A Little Scrap Never Hurts

"I must say, it is surprising how quickly situations can change, isn't it?" said Wadden Hurst. "I suppose we have the Emperor to thank for that." Hurst took a sip of wine, and reclined in his high backed chair. The Officer's Club was a nice change from the dusty streets, and he relished the chance to wear his dress uniform.

"Indeed, Sergeant." said Brigadier General Tullassar Derim. "I find that in the grand scheme of things, fate tends to lend its hand to those who rig the deck in their favour. Were it not for our contributions in solidifying a defensive hold on the Capital Spire, things might have turned out much differently."

The other officers nodded in agreement. Beside Hurst, Alek was fidgeting in his seat. Sergeant Hurst had invited him to come along, and he'd been too nervous to say no. Hurst himself had been invited by General Derim. So he was an invitee for an invitee. That made things awkward for Alek. He looked down at the grox steak in front of him, barely touched. His cybernetic fingers gripped a dinner knife, and he reluctantly cut himself a slice.

Colonel Orias Nolt spoke. "I don't think you give our men enough credit, General. While our initiative was indeed a deciding factor, I remain confident that we would have been able to hold out for a long enough time on our own."

"You're too proud, Orias." said Tullassar sternly. "There is one thing to be proud of your own men, and another to spit in the faces of those who offer you help. I'll not stand for inter-regimental rivalries."

"Of course, General." said Orias. The man's hawk like features betrayed any sincerity in his apology. Alek resented him for it, but he kept to himself.

Hurst turned to the other officers, "Commander Lorald, your Dyneemek detachment was the first to arrive after the Artemians, yes? What do you make of the situation?"

Lorald stroked his moustache thoughtfully. "I'd say it is a grim scene. I mean, this meal is a nice comfort, but the regular soldiers go out to die by the hundreds every day. I'm sure you understand that personally Sergeant. I know what it means to lead people to war, but something doesn't feel right about this place. It feels like there's something else at work here that we cannot see. Something behind the scenes, I feel. It makes me uneasy."

'"Behind the scenes?"' laughed one of the Corinthian Officers, "Is there someone behind the curtain over there running the show?"

The whole table burst into laughter. Lorald glared at them, but he stayed silent. It wasn't worth arguing with drunken fools. Hurst's vox bead started ringing in his pocket. He sighed. "Excuse me for one moment." he said, standing up from the table. He walked behind a row of decorative plants for some privacy.

"Hurst here, what is it?"

"Hurst? It's Captain Uther. I'm trying to reach Merrick, but he isn't responding on his vox link. Do you have any idea where he is?"

Hurst shook his head. "No sir, I'm not sure where he is. I could pass the message along for you."

"That would be excellent, Sergeant. I appreciate it. Make sure to tell Merrick about how difficult this was for you."

Hurst smiled. "Will do sir."

"Again, thank you, Sergeant."

Hurst sighed. So much for a nice dinner, it seemed. He sat back down at the table. "I'm sorry gentlemen, but I must take my leave, I have to relay a message to my colleague, Sergeant Merrick."

Alek looked up from his food. "I could take it, sergeant," he offered. "I know where Sergeant Major Merrick is too."

"You would do that, Alek?"

"Yes sir, it's no problem at all!" said the boy, almost too enthusiastically. His eyes were pleading to Hurst to let him go. The sergeant smiled and shook his head.

Hurst chuckled. "Very well then, off you go. Tell the Sergeant Major the trouble you had to go through, put him on edge a bit."

"Will do sir." said Alek, half sprinting to the exit. The officers watched him trip over a vase of flowers in his rush to leave. "I'm alright!" he called. They gave a collective hmph, and went back to their conversation.

"That boy has a mean streak of bad luck, doesn't he?"

Hurst whistled. "Oh, like you wouldn't believe."

"Come on Merrick! Kick his ass!"

Merrick ducked under the Catachan's swing, and planted his fist in the man's gullet. The giant staggered back from the blow, but didn't fall. The two circled each other in the small, caged off ring. Sweat poured down Merrick's back. They had fought nonstop for ten minutes, and it was beginning to take its toll on both of them. The crowd cheered them on, bets were placed, drinks were spilled, and fights broke out. This was The Bunker, where the infantry went on their off duty hours. The Catachan sprung forward again.

He was a big man, with dark black skin. The Catachans were expert jungle fighters, and they were waiting to ship out to Typhon any day. They spent their spare time drinking and fighting in the pit rings, taking on all comers. He sidestepped the Catachan and kicked him from behind, pushing him into the cage's metal bars. Merrick leapt onto his opponent's back, and grabbed him in a full nelson. The Catachan suddenly threw his head back, bashing Merrick in the face.

Merrick recoiled from the blow. The next punch hit him in the nose with a sickening crunch. He found his legs swept out from under him, and he landed on the ground hard. The Catachan raised his hands in victory, and stood over Merrick, smiling. He kicked him in the side. "Get up, our fight ain't over yet."

Merrick coughed, but smiled right back at him. "Actually, I think it is." Merrick's foot shot out and caught the bigger man squarely in the groin. A painful gasp went through the crowd. The Catachan wheezed out a pained moan while Merrick scrambled to his feet. Balling his hands together, Merrick brought his fists down on the back of the Catachan's head. The man dropped like a stone, whimpering on the floor. Merrick took a deep breath, and pounded his fist in the air. The crowd cheered, and the winners collected their bets.

Alek arrived at the Bunker, and gently pushed his way through the crowd. The air was smoky, and it smelled of piss, but he felt more comfortable here in the crowded bar than at some sterile, upper class dinner party. On his left he saw the fighter's pits, lowered into the ground. The Bunker was set up with a balcony overlooking the fighter's pits, and a wide walkway encircling the center.

He heard someone call his name. Looking up, he saw Borik Vornas and Lenham Remer waving to him from the upper level. They were shouting something at him, but with all the noise, he figured it would be better to see them in person than to try long distance communication. Weaving through the mixed crowds and up the stairs, he found his way to his squad mates. Kippler was sitting at their booth, wiping down his bayonet. He grinned when he saw Alek stumble towards them.

"Lost your appetite, Alek?" he asked.

"Sort of," said Alek, grabbing a drink as he sat down. "Got a message from Captain Uther, and I offered to send it along to Merrick. The officers made me a little jumpy. Smelly and gritty is what living's supposed to be like, not fancy dress uniforms."

Vornas stepped back from the railing and slapped Alek on the shoulder. "That's more Hurst's style anyways," he laughed. "If his blood were any bluer, we'd call him a Tau!"

Kippler snickered. "That's true enough. Tully seems to like him, not many NCOs get to play dress up with Generals. "

Alek looked around. "Where is Merrick anyways?" he asked.

Kippler tilted his head towards the railing. Remer was shouting at the top of his lungs. "Come on Boss! Break his fucking jaw! I've got fifty thrones on the line, you realize? Drop him hard!"

Alek peered over the edge. Sure enough, Merrick was down in the fighter's pit, now squaring off against Mad Hound Manrey from the 31st Artemians. Merrick was the bigger of the two, while Manrey was hunched over like an ape. Merrick grabbed the surly man's knee as it was brought up and twisted it sideways, flipping Manrey over in midair. Down on the ground, he stomped the Mad Hound in the chest. Manrey gasped for air. The crowd burst out cheering again.

"Yeah, that's right you frakking monkey!" shouted Remer, whooping with glee at the prospect of his winnings. "Nobody messes with the Boss! Adamantium grade balls, he has!"

Merrick was sweating hard. Stripped to his undershirt, his clothes were drenched. He'd had enough for one night. He pushed through the adoring crowds. The chants were nice, but he had to call it quits for now. Clambering up the stairs, he plunked himself down with the rest of the Daredevils, grabbing Alek's glass and taking a long swig. He scratched his side irritably.

"You know sarge, it won't heal if you keep peeling it off." chastised Kippler.

Merrick groaned. "Ah, I don't care, Kippler. I never liked synthflesh anyways. How was the fight from up here?"

Remer hopped down from the railing. "Well, I'm up a hundred thrones, thanks to you, Boss. You sure you couldn't get another round in there? Three for three and I'd buy us a night at the Guardswomen's barracks." Noticing who was approaching, he continued, "Or, one kiss from everyone's favourite Commissar. Would you be up for that, ma'am?"

Commissar Connor stood there with a look of curious disgust for Remer. "If I was on duty, private, I'd see you shot for that remark. I'll let it slide this time."

Connor wasn't in uniform. She simply wore a plain black officer's jacket with the red sash, but nothing formal. She wasn't here on business, thought Merrick. "So, ma'am, what brings you to The Bunker this fine evening?"

"Rest, recuperation, and refining my feel for the infantry." she said, sitting down.

Merrick frowned. "You psychoanalyze your troops on your time off?"

"Yes, I find it helps to understand what makes them tick before I am told to lead them into a warzone."

Remer cut in. "And there's no better way to do that than to share a couple drinks with the regiment's most handsome member, right miss?"

"Go soak your head, private."

"I thought the Captain was getting that treatment already..." muttered Remer.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, private. Drop it."

Alek perked up at the mention of the Captain. "Oh, that reminds me, Sergeant. Hurst wanted me to relay a message to you from Captain Uther. It sounded important."

Merrick sighed. "It never ends, does it? Fine, I'll take the message. You want to come along, ma'am? If it's important you should probably hear it as well."

"I agree, Sergeant Major. You lead the way."

Dawn was beginning to creep over the Spire, the first few rays of light penetrating the darkness of the lower levels. It was only marginally cooler outside. The Bunker was on the lower levels of the Capital Spire, near the heat distribution plant. The air was heavy and wet. Merrick took his vox bead from his pocket and attached it to his ear. Connor did the same, and switched to his frequency.

"Merrick here, what's this about Captain?"

"Merrick, Get your squad up to HQ, and get them prepped for an assignment. We've got a situation that needs to be dealt with."

"Right sir, we're on our way."

The Administratum Complex seemed to change function every time Merrick visited the place. It was either a refugee camp, a military headquarters, or a half abandoned warehouse. Sometimes it was even an office building. Right now, it looked like a mixture of everything.

The Daredevils had geared up during the ride over, now wearing their full carapace armour. The dull green paint job was chipped and worn from the constant combat of the last year. It was only now that they had managed to get a real break from combat for any amount of time.

The 85th Vendoland were now the lead scouts for the entirety of Meridian's armed forces. Merrick figured that that's what Uther wanted them for. Some Vandis troops were probably spotted trying to cross the dead zone between the spires, so they'd have to go in and check it out for a potential attack.

They found Uther in the communications room. Hurst was already there in full kit. The wide, low ceilinged chamber was lit by the glowing blue charts emanating from the dozen tactical map tables spread throughout the room. Comm officers and servitors bustled around the tables, inspecting archaic paper maps beside state of the art holocharts.

"Right, what's the job, Captain?" said Merrick, pushing his way to the table. The charts were showing the area between the Capital and Legis, commonly known as the Dead Zone. It was a flat industrial wasteland, completely abandoned during the Tyranid invasion, and now acting as a buffer between the two warring Spires. Uther marked a spot on the map, an elevated highway.

"Four hours ago, we picked up a distress call from one of the Kydoran Sentinel Squadrons. Apparently, they were attacked by civilian vehicles moving through the dead zone, and they managed to kill his entire squadron."

Merrick frowned. "Why'd they leave him then?"

"He told us his Sentinel was clipped in midair, and he fell down the chasm separating the lanes of the road. So far as they knew, he had died."

'Command wants the 85th Vendoland to scout the area out, in case the Vandis forces are setting up shop in the Dead Zone. If they are, we need someone to mark out the areas for bombardment and air strikes."

"And that's where we come in, is it?" said Merrick.

"Precisely, sergeant major. The Artemian 6th Urban Brigade has been assigned to the mission as well. They will provide transportation for the operation. Your units appear to work well together. Additionally, the Kydorans wish to avenge their comrades, and have offered a Sentinel squadron for support."

"That should give us enough guns in case things get hairy." said Merrick with a wry smile. We'll head down to the loading bay."

"Good luck sergeant major. May the Emperor guide us to victory."