That took him back. The mocking, the patronizing. A soldier without a homeworld, just like his parents, and their parents before that. He tensed up, every cold, seized muscle in his body tugging and shifting. His teeth locked together, and he gritted them in not only anger, but spite. Were his eyes revealed he would've had the most bright hellfire burning within them.

The words continued to echo in his mind across the tense silence, his anger saying a thousand words, creating a cacophony of tension in the room. The words, they bounced, echoed, [i]"No home.."[/i] and [i]"Broke your homeworld.."[/i] He was angry, everything in his mind told him to yell out, cursing who or whatever captured him. But he remained silent, preparing his words articulately.

"Cadia stands as long as Cadian soldiers fight." He muttered, the familiar phrase from the lips of Ursarkar E. Creed himself, giving birth to a pride and nationalism even in the absence of a homeworld. He calmed himself in the ensuing silence, and yet repeated, his mouth now articulately and coldly stating again the same phrase: "Corporal Austen Corby, service number 4093375."