[i]"How did I get here?"[/i]

Darrian looked at the tiny ventilation shaft werring that located next to his bunk, it provided the few immediate square meters around where he slept and dressed with relatively fresh recycled air in one of the stuffy, least hospitable areas of the ship. He couldn't help but think - in a designated barracks room with maybe a thousand plus bunks and probably a few dozen vent holes that he would get a bunk with an obvious advantage. Maybe it was the noble blood giving him another shortcut in the imperial bureaucracy, but surely not the administorum was corrupt but no where near this efficient.

He looked outwards from his desk and bed, onto the dozens of other bunks in his immediate view. Darrian sighed, 6 months ago he had been at Vosmarth's officer accadamy. His performance there and his clout as the second son, of the second wife of Zerric Irso would of all but confirmed for a cushy gig in the Hiveplanet's P.DF. but Darrian's drinking had pretty much sealed his own death sentence when he got into a drunken argument with a Commissar in a Hive-peak bar. The young noble was transferred to infantry, he was as good as dead in a year and everyone back on Vosmarth knew it. Including that fucking Commissar, the man had never even seen an active battlefield but had condemned Darrian to die in one over a bad game of cards. It made absolutely no sense for him to be here, he hadn't expected ever really too leave the Spire of the Hive never less be hundreds of light-years away.

He looked over at his standard issue las-gun and flak armor, he shuddered, memories from officer training, lessons that talked about the expendableness of men and the lack of any real troop support or survivability. Standing up, young corporal Irso cracked his back the humming now directly next to his ears helped to drown out his growing anxieties about his position. His mind kept thinking about ways he could possibly make it out of this platoon alive. Just surviving battles was going to just delay his gruesome death not avoid it. He realistically couldn't get promoted out of the front lines and any injury that the local medic couldn't patch up was probably going to give him a life not exactly worth living.

[i]"I'm so fucked..."[/i]