Inspection Chamber
Areoldo Star Forge, Nix Sector
2752
Areoldo Star Forge, Nix Sector
2752
The captain snapped his heels together, banging a gauntleted fist to his breastplate. Behind him, the 2500 soldiers of his regiment did the same in unison, the metal-on-metal bang resounding like a gong in the cavernous room. Each of the men, women, and clones under his command was dressed in full battle array, armored in thick duralloy plate and shouldering the Mk.27 battle rifle on their shoulders. Sidearms and hand weapons were more varied, as when the battle turned against the marines of the Eighth Infantry - which it always did - he wanted his soldiers prepared to sell their lives as dearly as they knew how.
Colonel Sonya Vaiir stepped down from the lectern and returned the salute. The captain's regiment relaxed, standing at parade rest. This next part wasn't regulation, but they all knew, either from experience or reputation, to ignore it. With the threat of the bestial Dukxli'in, all marines were prohibited from forming attachments. The lives of common infantry were cheap, and those of the Eighth even more so. Always were they volunteered for the most dangerous assignments, thrown into the most desperate engagements, and always their captain led them to victory. It was said he had a death wish, or perhaps a deal with death, but either way it seemed the Reaper refused to take him. Twice now, they'd found him alone, victorious after a hopeless battle, the sole survivor amid heaped enemy fodder. Each time they'd pinned medals to his dented plate and sent him back into the fray with new volunteers.
Colonel Vaiir circled the captain, her words too low for the grunts to hear. They appeared to be having an argument of some kind. It seemed to escalate in pitch and intensity until their captain finally raised his voice in response, "No! Sonya - Colonel Vaiir. You know I cannot...and you know why." The colonel and the captain stared at one another for long moments until she reached up, a tool in her hand. A few bright flashes coruscated around the captain, and when he turned back to his soldiers, they saw a tiny blue badge in the shape of an Old Earth seashell welded above his row of medals - the colonel's personal signet. A low gasp murmured through the soldiers, quickly stifled.
"Very well, Captain RadiantCowbells," said the colonel in a carrying voice. Forbidden tears were in her eyes. "May the Emperor's hand shelter you all."