Disclaimer- I do not own Warhammer… you get the idea by now yeah?
A/N: Alrighty, I'd like to thank DeathDemonWolf for his review and future support, it is very much appreciated. And well gosh that is some praise there my good sir or madam, can't say I'm sure that I'm worthy of it. If I were to be so bold however I'd like to say that I am proud of myself with this little story, it started out as kind of an experiment and now I'm well over 90,000 words, which is a real accomplishment for me personally as an amateur writer. As for reviews, fear not I feel 'em coming, lol, but seriously thanks to everyone who has, favorited, alerted, and reviewed thus far it is all appreciated. Also thanks go out to Guest, and Uzushio5179 for your reviews as well. Well this author note is overstaying its welcome, kindly read, review, and hopefully enjoy.
"Each forward step we take we leave some phantom of ourselves behind."- John Lancaster Spalding
As he hauled the hundredth crate into the waiting shuttle Xavier wondered why whenever it came to food and provisions the Hoarfell always seemed to be the only ones out of the three regiments to take care of and move it. Death Korps took care of arms and munitions, the Randon did whatever it is they do, and the Hoarfell took care of edibles.
"Hey, ever wonder why we always seem to take care of the food?" Cain questioned as they made their way over to the stockpile to get another crate. Xavier couldn't control the fit of laughter that overcame him as his friend voiced his very thoughts. Cain gave him a wary look and subtly increased the space between them as his mirth went on far too long for Xavier to look sane.
"Oookay, best stop now man before they throw you in with the Randon," the laughter went on. "Seriously it's gettin' creepy now Xavier."
Catching his breath Xavier gave off one last chuckle. "Sorry, sorry you just said exactly what I was thinking is all, found it funny."
"Yeah, a little too funny if you ask me, but whatever laughing is good for your head. Least that's what the Sarg says, if you ask me it's the first sign a few screws are loose." He paused glancing over at Xavier's unamused look, "uh, no offense, heh."
Xavier smiled in response, though it quickly turned into a grimace as they lifted a rather heavy crate, naturally Cain was the first to complain. "Emperor, what's in this one?"
"Don't know, but let's get the kecking thing onto the shuttle quick," Xavier huffed as they awkwardly waddled with the heavy crate of food. Getting up the ramp was rough, but eventually the two all but threw the crate into position and stopped to catch their breath. Cain even went so far as to lean against the crate as he caught his breath, Xavier felt the acid in his muscles slowly recede and was walking back down the ramp for another crate, Cain trailing behind after a moment.
"You'd think that all that training, exercise, and the whole fighting a war bit woulda made us a little stronger huh," he joked.
Xavier chuckled in response as they went to get the last crate of the stockpile; Eli and Hack were waiting for them. Both having finished their own stockpile moving duties, after they wrapped this up they were reporting back to Grimes and then they were being shipped up to the Ipsum. Their duty on Tartarius was done, now they were going to a new world, the Randon 145th was already waiting for them on the ship, the 82nd would be last off world, and they would be in the middle.
As they walked toward the waiting ramp with their last burden an epiphany struck him. "I got it!" He exclaimed.
"Got what?" Cain said with a strained voice.
"The Hoarfell, we take care of the food because the veterans probably like to put that fungus crap into the supplies," he responded proud of his reasoning.
Sudden realization bloomed on Cain's face. "You know that actually makes sense, I've been wondering how Sergeant Grimes has been keeping his supply of liquor all this time. The old bastard has inside men all over who pack the stuff for him and all the other vets, damn, talk about conspiracy," he chuckled, followed by a grunt as the weight took him by surprise as they went up the ramp and the weight of the crate shifted.
Finally they finished loading the last crate, all but dropping it to the deck; Xavier took a deep satisfied breath as he walked down the ramp, Cain imitating him, the two wandered over to where their squad mates were seated. Eli and Hack looked up from the public bench that they had claimed for themselves, they made room as Xavier and Cain took their seats, both sitting down with relieved sighs.
"We ought to be getting to the Sarg soon," Hack said crossing his arms.
Eli was quick to lightly cuff him about his head. "Ow! What was that for Eli, Keck."
"First time in weeks we've been able to take a real break and you want to get back to the Sarg to get more marching orders? Think about that for a second," Eli said leaning as far back as the bench would allow him, it looked uncomfortable to Xavier what with the way his spine bent over the back.
"Usually I'd agree with you Hack, but just this once I'll take Eli's side," he interjected.
"See even Xavier the honorary blank is on my side," Eli joked his finger pointing animatedly at Hack as he rubbed his victory in his comrade's face. Cain chuckled off to the side, meanwhile Hack gave Eli a good natured glare while Xavier just sighed for what felt like the thousandth time and relaxed against the bench even more so.
"Speaking about the blanks… any idea where that friend of yours is Xavier, you know our knight in battle-scarred armor?" Cain questioned cracking his neck and then twisting to pop a few vertebrae.
"You mean Jericus right?" Xavier was always adamant lately about making sure his fellow squad-mates knew his childhood friends name and referred to him as such.
"Oh come on man you know we're just pulling your leg, of course he means Jericus. So just tell us how the lucky bugger is already," Eli said merrily.
"You're not planning on tracking him down to try and touch his arm again are you, because he always had a mean right hook and I think its gotten meaner," Xavier said to the embarrassment of Eli. The fruit-merchant turned Hoarfell sniper was still trying to live down that slip-up and his crush on the cog-girl, Xavier and the rest had been ribbing him about it ever since the incident.
"Keck no man, I just wanna know how he's doing, last time we saw him he looked lost what with the way he was staring at that flower and all," Eli protested.
"Don't really know, haven't seen him lately around the base and it doesn't seem I will until we're all back on the Ipsum," Xavier let out a long sigh shrugging his shoulders.
"Well that sucks," Eli stated matter-of-factly throwing his hands up in the air to be dramatic.
"What sucks trooper, is that you all seem to be sitting here doing nothing," Sergeant Grimes seemed to come out of thin air as he walked around the bench to stand in-front of the four of them, a smirk on his haggard face. The four startled guardsmen immediately shot up and stood to attention, even going so far as to salute stiffly.
"Sorry sir, we were just taking a short break," Xavier responded for the team.
Grimes simply waved them all off with a queer look on his face. "I get it trooper, I was just messing with you all, and cut the saluting and sir crap too. Remember what I told you all when we first hit the dirt, saluting just gets your superiors killed first by sniper fire, not that we really have to worry about that too much now but still."
"Gotcha Sergeant Grimes," Cain replied, the rest of them nodding along.
Grimes gave each of them a look in the eye before shrugging. "Anyway, get your gear boys, our times up, it's time to get off this dirtball and head to the next. We've got a shuttle to catch so make the trip to the barracks snappy."
The veteran didn't even bother to throw a salute their way as he walked off, probably to get to the transport if the amount of war-gear he was carrying was any indication. It was fine, the four of them knew where to go to meet up with their Sergeant for transport, they had each been looking forward to their departure from Tartarius and City-32 for weeks now and the time had finally come.
Slowly but surely they began to trudge toward their makeshift barracks, an old municipal building of some sort on loan to them by the new temporary governor of City-32. The guard had gutted it of its original furnishings in their short time there and set up a makeshift bunk area for the troopers to get some rest between the patrols of weeks prior.
Currently the building was in the process of being gutted again as troopers went about taking almost everything not nailed down with them to be shipped back into orbit. Xavier and his four comrades walked through the sparsely populated halls and made their way to the bunk area, their belongings packed in their packs and ready to go. They had claimed the small area in the corner of the room some weeks ago setting up their makeshift sleeping quarters consisting of guard issue sleep-bags, Hoarfell vets called them body-bags on account of them frequently using them to collect and haul their dead out of an engagement.
Currently the bags were all packed away though and only four guard issue packs sat in the space, any personal touches they had added were few and had already been put away that morning. Cain got to his pack first, going to rummage through it he pulled out a small bundle, it was something wrapped up in the local paper and reaching into the makeshift bag he snatched an oblong object from it.
"Hey Eli think fast!" He tossed the object to the sniper who dropped his own bag to clatter to the floor just so he could barely catch it.
"The keck Cain," Eli seethed, but Cain just smiled in response before passing the rest of the contents in the bag to everyone else.
"Oh come on you were a fruit merchants son, figured you'd appreciate some quality goods. Got 'em from a local, a thank you for saving them, figured I'd save these for when we finally left this planet," Cain bit into his own fruit, the juices flowing down his chin, crooked grin on his face. Xavier noted with amusement that Cain had always been a bit of a messy eater, no table manners; he vehemently denied such accusations from the others of course.
Eli finally looked down at the fruit in his hands giving it a small squeeze to test its ripeness, and inspecting the odd speckled color scheme of its skin before finally taking a bite. The young sniper let out a satisfied sound as pleasant memories of home flooded his head courtesy of the sweet local fruit. Xavier could see the nostalgia written on his friend's face as he savored the taste of a foreign worlds produce. Xavier took a bite of his own, it was ripe as well, it tasted distinct, certainly not what he would have found on Surris, their homeworld's fruits were usually tart and could only be grown for a very brief period of time in the usually cold climate.
He smiled as he watched everyone enjoy the small luxury, noting that Cain had the same look on his own face as he watched them all take bites of their own share of his spoils.
"Thanks Cain," Eli was first to speak up.
"Yeah, they're really good," Hack added in his soft manner, wrapping up the remainder of his own half eaten fruit for later.
Xavier just gave his friend a nod and a smile while he basked in his glory for all of two seconds before he broke it. "We better get going, the Sarg is probably gonna leave without us if we don't show up soon."
"Way to ruin the moment Xavier," Cain grumbled with a snort, picking up his pack he slung it over one shoulder and started to walk toward the exit. Eli and Hack soon followed opting to secure their gear a bit better to their backs; Xavier was the last to follow imitating Cain and throwing his own bag over one shoulder and bringing up the rear of the group.
Walking out Xavier could see Tartarius' sun setting, even through the smog, and dust choked skyline of City-32. The perpetual particulates in the air refracting the fading light as it was in turn reflected off of glass windows and filtered through silhouetted skyscrapers. Transport was waiting for them in the form of one of the troopships they had arrived on, landed as it was on a wide rockcrete expanse of the plaza which had once served as a parking lot for auto-cabs it looked strangely normal.
Hundreds of Hoarfell guardsmen walked in an orderly line to board, Sergeant Grimes was standing off to the left side of the crowd and waved them over to him. As they approached their commanding officer Xavier glanced at the faces of the guardsmen that they passed. He could easily tell the veterans apart from the Surris conscripts like himself, the vets all seemed to be in good spirits, leaving the war wrapped up as it was. His fellow Surrins though… well he recognized the haunted looks on the majority of their faces, he had seen it on Cain's, Eli's, and Hack's… Garvel's, and his own.
War weary is what some of the vet's had called it, something that ironically enough affected those new to combat more than those who had been fighting for a few years. Veterans had long since learned to cope with the realities of fighting, new recruits though had to learn or they would die, or crack, which would just lead to death. Xavier's sightseeing was cut short as they approached the open maw of the troopship, the utilitarian craft a bookend to their first war, so they had arrived on one, and so they departed on one.
Counting the clanking steps as they walked up the ramp Xavier felt the weight of previous months slough off his soul like dead skin. It was a strange feeling, one he didn't expect, but welcome nonetheless. Soon enough they found their seats, strapping in they secured their packs, and wargear, and then it was just a waiting game for the ship to fill up to capacity and prep for takeoff.
Cain sighed to his right slumping into his seat as best he could while Hack cleaned his nails on his left, Eli to Hack's immediate left was jittery, he didn't like flying apparently, they had learned on the way down when his vomit went flying into another conscripts face across from them, luckily Sergeant Grimes stopped any fight before it could be started.
Grimes himself elected to stay with them, taking his own seat all the way to their left, farthest toward the front of the ship, he had actually closed his eyes and looked to be trying to fall asleep. Xavier reckoned that he could given that unlike the rest of them Sergeant Grimes had had maybe a decade or so of service to get used to sleeping in absolutely miserable conditions.
"Thank the Emperor its over am I right partner?" Cain replied a big cheesy grin on his sweaty, stubble covered face. Xavier gave a small smile of his own to his friend, though his own sigh of exhaustion wiped it from his lips just moments later as he too slumped in his own seat.
"It's not over Cain, this is just the beginning," he replied rubbing a hand down his tired equally stubble covered and he assumed dirty looking face.
"Keck Xavier, why do ya always gotta be the joy kill of our little group," Cain's grin had faded and he looked away staring instead at the close ceiling of the ship.
Xavier took a deep breath. "Someone's gotta be partner, better me than you."
The mechanical whine of the troopship's doors closing told them that they were finally leaving, minutes later the sudden lurch as they took off cued them that they had left the ground. If they had any doubt that they were flying after that then Eli put it to sleep when he emptied the fruit he had eaten into a small bag he had acquired for the occasion.
"Damn I wanted to keep that fruit down," Eli stated miserably, spit and regurgitated bile dripping from his mouth.
"Its fine man, I didn't eat half of mine, you can have it when we're back on the Ipsum." Hack patted his friend on the shoulder soothingly as he again tried to void his stomach of its contents.
Shaking violently as it broke atmosphere the troopship put Eli into even more misery, the poor youth giving a soft moan of distress. Xavier tried to ignore the sound, not for lack of sympathy, but because it reminded him of Garvel dying down in that muck right before a lasbolt granted him mercy.
With grim certainty Xavier once again thought that it indeed wasn't over, it wouldn't be for a long time.
Boarding their troopship in the early hours of the morning was strangely enough an odd experience, her and Jericus bringing up the rear of their team. Fenria figured the strangeness had something to do with the dust choked twilight that had been the norm for City-32 for quite some time now, ever since the war had reached its climax. She noted that at least Jericus seemed to be back to his somewhat normal state of mind, not as introspective as he had been the past few days.
Their conversations had grown back to their usual frequency and she felt as if she didn't have to tiptoe around him anymore, her guilt having lessened and Jericus being genuinely okay with her actions and saying so helped a lot in that respect.
Watchmaster B-63 had gotten them out of helping to load the munitions, something that Jericus and Fenria had actually protested against, surely the Korps would not take too kindly to its grenadiers receiving special treatment, and it was just too against the code on which the Kriegers operated. But their Watchmaster had assured them that they would be just fine and that their contributions to the war had more than made up for the slight shirk of duty.
Thus they had spent their last day on Tartarius simply lazing around their designated sleep area talking and occasionally playing cards. B-80 joined in on the games once or twice while B-63 had gone off somewhere on some kind of business, Fenria had noticed that F-920 had become distant, which wasn't odd for the korps, but it was for the squad of grenadiers.
From their first day as grenadiers she had noticed the difference, it was very informal, at least outside of combat, and the team had seemed very tight-knit as opposed to the distant cohesion they had experienced in training. Fenria felt bad for the man, empathized with him even, she was trying to imagine what it would be like if she had lost Jericus, the picture she was painting seemed very similar to what F-920 seemed to be going through.
She really hoped she wouldn't have to go through that sort of pain, despite the ties to their new team they had made since fighting alongside them Fenria couldn't feel quite the same connection with them. After all she hadn't gone through training, lost her sense of self, or really talked meaningfully with anyone in the team save Jericus. She shared a much stronger bond with him because of all that history, and because of what they were keeping for one another, the identities they would otherwise have forgotten by now.
Even though it had only been a few short months her memories of Surris, of her family, her previous life felt so very far away, lost in time to the here and now of their first war. This first war, just the beginning of the rest of their lives, Fenria began to have thoughts she felt had been eradicated well into the training. Fear, of the future, of her death, of the death of everyone she had come to know, she thought it funny how the death of Jericus, of these recent comrades now gave her more trouble than any thought of never seeing her family again.
Glancing over at her friend she noted how odd he looked in the perpetual twilight, the augmetics all hidden under his uniform save for the slight irregular look of his right arm which looked a little too thin compared to his flesh and blood left. It twitched every few moments; Fenria remembered Jericus had said it was just phantom pains. She felt that may be part of it, but she had noticed that particular nervous tick of his even when it had been his natural hand.
He tilted his head her way, his silent way of asking her what was wrong, she merely shook her head reassuringly and he went back to letting his eyes wander toward the sunrise a small nod of affirmation that he got her message. At this point they could read each other like open books by body language alone, another skill acquired when one had no face to tell what they were thinking.
Looking at him in profile Fenria studied his mask for the first time, the skull motif had been scarred on the right socket by the rebel's sword, but what really got her attention was the motif itself. Now she had noticed that each mask was slightly varied, something odd for the usually uniform Death Korps, but despite that each was indeed different, possibly handmade due to resource constraints.
Watchmaster B-63's was set in a perpetual rictus grin, B-80's looked like it was smirking at you, F-920's a broken smile, she hadn't looked at hers since she put it on so she didn't know what it looked like. But Jericus' seemed to be the odd one out of the bunch, his masks skull seemed set in a definite frown. Thinking about it she found it odd how a skull could even frown to begin with, but there it was.
Sadly enough Fenria felt that the mask fit Jericus perfectly, it symbolized his sense of loss, one more pronounced than any other conscript she had come across, except maybe his friend Xavier. Though the two seemed two sides of the same coin, Jericus trying to bury his loss and keep a stoic resolve about it, while Xavier seemed to be actively trying to combat and overcome it.
Letting her eyes linger to the sunrise as Jericus had Fenria decided that she had thought upon these somewhat depressing aspects of her and her friends lives enough for the day. Instead she resolved to simply enjoy the oddly beautiful moment the sunrise along with their departure from this world created.
They were the last ones on the troopship, and thus they had the view of the sunrise for the last time before the entryway closed for flight. She watched as the last rays of light disappeared as the ramps shut tight, strapped in and gear stowed, Jericus nudged her shoulder with his own to grab her attention, looking over to him he put his hand out to her.
Staring down she noticed the synthetic blue flower he held out to her, the one he had gotten from the little girl.
"Keep it safe for me, my track record isn't so great what with all the injuries I've already gotten," he said just loud enough to be heard.
"You got it," a smiled played on her lips as she accepted the small token. "And to think this was only our first campaign, you better be more carful in the future."
"I'll try."
It was a bit of a mystery to Raltia why the Randon got to pack up and go first, when she had asked Anrai the reason he had responded rather sarcastically, 'Last to land, first to leave,' and then he had laughed uproariously and left her hanging. In retrospect he had not been the best choice to ask about the subject, though she had the feeling that not many in the 145th would be the best to ask.
Sure it was a stupid question, but Raltia had always been the most fascinated by the seemingly meaningless, a trait inherited by her father who had obsessed over the minute details of managing the production lines.
"Every cog in its place, every small bit scrutinized," he had always said as he held her in his lap going over the days work reports and ledgers. It had stuck with her, the small and possibly stupid details of the goings on around her could possibly be very important in the grand scheme of things. Thus her current interest.
Being back on the Ipsum did give her the luxury of time to find anyone willing to tell her what she wanted to know, the 145th believed in jump drills every other cycle, but otherwise they were fairly lax on combat training. Apparently the Randon way was to let actual combat do the training, you survived your first campaign, and you were set as far as the commanders were concerned.
Finally she ran into someone who might give her a good answer, her squad-mate Sunra Foss, like most Randon the woman seemed… eccentric, but she was actually on fairly friendly terms with her now after having served with her and getting into occasional conversations with her about various subjects. Namely about Randon culture, ever since Raltia first got the tidbits from Barach and Sergeant Joss she had been curious about the people of Randon, and she figured that there seemed to hardly be any other Surrin conscripts like herself around her then she would have to get to know more about these people.
They were in their bunk area when she asked Sunra. "I've been wondering," Sunra looks up from sharpening her combat knife, giving Raltia her full attention. "Why were we the first ones off-world? I mean it just doesn't seem to be the usual attitude you all have."
"What do you mean usual attitude?" Sunra's tone isn't one of irritation, merely curiosity, much like Raltia's.
"Well, I mean you all seem to be very gung-ho is all I mean, and that's what the drill Sergeant put into all of our heads during training. So why be the first ones out of the combat-zone, wouldn't we be the last," Raltia words it carefully.
Sunra responds instantly, genuinely cheerful despite her grim answer, "That's simple we have the least life-expectancy, so the higher-ups like to get us off the ground as soon as they can to help prevent loss. We're not like the blanks or the Hoarfell, we literally drop into hot combat zones almost every time we go into battle, and we take more losses per mission on average than they do, though the blanks like to give us a run for our money."
"Oh, well that's a bit depressing," it wasn't the answer she honestly expected, or one she really grasped. After all in her experience so far the higher-ups didn't seem to care too much about their lives, so why try to do something so insignificant to save a few troopers.
"Come on now don't be like that, it's a good thing, gives us a little extra rest time," Sunra says with a smirk.
Suddenly another thought struck Raltia. "Why do the blanks stay back then? If they take as many casualties as us I mean?"
"Dunno, probably something to do with the fact that they tend to keep their troopers busy all the time, it's just their way, duty and all that great stuff they brainwash their troopers with. They probably just do it because someone needs to pack up camp after all right?" she shrugs with a sheepish smile.
Packing up camp is right, probably just better not to think on it anymore Raltia thinks adjusting her position on her bunk. It was really too bad that she was so unused to not thinking about stupid little things, it would continue to eat at her, even with the answers she had just been given. She laid back in her bunk her head hitting the lumpy pillow and she felt the starchy sheets on her bare arms courteously of the tank-top she was currently wearing.
"If it makes you feel any better you did well," Sunra replied from her own bunk across from her.
"Huh?" Raltia was taken aback by the comment.
"The fighting, you did well, out of the five or so new-bloods our squad got you're the only one who made it. Just thought you looked a little down is all, felt you could use some cheering up, I got to admit it's hard to leave your homeworld and fight, and I can't even imagine having to fight in a regiment from a completely different world than me. You're strong Raltia," the Randon woman concluded.
"Thanks," she paused inspecting the stains on the ceiling. "If you don't mind my asking, how long have you been in the Guard?"
"Ah, gets hard to tell with warp travel and all, I was part of a newer Randon regiment the 145th merged with about five standard years back. It was my first action and my original regiment took near ninety percent losses, we were lucky another regiment from our own homeworld no less was around to claim us. That makes it about six years I think give or take." She finished with a smile.
"Do you miss Randon?"
"Not really," she replied right away, at Raltia's questioning look she sighed. "Don't get me wrong, there's no place like home and all that, but as far as homes go Randon wasn't really the greatest. I mean sure us girls are the ones running the show but the place is just one giant hellhole, not too far above deathworld status really."
"How bad can it be? Did you have to deal with razor ice too?" Raltia questioned genuinely, hearing about other worlds was interesting, and it was hard to imagine a world with things worse than a keck, or the ever present chill of Surris.
"Well no, but Randon had a lot of things that really wanted to eat you all the time. Even in the major cities and towns, the reason Randon regiments are drop-troopers is because it's the fastest way for the PDF to respond if your neighbor is about to be eaten by a hemlex."
Now Ralita was really curious. "What's a hemlex?"
"Thank the Emperor you never have to see one; they're about three times as tall as an average person, two sets of claws sharper than a monoblade, and a maw of razor-sharp mandibles that help it to eat you alive. Oh, and they're about as tough as an ork, so it's a pain to bring them down, and they're only one of dozens of animals that routinely try to kill you on Randon." Sunra stated animatedly.
"Keck, now Surris' winters seems like paradise," Raltia commented.
Sunra laughed uproariously. "Not to discouraged you but your world was a pretty bad hellhole itself, I was freezing to death half the time, not to mention that razor ice you mentioned apparently tore up a valkyrie or two, and the heavier gravity wasn't doing any of us any favors. I mean as drop-troopers our gear is already lightweight, but I felt like I had lead weights in my webbing, it was no wonder you and the rest of the new-bloods did so well in endurance training, hah."
"I have been feeling lighter on my feet lately," Raltia chuckled back. It was true, ever since leaving Surris and getting on the Ipsum she had noticed the lower gravity, it wasn't too much, but it was noticeable. In fact she had noticed that she hadn't been running out of breath as often as the other more experienced troopers around her, chalk it up to higher gravity. Their laughter subsided after a few moments, the mutual mirth in the room giving Raltia a genuine good feeling, something she had not had since her conscription. Meeting other Surrin conscripts from the other regiments had helped, but now it felt as though she had finally been accepted by one of her comrades, it was a nice feeling.
"So, I did well huh?" She said with a mischievous smirk.
"Yeah, but if you tell any of the others I said that I'll deny it, you may be blooded, but you're still a rookie," Sunra stated not matter-of-factly, though the smile playing at her lips gave Raltia the impression it was an idle threat at the most.
"Alright, I'll keep your secret Sunra."
As they disembarked from the troopship onto the Ipsum's vast launch bay Jericus took in his surroundings. The clunk, clunk of Korps issue boots on the deck setting an almost ambient drum beat to the whole affair, Fenria as always to his left they walked with their team. They had left the ship as fresh conscripts, and they had returned hardened, if a still a little new, troopers. A sudden thought struck his mind.
"What does Nosce Te Ipsum mean," it was a question that he had not cared to wonder about at the beginning of this new journey, but now at the end for some reason it seemed relevant.
Fenria shrugged unsure, but curious herself. "Not sure, sounds old though, definitely not gothic," she responded.
"It means know thyself," F-920 responded solemnly, he had become very melancholy since F-888 had passed. When the duo looked his way for further explanation he made no move to elaborate further on the subject despite their silent pressuring to continue. After a moment the two gave up on trying to get more info out of the recently antisocial man, each turning to introspection instead.
"A sheep, a wolf, or a shepherd with his rifle…" Jericus mumbled to himself.
"What was that?" Fenria questioned softly, thinking her friend had meant to say something to her.
Jericus merely shook his head. "It's nothing, just something B-80 said to me, an old Baurine saying," he didn't elaborate, and Fenria simply shrugged and seemed happy to just let it slide for the moment.
Jericus ruminated on it for a bit before something interesting caught his attention, one of the troopships seemed to have civilians coming off of it. As to be expected they looked confused, nervous, and maybe a little scared, he couldn't blame them.
"Sir why are there civilians coming aboard?" he asked thinking the situation strange.
B-63 looked over his shoulder at him and then at the civilians being orientated by a few Korpsmen and a Watchmaster. "New recruits S-1049, possibly new comrades for you, rejoice," though his tone suggested any other action save to rejoice.
Staring back at the new faces Jericus spotted a few that looked familiar, though surely he had to be mistaken at this distance. Not to mention it would have been a miracle they would have survived by themselves in the warzone. Still Jericus couldn't shake the thought, five familiar faces all staring at him, all begging for mercy, and he had obliged, but what were the odds that they had made it out alive and then gotten swept up in the conscription for the 82nd of all regiments.
He struck the feeling down, instead opting to think about the ships name some more. Know thyself?
He found himself wondering if he did.
A/N: See you all in no more than two weeks, till then keep on keeping on.
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