Chapter 1

Part 1

Gerry blinked, yet in that blink he had travelled several hundred yards.

Shifting the transfer box into neutral, he unbuckled his harness and punched the hatch release.

The locks released with a series of clunks and clicks, the hatch sliding back into its recess with a hiss.

With the overcautious movement normally associated with those severely inebriated, Gerry climbed the short ladder onto the CETs roof.

Mid morning sun washed across the urban landscape, stabbing painfully into his eyes. Resisting the urge to rub them, he removed an almost empty water flask from his webbing harness. The cap was slowly removed and allowed to dangle on its restraining strap. Tipping up the flask, Gerry allowed a small amount of water to drip into each eye before taking a mouthful of the stale, warm fluid. Swirling the liquid around his mouth, he let it pool as he rapidly blinked the water into tired and gritty eyes.

Gerry let the warm water slowly trickle from his mouth down his throat while he fumbled with the cap, trying to screw it back onto the bottle. He succeeded on the fourth attempt.

Stretching his bruised back, he felt his vertebrae crack and click in protest. Taking several deep breaths of fresh air, he felt the oxygen high content waking him up from his fatigue as he slid his water bottle back into its pouch. There was a bang and rattle at his feet, and he looked down in time to watch his water bottle disappear into the open hatch.

“Fucks sake!” He turned to look accusingly at his water bottle pouch. Somehow, he had managed to miss the opening completely. He stood looking at the open hatch for a moment, thinking of nothing.

This was not getting him back to bed; besides, the light was hurting his eyes. He descended back into the dark but muggy confines.

Spotting his water bottle, he bent his upper body to retrieve it and smacked his head against a shovel secured against the hull.

“Fucks sake!” He rubbed his head.

Twisting painfully around, he ensured the water bottle was safely stored in his webbing before he collapsed into the drivers seat and strapped himself in.

A CET was supposed to have a minimum of three crew. That was the theory. The reality consisted of Gerry. It wasn’t easy, but it could be pulled off with just one, if that one was suitably skilled.

The Engineer detachment was horrendously undermanned, with a section worth of men trying to do the work of a squadron. They were managing, just. This was one of the many realities of war. It was pointless complaining about it and Engineers were split into two character traits: Those that coped and those that didn’t. The later did not survive long.

Engaging drive, Gerry moved the CET forward, weaving slightly along the empty street.

By the time he arrived at the camps main gates, his head had already started to nod to the side, only to whip back upright as his subconscious shut down, then restarted as it realised what had happened.

The barriers stayed down as he approached. Gerry disengaged drive and stretched an arm out to hit the rear door release.

An Infantry Guardsman left the security of his bunker and cautiously approached the slowly opening rear door of the CET with his las-rifle levelled and ready.

Gerry waved to the sentry as the guard checked that Gerry was the only occupant and there was nothing untoward with the CET. Neither knew the other by name, though Gerry had been through the gate enough times to know the guards by sight and the guards likewise.

The sentry stepped back and waved towards the Guardsman safely ensconced behind the gates controls.

The mesh barrier –no barrier to a CET or other armoured vehicle- slid back and the dragons’ teeth –the real barrier to the CET- sunk down into the ground.

Gerry manoeuvred the CET through the gate, the dragon’s teeth and mesh gate sliding back into position behind him.

With extreme gratitude, Gerry abandoned the CET in the empty Engineer vehicle park. He shut down the engines and released his seat restraints. Grabbing his gear, he unbuckled his las-rifle from it’s mounting on the hull opposite the offending shovel while the top hatch opened.

Slipping his bag strap over one shoulder and the las-rifle sling over the other, he climbed up and out.

Pressing the remote in his trouser pocket, the hatch slid shut behind as he made his way off the CET. In too much of a hurry, he misjudged the distance to the ground and went over on his ankle.

“FUCKS SAKE!” He caught his balance against the track and cursed profusely as the sudden pain speared through his ankle. He waited for the pain to subside before limping towards his room.

He checked his watch as he made his way across the empty pan of ferro-crete. Almost lunch time. Not that it mattered, as the cookhouse was open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. To try and take his mind of the stabbing pain emanating from his ankle, he tried to come up with a plan off attack.

Food, shower then bed?

Shower, food then bed?

Bed, shower then food?

In the end, he decided to get a carry out from the canteen, take it into the shower, eat it whilst washing and then collapse asleep under the showers spray.

That sounded like a good plan. Decision made.

“GERRY!”

Gerry closed his eyes as he continued to walk.

“Fucks sake!” He mumbled under his breath. He stopped and tried to inject some life and enthusiasm into his voice, if he could manage it.

“Sir?”

“I need you to do me a favour.”

Gerry’s stomach and morale had a race to see which could hit the ground first. One of the worst statements in the Imperial language had been spoken. It was up there, along with “It will only take a moment” and “Intelligence states...”

“I’m tired, sir.”

“I appreciate that...” Gerry cut him off.

“Do you sir?” Gerry checked his watch again, “I’ve been working solidly for over thirty hours. I’m fucked.”

“I know, I wouldn’t ask if it were not serious...”Gerry cut him off again.

“All due respect, no, sir.”

The CO of the Engineer detachment looked at arguably at the best CET operator he had. Probably the best he had ever had under his command, and he stood there in front of him looking a complete bag of shit. The CO watched as Gerry slowly swayed on the spot as though he was a flower under the caress of a breeze. All told, the CO was surprised that he could even stand without falling over.

One of the most important abilities of an officer, as far as the CO was concerned, was man management: The ability to get the most from the troops under your command, a lesson that had been drilled into him at the start of his officer training, an important lesson that had proved to be a valid one, as it had sped his rise up through the officer ranks.

He had long ago realised that each individual under his command needed to be treated individually. For some under his command, a threat of punishment or some ‘quality time’ with a Commissar would end the exchange now and motivate the individual into doing the task they were given.

Such a hard line approach would not work with Gerry. A compromise would be needed. This was what the CO relished: Problem solving. As well as what he considered to be another important trait to successful leaders of men- the ability to command respect.

Frantically thinking, the CO considered his options and what would most likely get Gerry to agree. It was going to be expensive he knew that. He was going to have to call in some big favours.

“Okay,” The CO paused, a plan forming. “If I get you air transport there and back, and a guaranteed twenty four hour period of stand-down afterwards, would you do it?”

“What exactly is ‘it’”

The CO removed a sheaf of papers from his jacket and handed them over.

“An infantry push has stalled. They have encountered a stronghold they don’t have the weaponry to defeat.”

Gerry took the proffered papers.

“And I’m to do what exactly, to this ‘stronghold’”

The CO shrugged.

“Whatever it takes.”

“‘Whatever it takes’?”

The CO nodded.

Gerry looked towards the airpark that was devoid of all aircraft.

“And you will organise air transport there and back?” Gerry thought the chances of that were as slim as him agreeing to what bore all the hallmarks of being a complete and utter cluster fuck.

“There and back. No waiting. Priority one.”

“Priority one? What the hell, if you can arrange that, then it must be bad.” The gauntlet was thrown down.

“Get your gear ready. You leave as soon as the transport arrives.” The gauntlet was accepted.

Gerry nodded and turned away.