from the trucks and breaking open crates of lasguns, tossing them into waiting hands. Corbec strode forward at the head of his own squad, and clambered up the ladder for Bunker 49.
'Spread out, I want every gun slit covered,' He barked. The Ghosts moved into their positions, and waited. Corbec felt sick; this was the worst part. Well, the worst part was fighting a load of daemon-crazed lunatics, but the waiting was pretty bad too.
It was warm and stuffy in the main hangar. Commissar Hark had taken off his peaked cap and unbuttoned his battle dress, showing his stocky form in his white vest, covered in sweat patches.
HE didn't know why he had accepted. The Warmaster had offered him a new post with a much more respectable regiment, and yet he had stayed with the ghosts after the victory of Hagia. His excuse had been viable enough; that he was still suspicious of Gaunt's motives and if he was still a it commander, but these doubts had already been cast out when he had seen him battling with his men on Hagia. In his heart of hearts he had no idea why he was sticking with this run-down, thrice-cursed excuse of a regiment. Perhaps it was to find out how such a collection of grim faced murderers could actually form such an efficient fighting regiment. He had an idea of the answer; it was because Gaunt was in charge of them. No other commander, with the exception of perhaps one of the great leaders of olden times like Lord-Commander Solius, could have shaped a regiment out of these people. Hark was very much impressed, to say the least.
A little distance away, Ann Curth watched Hark as the Commissar studied the massive hall around him. She pulled a face, before returning to her patient. Dorden watched her, summing up her mood easily.
'You don't like him do you?' The old medic said, as he carefully put the last stitches into a wound to seal it tight. Curth looked across the operation table at him, mid-way through scrubbing a wound with disinfectant.
'You noticed did you?' She said, a slight smile creasing her lips. She picked up a scalpel, and began to make a fine cut in the arm.
'It's understandable; he nearly executed Gaunt, and he didn't win many popularity contests for himself.'
'It's not just that. He just strikes me as…..odd,' The young woman said, dabbing a gauze cloth over the wound to stop the blood flow from getting out of hand, 'He should have left after Hagia, but he insisted on staying with us for the Volgan mission. Is he still suspicious of Gaunt, after all he's done to prove he's a damn fine commander?'
'I really couldn't say,' Dorden sighed, washing his hands in a bowl of antiseptic water, 'It's a mystery to me to. Perhaps even Hark doesn't know why he's still here?'
Ann gave a snort, which Dorden translated as disbelief. HE was about to move to the next patient when Kolea appeared through a doorway and headed towards him.
'How are you Gol? Suffer an injury?' He asked, looking Kolea up and down for any sign of damage, but the big Sergeant shook his head.
'We've got orders from Gaunt; we're coming under attack, and he wants the wounded loaded into any available transport and ready to leave in a hurry.'
'What? Why didn't he vox us!?'
'The vox-link is down due to the storm. I've been assigned to help you get anyone who isn't fit to fight into the transports and get ready to go.'
'And where is this fighting taking place?' Hark said smoothly, walking up from being Kolea. The Commissar had an unlikable tendency to creep up on people mid-conversation and just inserting himself into it. Kolea turned to look at him coldly; it would appear the Vervenhiver didn't like him either.
'It's taking place across all front. The enemy are expected to be well armed and ready for combat.'
'And why wasn't I told?'
'The vox-links are down sir. Sorry if you feel a little left out,' Kolea said flatly. The Commissars hand strayed across his plasma pistol for a moment, but didn't unbuckle it. A hard edge had entered his eyes.
'I shall have to find the Commissar-Colonel and ask for orders myself then,' He said, equally flatly, and departed through a doorway. Dorden grinned.
'Now you've gone and done it. He'll probably shoot Gaunt for not telling him there's a fight brewing.'
Ann and Gol were both silent. Dorden sighed; if they had one fault, it was that they couldn't see a joke if it held a gun to their face and yelled insults at them.
'Sir, what the Gakk do you think you're doing?' Banda asked, 'The left flank is still mostly defenseless, and you're here messing around with a load of cargo buggies?'
Rawne turned to her, trying to keep his cool.
'Look, don't push me right now,' He said, as the Ghost squads piled into the buggies, 'The left flank is a damn long way away on foot, but with these buggies, it'll be a lot faster, so keep quiet and help them lift the cargo off!'
Banda was silent for a moment, face flushed with what Rawne could tell was anger, and then she rushed off and began to help the Ghosts unpack a crate of machine parts.
Rawne sighed, and loosened his camo-cloak. For the first time, he really wished Feygor was here; his adjacent was rude, uncaring and a complete bastard, but at least it was in a way that was respectful to the Major. Feygor did what he was told and didn't asked questions; he trusted Rawne, and perhaps was the only one that did it out of respect rather than fear and awe. Banda was a whole different story; she was rude to everybody, with no regard to rank or authority, she was inquisitive and questioning, and she never saw anything he was trying to do and productive. And she kept damn well WINKING at him! When they got out of here, he was going to file a report to Gaunt against her for attempting to fratinise with a superior officer.
'Sir, the buggies are ready to go!' Said a Ghost, Sergeant Hadsmitt. Rawne nodded and turned to the men.
'Alright, all squads into a buggy and follow me through the tunnels! One squad per Bunker, and make sure every position if guarded, alright?'
There was a chorus of understanding, and Rawne jumped into the drivers seat of a buggy. He was shocked to find someone already sitting in it, and rolled off them into the passengers seat.
'Could you warn me next time you're about to do that?' Banda chuckled, brushing her uniform down. Rawne gritted his teeth,
'what are you doing in the drivers seat?' He growled. Banda just grinned wider.
'Driving sir. You'll need your hands free to direct the squads into the Bunkers sir,' She said sweetly. Rawne glared at her; she had a point, but he was damned if he'd ever admit it.
'Alright, but take it easy,' He warned her. He turned to the rest of the column of buggies, each one packed with Ghosts.
'Alright, move out!'
Twenty minutes later, the pocket of air washed over the bunkers. It was a massive stretched of hot, still air, many miles across and just as wide by the estimates of the omniscopes. For the first five minutes, nothing moved, except the whirring gun turrets of the Bunkers as they searched for victims.
And then the forces of Chaos emerged; they looked like bandits, wearing thick ragged cloaks of Sandwalker hides and carrying long bladed sticks along with primitive projectile weapons. They ran forward, waving their blade-sticks above their heads and yelling in a long, yodeling scream. As they closed, the defenders could see their faces; they wore thick, smoked glass goggles and moth protectors to prevent sand getting into their nose and mouth. It gave them a horribly insectoid look as they stormed up the steep sandy slopes to reach the guardsmen. The initial volley felled many as they slowly made their way up the banks to the defended positions, but then more forces came out the storm, this time with heavy weaponry. They were carried on huge howadahs, which were strapped to the backs of Sandwalkers; massive, shaggy furred beasts with rams horns and tusks curling from their thick, long snouted skulls. They appeared to be ancient pattern las cannons, and did not appear to have the sheer power of the Imperial standard weapons, but they still took three bunkers down before retreating to a safe distance, harried by the stinging shots of the lasguns. From his own Bunker, Gaunt watched them flee.
'We've got them on the run now!' Domor said, his optical implants zooming out to follow their retreat, 'We've broken them.'
'No,' Gaunt said, 'We haven't.'
'Sir?'
'They're making way for something. Something much bigger than themselves,' Gaunt said darkly. Suddenly, the scanning machinery that was strapped to the wall began to blip madly.
'Sir, massive movement detected, to the north west, two blips!'
Gaunt turned to watch the massive storm. Suddenly, a much dark shadows amongst the swirling mass appeared, and formed a giant figure that moved through the stinging grains of sand like it was no more than a thin mist. A foot broke into the calm of the air pocket, slamming down with enough force to shake the sand dunes piled around the bunker. When it raised again, Gaunt noticed that it had been fused into mirca-glass. The rest of it emerged from the sandstorm; a towering creature of some fifty feet, brutally spiked and daubed in chaotic runes and symbols that made the air thrum and shimmer with their mere presence. The cultists began to chant again, screeching in their dark tongue and bowing low to the new creature. The thing raised it's heavy arms to the sky, and roared, but Gaunt noticed something wrong; it sounded artificially, like a vox-enhancer rather than a animal cry.
'Holy God-Emperor protect us,' He breathed, 'A Titan. They have a damned Titan.'
Well, another chapter down, and now we know what blew the hell out of Bunker 64. Hope this chapter pleases (or at least fails to offend) and prepare thyself for a battle of epic proportions next chapter.
Let the Emperor be my shield when I need protection, my sword when I need to fight, and my guide when I need to find hope.
A hymn from the Book of Saint Sabbat.
Gaunt was seated in his private chamber, reading the nights data-slates from the various scans, when there was a knock on his door.
'Come.'
The door slid open to reveal Brin Milo, Gaunt's assistant and the all-round good luck charm for the Tanith Ghosts. The young man was a classic example of the people; dark haired, pale skinned and with a blue tattoo over one eye. He stood smartly to attention before the Commissar, and ripped off a salute in his black fatigues and camo cloak. The look of utter concentration on his face almost made Gaunt smile.
'Yes Milo, what is it?'
'Sir, Sergeant Firth from the Albion Regiment wishes to speak with you.'
'Send him in,' Gaunt said, taking a seat. He was currently in his shirt and braces, his well muscled frame glistening slightly with sweat in the stuffy chamber. Milo nodded, and nodded to someone outside the door. Sergeant Firth came in, and nodded to Gaunt.
'Sir,' He said, his face a serious mask, 'We've just lost Bunker 67.'
Gaunt's smile faded; he had just though the officer was coming to thank him for the coffee. Cursing his stupidity, he stood up and grabbed his bolt pistol from the holster that hung from the back of his chair, checking the magazine was fresh.
'How long?'
'Two minutes ago.'
'Why didn't you vox me?'
'The lines are down. I only had enough time to order the retreat from the nearby bunkers.'
Gaunt nodded; he was mildly annoyed that the Sergeant had made an order without his consent, but it was the order he would have done.
'May I ask you not to make such an order without my approval again?'
'Sorry sir, but this can't wait. I think I know what's out there, and how they're escaping detection.'
Gaunt pulled on his battle dress, and nodded.
'Go ahead.'
'Remember that hot air pocket you pointed out? Bunker 67 had detected movement coming from it, but when it passed over them there was no visual contact with the enemy. What I think they're doing is skirting around the edge of the storm, just close enough to have their heat signatures hidden and stay hidden from sight. The only way we can track them is by movement, and that isn't the most precise way of tracking a target at the best of times.'
'So we know they're out there, but not exactly where?'
'Well, they'll be in the storm itself, keeping up with the gas pocket. When it passes over a bunker, they can pretty much attack from wherever they want with little warning.'
'Excuse me Sergeant,' Said Milo, who had been standing to one side, 'But wouldn't they be torn to shreds by the storm?'
'You've faced Chaos before lad,' Firth said darkly, 'I should think by now that you'd have given up trying to find common sense from a Chaos army. Their soul objective is to wipe out the enemy, no matter how many people they loose. And they wouldn't need many people either; a few armed with anti-bunker weapons could come out of nowhere and blast a position straight to hell, and simply slip back in again before support could arrive.'
'So what you're telling me is that they can strike just about wherever they want now, and we can't track them?' Said Gaunt. Sergeant Firth rubbed his chin for a moment, and smiled.
'Not necessarily. I have a device that might help us out, not standard issue mind you.'
'Any help would be appreciated Sergeant,' Gaunt said. Firth grinned, and threw a salute.
'You can count on me sir! I'll gather my lads and get to work setting it up.'
'Very good Sergeant. Milo, since the vox unit is down I'll need you to relay my orders. Do you think you can do it?'
Milo smiled, a nodded.
'Good. Get Mkoll and his scouts to help you. I need every single Bunker we have left guarded and fortified. If we can hold out until the Swords arrive, we should be able to make a fighting retreat .'
Milo and Firth both saluted, and hurried to their respective tasks. Gaunt did the last button on his battle dress up, glanced at himself in a shattered piece of glass that served as a mirror, and strode out into the corridor. Already there were Ghosts and a few of the Volgan Defense Force soldiers were rushing to their positions, las guns held ready in arms. Gaunt strode towards the nearest Bunker, and turned to find Milo standing waiting for him.
'Sir, all bunkers from 20 to 45 are manned and ready for combat. The command is spreading through the tunnels as we speak.'
'Good. Have Colonel Corbec take the right flank of tunnels, and Major Rawne the left flank. If we're to be without communications, then I want my best commanders taking charge at least. Tell them to use their initiative if something comes up.'
'Yes sir,' Milo said, hurrying off through the press of bodies. The Ghosts in the bunker with Gaunt were looking at him expectantly, waiting for his command. The squads Sergeant, "Shoggy" Domor, gave him a grin, his optical implants whirring as he focused on the Commissar.
'Is this it sir?' He said. Gaunt grinned.
'Lets hope so, otherwise I've just made myself look a right fething idiot. Now man your posts men! If you see anything, report to me and start shooting!'
Rawne and Banda were still spreading the message of the armoured companies imminent arrival when Trooper Maxim, a member of Scout-Sergeant Mkoll's squad, caught up with them.
'Major Rawne sir!' He gasped, skidding to a halt from his headlong run, 'Message from the Colonel-Commissar!'
'Feth, what now?' The Major growled.
'The enemy sir! They've blown Bunker 67 and are heading for the defense line. Gaunt wants you on the left flank sir!'
'Gakk!' Banda cursed, 'That's at least fifteen tunnels away! We won't be able to make it in time to set up a decent defense.'
Rawne riled at that; if this had been Gaunt or Corbec of Koela or any of those other fethers, then no one would have doubted for a second that they could have made it in time. No one seemed to think he could o a damn thing right! Well, THAT train ended here.
'Maxim, go gather the squads around here. Have them split into ten man teams and tell them to meet me in the cargo bunker in a minute. Go man!'
The scout gave a hesitant salute, before rushing off. Banda gave the Major a questioning look.
'Just what is it you've got planned?' She asked him. Rawne leered at her.
'Wait and fething see,' He growled.
Corbec had been assembling the men in his section of the underground bunkers for evacuation, when he received the message from Gaunt by Mkoll.
'Sacred feth!' Corbec hissed to Mkoll, 'Are you sure?'
'I'm not sure about anything at the moment,' Mkoll whispered back, 'The vox link is still down and I can't get any damn confirmation about if there IS a target, let alone where it is if it exists.'
'Well, if Gaunt says to defend the bunkers until backup arrives, then we defend the bunkers till backup arrives,' Corbec said with a shrug. He turned to the Ghosts, and barked out the names of the squad leaders. Larkin, Varl, Soric and a dark, lanky officer from the Tanith called Garson stepped forward.
'Alright, listen up. Gaunt thinks there's a chance we could be attacked before the armour arrives, so I need you to break open the weapons and pass them around.'
'But we just finished packing the things!' Larkin began, but Corbec glared at him and he fell silent.
'I don't care what you just did, just organize the boys and get up them fething ladders. I want fire teams in every defensible post we have, and get someone to man the fething defense guns; by the sounds of the reports, they have something big out there, and I want something that might be actually capable of taking it down.'
The Ghosts scattered, dragging munitions boxes down from the trucks and breaking open crates of lasguns, tossing them into waiting hands. Corbec strode forward at the head of his own squad, and clambered up the ladder for Bunker 49.
'Spread out, I want every gun slit covered,' He barked. The Ghosts moved into their positions, and waited. Corbec felt sick; this was the worst part. Well, the worst part was fighting a load of daemon-crazed lunatics, but the waiting was pretty bad too.
It was warm and stuffy in the main hangar. Commissar Hark had taken off his peaked cap and unbuttoned his battle dress, showing his stocky form in his white vest, covered in sweat patches.
HE didn't know why he had accepted. The Warmaster had offered him a new post with a much more respectable regiment, and yet he had stayed with the ghosts after the victory of Hagia. His excuse had been viable enough; that he was still suspicious of Gaunt's motives and if he was still a it commander, but these doubts had already been cast out when he had seen him battling with his men on Hagia. In his heart of hearts he had no idea why he was sticking with this run-down, thrice-cursed excuse of a regiment. Perhaps it was to find out how such a collection of grim faced murderers could actually form such an efficient fighting regiment. He had an idea of the answer; it was because Gaunt was in charge of them. No other commander, with the exception of perhaps one of the great leaders of olden times like Lord-Commander Solius, could have shaped a regiment out of these people. Hark was very much impressed, to say the least.
A little distance away, Ann Curth watched Hark as the Commissar studied the massive hall around him. She pulled a face, before returning to her patient. Dorden watched her, summing up her mood easily.
'You don't like him do you?' The old medic said, as he carefully put the last stitches into a wound to seal it tight. Curth looked across the operation table at him, mid-way through scrubbing a wound with disinfectant.
'You noticed did you?' She said, a slight smile creasing her lips. She picked up a scalpel, and began to make a fine cut in the arm.
'It's understandable; he nearly executed Gaunt, and he didn't win many popularity contests for himself.'
'It's not just that. He just strikes me as…..odd,' The young woman said, dabbing a gauze cloth over the wound to stop the blood flow from getting out of hand, 'He should have left after Hagia, but he insisted on staying with us for the Volgan mission. Is he still suspicious of Gaunt, after all he's done to prove he's a damn fine commander?'
'I really couldn't say,' Dorden sighed, washing his hands in a bowl of antiseptic water, 'It's a mystery to me to. Perhaps even Hark doesn't know why he's still here?'
Ann gave a snort, which Dorden translated as disbelief. HE was about to move to the next patient when Kolea appeared through a doorway and headed towards him.
'How are you Gol? Suffer an injury?' He asked, looking Kolea up and down for any sign of damage, but the big Sergeant shook his head.
'We've got orders from Gaunt; we're coming under attack, and he wants the wounded loaded into any available transport and ready to leave in a hurry.'
'What? Why didn't he vox us!?'
'The vox-link is down due to the storm. I've been assigned to help you get anyone who isn't fit to fight into the transports and get ready to go.'
'And where is this fighting taking place?' Hark said smoothly, walking up from being Kolea. The Commissar had an unlikable tendency to creep up on people mid-conversation and just inserting himself into it. Kolea turned to look at him coldly; it would appear the Vervenhiver didn't like him either.
'It's taking place across all front. The enemy are expected to be well armed and ready for combat.'
'And why wasn't I told?'
'The vox-links are down sir. Sorry if you feel a little left out,' Kolea said flatly. The Commissars hand strayed across his plasma pistol for a moment, but didn't unbuckle it. A hard edge had entered his eyes.
'I shall have to find the Commissar-Colonel and ask for orders myself then,' He said, equally flatly, and departed through a doorway. Dorden grinned.
'Now you've gone and done it. He'll probably shoot Gaunt for not telling him there's a fight brewing.'
Ann and Gol were both silent. Dorden sighed; if they had one fault, it was that they couldn't see a joke if it held a gun to their face and yelled insults at them.
'Sir, what the Gakk do you think you're doing?' Banda asked, 'The left flank is still mostly defenseless, and you're here messing around with a load of cargo buggies?'
Rawne turned to her, trying to keep his cool.
'Look, don't push me right now,' He said, as the Ghost squads piled into the buggies, 'The left flank is a damn long way away on foot, but with these buggies, it'll be a lot faster, so keep quiet and help them lift the cargo off!'
Banda was silent for a moment, face flushed with what Rawne could tell was anger, and then she rushed off and began to help the Ghosts unpack a crate of machine parts.
Rawne sighed, and loosened his camo-cloak. For the first time, he really wished Feygor was here; his adjacent was rude, uncaring and a complete bastard, but at least it was in a way that was respectful to the Major. Feygor did what he was told and didn't asked questions; he trusted Rawne, and perhaps was the only one that did it out of respect rather than fear and awe. Banda was a whole different story; she was rude to everybody, with no regard to rank or authority, she was inquisitive and questioning, and she never saw anything he was trying to do and productive. And she kept damn well WINKING at him! When they got out of here, he was going to file a report to Gaunt against her for attempting to fratinise with a superior officer.
'Sir, the buggies are ready to go!' Said a Ghost, Sergeant Hadsmitt. Rawne nodded and turned to the men.
'Alright, all squads into a buggy and follow me through the tunnels! One squad per Bunker, and make sure every position if guarded, alright?'
There was a chorus of understanding, and Rawne jumped into the drivers seat of a buggy. He was shocked to find someone already sitting in it, and rolled off them into the passengers seat.
'Could you warn me next time you're about to do that?' Banda chuckled, brushing her uniform down. Rawne gritted his teeth,
'what are you doing in the drivers seat?' He growled. Banda just grinned wider.
'Driving sir. You'll need your hands free to direct the squads into the Bunkers sir,' She said sweetly. Rawne glared at her; she had a point, but he was damned if he'd ever admit it.
'Alright, but take it easy,' He warned her. He turned to the rest of the column of buggies, each one packed with Ghosts.
'Alright, move out!'
Twenty minutes later, the pocket of air washed over the bunkers. It was a massive stretched of hot, still air, many miles across and just as wide by the estimates of the omniscopes. For the first five minutes, nothing moved, except the whirring gun turrets of the Bunkers as they searched for victims.
And then the forces of Chaos emerged; they looked like bandits, wearing thick ragged cloaks of Sandwalker hides and carrying long bladed sticks along with primitive projectile weapons. They ran forward, waving their blade-sticks above their heads and yelling in a long, yodeling scream. As they closed, the defenders could see their faces; they wore thick, smoked glass goggles and moth protectors to prevent sand getting into their nose and mouth. It gave them a horribly insectoid look as they stormed up the steep sandy slopes to reach the guardsmen. The initial volley felled many as they slowly made their way up the banks to the defended positions, but then more forces came out the storm, this time with heavy weaponry. They were carried on huge howadahs, which were strapped to the backs of Sandwalkers; massive, shaggy furred beasts with rams horns and tusks curling from their thick, long snouted skulls. They appeared to be ancient pattern las cannons, and did not appear to have the sheer power of the Imperial standard weapons, but they still took three bunkers down before retreating to a safe distance, harried by the stinging shots of the lasguns. From his own Bunker, Gaunt watched them flee.
'We've got them on the run now!' Domor said, his optical implants zooming out to follow their retreat, 'We've broken them.'
'No,' Gaunt said, 'We haven't.'
'Sir?'
'They're making way for something. Something much bigger than themselves,' Gaunt said darkly. Suddenly, the scanning machinery that was strapped to the wall began to blip madly.
'Sir, massive movement detected, to the north west, two blips!'
Gaunt turned to watch the massive storm. Suddenly, a much dark shadows amongst the swirling mass appeared, and formed a giant figure that moved through the stinging grains of sand like it was no more than a thin mist. A foot broke into the calm of the air pocket, slamming down with enough force to shake the sand dunes piled around the bunker. When it raised again, Gaunt noticed that it had been fused into mirca-glass. The rest of it emerged from the sandstorm; a towering creature of some fifty feet, brutally spiked and daubed in chaotic runes and symbols that made the air thrum and shimmer with their mere presence. The cultists began to chant again, screeching in their dark tongue and bowing low to the new creature. The thing raised it's heavy arms to the sky, and roared, but Gaunt noticed something wrong; it sounded artificially, like a vox-enhancer rather than a animal cry.
'Holy God-Emperor protect us,' He breathed, 'A Titan. They have a damned Titan.'
Well, another chapter down, and now we know what blew the hell out of Bunker 64. Hope this chapter pleases (or at least fails to offend) and prepare thyself for a battle of epic proportions next chapter.