A/N- Any terminology that you may not be familiar with will likely be explained below, in the * section. Just in case anyone was confused.

Some things that are obvious, like dates, will also be explained in the * section below, just in case anyone is new to WH40K fluff.

Also, this is War-Fic. So expect gratuitous violence, gore, expletives, sexual content, sexist and racist slurs, and all happenstance of nasty. Sorry in advance. Also in advance, I don't believe the things I write, so if I'm writing something racist or sexist, I don't actually believe those things, and I don't want to be associated with those people.

And another thing. Simply because of the response of ya'll and the general encouragement, and my inability to ignore the fact that this was pushed to the second page by day two of it's posting, I'm gonna throw up another chapter. For shits and giggles.


LCPL. Jackson Carson, 757th Teretian Mechanized Division, aboard * U.S.F. Hood

Mobile Infantry Division, * Plt. 2, Squad 2, * FT 1

* 178.M42, day 21 of *warp travel to Muilen

[Entry Begins]

I still don't understand why they decided to smash us all together. Now I've got a legitimate *corpsman in my fire team. And it's a 'she'. We've never worked with women in a squad level before. Sure, they were always back in the medical tents, and doing quartermaster business, but with the merger, they've been assigned to squads.

Everybody is mixed up. Amparan isn't very happy about all the different parts of our division. He's an infantryman to the core, and all this armour that's now part of us bothers him. He never had a problem with them when they were part of assault practice, or when we were providing close quarters support drills, but now we have to go back home with them.

Not to mention the airbourne gals. Now, I understand that there are many mixed regiments, but the part that survived was all warrant and commissioned officers, and they're all girls. No enlisted among them. They outrank the hell out of us infantry lads, and now, some of them have been transferred down to the infantry platoons to be our C.O.'s, since most of ours were taken out on the shelf.

This is going to be hell in a handbasket when we have to land on Muilen...

'Carson!' Staff Sergeant Amparan shouted from across the loading bay. 'Carson, get your nose out of that diary and get your team on shuttle six! We're in orbit around Muilen, the landing's starting son!' Amparan slapped Carson's shoulder-piece and smiled. 'Get the rest of the platoon out here too. I want to see you all before we land,' he added, with the most serious look he could muster, considering his glee.

Carson gave a slight smile to his NCO and nodded. He slotted his pen into the data-journal's side, folding it neatly back into it's pocket between his *carapace and his fatigues, and slung his *las-carbine over his shoulder, beginning his jog down the hall to platoon two's barracks.

He entered the barracks, where everyone was mostly resting on their bunks. They'd had all of their gear ready to go for the past four days, and it was simply the waiting game then. Until now.

"Okay guys, we're in orbit. Get your shit together, and get out to dock four. Staff Sergeant Amparan want's to see us all before we leave, so let's get out there double time! Let's go!" Carson shouted down the barracks.

He walked over to his fireteam, which was gearing up in record time. He knew them all by name, and was comfortable with them all except one- Corpsman Leas, the girl that was added to his team. She, and the other corpsman in the unit, technically had the power to outrank the Staff Sergeant, when it came to medical matters. But right then, she was under his control.

"Leas, let's get a move on. We don't have all day," Carson said, picking up his c-bag and checking one of his squadmates' pack straps. "You're all good Markus," he said, patting his support gunner on the shoulder, after finishing his look over.

Leas rolled her eyes and snapped her last latch on her carapace together. "Aye Lance Corporal. I'll be along momentarily," she added, pulling on her greatcoat over the armour and sliding her own c-bag onto her back. She pulled her las-carbine from it's place on her bunk post and slung it over her shoulder. "You want to check me over Lance Corporal?"

It was Carson's turn to roll his eyes. "I'm Carson to you guys, not 'Lance Corporal'. And yes, I will, in a second." He turned to look at Markus, who was checking over his equipment, making sure everything was in place.

"You're good Jack. I'll see you in the loading dock?" Markus asked, clipping his hellgun into place on the front of his carapace.

Carson scoffed. "Bet your ass. Get the rest of the team going, I'll catch up with Leas."

Markus gave a wild, excited grin, and waved the rest of the team to follow him. The other six followed the support gunner out of the barracks, as Carson quickly began checking the corpsman's equipment.

"Why does your platoon hate all of us?" Leas asked as Carson checked the straps on her c-bag.

"What do you mean?" he replied, moving around to check her carapace.

Leas glared at him. "I mean that your platoon doesn't appreciate what we're trying to do, and trying to acclimate to. We're not supposed to be frontliners. We're supposed to help defend bases and keep you guys on your feet."

"And we deeply appreciate that." He looked up at her and smiled. She did not .Not knowing how to continue, he rubbed the back of his neck and thought quickly.

"Okay, here's the short version. You're an extra burden on my team. You're inexperienced, you haven't been with us since training, you haven't gotten to know the team, and you're a woman. We normally work together well because we're men, and we know each other. You being here puts us all on edge. Prove to us that we don't have to worry about you all, and we'll like you more. Simple as that." He smacked her shoulder-plate and smiled again. "Let's get a move on Leas."

She nodded. "Aye Lance Corporal." Apparently she wasn't willing to drop her habit of calling him by rank. Not that it was a problem, but he wasn't entirely sure why she wouldn't drop it. Everyone else under Staff Sergeant Amparan were practically on a first name basis with the rest of the platoon. All except the new Corpsmen, each of which insisted on keeping everything very formal. Maybe it was to prevent the men from being too 'friendly'?

They jogged out to the loading dock, where the rest of the platoon was gathering around Amparan in a semi circle. Everyone seemed a little on edge. Carson raised an eyebrow and moved through to the rest of his team.

"What's going on Markus?" he said quietly, spotting a female lieutenant standing a couple of steps away from Amparan.

"Apparently," Markus began, sighing dramatically, emphasizing his distaste. "She's got an announcement to make. What could she say? She's a *flygirl, not an *ice humper like the rest of us."

Amparan clapped and raised his hands. "All right boys... and girls; we've got Lieutenant Jeremy here to say some things." He turned and saluted the lieutenant. "They're all yours ma'am."

"Thank you Sergeant," the small woman said, stepping forwards to her place next to the far more imposing man, *returning his salute, her rank insignia on her greatcoat's cuffs glinting in the hangar bays lights.

"Staff Sergeant ma'am," Amparan quietly corrected her, just loud enough to be heard over the engines of the landing craft spinning up.

"Apologies Staff Sergeant," the Lieutenant replied quickly, managing to hide a blush.

The short, ponytailed brunette stepped right into attention and clasped her hands behind her back. "I've been assigned to your platoon by Lieutenant Colonel Balagus, commander of the 757th's infantry divisions. I've not been trained for such an appointment, but we have a overflow of what you men call flygirls, or so I'm told, and a lack of planes to put them in."

A few of the men gave a quiet, but audible, groan, others sighed and found a comfortable spot to lean on the crates around them. Carson and Markus quickly shared a concerned glance before paying attention to the Lieutenant again.

The reaction was not unnoticed. "I apologize in advance for the mistakes I'll be making in the time to come. For right now, I'll be learning everything I can from Sergeant- I mean, Staff Sergeant Amparan." She looked over to the Staff Sergeant, who gave her a nod before continuing. "I'll be working closely with all of you over the next few months, and I can only hope to gain your respect in that time."

A couple of the men grunted and began to move towards their landing craft. The Staff Sergeant shot them a harsh look, and they stopped in their tracks. "Wait to be dismissed Corporal," Amparan warned their leader, Corporal Herris.

Herris sighed, and stood at attention. "Aye Staff Sergeant."

Lieutenant Jeremy turned to the Corporal. "You are dismissed."

Herris gave a quick salute, barely waiting for the return before leading his squad off to their landing craft. Carson shook his head and smacked the back of Markus's helmet. "All right, let's get going second squad. Check your gear again, and get a move on!"

He picked up his carbine from the crate it rested on and turned around, only to find Lieutenant Jeremy in front of him.

"Uh, hello ma'am." He saluted and stood at attention, dropping the stock of his carbine to the floor with a loud clack.

"Lance Corporal, I will be accompanying your squad to the surface," she stated, pulling her cap on, and a las-rifle slung over her shoulder.

Carson stood there, unsure of what to say. He slung his carbine over his shoulder again and raised an eyebrow. "Uh, with all due respect ma'am, you should perhaps join third or fourth squad, they're in the second wave. We're the frontliners ma'am."

"I'm going with you Lance Corporal Carson. You'll just have total control of the squad- I need to see you all in action."

He considered for a moment, before sighing and walking past her, the rest of his squad following. "First, Corporal Herris is in charge of these two squads. I just delegate responsibility to my squad because I'm the highest ranked one there. Second, keep to the rear of formation, and keep your head down ma'am. This isn't going to be pretty, from what I hear."

She strode out next to him, her pace almost double his just to keep up. "Apologies Lance Corporal. You know what we're up against down there, correct?"

"Orks ma'am," Carson informed her, bluntly. "As near as I can tell, they're big, green, and have a tendency to charge into close combat." He stopped at the ramp into the lander and turned to face her. "I've been told to aim for the head. I suggest you do the same."

"Thank you for the advice Lance Corporal Carson."

Carson ushered the rest of his squad aboard. "Anytime Lieutenant. Get to the front of the 'lat, and keep your head down on the surface."

" 'Lat', Lance Corporal?" she asked, an eyebrow raised.

Carson's own eyebrow cocked before thinking about what he'd said. "Oh, right ma'am. Sorry, we're not used to having pilots be groundside. 'Lat' is our slang for the Valkyrie Landing Craft. Don't ask me why, I don't know."

The Lieutenant nodded and smiled at him. "Thank you Lance Corporal."

"Aye ma'am," he replied, before following her onto the 'lat, sitting down near the rear of the craft and strapping himself into his seat. Much to his chagrin, the Lieutenant, instead of following his advice and going to the front of the 'lat, instead planted herself right next to him.

The ramp was quickly retracted and closed once both squads were aboard, the engines spinning up to a deafening scream before the feeling of weightlessness set in.

"Guardsmen, this is Lieutenant Nicas, your pilot speaking," a sarcastic female voice chimed in through the *vox. "I will be your transportation down to the planet, and then, hopefully, be out of your hair. If anything goes wrong, I would like you to know that there are no emergency exits, and if we lose power mid flight, the best thing to do is to hang onto something, because I'm betting I won't be able to open the cargo-bay doors. Even if I could, you probably don't have parachutes. Have an eventful day."

Carson couldn't help but chuckle. It sounded like she was just about as happy to fly into the thick of things as he was to walk into it. At least she had 'lat armour between her and the incoming fire. But the sarcastic honesty put him to ease more then it should have. Probably because it was honest.

It wasn't everyday he ran into an honest officer.


*Section

U.S.F.- Ultima Sector Fleet. A division of the Imperial Navy, dedicated to the Ultima Sector of the galaxy.

Plt.- Shorthand for Platoon. In the 757th's case, five squads and a unit of troop transports, such as Chimera's, compose a Platoon. Overall, it's composed of about 150 infantry, a couple of officers, and about 10 Chimera's, or equivalent of Chimera.

FT- Shorthand for Fireteam, a subdivision of a squad.

178.M42- Shorthand for 42,178, the year the story takes place in the 40K universe.

The Warp- Basically, it's an FTL method that has the serious potential to possess you, make you go insane, outright kill you, bring daemons into our plane of existence, and is the source of all space magic in the WH40K universe. In more detail, I direct you to the WH40K Lexicanum. Google it.

Corpsman- Navy term for Medic. I adopted this term for the 757th because I see them more as Marines, and less like a regular army, as they have armour, infantry and air power all in one regiment. Their direct equivalent in real life terms would be the USMC, as that is the branch of service I have experience in.

757th Armour and Uniforms- The 757th come from an ice planet. Therefore, greatcoats are standard issue. They're nice greatcoats. Be jealous. Also, Carapace armour is the basic infantryman's armour, and comes in varying degree's of quality. For instance, LT Jeremy's Carapace is far better quality then say, Corporal Herris's.

Las-Weaponry-Figure getting this all out of the way early is good. Las is the basic weaponry used by the Imperial Guard, which includes the 757th. They are angry, angry flashlights. That shoot from battery packs. VERY ANGRY FLASHLIGHTS. Variants include Las-pistols, Las-rifles, Las-carbines, Long-las, and Hellguns. Generally, they can be grouped together in the category of "Lasguns".

Flygirl/boy- Ground trooper slang for female/male pilots, respectively.

Ice-humper- Ground trooper slang for ground troopers.

Returning Salutes- It's the military's way of showing respect. If you don't return a superior officer's salute, you're in some deep ass shit. I'm not kidding. Really. Happened to me once. Oh god. afivoaeiwofnsdionv {cries}

Vox- Like a radio, only from the 41st Millenium. And it sucks just as bad, if not worse. Looks like we shat on communications when it came to advancing our technology. The way I use it is to have separate channels for specific groups- like Mumble, or TeamSpeak.

If there is anything that requires further explanation, mention it, and I will update this.

R&R and maybe I'll give you an internet brownie. I promise I didn't lace them with cocaine.