Chapter 29: Stocktake

Day seven.

I should really start writing this down somewhere.

I've been here a whole week now. A whole week in the 41st millennium. A whole week in the Dark Imperium…at least, that's when I think it was. In fact, I wasn't entirely certain if it had been a week or not, since I was only going off Alexei's word, and one clock that was in 24-hour time. I should know. I counted it.

I'd been here a whole week, and I hadn't died. The closest I'd come was drowning in an underwater tunnel in a training exercise. That was the closest I'd been so far. I knew I'd encounter more scenarios like that, even just in training. And apparently, our training was only just getting underway. What had the sergeant said?

A week for the stocktaking, and then we'd be real recruits?

This was already bad enough, and apparently, this was warm up training for them. Would the real training begin tomorrow? If so, what would that be like?

I decided I'd wait to find out. No point speculating.

I realised that today, someone was already up before me. Had I slept in later than usual?

No, it was still barely half past six in the morning. I looked around the room to see who was up. One of the girls, surely. In the darkness, I could see the rough shape of everyone in their beds. Hmm. No one was up.

Then why was the shower on?

Stepping out of bed, I crept past the table and opened the doors to the showers and found Evet sitting under a shower, hand under chin, as though she were pondering something.

"Oh, sorry, I thought someone had left the shower on," I said, backing out. Evet just looked at me oddly.

"No, no, no need. Come on, I know you get up early," she said, standing up. Damn, I hated being one of only two people in a shower. That was just…weird.

"Couldn't sleep?" I asked. She shook her head. "Me neither."

"I'm just…it's frustrating, with Desmond, you know. He's always looking. By the Throne, he can't seem to look away. And the worst part is he looks at me the least. I know he hounds Oleev, he always has. I can't imagine what she's going through. I just need…I just need some way to get him off us," she said.

"I don't know how to do that," I said, turning on a shower near hers, "I barely know him."
"No, no, I wouldn't expect you to do it. Prassus or Burtrus, maybe. They're the ones who he's scared of the most."

"Why?" I asked. There was still much I didn't know about these people. So much I needed to know. A week wasn't enough to learn everything I needed to learn.

"Oh, it's a long story. Well, lots of stories," Evet said, running her hands through her wet hair. She had to be washing in cold water, which was very brave of her. Or perhaps they were just used to washing in cold water. That was much more likely. They did seem to take longer showers then me.

"Tell me some," I said, scrubbing my arms. Evet sighed.

"Back home, Desmond, well, Desmond had all the space he needed in his manor gardens. They had high walls, big trees, a proper garden lawn, the lot. Yet he always came down to the village, where we were," Evet said.

"We liked playing games, whenever we could, and he'd always want to get involved. He didn't have any siblings, so he always sought us out whenever he wanted company. Well, I say company. He wanted more people to push around. People who weren't his servants," Evet muttered.

"He really liked Oleev. Likes Oleev, I should say. He would follow her through the town. He'd make advances. Try to spy on her bathing, that sort of stuff. He must be loving this. He's a creep," Evet explained. I nodded.

"I'd noticed," I said. Evet smiled and carried on.

"One day, he tried to…well, we don't know what he was going to do. He's a coward, never does anything that's actually a risk. He expects he can get other people to do stuff for him. He had a few cronies, but they'd stop following him when he didn't pay up like he said he would," she said, and I had to interrupt her.

"Wait, he paid people to follow him around?"

"He's rich, remember?" Evet said. "But he was also stingy with his money. Never paid up. Annoyed Egeers no end when he'd never pay up for any of his bets."
"So that's why Egeers doesn't like him," I surmised, but Evet just shook her head.

"Oh, no, there's way more to it then that. Anyway, one day we heard shouting down by the southern plains gate. Most people never leave the town walls, since there's no need to unless you're a tradesmen or a farmer. Well, that, and you weren't meant to leave without a permit from the town guild. We'd sneak out anywhere, sometimes. Apparently Oleev wanted to see Prassus, or something, we don't know what was going on. Desmond followed her. She said he tried to…touch her, kiss her, force himself on her, when Prassus saw them, and, well, he beat Desmond to a pulp. That was four years ago. That's when Desmond stopped being that annoying kid from the manor and became that evil little man you see today," Evet finished.

"Wait, he tried to assault Oleev when she was only…fourteen years old?" I asked incredulously. "How old was he?"

"Fifteen," Evet said. "He was always rude, but in the last few years he's gone from bad to worse to terrible."

"And now he's here," I said.

"And now he's here," Evet agreed. "Even here, we can't escape him."

At this moment, we were rudely interrupted by Oleev, who sauntered in without a care in the world, eyeing us both with a mischievous grin.

"You two, huh? Never would've seen it," she smirked. Evet rolled her eyes.

"We're just talking, Oleev," Evet groaned, pushing the ginger girl back. Oleev raised an eyebrow.

"Talking huh, that what you call it?"

"She's right. We were just talking," I said, and Oleev smile grew.

"Oh, what about, hm? What do you do two have to talk about?"

"We were talking about Desmond," Evet explained.

"Complaining, more like," I said. "Anyway, I'll leave you two be. You deserve some privacy."

Oleev was silent for a few moments, and then told me to stop before I left.

"Sent, wait," she said. I stopped and looked back expectantly, dripping wet.

"I'm…I was wrong to judge you so harshly. Now that Desmond's here, I remember what a terrible man really is. You're not that bad, honestly," she said quietly.

"That still implies I'm a little bad," I said, pushing the envelope a little. Oleev rolled her eyes.

"All guys are a little bad but being just a little bad is about as good as guys get," she said. Evet just shook her head behind her.

"Oh, well, thanks, I guess," I said awkwardly. Oleev just stared at me.

"Well, you going to stand there or keep on walking like you just were?" she asked, raising her voice a little.

"Right, right, sorry," I said, raising my hands in surrender. Oleev just muttered something under her breath as she turned a shower on and ran her hands through her ginger hair. I dried myself off, hung my towel near one of the heat lamps, cleaned and ironed my clothes and got dressed. The others filtered in and out of the showers as time went by, and Prassus decided to take the initiative to kick Desmond out of bed early this morning.

Groaning and grumbling at the unfairness of the world, Desmond stumbled off towards the showers. Thankfully, the girls were already dressed, much to his disappointment, leaving him to shower with just a few of the guys. I'm sure he'd love that.

We were ready on time, even Desmond, although his uniform was in shambles. However, he got no time to fix it before the sergeant showed up.

Today, he showed up with a suitcase in one hand and a data slate in the other.

"Take a seat, squad," Alexei commanded, pointing to the table at the back of the room which we barely used. We all looked around uneasily. This was new. However, we did as he asked, sitting in the same order as we had our beds.

"The stocktaking is complete as of today," Alexei began, and there was a small cheer from the squad. Were we done? Did the real training begin now? What did this mean?

Alexei silenced us with one of his patented stares, placing the suitcase on the table.

"In this case are your combat uniforms. This is what you will wear into battle, and this is what you will train in from now on," he said, opening the case onto the table to reveal two neatly packed sets of forest green uniforms. So, we don't get the iconic khaki of the Cadian's? Shame.

"But first, we must focus on the results of the stocktaking. The purpose of this week has been to gauge your physical capabilities and skills prior to your full induction into the Imperial Guard. It is a test every Cadian soldier goes through when put under a new command back home, and here, it shall serve as your entry level test. It is conducted on a pass or fail basis. You either succeed, or you do not. While it is also a graded test, the completion is the most important aspect of the test," Alexei explained. He loved stuff like this. We all leaned in expectantly. Did we pass? Did we do it? Did we make it?

"Squad 1532, you have passed the stocktaking," sergeant Alexei informed us. Everyone gave a sigh of relief.

"These are your graded results, measured on a scale of 1-10. 1 indicates full combat integration; telling us that the squad is capable enough to enter a combat role with the platoon it has just been integrated with. For recruits, it indicates high cohesion, suitable for war game scenario training. Such a squad would be fast-tracked to simulated combat. This is the level we expect tithed soldiers to fight at," Alexei explained. "With 10 indicating a squad is unmanageable, and requires censure, in the case of a trained squad, or is unable to be trained and will be submitted to an existing force as conscripts."

Yikes, don't want to end up there. Suddenly I realised we desperately needed to be ranked above 10. If we failed, we'd be reduced to the role of cannon-fodder for sure. Alexei looked down at his data slate. I watched him with baited breath.

"You have scored a 5.4," he told us. There were some sighs and groans, but most us just looked at him blankly. Alexei saw us waiting for another explanation and cleared his throat.

"Such a score is .4 above the average, and indicates a failure in either physical capability, discipline, or squad cohesion. You have failed squad cohesion," he told us. "You do not work together as well as required. That is what I will be required to train."

Alexei looked down at the slate again, pouring through its content.

"However, on an individual basis, half of you have scored a rank of 4. Such consistent performance indicates the competency of your squad at technical skills is likely above average," Alexei said. "It demonstrates sufficient competence for intermediate training."

The others all looked pleased at that, but they didn't seem to realise what that actually meant. If half of the squad had scored an average of 4 points, that meant that the other half of the squad was really pulling the squad down, or there was a massive positive or negative outlier. Looking around, I started thinking. Obviously, the negative outlier was Desmond, dragging us all down, but how did everyone else do?

"Furthermore, I can inform you that as of three days ago, the decision was made to integrate Practican squads into existing Cadian 417th platoons. I can confirm that I will be the sergeant who will lead you into battle. You will be the 5th squad in the 3rd Platoon of 7th company in the Cadian 417th, the Hellbringers, as we like to call ourselves," Alexei said with a sardonic grin. We all recoiled. Alexei can smile?

That was new. And unsettling.

"The Department Munitorum has seen fit to integrate Practican squads alongside Cadian squads to replenish our losses and account for our inability to reinforce directly from Cadia. No doubt when we are able to do so, there will be yet more reallocation, and you will be assigned to the Practica 315th, where you were intended to be integrated with initially. However, in their infinite wisdom, they saw it best to rearrange the organisational hierarchies they had provided us with. That said, it is not expected your role will be changed. You will still serve as auxiliary forces."

We let go another sigh of relief. No frontline combat right away. There was some small amount of nervous laughter.

"I'm glad you're happy, because this means me and my fellow officers won't be fighting on the frontlines, because we're babysitting you!" Alexei snapped. We all shut up immediately. Alexei sighed, rubbing his nose. So, this was what was getting him all annoyed the other day? Being relegated to the rear guard, the reserve? Must suck pretty bad if you're a Cadian, I guess. But that meant we were safer, since we would have Cadian's by our side. We won't be a totally novice fighting force getting thrown into the fray. At least, I hope not. I decided against hoping in case I jinxed it.

"Regardless, this integration means you are officially part of the 7th company, and the 417th. Welcome to the Hellbringers. Welcome to Sabre Company," Alexei said, saluting us. Before we had a chance to respond, he continued onwards.

"Now, there are other duties we must attend to. Now that the stocktaking is complete, it is necessary for you to receive your dress uniforms for parade. Your combat uniform and your dress uniform are separate, remember that. For formal occasions, you are required to wear your formal uniform. That means we must go to the tailors and get you equipped with one," Alexei informed us.

"You're going to need one, because we're going to have a parade practise today."