"The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the group. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself."- Friedrich Nietzsche

Time aboard the Nosce Te Ipsum consisted of sleeping, eating, and combat drills. The Surris conscripts all had been prepared for warp travel in advance; or at least Watchmaster B-52 had tried. However, the cases of warp sickness among them were relatively low, and after hearing a bit of rumor Jericus had found that most of the conscripts from Surris even in the other regiments were doing fairly well for first time warp travelers. Quarters were scarce so in order to conserve space all the regiments put two of their troops to a cabin instead of one.

The cabins themselves were only large enough to hold a bunk along with a few storage compartments. But it wasn't all so bad Jericus reflected as he and Fenria had been paired together to share a room and within its confines they were free to speak. They still never spoke any louder than a whisper but the full conversations were nice and the duo enjoyed them immensely. Jericus slept on the floor while she took the solitary bunk in the small cabin, Jericus actually preferred the floor finding it more comfortable than the bunk, while Fenria felt the opposite.

During mess the Korps stuck together and the other non-Korps regiments stuck to their own. Jericus had even seen Xavier a few times or thought he did through occasional glances from across the huge mess area. The three guard regiments seemed to keep to themselves, but the 82nd seemed to be the black sheep of the family as it were. The two regiments other than the 82nd where the 121st Hoarfell Rangers and 145th Randon drop troopers (aka the Randon Splats, in reference to how they usually ended up) both of which equally avoided the 82nd. They jovially chatted with one another and enjoyed the full use of their allowed recreation time while steering clear of the heavily regimented Death Korps troopers. It was as if the Korps had a disease they were afraid of catching.

Jericus had heard the occasional comment of Korpsmen all being clockwork soldiers or that they were forcibly lobotomized. In truth it would be far better if these rumors were true; but the cold hard fact remains that anyone in the Korps had given up their hopes, dreams, and the training did its best to scour their emotions as well. The person was replaced with a husk that follow orders to the letter and with the new dream of dying to repay the Emperor for some debt which Jericus and the other Surris conscripts never really owed or fully understood.

One cycle as he was walking down one of the many corridors of the Nosce Te Ipsem alone Jericus found himself cornered by three guardsmen all from the Randon 145th.

They wore distinctive red pattern flak-armor and matching uniforms, during his short time on the Ipsum hearing about them through rumor he had learned that most of the troopers in the 145th Randon were apparently unhinged; then again he supposed you have to be to willingly leap from a perfectly good valkyrie.

The apparent leader came up to Jericus slowly, "So where you headed to blank." The last word rolled off his tongue like it was some vile taste. 'Blank' was a common derogatory term used for Korpsmen by the other regiments. It caught on because of the stoic nature and the masks, the Randon trooper took a step closer, "Well?"

"This trooper is on its way to a marching drill." Jericus replied coldly to the Randon's slight amusement.

"See I told you guys these blanks were all stiffs, look at him with that mask, not much more than a servitor. And this is one of the new ones, ya can tell by the first letter in the designation, S for Surris, that rock we just liberated, am I right blank," He jeered no doubt trying to get a rise out of Jericus.

In an attempt to avoid what seemed to be inevitable conflict Jericus started to walk past him before the Randon trooper put his hand up to block his path of escape. "Hey where do you think you're going blank? We need you to do something for us first," he paused then gestured to his cohorts. "Me and the boys here are curious about what's under those masks. You know see if there's a person under there, and you being one of the new-bloods of the 82nd you ought to be more inclined to actually go through with it; now take it off."

At those last three words a slight feeling of panic trickled into Jericus' mind. He couldn't take the mask off! Whatever was under it… it just wasn't there anymore and they didn't understand that. His hesitation annoyed the leader and the trooper angrily tried to grab hold of the mask. That's what triggered Jericus' honed reflexes and the training took over. He was scarcely aware of what he was doing and before he became aware of what happened the leader of the group was beneath him as he delivered blow after blow into the man's steadily worsening face.

His attempts to fight back were ignored as Jericus continued with the brutal assault just as he had trained to do. The other two stood there and watched as their friend was beaten senseless by one of the 'blanks'. If Jericus bothered to listen though he would hear that the other Randon troopers were actually cheering, and whooping in excitement over the fight, even though their friend was losing. Unhinged indeed, the point was driven home as they got louder when blood sprayed from their friend's nose.

"What's going on here?" a sharp voice snapped. It was distinct enough and held authority. Jericus' training kicked in again as he abandoned his single-minded ruthless onslaught and stood at attention giving a crisp salute to the Hoarfell sergeant now in the groups presence, the Randon troopers instantly followed suit. "Well?" he asked again looking at the two confused looking Randon, their leader spitting out blood, and then finally toward Jericus himself.

"Sir, it is this trooper's duty to inform you that there was an altercation." Jericus stated in as evenly as he could. The sergeant looked almost bemusedly at the form of the guardsman trying to get up with his bloodied face and even a missing tooth.

"I can see that. But my question is what the cause was?" This time the man whom Jericus had beaten spoke still nursing his jaw, "We were just trying to see the blanks face sir, and then he just went berserk! Hell of a fight, though I wish I could 'a gotten one in on him," The sergeant turned to Jericus, "What's your side of it." He asked.

"Sir, this trooper was defending against presumed hostile action committed against it sir." he stated evenly in response. The sergeant looked at him with what seemed to be understanding and seemed to sigh in exasperation.

"I'll tell you boys what. I'm gonna let this slide, after all I understand that tension is high and that warp travel can do funny things to the mind and body. Plus I don't think any of you want me to bring a commissar in on this, and neither do I for that matter. We savvy?" The sergeant asked, the last part a subtle plea for peace. The three Randon guardsmen muttered a lowly 'yes sir' and then the sergeant turned to Jericus with a pointed look.

"What about you son, I know the Korps is big on protocol but what do ya say we just let this one go." He said spreading his arms.

"Sir, as far as this trooper is concerned it was on its way to a marching drill." Jericus stated matter-of-factly, he didn't want to be reported to Watchmaster B-52. The sergeant nodded with what seemed like a bit of disbelief and relief at the prospect, Korpsmen were known to be very by-the-book about such matters, even the conscripts from other worlds the 82nd trained, the so called 'second generations' were prone to such behaviour.

"Good to hear guardsman," he paused for a moment. "Say, what's your name?"

"This trooper's designation is S-1049-Echo of the 82nd Death Korps Infantry sir." Jericus stated clearly, the sergeant's brow furrowed as he heard the statement.

"No, son I meant your real name, you're one of the Surris conscripts right," he said reforming the question. Posture stiffening noticeably Jericus couldn't hide the involuntary shutter that ran through his body; this did not change his response.

"This trooper's designation is S-1049 sir," he said yet again this time with a hint of hesitation in his voice. There seemed to be a hint of sadness in the sergeant's eyes at that.

"Right," he sighed waving the others away; they went gladly; however, Jericus stood waiting, as was his duty, it took the sergeant a moment before he realized what for.

"You are dismissed guardsman." He stated. As the words left his mouth Jericus saluted, turned on his heel smartly, and continued to where he had been headed before.

The marching drills felt familiar and the monotony of them helped to drown out Jericus' feelings of earlier. The slight hesitation I had in the statement of his number, the way he was trying to remember 'it'. Doing exactly what he wasn't supposed to do, your designation is your name in the Korps, he knew that and yet still got upset by the fact.

After the drills had ended the conscripts of Echo Company were once again within the mess-hall eating silently. Jericus heard the regulars talking about them. Whispers about how some blank managed to beat the frak out of three Randon troopers, apparently an uncommon occurrence of violence. It was a bit of an exaggeration, after all Jericus reflected that he had only taken on the leader of the three, but that was how the rumour mill worked.

As he mulled the situation over during lights out while trying to fall asleep Fenria had noticed his unease. He saw her masked face peak over the edge of the bunk to look down on him where he lay on the floor. "S-1049 what's wrong?" her voice still held that softness even though the emotion had been sapped away.

"This trooper couldn't remember." He said simply. Fenria instantly knew what he was referring to and with that voice tried to allay her friend's troubles.

"It's okay, that's why these troopers have each other." She paused, "You remember this troopers name right?" Jericus nodded slowly seeing the slight shift in her body language as she relaxed at the thought.

"What about you, do remember mine?" His question inevitably parroted hers, seeking the same reassurance.

"Always S-1049," she stated simply. The silence stretched on for a while before Jericus gave voice to something which had vexed him for quite a while now.

"S-1050…," I paused.

"Yes,"

"Have you ever seen my face?" he asked quietly.

"No," she stated matter-of-factly. "Have you ever seen mine?"

"No," he replied back. "I can't remember mine anymore."

"That seems to be common among the Korps." She replied with a subtle hint of humour.

"Yeah," he replied unconsciously feeling at the mask which covered his face and wrapped around his head in an embrace that would have given his dead mother a run for her money. Before Jericus knew what he was doing the straps which fastened my mask to his face were being undone. The pressure against his face remained though and to get it off he had to put a decent amount of effort into its removal due to the snug fit.

After a moment the mask was pried off and it was as if Jericus could feel again. The constantly recycled air of the ship felt like a summer breeze on Surris to his skin. The influx of feeling made him not notice Fenria who was now at his side with the mask he had discarded in her hands.

"S-1049 you know the rules," she said urgently a hint of a forgotten emotion in her voice, fear he thinks. "If you get caught without your mask on the watchmaster will discipline you."

"I don't care." he said softly. "It feels wonderful Fenria; besides the watchmaster doesn't usually check the cabins."

She knelt beside him studying what he had unveiled. Jericus turned to observe her masked face the abyss of those lenses held his gaze for what felt like hours as he tried in vain to see past them. When he finally gave up trying to discern where her eyes really were behind that mask Fenria gently placed his mask back over his face. As she fastened the straps tightly around Jericus' head he was overcome with both relief and sadness.

He was Korpsman S-1049 and that gave him a purpose and allowed him to keep going despite the horrible circumstances. However, he desperately wanted to be who he once was, but knew that he could never be that man, at least not right now. Fenria rested his head on her lap and the two stayed that way for about an hour before she finally lay down beside him holding his hand in hers as they both drifted off. Drills and practices were surprisingly enough voluntary in the Korps and the watchmasters don't usually check the cabins.

The next day…or rather the next cycle saw more of the same. Those in the Korps drilled and practiced while the other regiments used their rec-time. Jericus noted that there were even a few guardsmen from the Hoarfell and Randon watching the Korpsmen from the side-lines as they performed close-combat exercises. Through quick glances he could see a few of them flinching as they watched him and others ruthlessly beat each other; from what Jericus had gathered few other regiments actually used full-force when they practiced hand-to-hand. A few even stayed as they began marching exercises.

He caught their voices even over the din of marching feet as they fell uniformly to the metal of the deck. "Look at the damn blanks go, do you think they sleep?" asked one.

"I wouldn't even think they ate if they weren't across from us in mess every damn cycle." Another replied. For the most part Jericus and the other Korps conscripts ignored the chatter directed on them and continued on with their drills.

There was a big murmur among the audience when they began bayonet drills sticking dummies with images of regular guardsmen imposed on them. All the while Watchmaster B-52 blared, "The enemy may come from within as well as without."

Understandably this unnerved many of the guardsmen watching them, most new conscripts themselves and unused to the Korps. As Jericus walked back to the starting point to wait his turn to stab the dummy again he caught a glimpse of Xavier. He was standing there looking as nervous to be watching them train as all of the other Hoarfell conscripts. At the end of the drills the Korps new-bloods went to mess and ate.

Fenria was sitting to Jericus' left and the two exchanged a brief look to one another before dispelling it quickly lest they be reprimanded by a watchmaster. After mess they walked back to their quarters. As they walked down the corridor Jericus spotted the men who had previously given him trouble.

As had happened earlier the leader stepped forward, Jericus was wary, he was expecting some sort of attempt at revenge, but to his surprise the man just slapped his hand to his chest and gave him a slight bow in respect.

"I'm sorry 'bout before blank, never had one of you actually tear into me like that before, that tells me that there's something more under there than just another big toy soldier. I'll be seeing you around, I wish you luck conscript," the man and his cohorts went by without another word. Jericus sensed no malice in his words and decided that he didn't have to worry about the man in the future

Further along another soldier stepped out from behind a corner, the distinct uniform of the Hoarfell denoting him and to Jericus' surprise it was none other than Xavier. He gave Jericus a pointed look, "Jericus I need to talk to you." His voice was that of a man with a purpose, Jericus' confused silence pervaded for a few moments, Fenria wasn't giving any help.

Xavier sighed, "Look I know it's you, your number is S-1049. I remembered and she's the same friend that was with you when we last met, S-1050." He said indicating our designations stencilled on our coats.

"What do you want to talk about," Jericus said, the question sounding more than a little strained, though he had finally snapped out of his confusion, it was strange to hear his name again, disturbing even, it brought too many conflicting feelings.

"First things first, what's up with you; I mean those rumours about the Death Korps aren't true are they? What did they do to you anyway; it's like you're not even the same person anymore." Xavier said. Processing what he said took some time for Jericus, considering memories which he had to bury and forget during the training. But in the end he wasn't able to find an answer.

"Um, I ah..." Jericus muttered out, and then paused. His slip into the first person had startled Fenria who was suddenly looking around expecting a lasbolt to take his head off at any moment, though she became relieved as that possibility seemed very unlikely, secluded as they were at the moment.

Xavier waited for a few long excruciated minutes before he finally sighed and decided to give up, he wasn't going to resolve anything this time around. He knew he would have to try again some other time, Jericus for his part seemed to be on a loop; considering things, attempting to answer his old friend's question, and failing.

"Right, well it was good talking to you Jericus. I'll see you around okay." Xavier said as he turned to take his leave. With Xavier gone Jericus and Fenria saw no further reason to stay and continued on their way to their quarters. Once the two had stripped and cleaned their lasguns, checked their other gear, and gone over the appropriate litanies it was straight to sleep.

As Jericus felt sleep begin to take him Fenria immediately voiced a concern, "Are you okay S-1049? You slipped up, if the Watchmaster was around…" She let the silence state what she didn't want to, and Jericus was caught off guard for a moment.

His response was delayed and almost devolved into the loop from before, but luckily he found his voice and his sense "Yeah, this trooper is okay, just a slip up. Don't worry it won't happen again,"

"Good to hear." She sighed in relief, going right into her second concern "You remember right?"

Not missing a beat Jericus replied, "Always S-1050, and you?"

"Yes."

With Their nightly ritual complete the duo fell asleep and awaited the start of the next cycle which would surely bring with it more of the same. It did not disappoint as they went about the hum drum of the usual routine when they woke. They were no longer given any grief by the other regiments because they simply avoided them and they returned the sentiment.

Then one cycle things changed everyone was told to report to the main hanger instead of mess. This brought about a few grumbles from the other regiments while the 82nd simply accepted the loss of one meal in exchange for what was sure to be vital information from the higher-ups. When the time came they formed up in neat blocks as always and waited for the news.

It was a colonel from the Hoarfell 121st who addressed them all. Jericus figured they decided that the 82nd's own Colonel K-856 would not inspire confidence in the other non-Korps regiments, and he reflected that this must be a regular thing. He started in a booming voice which echoed across the large expanse. "Ladies and gentlemen I give you the hive world of Tartarian," He stated motioning to the hololithic display of a floating planet. "There has been a rebellion, the hive cities are slowly being overtaken in an uprising and it will be our job to cleanse these upstarts from within. The regiments aboard the Nosce Te Ipsum will be securing hive city 32. I have confidence that the situation will be handled swiftly and that in the end we shall emerge victorious."

"You are to report to your dropships in full kit ready to carry out your duty mid-cycle tomorrow when we arrive in system." He stated and then we were all dismissed to our own devices. The information we were given was short and only gave us the slightest hint of what we would be facing. The other regiments gave voice to their concerns in murmured conversations. Everyone knew that the higher-ups would give us all the proper information only when they felt we needed it. The Korps didn't really care if the higher-ups didn't, that was okay, just so long as their troopers had orders to follow.

Jericus and Fenria were about to be thrown headlong into their first campaign as Death Korps guardsmen. That night their shared cabin held fewer whispers than usual; perhaps because both were wondering how it would be. They had endured hell during their training and it was a miracle or perhaps even intervention by the Emperor himself that both made it as far as they did.

One thing was sure in both of their minds as they slept, the true trials were right ahead of them.

XXX

"What scared me the most was when my father would put on the gasmask. His face would disappear… This was not a human being at all."- Philip K. Dick.

The Death Korps were a constant reminder to Xavier throughout his stay on the Nosce Te Ipsum of how unlucky he could have been when the conscription came, and how unlucky his friend had been. After meeting Jericus the day before they shipped out the thought had been gnawing at him the entire time.

Xavier had grown up with him after all; he remembers Jericus had always been fairly happy when they were kids, even if he was a bit unsettling to be around at times Xavier couldn't think of someone he had known with more optimism. He knows that Jericus' family had been casualties during the war, he wondered if that combined with the training had made his friend seem so… broken.

Xavier had heard about the Korps through rumour but he had never thought that those rumours could possibly be telling the truth. It was no secret that Guard life was tough, and that the training was difficult.

"Keck my own Guard training was pretty rough, but apparently nothing like what he went through," he thought sombrely. The Hoarfell being a reconnaissance regiment meant that each of them was trained to be self-sufficient so that they could—if separated from everyone else—make their way back to the regiment alive. In the words of Xavier's drill-sergeant, 'we've spent a good amount of time training your sorry asses, with that in mind we'd like to keep you alive to fight for us as long as we can. We're not gonna throw you away if we can help it.'

The regulars who had been with the 121st Hoarfell from the beginning had told them all about their past experiences with the 82nd Death Korps. Xavier thought they were greatly exaggerating. That belief faltered after he had talked with his old friend, only to be speaking to some stranger.

His illusions had been completely dispelled when he spent time with 82nd regulars on the Nosce Te Ipsum. They were all the same with their masks; hell they never took them off. When Xavier watched them performing combat drills he couldn't, for the Emperor's sake, see human beings, it was like seeing some unnamed xenos species.

"Hey Xavier you alright man?" said one of his companions drawing him from his thoughts.

Xavier turned to him, "Yeah I'm fine Cain just thinking you know."

"You wondering 'bout that friend of yours again; 'cause if you are then you should take my advice and forget about him, I mean after all he is a blank now." Cain replied. The words were not lost on Xavier; his new friend had a point. Jericus seemed as though he was lost, and besides Xavier was in the Guard now. It was just something he was going to have to deal with; shoulder the weight like any good Guardsmen and trudge onward.

Out of all those motivational speeches their drill sergeant liked to shove down their throats the ones about hard work were the ones that stuck with Xavier. He looked down at the pink slop that was his sole meal for the cycle and watched as it dribbled from his spoon which up until that point had lain forgotten in hand. Then he looked across the mess-hall at the Korpsmen. All of them still wore those damn masks; slurping their food and drink through straws attached to said masks. Cain seemed to grasp his thoughts, "Hey you ever think that this slop is the way it is because they make it for the blanks. I mean I'm pretty sure that the damn chef is one of them."

What Cain said held truth to it the mess sergeant was indeed a Korpsman. Xavier remembered one time Dorn had tried to talk with him. Mess sergeant D-562 simply let that pink slop pour from the ladle he was holding and land rather messily onto Dorn's tray, and then he motioned for the next man in line. Unlike many of the others in his regiment Xavier tried his best to get to know each of the Korpsmen, he often wondered what morbid curiosity compelled him to do this, probably had something to do with figuring out Jericus.

Trying was the best way to describe his futile efforts though; the most he was able to get out of any of them had been his conversations with Jericus, if you could call them conversations. Other times he had been able to get a few others to give him their names, or rather their designations, which didn't amount to much seeing as those were stencilled on their uniforms to begin with. Jericus was the only one he knew by name and that was only because he had known him before the conscription.

"Yeah D-562 is a Korpsman, he's not so bad though. At least he doesn't spike the food." Xavier replied confirming Cain's beliefs.

"Damn, why do you do that Xavier?" He questioned jabbing his spork at him, some of the leftover slop flying and plopping on his face.

"Do what?" Xavier asked wiping pink goop from his cheek slightly irritated, though he let it slide, Cain was like his new best friend, and for all the man's faults he was at least solid and seemed loyal.

"Get to know them like that. I mean their all just numbers anyway, and it's not as if they want it to be any other way. I mean every time I tried to treat one like a person they just gave me that freaky silent stare and waited until I walked away." Cain replied imitating a masked korpsman zombie-like look, it came off like he was more drunk than emotionless though.

"Wel—," Xavier's answer was cut off by a new voice in the conversation.

"The boy's right son, I've served in the 121st Hoarfell alongside the 82nd for years. And in all that time I've learned three things; one they aren't particularly social, two they'll help you in combat, but don't even think about retreat, they'll just shoot you in the back, unless they're in on it, and three they're suicidal."

Xavier blinked at Havlock 'Grime' Vern before settling into giving the veteran a good long stare. Usually the vets of the 121st Hoarfell didn't like to talk to them since they were the new bloods. The only reason Xavier knew Havlock's name was because he was his direct commanding officer. "What do you mean they'll shoot you if you retreat Sergeant Grime?" Cain asked his curiosity getting the better of him.

"It's exactly as it sounds trooper. Those blanks are trained to shoot any who they deem to be a rebel, traitor, coward, or otherwise danger to the mission." He paused running a hand through his greying hair, "Scary thing is they ain't discouraged by the commissars to stop. They seem to see it as a way to boost all the other regiments so called commitment to the cause, only good thing is that it really doesn't happen often at all, least not with the 121st and 145th, but that's mostly because we're all used to the 82nd by now," he said.

"Great so you're telling me that on top of the good commissar we have to worry about the blanks shooting us in the back too? I mean they're on our side right?" Cain said slightly outraged at the prospect. Xavier somewhat sympathized with his friend.

"You boys have to understand. The blanks own Colonel views them as numbers on a data-slate—even more-so than our general—and the blanks have been trained to see themselves like that. So in turn they see all of us that way, we're all just able bodies to them and you're either on their side, or disposable. Besides I already told ya it doesn't happen often, if at all." Sergeant Grime chuckled for a moment, "don't worry newbie's you'll get used to it. Just listen to me and the other vets keep your heads down, and for Emperor's sake don't you falter in the face of the enemy. The blanks ain't the only ones who'll shoot ya, I don't much like cowards either. I just happen to be slightly more tolerant of 'em."

The sounds of eating died around them as those closest listened in on the conversation, faces attentive, and ears listening to the veteran in our midst.

"Well, son I hope you listened to what I said." Sergeant Grime stated as he got up and left to go back to the other veterans of the 121st.

"Man I hope you listen to what the sarg said too, 'cause I don't want to get shot in the arse because I was next to you when you bolted." Cain said before he went back to trying to eat our 'food'. Xavier ignored the slight barb and was silent for the rest of mess time; he didn't eat another spoonful of the slop.

Instead he was too busy thinking about Jericus; he still had to be there under that mask. They couldn't have just stripped him of who he was… could they? Xavier had after all seen them practice, the way the blanks drilled just wasn't right. They were almost like servitors in their single-minded dedication.

He caught Jericus in the hall and even managed to get a few words from him. Xavier wished he hadn't, it was as if he wasn't even speaking to a person. He spoke in an odd stagnant tone, but what really scared Xavier out was that his friend seemed to be stuck in some sort of loop. It was as if what he had went through split his mind in two and buried most of his memories, it was like he was trying to get back to normal and couldn't. It sent a chill up Xavier's spine, his friend was in there somewhere, but Xavier wasn't sure if he would ever get out again.

The cycles passed slowly, every once in a while Xavier caught a glimpse of Jericus or at least he thought he did.

"Damn those masks," he thought bitterly. Mess was quieter than usual and Cain and a few of the others in his squad picked up on Xavier's odd attitude. Cain tried to get him to talk about it; but how would he understand? He didn't know Jericus before the conscription, hadn't grown up with him, hadn't had his friend turned into something only one step above a servitor.

Distraction finally came one cycle in the most unlikely of forms. Ever see a Guardsman chase after rats with a spade; it's strangely hilarious, especially when he runs into a bulkhead and knocks himself out. Cain did a spit-take because of that one. Bastard got whatever he was drinking all over Xavier's tunic. Thinking back Xavier knew it was some of the 121st home-made tea Rungi, stuff was supposedly brewed from some sort of fungus from the regiment's original home world.

The sergeant told them that they'd managed to smuggle it aboard when the regiment was mustered; stuff was resilient, apparently you could grow it anywhere on the ship that was even slightly moist. Being fungus you'd expect it to be disgusting, but it actually wasn't that bad. Had to be kind of guarded though, apparently the cogboys and navy-boys didn't like the intrusive fungus very much.

But, the sergeant said that the 121st had spread it thoroughly throughout the ship until it was at the point that the navy couldn't get rid of it, try as they might. Everyone in the 121st contended that it didn't cause any harm, and in the event of a ration shortage the crew wouldn't go hungry since it was edible. Unfortunately that moment of levity didn't last long.

Before he knew it Xavier and the others were back to watching the blanks train for entertainment. Some of them even placed bets on the outcomes of the fights they had for close-combat exercises, Xavier abstained from the festivities. He noted that the 121st didn't train like the blanks; they went all out and were encouraged to do so.

The Randon were pretty brutal too, but they whooped and hollered like barroom brawlers while they beat the paste out of each other, so it wasn't nearly as eerie as watching the Korpsmen go at it, mostly silent save a few grunts and the sound of the scuffle itself.

Xavier wasn't just being squeamish either, Hoarfell CQC training was pretty tough too—apparently knife-fighting is a major sport on Hoarfell—but the drill sergeants usually stop the fight when someone's arm is about to snap. The blanks watchmasters didn't do that, or at least they really pushed the limits, and that was what scared most of them about the blanks, they seemed all too willing to go too far, and no one seemed game to stop them.

These dark thoughts soon left Xavier though as one cycle everyone was to report for a briefing instead of normal mess. It brought about a few grumbles, but every one of them showed up. In that main hanger bay and lined up the 82nd regiment front and centre with the 121st and 145th surrounding them. Then some Hoarfell Colonel dropped the bomb, Xavier couldn't remember the man's name, though he thought he ought to. They were going to war for the first time; well Xavier and everyone else conscripted from Surris. To the vets it must have just seemed like another day in their long lists of days.

There was a lot of conversation among the 121st that cycle, the new troops including Xavier wondering why they were given so little information and the veterans reassuring them that it's always been this way.

"Just keep your head down, and for Emperor's sake don't run away from the fight if there's a blank or the commissar around," said one rough looking vet to Cain and Xavier. He reminded Xavier of Sergeant Grime in a lot of ways. Even gave them the same advice; well mostly the same.

Cain began to reminisce about their home world during lights out, specifically about their last day on its surface. They had gotten together with their squad and went out to get properly drunk and do other 'frivolous' activities with the opposite sex.

"Man you know she was gorgeous." Cain said a wistful smile on his face, "I ever tell you that she and I knew each other from before the invasion?"

"No you left that part out in favour of how she looked naked." Xavier replied nonchalantly.

"Emperor knows why I put up with you." Cain bristled, "anyway like I was saying we knew each other from before. Hell if the Orks hadn't come and the conscription didn't happen I think I might have asked her to marry me." The last part he said in a near silent whisper with barely concealed sadness bubbling up.

"What about you Xavier, you have someone special back on Surris? You never did tell us all what you did for your last night."

Xavier didn't feel like telling him what it was that he did. After the drinks the squad headed their separate ways most of them with a girl on their arm including Cain and his sweetheart. Xavier didn't want to tell him that he had gone to visit the rubble that was his and Jericus' old hab-block.

Cain was one of the lucky ones; his family hadn't all been killed. But for others like Xavier, their families were gone. Obliterated, counted as necessary casualties who'd died to protect the Emperor's servants while their sons, daughters, and siblings were trapped in the manufactorums.

Xavier knew Jericus' family didn't make it, both because they lived on the same block, and because he didn't see them at all since the end of the war. Not to mention he knew Jericus would have spent his last day with them if he could have, blank or not. At last Xavier replied to Cain in a quiet sombre tone, "I paid my respects to the rubble."

A/N:Kindly R&R.

300-709.