Puller pressed his combead and grunted into the stalk, as he looked around. The battle was starting to swing in their favor, but they still needed that damn artillery, and he swore to the emperor when he found that repugnant b*****d of an artillery officer he was going to wrap his mordian hands round his throat and strangle the lives of each man that died for his absence out of him.
The techpriest came in loud and clear, and for a moment John thought he was hearing things. He could have sworn the Cog head was dead, but of course he was sure there was another one, even more so now. "It is Colonel, to you Techpriest, and we will give you what cover we can, we are not that far from the Command Chimera."
Turning to Skive he nodded to the savlars. "You, and you, the cog boy is coming our way, give him covering fire, and don't hit him. Or I'll make sure you're under Skive's command forever." Just as he finished giving the overwatch command, his ear rang again, this time is was the scouts.
"Confirmed, I'm trying to get artillery support, but I can't find that sniveling ******** of an Artillery officer that came in with us, for his sake he'd better be dead. Hold out as long as you can, don't waste your lives."
"Confirmed, Colonel. Scouts will hold as long as we can. Kaerin out."
Khasiq nodded towards one of the scouts within the command tower and motioned outside.
"Contact the rest, establish a defensive border. Use any heavy weapons they have stocked here but conserve ammunition as much as possible. These supplies are meant for the regiment. Lasfire first, that can be recharged."
The scouts nodded and ran out. Khasiq strode forward and settled himself into the command chair of the comms tower. Logistics and large scale commands were not practices means for a corporal and were both alien to him, but necessity dictated that he act in such a role. He opened a channel to the regimental scouts.
"This is Corporal Khasiq Kaerin. The Colonel has ordered a defensive hold of the airfield to be sustained as long as possible without wasting our lives. To me, this simply means we hold our own without dieing. Do so. Specifics are coming via runner."
He cut the channel and sagged in the chair. Training regimens had long since drilled it into him to take every moment of rest as it presented itself. He considered breaking out rations and partaking but thought better of it. Years spent observing Commissars had taught him that morale played a defining role in every battle. If the scouts saw him shirking from duty it would only serve to undermine the grasp they had on the airfield. With a resigned sigh Khasiq opened the scouts' channel and directed those in the comms tower to various positions monitoring the status and movements of the regimental men in the area."
When the grenade blew, Thax was right behind them. ready to blow the head of of anyone unlucky enough to be in there. But sadly no one was in the room. 'Damn.' He thought slightly frustrated. following the Kriegsmen to the next door, he readied himself. "I must agree with your buddy, I don't like this one bit. I know from experience hat this is the worst possible condition to breach an upright coffin." Thax said. "what we need right now is a better shock and awe method. Any of you got a Demo pack?"
Janssen and his men hear Thax question, Schmidtt laughs "Of course Sir, Werner has one hidden in his pants!, and a flamethrower! and...!" .Janssen turns to him "thats enough soldier, you are forgetting to who you are talking, a soldier cant talk to an officer like that, Im sorry Cpl. Thax, I will have a serious chat with my soldier when this end, of course if hes still alive and dont make me shoot him before, and about your question, no, we dont have demolition packs, all of them were lost when our unit was destroyed, all we have are grenades" Schmidt remains silent, Werner are still waiting the order while keep close to the next door. "The walls are too thick, a grenade put against the wall aint gonna make an hole big enough to let us in..."
Epsilies rolled his one real eye at the colonel's correction. Imperial guards and their ranks, such petty distinctions to get caught up on. They were all just cogs in the great war machine of the Imperium; their individual function was far more important than individual rank. But the unenlightened always cling to the most illogical of things. No sense trying to talk them out of it, especially during a firefight like this. "My apologies Colonel," he said over the vox. "Internal cogitator has been updated with your appropriate rank."
"Moving to chimera now, apply covering fire now." His body tensed, the natural machinery of his muscles working in tandem with the bionic augments. After a moment to allow the guards to begin their firing, Epsilies sprinted out into the open. It was a good two yards between his cover and the downed vehicle, two yards more than he cared to run. But the wounded machine call to him, its spirit howling in frustration at its inability to move.
Clearing the gap Epsilies slid under the half-propped vehicle, taking refuge under the tank. With practiced hands he got to work on the damaged treads, pulling the metal back into place. Meanwhile his mechadendrites started cutting away at the wreckage holding it all up. He kept a close eye on the chimera itself, calculating how much of the slag he could remove before having to get clear. More importantly the removed scrap was being re-purposed as parts for the chimera's damaged tread. It wasn't pretty, and if his magos saw him doing it Epsilies would likely be stripped for spare parts, but it would work, and to the haggard enginseer a working machine was better than no machine.