A/N: Proof that not all of the far future is grimdark. I was craving a little bit of cuteness so here it is. You may suffer from a minor case of diabetes when you're done. Sorry this took so long, but I've been working on another writing project so this fell by the wayside. But more is coming, I promise.
Medicae Matthew Arrel stood nervously outside Commissar Conna Dalvar's office, a data-slate clenched firmly in his left hand. He raised his other hand to knock, pausing for just a moment before tapping his knuckles on the metal bulwark. When no one answered, he eased himself into the room.
The desk was strewn with data-slates paper and styluses, the messiness of day-to-day bureaucracy cluttering the room. he walked behind the desk setting the slate down in a clear spot. Just as he began to move towards the door, he noticed a rectangular piece of paper on the floor and bent over to pick it up. When he flipped it over, he realised that it was a photo. A tall lanky man who looked like he was in his mid thirties was holding a young girl who looked about 5. He was dressed sharply in a Commissarial uniform, warm brown eyestwinkling in an angled face marred only by a single scar running from the right corner of his mouth to dissapear in his hairline above his left ear. Arrel was struck by how much the man looked like Conna. Bu soon enough, his eyes were drawn to the little girl in the man's arms.
She had the beginnings of Conna's sharp cheekbones and keen eyes, but she was still chubby, a round face peaking out from an oversized Commissar hat. It had fallen over one eye, being made for a full-grown man, and the other chocolate eye stared straight out at the camers, mouth set in a defaint pout. The whole portriat was quite adorable nd a small, silly smile spead over Arrel's face. He fillped it over, curious to see if there was a note on the back.
Dearest Conna
Forgive me for these last years of grief. It warmed me to hear that you were safly in the hands of the teachers at the Schola Progenium and that you have followed in my footsteps as a Commissar. You have all my love and good wishes.
May the Emperor guide your steps
Your loving father,
Martin Dalvar
Areel smiled softly, fillping the photo back over and running his finger lightly over the gloss smooth paper. He thought back over his time serving under Conna. at first, the men had pushed at her, bending the rules as much as they could. But as they fought with her, the began to apreciate her cool lever-hededness in battle and her fairness in dealing out punishment. She always made an effort to interact with even the lowliest troopers and fostered good relationships with everyone. And as far as Arrel could tell, Conna's efforts had paid off. The men were fiercly loal and Conna was quickly becoming an integral part of the regiment.
"You'd be proud of her sir," Arrel said, tapping the hat half off Conna's childish face. "You'd be proud."" tenderly lying the photo down, he smiled and walked out.
