I longed for the bars and the elegant company of local women. This trip, which I had hoped would have proved uneventful and even relaxing, had so far been positively murderous in its treatment of my person, not to mention my men. The sheer unbridaled ridiculousness of the tech-priest almost made me question if everyone aboard wanted my head, but I knew that was my overeager paranoia. It was not curbed somewhat by this ploy we were about to play. I felt as if I was about to lose my life over a hunch, though I supposed that was par for course when it came to the guard. I just imagined it would happen to me less than most considering my rank. 

The day/night cycle had shifted two terran hours before, the men already having eaten a hearty breakfast and gotten their warm ups done. I inquired to Crispin if I could take over for the day, hoping to showcase my leadership to the men. They were impressed with my skills, as they should be, but I felt I was becoming detatched from them truth be told. I used a convenient truth to create the lie, and before long I found myself in the vast drill gymnasium, huffing it with the men, working up a sweat like I was a common soldier. It felt good, if one considered the spirit of the act. I never did like lording over people, my family's arrogance a larger repellent than the mud and the mire of the average man. It's why I joined the Guard, and refused my father's "offer" of pulling strings to grant me the rank of major. I was smart enough to know he was trying to make himself look more extravagant, and cared little for my sake. 

By noon, we had a live fire exercise scheduled. I received the go-ahead from the colonel, cordoned off the space (and made damn bloody sure no servitors were around), and began our drills. Our targets were polycrete mock ups of orks, able to absorb the lesser powered lasbolts without igniting. I lead my men for a quick target practice before I decided to try something more stringent. I reformed us into two teams, and had us perform a skirmish, informing Crispin and Sel to command squads 2 and 4 whilst I command 1 and 3. 

Four platforms were raised in dispersed locations across the range to act as 'hills,' and when the buzzer sounded, we began. Sel was in on our 'scheme' obviously, it was her idea. However, Crispin was not privvy, and moved his men in what I correctly surmised was alpha maneuver, attempting to lay down suppressing fire as Sel and her squad spun to envelop. I commanded squad 3 to hold fire as Sel's men approached, laying in wait behind a hill, outside of the traditional cover but keeping hidden from where I believed the enemy was approaching from. I moved with squad 1, using a hill as cover and wheeling left, suddenly harrying Crispin's position. Lasguns firing from over my right shoulder informed me of squad 3 and Sel's squad engaging. 

I raised my lasgun, deciding to lead by example, and charged over the hill in what I knew would be a suicidal charge to goad what I knew was to come. Surprisingly enough, the lasbolts flew by, leaving me unscathed as none hit me. I raised my lasgun and fired, the weapon cracking, striking Crispin in the chest. The verdant man cried out, and he fell out of the fight. A handful of his men scattered, but a few kept their positions as we swept in. I wondered exactly what was happening?

But then I felt an immense weight strike me in the back, and my world went dark as I fell onto the floor, the scent of burning cloth emanate as I lay motionless, and all the firing stopped as men shouted and ran to my position, but I was unresponsive. It was out of my hands, I knew. I just hoped I was not truly about to die.