Imperial Guard 08 - Gunheads by Warhammer

Author:Warhammer [Warhammer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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backwater. Men dying of dust and bug-bites and Throne knows what else. And all for a bit of scrap

metal no one gave a flying damn about until now. It’s been forty blasted years. DeViers should—”

“Should what?” demanded a sharp, clear voice from the door of the mess.

Wulfe turned his head and saw Major General Bergen standing in the doorway flanked by two

commissars. His heart skipped a beat when he recognised one of them: Commissar Slayte.

Crusher!

Some men in the regiment boasted that they were afraid of nothing, but they stopped boasting,

all of them, when they met the man known informally as Crusher. He was the commissar attached to

Wulfe’s regiment, and to say he was unpopular was an understatement of titanic proportions.

By the Eye, thought Wulfe, that colonel has dropped himself right in it. Open dissent in front of

commissars? I don’t want to be around for this.

“Please continue, colonel,” said Major General Bergen, striding into the room, removing his cap

and overcoat. The electric lamplight glinted from the medals on his chest and the golden boards on

his shoulders. The commissars stalked silently forward at his flanks, like a pair of sleek attack dogs

just barely held in check. “I’ll be happy to pass on any recommendations you or anyone else has

directly to the general for his consideration.”

Von Holden, his face turning redder by the second, stuttered and looked desperately at Pruscht

for support. Pruscht, though, seemed to know better. He sat back down in his chair and sipped from

his glass.

With Major General Bergen in the room, Wulfe felt extremely self-conscious. This was no place

for a noncommissioned man, despite Captain Immrich’s earlier welcome. It certainly wasn’t right

for a sergeant to see a decorated colonel like von Holden being dressed down.

But the dressing down never actually came. To everyone’s surprise, Major General Bergen

walked calmly over to von Holden, picked his chair up from the floor, and politely invited the

colonel to sit back down. Speechless, perhaps taking this for the calm before the storm, von Holden

did so, all the while gaping at the higher-ranking man.

Wulfe glanced discreetly at Commissar Slayte while this was going on, but the man’s face was

emotionless and his gaze was fixed straight ahead. If he had noticed Wulfe and van Droi, he didn’t

let on. Perhaps he was waiting for a cue from the major general, some sign at which he would

pounce on Colonel von Holden and drag him away. The sign didn’t come, and the only movement

Crusher made was the flexing of his metal fingers back and forth into fists. Wulfe knew that the

action was habitual. The man probably did it in his sleep.

Van Droi turned his attention back to Wulfe and said, “Best get yourself away now, Oskar. Go

about the business we discussed.”

“Right, sir,” said Wulfe. “Be glad to.” As he rose, he offered a quiet farewell to the other men at

the table, “Have a good evening, sirs.”

A few, Captain Immrich among them, smiled and nodded back. Wulfe saluted, turned, and

walked out of the door, relieved to be away from the officers’ mess and the tension inside it.

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