As Scarlet makes her way to Judge, the hissing static on the vox resolves into voices. Multiple voices, overlapping, showing little in the way of vox discipline.
"Fall back! Fall back, damn yo-"
The crack of lasfire, again and again. The rumble of explosions, rendered tinny over the vox-link. In the distance - not on the vox, this time - you hear the rumble of artillery-fire, Basilisks pounding away at the Ork positions within the jungle.
The very air seems to vibrate as there is a sudden roar; it is as though some apex predator has leapt out of the jungle to disembowel you. Only the noise is above you, as a crude Ork aircraft roars perhaps only metres above the ridgeline and Outpost Lambda itself. Then another, and another, each belching thick clouds of black smoke as though they had already been shot down.
Any of you standing near the outpost's walls can see what has happened, from the scarlet plumes of explosions across the jungle and the distant sound of weapons-fire. The Orks have launched a full-scale assault across the Imperial lines.
Judge descends the ladder to the watchtower with haste, hurrying across the Outpost to reach Scarlet. He grabs the receiver for the vox-caster, shouting for details and instructions from the wider Legion. Finally, he gets some response.
"Judge? Judge, this is Nails. It's fethed up here! The 'skins are riled up and out for blood!"
Judge sighs, the lines and runnels of his scarred face contorting into an un-navigable labyrinth as he scowls.
"I can see that, Nails. What are we doing about it?"
"We've been ordered to retreat back to the Sawtooth River. The Navy are going to glass the whole region. See if the 'skins can survive that!"
"Nails, you frakking idiot, we're still out here. How long before the bombardment?"
"You've got 'bout eleven hours. They're making sure all the Terullians have pulled back. Not sure they'll wait for you though..."
Judge curses and swears, slamming the vox-link down.
"Circle up!" he shouts, waiting til you all arrive before relaying the news. "We're deep in grox-:cuss and it's going to take some doing to get ourselves out of it."
He unfolds the map, punctuating his speech with the tip of his knife. "We've got eleven hours to get out of this area before the Navy bombards this whole area from orbit. We come down this ridge, then we have to cross several kilometres of jungle and avoid as much of the Ork force as possible. There won't be anyone checking to make sure we're clear."
He puts his knife away and fixes you all with a knowing expression.
"First things first, we need to make a decision about the wounded."