Gunheads (Warhammer 40,000) by Steve Parker

Author:Steve Parker [Parker, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2011-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

It was still early, but the day was already uncomfortably hot. The Golgothan sky was lighter than Lenck had ever seen it. The chief medicae liaison issued a warning; all personnel at Balkar should stay in the shadows as much as possible until further notification. But it was difficult to follow the Imperial Medicae’s advice when Lieutenant van Droi had ordered all crews to run maintenance details. Still, Lenck did his best. He slouched with his back against the New Champion, taking shelter in her shadow while his crew griped and whined and ran the necessary checks.

Since daylight had broken over the base, Balkar had been abuzz with activity. Word hadn’t reached him why this should be, but it wasn’t hard to guess. They’d be moving out again soon. The final leg of Operation Thunderstorm would commence shortly.

Fine with me, thought Lenck. The sooner it’s done, the sooner we can get off this blasted ball of dirt. If the next deployment doesn’t take us somewhere populated, I’ll kill someone.

A scowling Varnuss stuck his head around the rear corner of the tank and said, ‘We’ve finished with the headlamps.’

Riesmann and Hobbs appeared beside Varnuss, both wearing murderous looks that told how much they hated menial work.

‘Congratulations,’ said Lenck. ‘You can start oiling the treads, then. Shouldn’t take long with three of you.’

‘Sod off,’ spat Hobbs. ‘Why don’t you get off your arse and pitch in?’

Lenck lifted an eyebrow and gazed at his driver coldly. ‘Because I’m the one that keeps you lot in extra smokes and booze. Earn it.’

Hobbs spat on the ground and disappeared around the corner of the tank shaking his head and muttering. Lenck got to his feet and dusted himself off.

‘I’m going for a wander,’ he said.

‘Where?’ asked Varnuss.

‘A little place called none-of-your-frakking-business, that’s where. Just have the treads done by the time I get back, all right? Throne knows when van Droi might show up for an inspection or something.’

A few hundred yards away, in the south-east corner of Staging Area Four, Wulfe and his crew were likewise engaged with running basic maintenance. Van Droi required all his crews to be able to undertake basic field repairs and the like. If there were problems the crews couldn’t handle, the tech-crews took care of them. If it was something even they couldn’t manage, the enginseers and their mindless, half-human servitors took over.

‘Make sure they’re locked down tight, Sig,’ said Wulfe, pointing at the spare track links that Siegler was fixing to the armoured sides of the turret. At the rear of the turret, Beans was working, fatigues soaked in sweat as he packed and sealed the stowage boxes that extended backwards from the turret bustle.

Metzger was at the front of the tank, seated in his station with the hatch open, running checks on the remote control system he used to operate the hull-mounted lascannon. He had already checked everything else he was responsible for, working with a wordless efficiency that Wulfe appreciated.

It was their first day with Beans on crew, but the new gunner seemed to be fitting in well enough.

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