Regias Veche's Story

Twenty kloms east of the 129th's encampment, a trio of sentinels stood silent vigil among a copse of trees some hundred yards from the road. Abandoned groundcars littered the entire stretch of highway. Figures clutching modest belonging to their chests, holding the hands of friends and family, struggle doggedly through the clogged road.

Dark curly hair plastered to his forehead and the sides of his face, Regias Veche stood point. Rolling a cigar with one hand, his other reached over and tapped the auspex screen a few times. Nothing changed.

"Damn." Voxed Merrick, the least experienced of all the scouts under Veche's command and, therefore, his shadow. "Lookit that."

Finnel, far from the best scout in the 129th, and Veche's other squad mate, maintained the radio silence the LT had ordered. For which Regias was thankful. Admonishing Merrick now would do no good, the rookie would forget as soon as they left the cover of the trees. If he waited until they reached camp and gave Merrick the nastiest duties he could find, then the lesson would stick.

With a flare of butane Regias lit his cigar and took a puff. He would also need to send Merrick on some night time watches with one of the two veteran scouts back at camp. That should help to instill a little discipline and common sense.

Maybe when he got back to camp the promised reinforcements will have arrived with some decent scouts. Emperor, he hoped so.


Afew hours later Regias's squad lurched into view of the camp, the sentinels awkward seeming gait swaying the LT a little. As the trio halted, Veche lifted the camouflage netting from the face of his sentinel and stood stretching. The once-white sleeveless undershirt clung to his wiry frame, slick with sweat. Rank insignia, tattooed on his shoulders, stood out darkly from his pale skin. Regias reached into a cargo pocket on his left leg and produced his leather officer's cap. Shoving it over his head, he adjusted to the properly jaunty angle.

With a flourish he turned and slid down the front of his sentinel. Merrick and Finnel already checking the sentinels. "Merrick, you've got latrine duty for breaking radio silence. All week."

Regias moved on without waiting to see how the rookie reacted and walked into the jumble of soldiers carousing and laying bets. He pushed his way through the throng, amid murmurs of "Sorry, LT" to the table where square-faced Clayton sat, a bottle in hand.

Halting abruptly he sketched half a salute at the captain. "Not much to report, more civvies fleeing on foot. It's a good thing we commandeered that rig when we got here, from the look of abandoned groundcars out there, we would have been hard pressed for fuel ourselves."

Regias slipped the bottle from Clayton and tossed it back, the fire in his throat and chest making his permanently glazed eyes brighten a little. "I take our other half is still dragging their heels?"

Not waiting for a reply, he went on. "Frak it, Henry! No decent comm lines, and no word of when we'll get a supply drop. Hopefully they've got one and their bringin' it with 'em."

Regias took another swallow before setting the bottle down in front of Clayton and commandeering a chair from a nearby private. "I got twenty slugs that say Frankie goes down."

"Your on" said Henry, selecting a stack of twenty slugs from his pile and setting them aside, as the deck was shuffled for another hand. He was forced to take a deep breath, as Frankie, the instant he took his hand off the stack, took a blow to what was suppose to be his glass jaw. The private stumbled back, wavering on his feet And came back swinging. The entire company seemed to let out a breath, some in relief and the other half in frustration. More bets were laid out, everything, ranging from money to contraband booze to itho sticks, the smokes favored by most of the regiment.

"We may be frakked" continued the captain, as the cards were, a pile made for the Lieutenant as well, "But at least we're frakked in comfort."

He was of course referring to the house he had commandeered as his own billet and as regimental headquarters. It was the largest in the town, the former home of some sort of local minor noble, with fine beds and comfortable chairs. It was from that house, that he and his crew had dragged the ornately carved table out of, setting it up next to their tank. The rest of the company had found beds and personal space in the other buildings, maybe the beds weren't a nice or covered with silk sheets but it was a vast step up from cramped bunk beds in the compartments found in the bowls of a transport.

Henry peered at the five cards he had been dealt. A flush from the Adeptio suit and The Judge. No smile flicked over his face but he tossed three slugs into the pool and leaned back into his chair. Picking up the bottle, he took another mouthful of crude liquor.

Simona listened intently as she was briefed on what she was to do, and a small grin crept up her face when the Captain finished, “Consider it done, ma’am.” She then saluted again, turned her heel and jogged back to her unit. “Alright ladies, move out of formation and follow me. Special orders from the Captain herself,” she called and immediately her twenty five soldiers moved out of the column and started to jog after their leader.

Simona held the jog at a good rough pace so they could quickly get ahead of the main body and then she had them slowed down to a fast paced march which would allow them to save energy when they arrived at Haven.

The journey itself was eventless, and the soldiers slowly began to fall out of formation and into a more clumped group of soldiers walking at a fast pace, Simona didn’t mind, she actually quite welcomed the semi-disordered formation as she felt it would allow them to dodge for cover quicker. Also, she was an Underhiver, so naturally such formation was not something you saw from anyone else but the arbiters of the government.

Every now and then she would bark for a good jog to start so they could continue to get ahead and keep the pace. The women stayed on the concrete road and gave the nearby trees and shrubberies a suspicious look as they passed them; nature was not something you saw when you grew up on a Hive world, unless you were born in the High Spires which practically none of the guardswomen had.

After what appeared to have been an hour of hard marching, they come across a sign. ‘Haven → 800 m’ Simona then ordered a final jog to cross the distance, and within a shirt while they came within sight of the 129th regiment’s camp, located in the city center of Haven. The entire center was filled with vehicles of all forms from tanks to sentinels to chimeras; she quickly looked around the center to see what building would possibly work best as a tactical headquarters.

There was a temple dedicated to the God-Emperor, a hotel, an array station, a library, a courthouse and of course the building of the local noble. She then led her unit of soldiers directly over to a group of a dirty mob of men, “Civilians, we’re the scouting party of the 234th Scintilla regiment.” Simona declared when she approached the men who appeared to be in the middle of a gambling event. “Let it be known that the local mansion is to be the headquarters for Captain Briggs of the 234th Scintilla regiment, whoever already lives there will have to move out at once. No arguing,” she added sternly.

She then turned and looked at the other men who were wandering between the machines and then asked, “I can see the symbols for the 129th Luggnum regiment…Have you seen their crew?” She asked looking at the men in front of her. Simona did her best to keep her disciplined posture, ignoring the stares from the other men around the city center.

"What the frak is this?" Regias muttered through the cigar clenched in his teeth. Frankie had come back from his close call with a devastating vengeance. The LT slid over his twenty slugs to Clayton with a muttered, "Emperor's bowels."

Wiping his hands on his pants, Regias studied the local maps set before him. There were roads aplenty and pocket cities scattered throughout the terrain. If the orks gained a foot hold here, it could take years to rout them.

"LT?" One of the passing troopers, an unofficial cook, handed him a thermos of recaf. He had probably got his start in one of the many diners on Luggnum.

"Thank you, trooper." After pouring himself a cup the Lieutenant set the thermos on the table for the others. "Well, if it comes to foraging we'll be alright. Dates are in season, and apparently one of the major exports."

Regias noted with slight interest the possible destinations of the fleeing civilians. He rubbed his neck with a sigh. Sleeping in a sentinel sometimes left a lot to be desired. The camo netting kept the bugs away, and the open cockpit helped with the heat.

Noise from across the throng reached the table, officers and non-coms looking up with interest. Regias stood, stacking the maps haphazardly. The crowd parted, revealing a hardened Imperial Guardsman. Infantry. Imperial Guardswoman. "Frak. Me."

One might suppose it would be hard to mistake guardsmen for the civilian population of any planet (other then Cadia) but such was not the case for today. The men of 129th had gone around in the town, collecting some clean cloths from those left behind by the fleeing civvies, new shirts mostly, to wearing while off duty, leaving the dirty uniforms for wearing on their tanks. Still, the gather tankers smiled widely, when women in fine uniforms appeared, announcing that they were taking over the captain's billet and wanting to know where the troopers of Luggnum 129th where. A number of laughs rang out, from back in the crowd, where they couldn't be singled out.

"Your lookin at the One-twenty-ninth sweetheart" came a voice, followed by another, "You looking for a date?!"

More laughter rang out, as did catcalls. One man, in the front ranks, rolled up the sleeve of the blue shirt he had found to wear. He was bigger then the officers, sitting on the other side of the square, having spend his years in the mines shoveling the rubble left behind from the drilling rigs. He flashed his teeth, as a tattoo with his rank (a corporal) and the regimental insignia of the armored regiment he was a part of it, appeared on his pale skin, the black ink standing out. He flexed, attempting to impress the women before him. It had been a long time since they had any women around, a bit of a dry spell.

"You might want to clear your taking that house with Captain Clayton, he might be pissed about you taking his billet and our headquarters."

The crowd of tankers parted, allowing the scouts to see across to the poker table. The boxing match in the center had come to a close and the two fighters separated. Henry stood up from the table, slowly and flipped over his cards. The others, who weren't watching the table any more, missed as he swept up all the slugs and pocketed them.

"So long as your not frakking an enlisted Regias" the captain chuckled, patting the Lieutenant on the shoulder, before walking across the square.

Simona gave a heavy sigh, it had been far too long since she have had such contact with men, and their cat calling, whistling and their immature show offs was something she hadn’t really missed. Yet despite the yahooing and the calling, she maintained her strict posture, occasionally shutting her one good eye in annoyance as the men tried to get her attention, “I don’t care how upset your captain will be, the mansion belongs to the 234th Regiment till my captain says otherwise, or are you going to stop me?”

Simona cast a baleful look at the men surrounding her and her unit, they weren’t intimidated. Just what she needed, a bunch of men who thought that women would just fall into their arms and do what they demanded; she was the last person to commit to such a relationship, actually she saw it as being lowered below the status of an Imperial slave. At least slaves could cheat the system; wives couldn’t cheat the system when dealing with such men.
“Me and my soldiers will be claiming headquarters and barracks for the 234th regiment. If you have any objections you can either shove it up yours, or tell your captain.” Simona narrowed her one eye as she looked at the man who crossed the square, her finger tapping the side of her lasgun.

Her soldiers could sense the tension from their leader. A few placed the stock against the shoulder so they could quickly get a steady aim if things got ugly, while others clenched their hands into fists and ensured their footing. Simona knew she had but to say the word and the women would jump the men, but not now…Not now.

Simona gave herself a small self-satisfied smile when she was given the approval of the Captain for her looting; she had never expected to meet the approval of any officer if they found out. She could tell that the captain was more concentrated on the battle around the trenches, but in Simona’s mind her concern was when the xenos closed onto the inner trenches or if they were pushed back into the city, what would they do? Well, thankfully she had learned how the Underhive gangers booby trapped their most treasured turf, and at the moment Simona saw this city as her turf.

She turned as the can-loving captain of the 129th entered the room and gave him a salute, clearly he still held a grudge against her and captain Briggs, though when the 129th captain had finished talking, she couldn’t help but to show an obvious smirk on her face. “So much for upholding the chain of command, eh? I didn’t hear a captain or ma’am, sir,” she said mockingly.
“Captain Briggs, please excuse me, I need to inform the other lieutenants about your plans and bring you those bombs,” she gave a final salute to the captains and then left the room and marched through the HQ towards the other commanding officers. They would all have a lot of work to do by tomorrow so they’d have to encourage some sleep for the soldiers.

Explaining the captain’s plan to the other lieutenants and sergeants wasn’t hard. They all had their faith in their captain to know what was best to do though Simona had taken the liberty to add in a few adjustments here and there; for while the Captain had a clear idea of how to hold the city using the trenches she had overlooked what could happen if they had to fall back into the city. So, knowing how the gangers would have done it, Simona explained that they would need to prepare booby traps for the xenos; a bucket filled with gunpowder and loads of small bitz (coins, keys, nails, anything small and hard) could easily create a grapeshot bomb but they’d require some engineering from either a mechanic from the 129th, or a Tech Priest, and so far it was only the first which they had available.

With a quick promotion within her unit and orders for a soldier to bring the demolition bombs to the captain, Simona selected a handful of soldiers and marched out of the HQ and towards the 129th camp.
Simona spotted a group of men talking and directed the group of women towards them, saluting when she stood before them, “Gentlemen. You’ll be informed eventually, but Captain Briggs of the 234th plans on building trenches around this city to hold off the orks. However, should the trenches fail we will have no further defenses within the city, so I’m gathering a team that will be building grapeshot bombs. Buckets filled with coins, nails, keys, or anything else that’s small and can kill and maim.” Simona surveyed the men, seeing if they had any interest. “I need men with mechanical knowledge, so who’ll volunteer for this?”

Regias puffed slowly from his thick itho cigar as he looked down from his sentinel at the guardswoman below. "Lt. Veche, 129th Scout Commander. Word is you ladies are planning on doing some recon hereabouts?"

The sergeant in charge of this particular squad glared back up at him with something akin to vehemence. "We would be were you not in our way, Lieutenant. My commanding officer, Captain Briggs, has ordered my squad to scout the surrounding area in search of defensible positions and possible hostiles."

With a wry smile Regias replied, "No hostilities here, Sergeant."

The dark haired Lt reached under his console, the sound of rustling could be heard. After a few moments he stood and slid down the leg of his sentinel, one handed. His opposite hand held a small number of printed and laminated maps. "These should help in your navigation. We found a a good camp site with a well here." Regias pointed at a small stand of trees on one of the smaller maps. "It's about a half dozen kloms from where we stand."

"Good luck, sergeant. Could you make sure those maps make it to both captains?" Regias handed the maps over, he had many copies.

Her glare softening to a distrusting stare the squad leader accepted the papers with a crisp salute. "Yes, sir!"

The smile never leaving his lips, Regias returned the salute with a flourish. He turned and clambered up his sentinel. "Also, sergeant, you may have noticed the communications array on Caroline here. While our vox with command or any of our fellow regiments is not in operation, you can reach me on local channels 3-A to 7-G. We switch often, it's good to stay in practice with unsecured channels. Never know when a greenskin might figure out how to work a vox."

Without another word Regias and his fellow squad mates turned their sentinels around and disappeared quietly, heading back in the direction of camp.


"What was that all about, LT?" Merrick voxed lowly on the private channel between the sentinels.

"I'm not in the habit of explaining myself, Merrick. If you can't figure it out in a few days ask again." While Regias loathed working with parade marchers as much as the next cog boy, he also saw the need for cooperation. He could have sent one of his men to deliver those maps, but the guardswomen needed to see the faces of tanker officers doing their jobs in a more flattering light than they had been presented. Regias grinned at his own tact in the darkness of his cockpit, even starlight was obscured by his camo-netting. He had afforded the sergeant the opportunity to start consolidating a more beneficial relationship between the two disparate regiments.When the ladies started to see the tanker officers as just officers this operation would start to run a great deal more smoothly.

Looking out in the distance at the last pinkish rays of light from the setting sun as it filtered through the mediterranean trees, the Lieutenant decided it would be best to round up the officer's of both companies for an officer's meeting. That would also afford the two captains a chance to quit flexing their nuts at one another. After considering Cpt. Briggs for a moment Regias added silently, "So to speak."


Some time later Regias sauntered over to a bonfire with various hellhound crews roasting food that sent mouth-watering smells throughout the camp. As he approached he saw the sergeant that had punched Henry with quite the following behind her. By the Emperor! It looks as if she had been promoted. There was no insignia to justify this, just the fact that she was now commanding another sergeant. Regias chuckled to himself. None had yet noticed how he himself had inconspicuously disappeared once the fighting had begun. "Excuse me, ma'am, but before you steal Lt. Vuur away I hope to have a word with him."

Telemachus and Regias were on a first name basis with one another, as were all the officers of the 129th, but pandering to the 234th's sense of formality would hurt no one. He really needed to confer with his fellow lieutenant on the current situation. Telemachus was older and usually provided a valuable insight.

Simona was unimpressed as one of the men stepped forward and stood before her, clearly looming above her and talking with a deep, and clearly emotionless, tone. She had to say that she didn’t expect to see such scars on his neck, she could tell he had had some bionic implants as well it became an involuntary feat for those who shared bionic implant to be able to spot others who had them as well.
Though what really made her unimpressed was how the man had simple stepped forward, almost expecting that his height would intimidate her, while it would only make it easier for her to deliver a perfect punch to the groin…That was, if he as much as tried to put a hand on her.

She took a moment to size the man up. Strong, bionic implants, and diffidently not someone you just threw around with; he did well in masking many of his features but at least he tried to appear polite and respectful of his superiors. Coming to think of it, the man was already earning Simona’s respect despite the sloppiest salute she received.
She returned the salute to the man, introducing herself properly, “Lieutenant Simona Hildenbrag,” she stated as a small man approached and began rambling about his life and practically everything that Simona couldn’t care less for. She didn’t know what to make of it as she never was a good judge of personal character, so she endured his apparent insanity until his mate came over and slapped him and then introduced himself.

“Now listen here, soldier. You’ll either refer to me as Ma’am, Lieutenant, or Miss Hildenbrag as I am your superior officer. Unless you miraculously manage to save me from death, you may never refer to me by anything else, is that clear?” Simona’s acidic tone threatened as her single eyebrow narrowed to enforce her serious face.

“Now, we’ll need gunpowder, or explosives of any kind, as many buckets, something which can ignite a spark for the explosives, then as many bitz as you can find. Nails, coins, screws, even small stones will work. Now, I’ll leave it for your commander to decide, but if you can gather empty bottles and fill them with gasoline and motor oil, then we can make Molotov cocktail bombs; your sergeant and captain can discuss if any can be spared.”

“Now,” Simona said, about to end off her instructions when one of the men suddenly spoke, asked to speak with Vuur. “Let me finish this, soldier, then you two can talk. As I was saying, this work till take place tomorrow, whatever you can find tonight will be appreciated, but I won’t steal sleep from you. We have enough labor for tomorrow to keep us all busy. If possible, I want us to meet here by tomorrow late afternoon so we can begin either to scavenge or built these bombs. Any questions,” Simona said respectfully and gave them a final salute allowing the men either to ask questions or turn and talk amongst themselves, in which case, Simona would dismiss herself to the bunkers where the other soldiers would sleep for the night.

Captain Clayton was getting tired of the games, every conversation with this infantry counterpart turned into a duel of some sort so far (which may of have been partly his fault) and it was getting annoying. While he was no noble brat, who was mother's milk was politics, he had been a leader of men, just high enough to get taste of them. To know enough when someone was playing him and to know that he was an untrained, ham-handed novice in that arena. Of course, there are always dangerous amateurs or at least ones that can pull off a sucker punch now and then.

"Oh I trust you" said Henry, as pleasantly as he could, "Its your troops I don't have faith in. After all, if your Sergeant Major goes around assaulting officers and in front of her troops to boot, how disciplined can your rank and file be? However, I'm willing to give second chances. I'll just have my supervisors discreetly check how wide the trenches are being dug. I wouldn't put it passed your girls to try to leave us behind, to slow the orks down, when you decide its time to run away. Hopefully that will be after they fire their first shot."

"Have a good night" added the tanker, with an overly sweet smile, before he turned away from both the captain and the map. Not waiting for Tira to fire back another salvo or correct him on Hildenbrag's new rank, he scooped up his kit, the banners and strolled out of the room. Picking up the pace and taking long strides, he made sure that the only way she was going to catch up with him, was if the good Captain Briggs ran after him. Chuckling softly, he push his way out of the house, using his shoulder to force the way between the female crunchies and keep the banners unspoiled.

Stepping outside and into the dying light of the late afternoon, he continued walking, across the open plaza in the middle of Haven. Nodding to every tanker he passed, he didn't stop until he reached the hotel. It was finer then anything his boys had billeted in before but not as nice as the noble's house he had just left. True, he was now closer to his men and their supply depot, which was always a good thing but part of him was still fuming over being evicted from that glorious bed he had claimed. He took a little satisfaction however, in the fact, that there was only one set of sheets for bed in the master bedroom. The boys hadn't found any others, when they were "scouting" the place out.

The only reason he knew that, was because the sheets on the bed had already been slept in when they arrived and he had wanted a new set. The family must have taken them or had the others being washing somewhere. In fact, they hadn't found much of anything worth looting in the house without tearing out the floorboards and ripping down the walls. He would have put a weeks wages that the rest of the sheets had been easy to store and had been taken with the family or a servant looking to profit from their sale. Captain Briggs would have to sleep in the dirty sheets or find a different bed.

Henry moved into the suite the men from his tank had been using and spent the remainder of the night holding court in his new palace. More card games were played, runners sent out with a handful of instructions to the men, collecting the names of men, willing and experienced enough to over see work gangs from the 234th and wondering which of his Lieutenants might be a good replacement, if some ork did manage to kill him. Regias was a good fellow but he was a bit of a rabble rouser from back home and there was a reason he lead the scouts and not a proper tank platoon. Telemachus was also a good fellow, was more then stable for a hellhound commander but was more then a bit too zealous. Zeal in measured douses was good for a soldier and was even better when overflowing from a priest or commissar but in an officer? Might be a bit too alienating.

When the morning game, the 129th was already awake (for the most part) as the 234th rose from their blankets with shouts. It was part of the instructions their captain had issued the night before. The tankers didn't come with anything meant for digging, other then small folding spades for latrine pits, one per tank. They would need to get the shovels and what not the townspeople had left behind before the infantry did. Which meant getting up with the false dawn, to scour sheds and houses for the tools. They then had the time to make and enjoy breakfast, while the girls got started on the trenches. Or at least most of them had, the supervisors had been allowed to sleep and moved out to watch over and helped with the trenches.

Once the trenches were outlined, based on where the women were working, the men went to work. They were going to be building bunkers, half just slots dug into the ground and half made with bags filled with earth. Now if they just dug down until only the turret was above the ground, it would provide more protection for the tank or it would also keep them from employing hull or sponson mounted weapons. With the bags, they could build firing ports for those weapons.

Henry's jacket flapped around his back, as he sat on top of the Emperor’s Fury's turret, while it rumbled forwards, towards the outer trench.