"I do hope you all have what belongings you wish to bring with you upon this mission, for we won't be returning for quite a while."
"All necessary items and equipment are on hand, ma'am." Ansgar responded to the warning as he deemed necessary, the tone of voice and any sort of facial expressions or reactions mercifully hidden by the rebreather mask that was the face of the Death Korp. He could feel the eyes on him, sideways as the glances had been, and knew his presence was being questioned. This was fair, most who had no dealings with the sons and daughters of Krieg assumed them to be unthinking servitors, powered on and sent marching to die for the Emperor. For most, this was good enough, as they would see the paintings, the pict recordings, watching faceless masses charge and fight in conditions that most would consider impossible, and sustain losses that even draconian guard commanders of less stalwart regiments would balk at. Fighting and dying for the Emperor, in repentence for the sins of the father, was all ingrained into the psyche of a Kriegsman. Among themselves, or trusted allies, one would find them still perfectly human, though understandably many were dour and solemn at best.
What most of these recordings, memorials, and stories failed to ever mention was the day to day life. Sitting in a trench, alongside the rest of a section, as time continued to pass away during the steady, slow grind of siege warfare. The glorious charges, pitched trench fighting, hunkered down during the deafening barrage of Imperial artillery, was a small fraction of the typical life of a Krieger in a trench. It was preparation, and waiting, and being able to survive the violent bursts of trench life took a unique mentality. The lack of fearing for their lives and desire to earn redemption, often seen as just glorified suicidal behavior, helped, but if they all just wanted to die, charging fortifications with bayonets fixed would do just that. It would not accomplish the goals and needs of the Imperium, however, and this was why the Commissars were assigned to Death Korp regiments. Not to ensure proper levels of zeal and piety, but to act as liaisons and reign in the Death Korp when operating in joint theaters.
Lost in his thoughts as he was, secured in his seat on the transport, that he blinked in mild surprise that the psyker had even asked him how he even ended up here. "How did a Kriegsman end up in a position requiring more than being a glorified combat servitor, you mean?" He suspected he knew where that question was aimed, it didn't take a psyker to realize that, and it fell in with his thoughts prior to them being disrupted. "I have been cursed with the worst fate a Kriegsman can suffer. Being a survivor." The delivery was deadpan and he let it hover for just a second longer than one might consider as jesting, especially given the somber and serious methodologies of Krieg, but survivors were either promoted into Officers, or reassigned to the Grenadiers. Should the Ordos Malleus not have reassigned him to Inquisitorial duties, he would likely have either been an officer or Grenadier in a new Krieg regiment.
"The personal recommendation of an Ordo Malleus Inquisitor, in light of service that I am not at liberty to discuss the details of currently, is the more serious answer. Tyranid, followed by traitor forces, requiring atypical tactics and methods for Death Korp forces. Surviving all that was recommendation enough for the Inquisitor in question. Add in the additional training Engineers receive, and it was an ideal recruitment, though not for her retinue." Ansgar was rather plain in tone, either not offended by the implications behind the question, or having considered the fact such a question was inevitable that he had been prepared for it. The mention of tyranid was a grim reminder of what the xenos were capable of, and that had been the splintered remains of a larger hive fleet, and all present need not guess at the dangers Traitor forces would pose. The perfect storm of both in a system had necessitated the intervention of the Ordo Malleus Inquisitor and all the resources that would bring.
This whole time the Kriegsman had to effectively crane his head backwards to meet the gaze of the psyker, the difference in height between them comical at best, and the lenses of the rebreather mask made it hard to make out any details beyond the fact he indeed had two organic eyes still, that looked green, though the tinting of the lenses made it hard to confirm. His tone remained hard to read, the muffled voice as steady as usual, used to having to speak clearly enough to be heard plainly through the muffling of the rebreather, and whether he was poking fun at the sheer difference in their heights, or not, was up to interpretation as he was deadpan still. "Does that satisfy your curiosity for now, ma'am? My neck is getting stiff."
