Author Notes:
UmU
The official training arc for GSS is about to start, but I can't promise it being an epic one lol
More importantly, let's welcome Private Xavier Glines! The Imperium of Man and the Belkan Reich welcome your contribution!
Additionally, the next batch of NSFW pictures is up on P-atreon! And the Monthly Recruitment Drive will start tomorrow, so stay tune for that!
Thank you very much for all of your support, and enjoy the chapter!
https://www.patre-on.com/Heartbreak117
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Income goal 750/880 USD (UmU)
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I sigh, removing the apron I have yoinked from the FOB's cafeteria and tossing it on a nearby foldable chair by a dining table with one of its legs missing. The table is only held aloft by the strategic placement of a few thick books about the history of Cadia. Perhaps it's a bit blasphemous, but I got myself the solid approval from the Emperor Herself, so meh. The table is needed to feed the boys and girls who will be coming in starving in a reasonably comfortable capacity.
After taking a breather, I then reach down to turn off the mini stove that, once again, was shoplifted from the cafeteria. Once the flame is out, I move the pot from the stove to the table, covering it with a lid. Inside the pot is a conglomerate of rations and MREs, mixed and left on mild heat to create a soup that is both nutritious and palatable. They're at least much more enjoyable to eat than just consuming them straight out of their packaging. Since I'm unsure whether the rest of the Platoon can finish the pot's contents, I prepared some containers to store the possible leftovers alongside the necessary eating utensils. Once the makeshift dining area is set, I allow myself to move to a corner of this temporary quarter we're assigned to and take a rest by sitting down on a scarred sofa. As I start stretching my back, someone knocks on the doorframe to the quarter; it's actually unknown where the door went, and I look over to the entrance. Standing there is none other than my dear Rookie, Weiss.
I wave at her to come in. "Yo, I see that you're done being holed up by the Blacks."
I then ask tentatively, not expecting a straight answer. "Any idea why one of their officers flagged you over?"
Weiss shrugs before stepping into the room. "Just for some clarifications on what I reported in the debrief earlier, that's all."
In other words, Weiss was lightly reprimanded for letting me venture out in the wild. I feel bad for Weiss, really. Although she's secretly tasked with keeping me safe, back then, she was in no position to contradict my desire to save lives. Rank-wise, I am technically her direct superior, so she couldn't say no to my 'Go' order. Sentimentally, Weiss and I can be said to be best comrades and buddies. Wherever I go, she's with me all the way. Additionally, Weiss is not an unfeeling vase, much like I am; she couldn't just sit back and leave the two pilots to their fate when they still could be saved.
As long as Weiss remains content with just being my Rookie, I can't offer her any words of comfort, other than giving her a couple of pats on the shoulder when she sits near me. Weiss' shoulders ease when I choose not to pursue the matter further. I then reach over to a cabinet next to the sofa, wrapping a packet on top of its cracked top. Passing the packet onto Weiss' lap, I change the subject.
"Here, replace the filters in your helmet while you still can. Who knows when we'll get the chance to clean your rebreather in the future?"
While it's a bit of a stretch to replace the whole integral part of our filtration masks after only some smokes and soot, we can't be too cautious when it comes to a battlefield riddled with Chaos elements.
"Thanks, Ein." Weiss says before getting to work.
While Weiss is busy right next to me, I reach down beneath the sofa to pull up an instrument that never dies, the guitar. Now that I am free, I may as well take Estas Tonne's musical talent, out for a spin. But first, I have to light an incense stick. Weiss sees me fiddle around, trying to attach the incense stick to the handle of the guitar, and tilts her head in minor confusion. As both of us lose ourselves in our respective tasks, however, footsteps come from outside the quarter.
"Ladies." Greets Sergeant Johnson as he leads the rest of our unit inside.
Each of them had just come off of whatever debrief or medical venture required of them. And they look like beaten shit, despite their steady steps. However, to say that they don't have a measure of fatigue would be a lie. Battle Meditation is many things, but it's never gonna be Debuff Immunity, and even that is not a cure-all despite the name.
"Sergeant," Both Weiss and I nod at the man. "How's Anders?"
"He's down under in the triage; docs will have to examine and fashion him a replacement for the parts he lost." Johnson answers as the rest start picking their favorite corners to unload and unwind. "Personally, I think the guy is hoping to get a metallic facelift just to get under the skirt of some easily impressed ladies."
A few of us, me included, chuckle at the image of a guy with half of his skull being metallic trying to hit on some girls at a bar, and possibly failing.
"Anders always has shitty luck when it comes to snatching a date." Scorpin adds, grunting as she sits down and leans her back against the dining table.
As expected, her girlfriends also sit down by her side. One of her girlfriends then noticed the pot and the utensils already prepared. "Hey, Ein. You did this?"
I give her a thumbs up as I'm done with the incense-stick-on-a-guitar job. "I did what I could with the MREs and rations we're allotted. It ain't much like the BBQ we had, but it's something."
"Girl," Johnson comes by the table and lifts the lid of the pot to smell the wafting aroma. "Stop selling yourself short. This is restaurant quality right here, despite the average ingredients you've gotten."
"Yeah, well, it tastes better when it's still warm." I remind him, and the rest. "I already ate something earlier, so I'm not hungry."
Ironically enough, I took a standard ration bar to fill my stomach as I wasn't hungry enough to eat a plate of whatever I cooked.
"Gotcha." Johnson nods before turning around to scan the room. The Sergeant claps his hands twice.
"Ok, people, you know the drill! We just went through some shit, and we took some hits, so sit down and inspect your gear, your body, your mindset! Make sure everything about you is ok, and make double sure that your battle buddies are still around, here or there, intact or not really whole, yet still ready to kick asses and take names! Once you're all set, come over here and grab some chow, top yourself up even if you aren't that hungry. All those battlefield huzzahs took more from us than we'd know it. When eating, speak your thanks to Ein, who's been so thoughtful, and to the Emperor Herself, for blessing us with another moment to serve. Am I understood, Guards!?"
"Sir, yes Sir!" Everyone shouts their acknowledgement, even Weiss, while I can only smile wryly at how Johnson turns break time into a good speech and a half.
As the rest of the room defaults to their respective winding-down routine, with scattered conversations in the air, I start plucking at the guitar, casting a few crisp yet enchanting notes. It's a bit surprising how no one asks where the guitar came from; it actually is a great guitar from one of my Daily Login rewards. After some testing tunes, I play the guitar in earnest, plucking Track Nr.11 Internal Flight (Fusion Version) from Estas Tonne's 'Old Style' album. Since the album focused on healing and meditation, I hope this can release the mental strains accrued by my unit while on the field. The gently rising white smoke from the incense stick dances and quivers according to the tune I cast. Gradually, the light chatters unconsciously dwindle down to calm whispers before, ultimately, everyone settles for a relaxing hush. What's left is just a mixture of the sounds from my guitar and the clicks and clanks of equipment and tools being serviced and used.
Without any particular order, those who have maintained their gear move to grab their own plate of warm food, with each sending me their brief words of appreciation as per Johnson's instruction. The one-handed Surbella takes his meal directly at the table, opting to partake in a drink Johnson swiped from somewhere. Scorpin and her girlfriends hang around the other end of the long dining table, feeding additional sugar to whoever lingers near them for a chat. Others are much like that, eating together in pairs or a group. The food in the pot seems to be enough to fill everyone's stomach.
I continue to fill the quarter with soft, relaxing music, and I'm not at all surprised when Weiss comes back from grabbing a plate, choosing to sit next to me once more. I am, however, a bit amused when Weiss offers me a spoonful of the soup from her bowl. I regard her action with fondness. Clearly, while I have taken it upon myself to take care of the team, Weiss seems to have taken it upon herself to take care of me in lieu of Mama Elyzabeth. With a tinge of blush on my cheeks, I partake in Weiss' offer, being very mindful of not letting the food spill, my music stop, or be misplayed. Weiss feeds me for a few spoons before mindfully stopping the act when she deems that I've gotten all the energy I need. I give her a nod, signalling her to care for herself as well, which she proceeds to do.
When our impromptu group meal is done, and the plates and leftovers are taken care of by Scorpin's group, the incense stick on my guitar also runs out. Coincidentally, it also marks the end of our break.
Johnson stands up from the tableside, moving to a corner on the far side of our quarter where I've set up the armory for our unit. There, the man starts putting fresh power packs into his vest and Lasrifle. It's not just him, as one by one, members of our Platoon move to the same corner and stock up. All except Surbella.
"I'll hold the fort with Anders." The man nods to Weiss and me after we move from the sofa and join Johnson.
I give Surbella a fist bump, knowing how hard it is to be the one to stay behind.
Once we reach the armory, Johnson regards us with a nod before looking at the Yoroi-doshi I have left planted on one of the crates. "End of the line for her?"
I look at my trusted melee weapon, which hasn't been all that bloodied recently but is now cracked all over. "Yeah, she served me well."
"A bayonet will have to do for now, then, until you can find something you fancy." Johnson adds, passing me a standard-issue Cadian blade and its sheath.
I accept them and put them on my gear. Once I'm free, I should see if I can have Nicolae surprise me with any of her rewards for a couple of Cosmic Cookies. Right now, though, I should start thinking about what to take with me for the next sortie. I can bring my Lasrifle again, sure, but from what I've learn from Mama, the next stretch is a bit door-to-door, so...
I pick up my shield, holding it up with my left hand. "Black Steel it is then."
Oh, dear... I sorely miss using the surprise I built into this shield. I couldn't use it against the Clankers, but these cultists? They're fair game.
Scorpin, seeing me holding up Black Steel, comments. "I guess one of us should carry a Heavy Stubber then. Lock it down and hose them down."
I chuckle. "Instead of us being on the receiving end of a fatal funnel, let's make it the heretics' issue where we're going."