Chapter Text
The sky was a clear, bright blue. The clouds floated across it without a care in the world. The grass on the hill I sat on was lush and green, awash with dew from last night’s rain. My back was starting to get moist from laying down, but I didn’t want to get up just yet. Big brother’s binoculars rested on my chest, my right hand lightly grasping it. All this, combined with the chirping of a few nearby birds, could make anyone feel at ease. It’s a Paradise World, after all, and what is a Paradise World nothing but peaceful? Feeling the grass tickle my messy blonde hair, I begin to drift asleep...
But then the shuttle shook.
My head lurches forward and back from the force of the turbulence. A gas mask hugging my face, obscuring my vision as I look around the dim shuttle. Everyone else had gone ahead and put on their gas masks as well. Despite the respirators however, the air was still metaphorically suffocating. The silence was starting to get to me, the only thing I can really listen to is my own amplified breathing.
The shuttle quaking again, the burly Armagedion shifts perturbed in his seat, “Iz this thing gonna zoggin crash or wot?”
“Solar wind” A feelingless voice answers, the owner shouldering a vox caster pack to his side. When we introduced ourselves mid-flight, he said his name was Werv, “I predict that we’ll be landing soon”
“How soon?” More to the left, a guardsman leans forward, his great coat jet black. Illuminated by the blue glow of his plasma gun, his apparel is also different with red gas mask lenses and bronze shoulder pads. His name was Cain.
“Approximately thirty minutes to an hour” Werv responds without much effort.
“Then we should start coordinating a plan of attack when we hit planet-side” Cain looks over to Blitz, his tone kept cool, “Wouldn’t you agree, sergeant?”
The sergeant stirs from his nap, scratching the rim of the respirator as he responds to the guardsman, “Mhm? Well, if you want to decide on what to do before we can even get a good scope of what we’re facing, go ahead”
“Oright then, ‘ere’s da plan then boyz” The Ork Hunter, he said his name was “Head Basher”, bu we settled on calling him H.B. He lifts up his trench club, using it to emphasis his loud words, “I hit’em an’ pummel’ dem greenskinz while you lads krump’em with lotsa dakka!”
“Lots of... what?” I couldn’t help but voice my confusion about his manner of speech, said voice sounding soft and gentle to even my own ears, “Krump? Dakka?”
“Ork talk” The sergeant slurs out sleepily, “I wouldn’t try to understand a lick of it if I were you”
“We’re getting off track” Cain warns, cutting off any further discussion on the topic. He looks closely around the dimly lit transport before saying, “Werv should stick close with Blitz to make sure orders are relayed accurately, as should Nicarith...”
He says more but my mind has already begun wandering. I wonder what it’ll be like to fight in a real warzone, I’m terrified, but also another feeling I can’t exactly describe. Excitement? Morbid curiosity? A sense of adventure? Whatever it is it substitutes some of that fear, but not enough. I’m not naïve, I know the risk of death is high, but I still think we can work well enough as a team and survive this ordeal.
“...And Kellar should accompany 104 as his spotter”
Hearing my name brings me out of my thoughts, I look up to Cain but he’s already busying himself by talking with Werv about strategies with Blitz occasionally adding his two-sense and Nicarith failing to join in on the discussion. So instead, I turn to face the person who’s sitting across from me, who also raised his head when our names were called. The only information I know about him is that he’s a sniper going off the long-las strapped to his back and that he’s from the planet Krieg. 104, he didn’t exactly say his name per say, if it even qualifies as one. He simply showed the letters using his hands and stayed quiet.
‘ He’s probably just shy’ I tell myself, ‘ I should help him feel more comfortable with us’
“Hello” I say in a cheerful tone, “How are you?”
He turns his head to face me, his expressionless gas mask gazing deeply into me. Shoulders slump and head low it’s almost like he’s trying to make himself seem as small as possible. Only staring without a word. A twinge of worry echoes in me, but I mentally shrug it off. He’s timid, that’s all. I get ready to try again.
Then a horrible shudder rips through the hull, stopping me. My head is sent flying violently to the right and-
My eyes remain shut tight as I come back to the world. The distant sounds of chaos echoes around me, outside shouting and lasgun fire are muffled as my head maintains a steady pulse of pain. I make a soft groan before a hand suddenly snatches my shoulder and shakes me. Eyes snapping wide open, I look straight at the person in front of me, of course I can’t tell who they are with the gas mask they wear.
The best way I can describe the color of their coat was that of sand on a beach, the clothing rustles as they forcefully grab my chin to turn it left and right, examining me before asking in a fast-paced voice that belongs to a woman, “Anything broken?”
“My head hurts, I think I hit it when we...” My sentence tapers off as I realize I don’t know our current location or what had occurred, looking around the shuttle, I notice that the only other people in here with us were Werv and Nicarith with the hangar door shut closed, confused I ask, “What happened? Where are we... Where is everyone?”
“We got shot down. Who knows. Greeting the welcoming committee.” She answers in quick succession without further details, barely letting me any time to process what I heard. Turning to Werv she says, “Vox the sergeant that the boy’s fine, how many injured am I expecting?”
Werv nods before detaching the handset from his vox caster, bringing it to his ear and about to hail presumably the sergeant when Nicarth stops him, “Hold on, the sergeant said I would be the first to report to him, remember”
There’s a brief silence as Werv side-eyes the confidant, right hand hovering over the red knob to turn it on and the left holding up the telephone. He ends up handing Nicarth the handset wired to the vox caster, turning the knob as it crackles to life.
“Hey there sir, how’s it going out there?” A muffled and crackled voice could be faintly heard from the telephone, but I’m not able to make it out. He responds, “Oh him? Yeah he’s good, we’ll meet you out there in a sec”
“How many wounded” The medic reminds him, making a last-minute check of the contents of her medical bag as she adds, “And how many am I gonna have to put to sleep?”
“Put to sleep as in?”
“Euthanize.”
“Right, right, hey sarge who’s dying out there?” Another moment of semi-silence as Blitz says something to him, Nicarith attempts hold in a laugh when he hears the last part, he fails, “That guy managed to get stabbed by a what!? Oh that’s hilarious!”
“Nic!” She snaps the bag closed, standing up to glare at him on even level, “On with it”
“Oh yeah, H.B. got a gash along his arm, 104 broke his leg, and Boren- ha, he was shived by a little- pfft” While NIcarith is composing himself I unlock myself from the seat, making a quick pat down and to be sure nothing was lost or disturbed. My brother’s binoculars still hang from my neck, thank the emperor, so I instead turn my attention back to the discussion at hand, “Aha, anyhow, Boren managed to get stabbed by a lowly grot of all things, absolutely hilarious”
As Werv takes the handset back and the medic, Ahara was her name I believe, pressed the button to open the ramp, one thing was abundantly clear:
No one found it funny.