[hr][center][color=yellow][b]Baltar Iskaron[/b][/color][/center][hr]

For the first time ever since he had enlisted, Baltar Iskaron had overslept. Much needed sleep, that had nonetheless, earned him a harsh reprimand from the higher ups a few days ago. After that, Emperor and Sun be praised, he had overcome his sleeping problems. The relentless drilling still had worn him out, but the lack of sleepless nights did wonders for his rest and general good humor.

Which still wasn't enough to compensate for the fact he was about to be thrown into his first battle. This wasn't gonna be Baltar's first fight. He had had his fair share of scuffles back home as a Caravan Guard, and before that merely helping defend their camp from the tribes that lived deeper in the desert. But he was now sadly certain that no amount of shooting the rare screaming Ork or skirmishes over watering spots would hold a single, measly candle to the kind of...of...[i]whatever[/i] was going to happen once they landed.

[color=yellow][i]"Don't you go pissing your pants, boy. Don't need you bringing anymore shame upon the clan name."[/i][/color]

Baltar steeled himself, mentally reciting prayers and litanies to the Emperor and Sun, as he gave his gear one final check. It still felt somewhat alien to him, all this equipment, the flak armor, the lasgun itself. Back home he and most other Caravan Guards had to make do with an assortment of different weapons. Baltar himself had used an old and worn stub gun. Getting used to the lasgun instead had been something that he was sure would come soon enough. Even the combat knife was far shorter than the saber he had so painstakingly trained and used all these years.

[color=yellow][i]"A warrior must know his weapons, boy. Respect and revere them or you might as well shoot yourself now and save us all the trouble."[/i][/color]

Now there was nothing more to do besides following the rest of the squad to the entrance of the monstrosity of a landing ship that would carry them to...[i]wherever[/i] they were going to fight.

[b]"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."[/b]

Baltar caught himself nodding along to the Sergeant words. Noticing with some misplaced pride that he seemed to be another desert dweller like him. He ignored the other assembled soldiers, intent on listening to everything the officer would choose to impart upon them. Maybe now he would finally find out where and against who the regiment would be fighting. Finally confirm which one of the hundred wild rumors where correct.

[b]"Alright! Check your gear, stow your feelings, and follow me."[/b]

At that Baltar gave his gear one last keen eyed inspection, noticing that yes, everything was in order. Just as it had been the last three times he had checked less than half a hour ago. Then, Baltar realized the Sergeant had already entered the lander. That was supposed to be all? Oh Emperor and Sun, they were going to be thrown into the battlefield utterly blind, weren't they?

[color=yellow][i]"So what, boy? You're now a soldier of the Emperor. And you will fight his enemies wherever they appear. Remember your oaths and stop mewling like a little girl."[/i][/color]

Baltar shook himself. Trying to will the fear and nervousness away as he made his way through the dark belly of the metal beast, looking for a seat.