Months Earlier. Friedrich stood over a small desk, he had reenlisted after all of his time away from the battlefield. He had a nice family, but his work was not doing him well as the youth of this planets generation has caught the eyes of those requiring his service. His students and acolytes served him well, and soon took over his work to create structures of various qualities for those who needed or more so now, desired. He sat down, and began his paper work to become active in the guard since he had been reserves for so long. He wrote his signature along various lines, and xed boxes. He took a deep breath, and leaned back in the chair thinking of how lucky he had been to survive in his younger years. But now, he was ready to see his last days of mobility used well in adventure and war before his days wasted away until his death. _______________________________________________________________________________________________ SGT. Friedrich moved forward to the stall in front of him, "Sergeant Friedrich Baumeister, ID number U-Z-A-153-36892, of he Uzanian Rifles." He moved a paper, and his holotags forward to be swiped. "Yes... Sergeant Baumeister, of the, Uzanian Rifles." said the servitor speaking in defined low gothic, "We will prepare your gear for you, and deliver it to the kiosk to your left in five minutes, and thirty nine seconds. You are ticket, ONE." the servitor said stuttering loudly at the end. "Thank you for your service, and may the Emperor protect. Please, step aside for the next individual, in line." The Sergeant did just that and moved to his left, and back into the rather empty room, there was no other individual behind him. Maybe this generation was just not as on time and punctual, or maybe he was just late. But he took one the benches as he waited for the gear to be placed, or where he thought it would be placed. This ordering area didn't seem too distant from what he once used when he had first joined the IG, actually it was the same, just with less people, or maybe he just went to an older part of base, it doesn't look that used, maybe the servitors helped out in that aspect. "TICKET ONE!" Another loud servitor exclaimed, and a man moved up beside it. Sergeant Baumeister moved towards the kiosk and held the holo-tags, and the papers once again, and they were scanned once again, then checked by the man. "Identity confirmed, welcome back to the Uzanian Rifles, Sergeant Baumeister. Here is your gear. One Flak Vest, One Flak Helmet, Three pairs of Standard Uniform Pants, Three Uniform Shirts. One Dress uniform, four insignia shirts." It started as the man brought forward the items listed. "One pack of undergarments, one pack of socks. One pair of boots, one Chameleon cloak." And the items were placed in front of him, "CONTINUATION! One Lascarbine, one laspistol side arm, one sword, one knife, and four standard charge packs, two laspistol charge packs." The weapon and such were laid out on the kiosk by the gentleman checking the serial numbers on the weapons, making a receipt and tally. "One set of poor weather gear, one targeting system, two munitions tickets for fragmentation grenades, two munitions tickets for smoke grenades, one battery for targeting system, one grooming ki-ki-kit." the servitor stuttered, "One Uplifting Primer, one ticket for ration packs. One Lamp pack, rechargeable. One set of orders to board, ship." The items were being placed in order, the man not really caring about others being around because no one else was around. "One Rucksack, One entrenching tool, one set of basic tools, one mess kit, one canteen, one blanket, one sleeping bag." The man was having to go up and down a list as they had changed since the servitors function had been. "One grooming kit... ALL ITEMS HAVE BEEN GIVEN, THE QUARTERMASTER OF THE STATION WILL GIVE YOU A RECEIPT!" The servitor screamed out, before retreating back into the room behind him. The man looked at him, "You are probably the only one who comes here, this is more or less just storage for the larger quartermaster building behind where you were probably supposed to go. But pack your things up and get going. We need to put a sign up, or get the servitor to move and not take tickets." he said before leaving and moving away into the darkness of the quartermasters halls." Sergeant Baumeister sighed softly as he felt older and stupid at that moment, he knew something was wrong, and he had followed his memory, not his actual point of rearmament, no wonder he was given tickets for more consumable items like grenades and rations then the actual thing. He then left to go get those items retrieved before he would set off for the stars. ____________________________________________________________________________________________ He was in his quarters, as he stared at the mirror, and he pressed his lips together. He stared at the dark black hair, with small bits of grey. He was aging, had some wrinkles but those could be helped with treatments and life extending agents. His hair, mainly dyed but grey was starting to show once again from his recent dying. There was wear and tear on him from his youth, not a lot though, most of the damage would be on his hands and body. He was lucky that not much hit his face, else he might not have had children. He chuckled to himself lightly before he sighed and sat down in his bunk. "Once again, into the fire." he said softly, reaching down for his boots and taking them off, and then continuing to get ready for bed.