He inspected the damage to his armour first, at least visually, then, holstering his Bolt Pistol he spoke the Litany of Release and doffed his helmet, maglocking it to his side. Another impulse unlocked his armour from bracing. He looked into the ammunition feed belt and saw it immediately. He plucked an awkward looking lump of metal, slick with oils and blood. It was an ocular implant - possibly from the head of the Servitor he had sent to oblivion with his double-tap. At this kind of range it was not unheard of.
The feed shoved the rounds back into order and Akkad locked the mechanism off, working the Heavy Bolter's actions to clear the misfed rounds and make it safe. He eased the firing pin carrier forward and spoke the Litany of Fastness, the weapon closing up immediately and locking down. He would tend to it later, clean and soothe the frustration of the belligerent weapon. He heaved it behind him, locking it to the ammunition hoppers that sat arrayed upon his back, out of the way.
It had only taken half a minute, but these drudges had been scoured with less efficiency than he would have preferred - but that error was his as well. The teams had been training for a little while now and they were only just beginning to blend. He had noticed that they moved appropriately for Marines, no hesitation, reacting to the world changing around them, adapting until they overcame.
Greysight had acted exactly as he had anticipated - attacked, he replied with more precision that Daon himself. Once the Heavy Bolter had jammed, he immediately increased his firing tempo to make up for the loss of suppression. He was Good. Akkad emphasised the word in his mind. Thorvald had also performed well, sporting with the taciturn Storm Son - unleashing his Frag Cannon with good understanding of target priority. Again, Good. Sabaan...
That had been a surprise. The Techmarine had literally defied his enemy to death, precisely and efficiently removing skulls and organs with aplomb. Once he had seen or noticed that Akkad had stopped firing, with or without thinking - Akkad could never be sure with Techmarines - Sabaan had placed himself to cover Daon, all the time radiating that cold, pure contempt of the enemy he killed. It was hard not to admire that and he was keen to show his appreciation, for even though the danger was slight, the motivation of the Iron Hand was real.
As the team began to head back towards the lift, Akkad scuffed the pile of Heavy Bolter shells out of the car. He drank in the air with heightened sense of smell - propellant, blood, chipped ceramite and the unmistakable scent of the Astartes at war. Drawing his combat knife, he selected two shells unblemished from their tumble to the deck. He held each firmly and sliced down once, cutting the shell neatly back almost to the rim. He gently scooped the dust and dirt from the deck, soot from scorch marks and some spalled plasteel from where the stub rounds had shriven slivers of the blessed metal they all wore. He applied a small dot of repair cement to one side and closed the two halves. Once his work was complete and his weapons sheathed and the "capsule" stowed, he stood and looked up to Sabaan, he cleared his throat and ensured that his words carried the respect he intended.
"My thanks, Brother." He inclined his head to the larger Astartes and was about to move towards the door to the bay.
The metallic hued voice of the Techmarine stilled him a moment...
(Edited post for narrative coherence)
Edited by Mazer Rackham, 16 March 2018 - 10:03 PM.