[b][i]"Listen up, we are going to make our way into this lander in an orderly fashion - our autocannon team to the rear, followed by medics and vox-troopers - the remaining squads of the platoon following in after us."[/i][/b]

[i][color=crimson]'that's it?!'[/color][/i] Darrian breathed into flak vest, keeping as quiet as possible as there was only a few guardsmen dividing him from the Seargent at the front of the lander, and if he knew anything at this point saying your thoughts too loud would just doom you to die halfway across the galaxy.. The lander glowed with a feverish anxiety and as he looked around he noticed lots of his squad mates fiddling and re-checking equipment. Not in the orderly methodical fashion the drill instructors had demonstrated in prior training, and with none of the confidence he had seen commissariat or officer recruits in his time at the imperial academy. Maybe the academy wasn't what had actually sentenced him this useless death, maybe his training and time there was going to be what kept him alive, give him the edge. Just as his disillusion was starting to make him feel better about his impending drop into enemy territory, reality kicked back in when the overhead lights turned dark in the shuttle and was replaced by a red glow. Emperor save him, if he was too survive this day it was all in the Emperors hands at this point, anything in his favor or anything he did down there was only adjusting his survival chances on the margins.  

He moved over to his position in the Lander, almost at the front of it. and really started to look around at the grunts that he'd probably be dying with today, most of them wore the face of hive factorum workers - with an almost resignation for death to the imperial cause, it was either going to be upon a battlefield or from the lethal conditions of the lower hive. A few of them however, had the tan and rough look of out-hivers, traders and caravan runners their home was the inhospitable wastes of Vosmarth, the primitive Orks- their neighbors. Corporal Irso nodded his head at the roughish looking guardsmen to his left, at  least a few of them had a practiced survival instinct...

He stored his gear and began to strapped himself into the vessel, he checked his harness buckles and his anxiety bubbled away as he failed to clip them into place several times. Before a victorious click secured him to the ship. He looked up and around the ship and gave a weak thumbs up to who had ever seen him fail with his buckle. 
[b][color=crimson]"Sir, do you have any idea what's going to be greeting us when we land!"[/color][/b] Irso yelled over to the seargent as the engines began to hum quickly feeling the room with a noise so loud it removed all his anxieties of his impending morality and brought him too attention. It was time, he was ready, he was going to survive.