The moon of Kheive

Descending onto Kheive, the situation was just as much of a chaotic shit show as Jeffrey was imagining, with countless hundreds of recruits from other vessels being funneled into a large brown building where they would be processed and assigned to different locations. Even the terrain was boring, with wide open fields and deserts as war as the eye could see, with light brown tents dotting the landscape as well as hundreds of vehicles of different kinds. He saw Sentinels striding alongside Chimeras and Manticores though he hadn't seen any of the vehicles for a long time and never this close so he didn't know what their names yet. It was quite the assembly of imperial might, maybe with so many vehicles and other soldiers the war would be over soon, Jeffrey thought to himself even he knew such dreams were a fools errand.

As one would expect with such a lackadaisical infrastructure, the line to end get into the building was long and the wait was even longer. He speculated what their assignment could be again and he ran through a bunch of scenarios in his head before getting bored and wondering if anyone even missed him back home. Probably not, since while he had friends, they were more of "drinking buddies" than the loyal and dependable lot. Anticipation kept building as they slowly made their way through their line to the data clerks who somehow looked even more bored than they did. Perhaps a job behind the lines wouldn't be as luxurious as he imagined, thought Jeffrey. Finally after what felt like forever, Jeffrey and his squad approached the data clerk and received their own data slates which would reveal what their assignment was and where to report to. With bated breath he looked down to read two words which change his life forever.

Thirteen kilo.

Thirteen kilo, as he would franticly check and double check on the data sheet meant that they were assigned as tank crewmen, specifically Leman Russ crew men. Jeffrey cursed and grumbled as the thought of running away entered his mind, that was until he remembered the penalty for desertion, which was death. His options basically amounted to certain death versus probable death and logic dictated which one he should choose. The rest of his squad had mixed reactions, Ladislo was happy to be purging Xenos directly, Ifa was more hopeful than Jeffrey but still not exactly thrilled, Ivo just chuckled darkly.

"Told ya we were frakked" he said as the four walked towards their new destination, which was a very large parking lot northwest of the building. They followed the marker on their data slates, "At least we won't have to walk as much" Ifa tried to interject. "And boiling inside a metal coffin will be so much better?" Ivo rebuffed. "Would you just shut already, you do know that some people actually survive in the guard right?" Jeffrey said, clearly getting annoyed by the negativity.

Ivo was about to force another unfunny joke, but fortunately their conversation was stopped as they found what they were looking for. It was an old Leman Russ, clearly weathered by war and the elements. It's blue and gold paint was chipped in many areas, revealing the duly factory grey beneath. It was equipped with a standard battle canon and a heavy bolter in the hull, it didn't have any of the sponsons that other Russ's did. "At least it looked functional" Jeffrey thought as he examined it, in his unprofessional opinion at least.

A creaking sound came the from the commanders hatch of the tank. Emerging slowly from the hatch was an imperial guard officer, a captian from the looks of it, if the emblem on his chest could be believed. This officer radiated authority and dread in equal measure. His uniform was pristine, looking like he was fresh from a military parade. His muscular build complimented his darker complexion well, as did the fierce scars running down the right side of his face. His right eye was replaced by a biotic eye which glowed an intimidating red. The officer dismounted the tank, eyeing the squad as he did so, almost as if he was peering into their souls.

"This is what they sent me?" The officer asked rhetorically. "The Orks are rampaging throughout the sector and you lot are the ones they send? They might as well send me kids next time"

"Well since I am stuck with you miserable lot, by the Emperor I will make the most out of you. I am Captain Hoel Ronan and I will be the voice of the Emperor for you sorry lot". The squad kept silent and nodded, that was except for Ivo who was about to crack a joke, but he was interrupted by a punch to the gut. Ivo doubled over in pain, as Ronan watched the rest of the squad to see their reaction, then they remained still he turned his gaze back to Ivo. "You talk back again to me boy and you will wish the Orks got to you". He then walked back to the tank and entered the vehicle again, this time pulling out buckets of paint, brushes and buckets of water. He then placed them in front of the squad.

"Teamwork is your lifeline, if you want any chance in hell of making it out of your first scrap then you need to work together. Your first task as team is to give the old girl a new coat of paint" he said, as he pointed back to the tank. "Blue and gold, just like the rest of regiment, brown for the tracks and gun metal grey for the barrel. Be sure to thin the paint, if you don't it angers the machine Spirit. And get it done before I get back, I am going to introduce you to adept Malle Katell, the company's Enginseer. If your not done in time there will be hell to pay" Ronan then walked briskly away in a confident saunter. Jeffrey was less than enthused but he began work quickly, rationalizing that they didn't know how long the captain would be gone. The rest of his squad joined in, conversation was kept a minimum but they were a bit confused about the idea of machine spirits. Ifa knew a little bit about them, having been raised on an Agri world and having to use many machines there, but there was still much to consider.

The squad worked together and eventually finished painting the tank, to what they thought was a professional standard. And it was only just in time too, as the Captain return accompanied by a mysterious crimson robed figure. The figure was smaller than he expected, and had a lithe, feminine form, despite the plethora of cybernetic augmentations. The four mechadendrites on her back moved about in a almost hypnotic fashion as she approached the squad. Jeffrey however was drawn to her face, which was beautiful despite the left half of it being replaced by augmetics. The left half reminded him a childhood friend he from long ago, with her soft sink, light complexion and piercing light blue eyes.

Memories came flooding back as he recalled his old friend. Her name was Tara Naomi, and she was a servant of his father house. She was beautiful, smart and fiercely independent, all attributes that he lacked. They had known each other for years and had grown quite close, he may have even fell in love. But it was not to be because she made the mistake that most intelligent and proactive people make, and she tried to change the system. She had tried to advocate for some sort of political change and ran afoul of the wrong sort, she disappeared and was never heard from again. Jeffrey was never able to find who was responsible, and he learned an important lesson that day, which was to never challenge the system, simply bury your head in the proverbial sand hope for the best.

Jeffrey was violently snapped back to reality via punch to the gut by the Capitan who was trying to get his attention. The rest of his squad laughed at him, apparently deriving fanciful conclusions based his prolonged staring at the adept. Jeffrey cursed as he stood back up to attention. "You okay there Romeo?" Ifa whispered with a chuckle, Jeffrey huffed in annoyance as registered the meaning behind the old Terran reference.

"Now that we have all of your attention. Enginseer Malle Katell here will teach you about all about our vehicle and it's maintenance. All the faith, skill, and strength in the world won't save your ass if the machine breaks down on the field so listen up"

What followed was a long diatribe that mixed technical knowledge with religious rituals. They learned how to properly clean the boogie wheels as well as clean out the main canon barrel as well as the heavy bolter barrel. Those were vexatious but the real pain in the pass was cleaning the tracks as well as learning how to replace them. Over and over again they would repeat these processes, each time the Captain would provide his own "colorful commentary", at least the adept would provide more meaningful corrections and insight. This process would continue for many hours as we were relentlessly drilled on how to perform basic maintenance, until finally they granted permission to retire to the barracks, which they did without much comments save the occasional joke directed towards Jeffrey, further chiding him for zoning out earlier. Jeffrey was annoyed but his thoughts were elsewhere, being a combination of tired and wandering what could have been. Hopefully tomorrow wouldn't be as tedious as he thought as he drifted to sleep.