Editing Commissar Techpriestess love story (section)

=== Chapter 26 ===
Rogal felt like he was under water. His body seemed to float, and he caught snatches of conversations.
“More sanguination fluid, he’s lost a lot of blood.”
“Big guy, big wound, hand me another clamp.”
The commissar opened his eyes to slits, warm white light surrounding him. He lay there, letting the cool sensation of, whatever it was, wash over him. Peaceful, he thought, very peaceful. He heard footsteps behind him, and more snatches of conversation,
“Emperor on earth, please guide my blade, this commissars life, we wish to save,”
“Look at him, how is he still breathing?”
Rogal rolled over, looking for his guest. Massive golden boots, his mind registered, and he looked up, a huge, even to his standards, armoured gauntlet was being offered to him. Weakly, he threw out his hand to take it, and was hefted to his feet.
“ON YOUR FEET, COMMISSAR.” The voice said, not loudly, but with such force that it caused the massive man to stagger. He looked up at his guest, a chest plate as wide as his shoulders, huge Eagles either side, and a face that was all at one regal and haggard. 
“Sorry sir, I’m just so tired.”
“I KNOW, MY SON. I KNOW.”
Rogal stood, gingerly putting weight on his leg, which buckled, the gigantic golden hand catching him around his chest,
“MY SON, YOU MADE A PROMISE, I AM HERE TO ENSURE YOU KEEP IT,”
“Octavia.” The commissar said, his strength returning to his voice, “You’re him, aren’t you? The Emprah,”
The massive golden being let out a chuckle, nodding as it knelt down to look the commissar eye to eye, “I am but a fragment of him, yes, our full might would have wiped you from existence had you seen it.”

Rogal dropped to his knees, “My lord,”
The Armoured god lifted the commissar to his feet once more, “NOW NOW, NONE OF THAT, YOU HAVE MUCH LEFT TO DO,” he said, placing the peaked cap back on Rogal’s head, “IT IS TIME TO WAKE UP ROGAL HEPHASTUS, TIME TO FORGE YOURSELF A NEW DESTINY.”
Snapping his heels together as best he could, the commissar saluted, the stump of his arm waving in front of his face. His arm, he thought, looking at the stump, where was his arm, he needed that arm to create things, to carve and to saw, to gently caress Octavia, to hold her close.

The huge commissar bolted awake, screaming, IV drips popping from their quick seal and release ports. 
“MY ARM, WHERE IS MY ARM?” he bellowed, looking around frantically, a nurse hurrying over to calm him,
“Easy there, easy commissar.” She said in soothing tones, stroking at a massive arm, “Look at me, you’re alright now. You’re in a MASH unit, we’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”
Rogal sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He rubbed his face with a hand, his stump waving in his face, “Nurse, where is my arm?”
The auburn angel of mercy shook her head, “I’m sorry sir, you lost it in the final push. Earned yourself a shiny medal from it though, look,” She said, nodding towards the black box on the bedside table. The commissar sighed, and shook his head,  “I don’t care about the medal. Look, I just need some time, something to eat, and to know where my hat is, can you do that for me?”
The nurse nodded, patting his arm reassuringly, “Sure thing, handsome,”
“Oh,” He added, “Can I also have my dataslate? It should be in my coat pocket,”
“As you wish sir,”

The nurse left the hulking commissar in his bed, and he looked down at himself. His arm now ended in a dull grey augmentation cradle, the flesh around it pink and raw. His broad chest was bandaged, his other arm covered in small sutures. He scratched his leg, and instantly regretted it, pain lancing through his body where he poked fresh wounds, but he thanked the Emprah his lasgun was still intact. He leaned over to pull his chart from the end of the bed, quickly absorbing the information contained within. The nurse returned with his dataslate, and his hat, handing the, both to him with a smile, “Here you go, sir,”
He smiled back, “Thank you, nurse. Just looking at this chart, I seem to be eligible for release, and I would hate to take up a bed that someone else could be using,”
The nurse laughed, “I can see why you’re a commissar, but it’s been a couple of days since the battle, all the cases that needed to be moved have been, and well, you’re fine just where you are.”
Rogal’s eyes went wide, Octavia would be worried sick, he had said he would write to her every day, and now,
“Nurse, under my full commissarial authority, I demand you release me and get me on the next flight back to base.  Do I make myself clear?” Rogal said, his voice low, steady, and commanding obedience. The nurse looked at him, her eyes wide, “I’ll just go get you a doctor”.
She hurried off, and Rogal checked his dataslate, thumbing the new datacast rune. The slate started loading, and froze, an error screen flashing up, proclaiming there was a severe malfunction, and the slate would be shut down. The hulking commissar growled dropping his slate to his lap, the nurse returning with a doctor in tow.
Octavia was a mess, two day’s now, and no word from Rogal. She tried her best to busy herself, servicing weapons, and fabricating replacement parts for the various orders that came in, but it didn’t help. Her fleshbrain kept seeing him eviscerated, or shot, or blown apart, and she would never see him again. Every night she drank herself to sleep, cradled to Caelistis chest, Rogal’s coat wrapped around her. Her slender friend tried to reassure her, explaining how mail got lost all the time, or how he could be just doing what soldiers do, but assuring her he was still alive. Her cognitor busied itself with the side project it had made, quietly engineering and designing while her fleshbrain alternated between the horror of her lovers possible death, and all the things she would do to him upon his return.

Rogal glared at the white coated man in front of him, his voice low and deliberate once more
“Doctor, under my full commissarial authority, I demand you release me and get me on the next flight back to base.  Do I make myself clear?” He repeated, the Doctor looking over his chart,
“Sure, why not, I’m not about to tell you no. I’ve seen what you can survive,” He said, with a shrug, “Nurse, fetch the commissars things, he’s going home.”
“As you wish, Dr Alda,”

Tiberius sat in the back of the chimera, bouncing along on the way back to the base. The mood was that of solemn triumph, the cost of lives taking the shine off a total victory. He poked at the bandage under his tunic, as he thought of the best way to tell his story to Caelistis. His mind however, kept drifting back to what he would have to tell Octavia, when Rogal did not return with him. The last the vox officer had heard, the Commissar was being rushed to a MASH unit, and that was all he knew.
“Attention Mechanicum staff,” The binary chatter blared across the vehicle pit, “Magos Persephone, you are requested to landing bay four. Magos Persephone, landing bay four.”
Her eyes glowing brighter as the wielding shields deactivated, Octavia put the plasma cutter down and turned from her workbench. Her mechanics team looked at her, and she shrugged, a Mechanicum transport vehicle pulling up outside the workspace. 
“’Magos Persephone? I have orders to take you to the landing bay, as fast as possible, apparently,”
The driver said, still puzzled by this request. The petite priestess climbed nimbly into the passengers seat, “Then let us not keep them waiting,”
With a scream of tires on plascrete, the transport took off.
Rogal stood, putting his weight on his good leg and the walking cane he had been given, leaning against the wall for support. He released the cane and slung his duffle over his shoulder, before taking the walking stick once more, and hobbling towards the exit ramp. The few other guardsmen on the Valkyrie parted to let him though, bowing their heads respectfully. The huge commissar limped down the loading ramp, the wind pulling at his tunic. He looked around, sadly, wondering how he would be able to face Octavia in his now crippled state. A horn blared, and he whipped his head around, watching as the Mechanicum transport screamed to a halt, a tiny red robed figure leaping from the passenger seat.
“Rogal?” He heard her call, and his heart started pounding, 
“Octavia!” He bellowed back, limping towards her as fast as he could, ignoring the pain that shot up his side with every hurried step. The Valkyrie took off once more, the downdraft blowing his tunic from his shoulder, his missing arm now fully visible. Octavia stopped dead, staring at the empty space where once there was an arm.
Rogal came to a stop in front of his petite lover, her tiny shoulders rising and falling with sobs,
“I’m home,” He whispered, and Octavia just let out squeal of anger, pounding against his chest with her fists and mechadendrites,
“YOU SAID YOU WOULD WRITE, EVERYDAY. DO YOU KNOW HOW WORRIED YOU MADE ME? NOW I COME HERE, AND YOUR MISSING AN ARM. DON’T YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN. EVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVER.”
She yelled at him, before slumping against his chest, sobbing once more. He put his stump around her, hugging her close, “I won’t,” he said soothingly into her ear, leaning over to hold her close.
“Your arm? What happened to your arm?” She asked pulling back, to look at the basic augment.
“Ork, big one.” Rogal said, “I’ll tell you about it later, right now, I have a promise to keep,” He said, before gently pressing his lips to hers. Her fleshbrain fainted, her cognitor barely suppressing the swoon.emt file from being fully compiled. She melted in his arm, her mechadendrites lazily making their way behind his head, as the pair kissed like it was their last moment together. A few guardsmen cheered as they passed, and Rogal grinned. Octavia broke the kiss, wrapping her mechadendrites around her commissars stump, and pulling him towards the Mechanicum transport.
“Driver, my workspace, as fast as you can,”
Rogal looked puzzled, “Can we stop by my-“
“No. You need a new arm. We’re making you one. Drive.”
The low level enginseer nodded, flooring the accelerator pedal, the transport roaring forth once more. As they drove, Octavia patched into her workspace noosphere,
“Listen up everybody, we’re making an arm. The best damn forearm augment we have ever made. Plans are here, I’m bringing the patient as we speak. Warm up those fabricators and plug yourselves in, we’re not stopping till it’s done.”

She smiled as the team responded with smiling emotes and various agreements, the prospect of a challenge thrilling them all. The junior enginseer threw the transport into the corner, Rogal holding his little lover to his chest, bracing himself with his legs. The transport jerked forward as the driver slammed on the brakes, skidding to a halt inside the vehicle pit. Augmented eyes watched as Octavia hopped gracefully down from the seat, landing silently, her commissarial companion throwing his duffle down with a thud, before carefully making his own exit. At the sight of the huge man limping and missing an arm, static filled the air, and was silenced  just as quickly with one look from Octavia.
The tallest techpriest pulled a comfortable looking padded chair out into the middle of the workspace, and gestured to Rogal to have a seat,
“If the commissar pleases, we have work to do. Your new flesh will make that slab of meat feel clumsy in comparison,”
Removing his hat, the commissar glared at the techpriest, “I happened to like that, slab of meat, as you put it,”
Octavia barked out a burst of static, and the techpriest hung his head, “I am sorry Commissar, we have a different approach to the loss of a limb.”
Rogal nodded, dropping onto the seat, the red robed servants of the machine god gathering around.
“I’m sure you do.” The huge man said, smiling to himself as Octavia shoved her way to the middle of the group. Gently she moved his arm, placing it on a table beside the chair. Static hisses filled the air as the group discussed the project ahead, before Octavia spoke in low gothic once more,
“So you consent to us building you a new arm?”