While I had studied military tactics extensively at the scholam, and with no small measure of pride I can safely say I was a natural, you did not need to be a strategist to realize Sel and I were in a bad way.
In fact despite the mundane circumstances of being hunkered down in a bakery, there are only a handful of times in my long and illustrious career I can say I potentially came closer to death. A good ambush with the right equipment could cripple an astartes battle group, and we had certainly been caught with our pants down, and not in the way I typically enjoyed. Even now I can still recall the crackling of shattered glass as the paramilitary squad stepped past the threshold of the shop, firing above us to keep our heads down while they coordinated themselves to encircle and destroy. Sel held herself commendably with a stoicism I was envious of. Though I tended to believe myself a learned and worldly man, I felt as if our association was scraping away the last shred of inherent sexism I did not realize I still possessed as I was awed by how many women in her position would simply scream or throw themselves on the mercy of our attackers. However, the thought was very brief, when it hit me that most civilian men would do the same, and the women under my command were made with just as much grit and strength as I had. The mind tended to break it's usual habits when under threat of death, bringing out odd and untoward thoughts. However, it did grant me the will to save our lives, Emperor be praised. As I dwelled on the strength of the men and women serving under me and compared them to the ponces I had just left, it brought out an old hatred in my breast. I had joined the guard for a reason, and it was not to cower and wait for death in a throne damned cakery.
"Corporal, I need a distraction!" I said over the din of the lasbolts and autogun rounds shearing through the timber and stacked cakes we knelt behind. One round struck the edge of the table just above my head, sending my head flying to our feet. Sel gave me a look.
"Sir?"
"Just for a second." I assured her. I could see in her eyes that she saw I had a plan, and she nodded. Sel scooped up a handful of cake, and flung it into the air behind us, rolling to the end of the counter on its right side and returning fire. Only later would I realize she actually managed to incapacitate one of the assailants with some fine gunwork. In the meantime, as all of their guns were baring down on her position, I rose from behind the counter, planted the barrel of my gun on the edge to keep it steady, and set my sights on one of the nooks along the walls of the shop. Before the utter decimation of the niceties, the establishment had various indentions in the walls, like small alcoves, with three levels top to bottom where they would set various cakes on display. Behind the top cake on each nook were large sockets where the lumen above them recieved its power. If I had an autogun, this might not have worked. As it stood, I had a laspistol in my hand, and something every guardsmen and potentially every civilian knows, is that you should never aim at an electrical socket with a lasgun.
The effects are volatile.
I pulled the trigger, the lasbolt flying past the swathed men to strike the socket. It burst in an explosion of electricity and flames, popping like fireworks at close range. The gunmen flinched, one catching a stray rush of flame, desperately trying to quench it before it spread from his shoulder to the rest of his body. Suddenly, for a precious few moments, the highly disciplined squad was caught disorganized and distracted. It gives me no pleasure to say that Sel and I did not hesitate. I turned my gun on the closest man, who's autogun had been swinging in my direction before he caught the concussive force of the blast, staggering him. I dropped him with two shots to the neck, and nearly burned off the leg of the next man. He fell forward, my second and third shots ending his life before he hit the floor. Sel's lasgun punched through the chest of the last assailt with a burst of lasbolts, and we rose from out behind cover, I rounded the side and Sel vaulted the counter, sending cake and debris to the ground with the swing of her legs.
"Do you smell that?" I asked, raising my head and glancing around. It was a familiar odor, but the firefight had knocked away my senses for a moment.
"What?" She asked, checking the bodies to make certain they were dead.
"Burnt meat." I remarked. Sel raised her brows and gestured to the bodies. I shook my head. The meat I was smelling was spiced. Then it came to me, mere seconds before Morek did. An engine rumbled, and the squat skidded into view on a small salamander, the vehicle ramming through an overturned groundcar. The bearded abhuman had beef jerky in his mouth as usual, and goggles over his eyes. There were scorch marks on the armor plating, and a lasgun strapped to his barrel chest. I smiled, showing my perfect white teeth.
"Just in time, Morek."