An Advisory Capacity

Commissar Heraclius had been trained in the art of riding an Imperial motorcycle, but it did not come naturally to him. Charging on his iron mount always made him dizzy and he had already fallen off the huge bike twice. This was worse than riding a horse with the Rough Riders.

In contrast, the Squats of the Grudborg Guild seemed to be in love with their motorcycles and kept revving them up every few minutes. They seemed an impatient lot and when not revving their bikes, they were firing their bolt pistols into the air or singing some rowdy chant in their harsh tongue. Commissar Heraclius imagined that the song's lyrics were of a lewd nature.

The Squat engineers were a good deal shorter than humans, but they made up for their lack of height with their strong muscular form. Most of them were bald, but they made up for that as well, with long, shaggy beards. Heraclius supposed that the leather jackets, emblazoned with the flaming skull emblem of their guild was a sort of uniform. They were in his judgment, a scruffy and ill-disciplined lot. The sooner he was away from them and back with the Imperial Guard, the better.

As scruffy as they were, he could not deny they were well-equipped. Several of the Squat engineers rode huge tricycles loaded with multi-meltas and heavy plasma guns. Any Ork armour they encountered was not going to stand up to this kind of firepower. But then these were not ordinary warriors, but engineers, the Squat equivalent of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Heraclius had heard rumours that the Squats possessed far more powerful weapons in their arsenal, massive cannons that could bring down a Titan or disintegrate a fortress. It was rather unfortunate that none of these super-weapons were available today. Leaving aside their usefulness against the Orks, he was deeply curious about the Squat armoury.

Next to Heraclius' bike was the Squat's guildmaster. His bike was far larger than that of his men and it was adorned with gold decorations. The skull of an Ork was fixed to its helm. The guildmaster was a fearsome fellow, with the longest beard Heraclius had ever seen, plaited into several braids. His eyes were concealed by mirrored lens. Silver skulls, Ork teeth and runic tokens hung from his leather jacket.

Officially, Commissar Heraclius was present in an advisory capacity. He was to offer advice to the guilmaster regarding military tactics. Unofficially, he was present as a sort of friendly spy and he was required to provide a report on everything he learned of the guild's activities, weapons and plans. Had he been with an Imperial Guard unit, his role would have been to enforce discipline. Here he had no power to execute the guildmaster if the worse came to the worse. Heraclius felt strangely naked knowing that he was temporarily without the power of instant execution.

"So are you in the mood for smashing Ork skulls, my good Commissar?" asked the guildmaster.

"I am always in the mood for smiting the enemies of the Imperium, Guildmaster," replied Heraclius.

"Smiting! I like the sound of that! You Imperials are a solemn lot, I must say. Always talking in your doctrines and epigrams. You never seem to see the fun in battle. Always so grim and dark, you lot," said the guildmaster with a laugh.

"War is a grim and dark business, Guildmaster. The enemies of mankind lie in wait for us in every corner of the galaxy. Only with purity and zeal shall we crush them."

"And a barrage of bolter shells!" roared the Guildmaster.

"Indeed," said Heraclius, cracking a nervous smile.

The guildmaster addressed his men.

"We have with us today a fine commissar from yonder Imperium of Man. He's come to show us how Imperials set their faces like flint in the face of enemy fire-  and we're going to show him how much fun Squats can have killing Orks!"

The Squats roared with laughter.

Commissar Heraclius felt slightly embarassed at this introduction. What was he supposed to say to these abhuman ruffians?

The guildmaster turned to Heraclius.

"Well, good Commissar, won't you teach my men some of your Imperial doctrine?"

Was the guidmaster mocking him? Or was he really expecting a sermon?

"Engineers of Grudborg Guild, know that the Emperor watches over us today. He shall strengthen us as we destroy the enemies of mankind," he said.

"He does? He watches over us abhuman Squats, does he? I thought he only bothered with you pure humans," said the guildmaster.

"The Emperor recognises the purity of your race and the strength of its character. For all your physical differences, you are of the fold of mankind and worthy of the Emperor's blessings," said Heraclius. The commissar was unsure if this was strictly orthodox, but here among Squats he was not about to be dragged away for teaching heresy. If the Squats believed it, so much the better.

"Well with that thought for the day in mind, I suggest we go and bash in some Orks!" said the guildmaster. "Engineers, roll out!" he cried.

The Squats whooped and cheered before unleashing the full power of their bikes. Some of them fired off their bolt pistols into the air as they charged.

Commissar Heraclius gritted his teeth as he charged up his engine. He was damned if he let these Squats outdo him in their eagerness for combat. By the Emperor, he was going to make sure his zeal matched their enthusiasm!