[Imperial Guard 06] - Gunheads by Steve Parker

Author:Steve Parker
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-06-08T11:25:10+00:00

Wulfe found Beans waiting for him outside C-barracks with his belongings already packed into a canvas bag. He was sitting on a concrete step, smoking a lho-stick, and examining the red dust that had gathered under his fingernails. Wulfe automatically assessed him as he drew closer. Judging by his smooth, open facial features, Beans was young, no older than twenty standard most probably. His fatigues hung loose on a skinny frame. He had rolled the sleeves of his red field-tunic up to reveal heavily tattooed forearms but, if any of the tats were hive-ganger symbols from his life back on Cadia, Wulfe didn’t recognise them. That didn’t mean much, of course. There were literally tens of thousands of gangs in the vast, crowded fortress-hives where the men of Exolon had been raised.

“You’ll be Beans,” said Wulfe as he stopped in front of the trooper.

“Are you Wulfe?” Beans’ voice was high and he spoke with the soft, drawling vowels of a Kasr Feros man.

“I’m Sergeant Wulfe, and you can call me sergeant, or sarge. If you call me anything else, I’ll break your teeth.”

Beans stood up, dropping his smoke at the side of the step and crushing it under a booted foot. He was a good head shorter than Wulfe and had to look up at an angle to meet his gaze. “All right, sergeant. Throne above. I didn’t mean any disrespect, did I? Don’t want to get off on the wrong foot. I’m nervous enough already, by Throne.”

Wulfe nodded. At least the trooper was frank. “Why do they call you Beans?”

“It’s my name, isn’t it? Mirkos Biehn. Beans. See?” Wulfe let the relief show on his face.

“What?” said Beans. “Thought I was going to stink up the air in your turret? Nah, it’s nothing like that, sergeant. Then again, I can’t promise I’ll be forest fresh all the time. I’m only human.”

“I’ll make sure the rest of the crew don’t shoot you for your first offence,” said Wulfe. “To be honest, it stinks so bad in there when we’re on manoeuvres that no one would notice. You’ll learn to breathe through your mouth pretty quickly.”

Beans looked horrified and Wulfe couldn’t help but laugh.

“As for being nervous, Beans, don’t be. My lot look out for each other. It’s the first rule. You’ll be seeing proper combat on my crew. Make no mistake about that. But the lieutenant tells me you’re a good shot, and he thinks you’ll fit in well.”

Beans brightened up on hearing this, as Wulfe had intended. “The lieutenant said that?”

“He hasn’t picked out a bad gunner for me yet. Both of my last two went on to command tanks of their own. That could be you in a few years if you do right by me. Now, if that’s your bag there, pick it up and follow. We’ll drop it off at A-barracks on the way.”

Beans hefted his bag over his shoulder and fell into pace at Wulfe’s side.

“On the way where, sarge?” he asked.

“On the way to see some orks,” Wulfe answered.

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