Fighitng With Faith- Thirty-Sixth Entry

A surrogate command centre, mainly comprising of two large rectangular tents, was erected at the base of the mountain side. Its bright yellow canvas, in almost perfect camouflage with the blazing orange soil which it was surrounded by, fluttered wildly in the turbulent wind. This was a clear contrast to the stillness and edgy atmosphere that encompassed the tents within.

On the canvas of both tents, in bold and dark hues, was the Imperial Aquila.

The command centre was situated in a closed curvature valley, several hundred metres off the nearest insertion point; A strategic and safe haven for a forward base.

Commissar Leetol, dressed in his standard battle uniform of Asat Guard issued boots, pants, shirt and his own personalised peak cap, was exiting one of the tents and heading to the other.

At his side, was Abjax, his close companion and precious Tactican. Without him, Leetol would not even be half as he is now. Abjax had proved invaluable in the art of data collection, assimilation and execution. Without him, Leetol was sure to be nothing more then an all-talk-no-walk Commissar, with almost zero capability at handling extensive administrative work. Abjax was cradling several data slates, some of it possibly worth the lives of half the men that were readying for the assault on the warehouse. With his augmented eyes and hands, Abjax could read and view vast amounts of information and battle reports at mere seconds glance.

“All units at insertion points?” Leetol asked, leaning over at the same time to read a peculiar piece of information which was coming into view on a data slate on Abjax’s metallic hands. He had to jink his hand out of the way, narrowly avoiding Abjax as hot caffeine spilled out of it.

“Ah yes, including Titan Azrael- blesseth be his name. The Cult Mechanicus have blessed us with a Machine God to be amongst us in this battle, courtesy of Princeps Arzrael of the Immolators Legion.” Abjax said.

Leetol’s sharp features creased into a frown.

“What’s with the identical name? Most Titans and their respective Princeps usually have different identities. Isn’t Azrael, the Princep, blaspheming Azrael, the machine god, even if he still commandeers it? Isn’t a machine god more esteemed than a mere Princep?” Leetol said as he gave a curt nod and a diplomatic smile to passing Arbites officials.

“You have points there, Commissar, and I also held such views when I heard of it. However I have delved deep into the records and histories of this Titan- then I realised why it is the case.” Abjax replied, keeping his one augmented eye still glued to the data slate in his hand. The information coming in was being transmitted at an agonisingly slow rate, obviously a result from a great volume of static or transmissions being around at the same time.

“Care to fill me in?”

“Indeed. You see, Princep Azrael was borne into a Princep Royal Family, the Nazirxl. They are of royal blood, with rumours of them being related to the Lord of the Cult Mechanicus, however they still hold a high reputation and esteem within the Immolator Legion’s hierarchy due to their many victories and glorious feats. It seemed the Nazirxl family had the blood of the machine, with Azreal’s father and forefathers bearing mighty titles to their name. The tech-priests of Mars saw fit that every Princep from the Nazirxl family was to be given the honour of receiving a Titan, in record of it being named after them.” Abjax said, practically reciting the whole text of Azrael’s introductory records.

“And so I realise.” Leetol commented, moment’s clarity finally upon him.

They had been walking for fifteen minutes, passing by security posts, sanitary cubicles and other amenities that were the basic requirement for a forward base camp. The command centre was now in sight, a broad tent, with a constant stream of soldiers, Arbites officials and Imperial officials walking around, into and out of it.

Abjax gave a wheezing sigh, glad that the message had finally been transmitted. To Abjax’s disgust, it appeared that the message was typed in the most quick and crude way it could have been to relay the message over, unlike his perfect, flawless way of text encoding and encrypting.

Leetol leaned closer, careful not to spill anymore caffeine onto his dear Tactican, and squinted. What he read made him drop the cup he was carefully cradling in his palms, shattering it into a hundred pieces, splashing the steaming hot liquid within it in all directions.

At that very instant, a distant booming could be heard far off, in the direction of the warehouse. Several more deep and low powerful explosions could be heard again, signifying a mighty battle unfolding. People around began casting nervous glances around, as though suddenly feeling vulnerable, afraid that a stray shell may slam home into the camp. Officials immediately made their way hastily to their respective areas, placing on vox-beads and vox-phones, preparing for the inevitable orchestra that is to begin.

The transmission was from Azrael, containing a combat log of the Titan and a text message from the Princep. In bold, Imperial Gothic, was written:

::==::

++Azrael to command++

++ Advance on standby++

++ Spore mines sighted- possible indication of Biovore breed present++

++ Spore mines launched towards self- initiating close proximity perimeter defences++

++CPPD execution invalid- spore mines present on hull- casualties at 5.04%++

++Additional spore mines sighted- present rate of functionality 75.98%- casualties at 12.0%++

++Advance commenced- Target within 500 metres- enemy troops sighted- Biovore presence confirm- spore mines within hull- damage in cooling system- System overheating at 9.89%- Casualties at 21.54%- Functionality stabalised at 78.90%- servitor reserves dispatch in reparation process++

++Heavy fire from enemy- Iron cannon inactive- Functionality at 68.54%- Reserve servitors At 45.0% strength- Initiating emergency cooling ablution in engine system- System overheating at 43.50%- Volcano cannon activation in process at 50.89%++

=+Manual text transmission:

Azrael to command. Titan taking heavy hits. Expected to resume mission. Emperor protects. Azrael out.

End+=

::==::

Leetol shared the same horrified look on Abjax’s face, realising what had been unfolding for the past fifteen minutes on the battlefield, they sprinted into the command tent, beginning the long and arduous task of doing battle.