415633-983223-17-Zhatka had observed the rest of the Command Squad over the weeks spent in their company. He was not impressed.

Lieutenant Sithech. Elderly. Weak, and weakening further. A superior- in absence of the Captain, the squad's presiding officer- but not important enough for life extension. Inappropriately jovial. Willing to die for the Emperor, at least.

Trooper Charlene. Undisciplined. Unmotivated. Feckless. Lazy if not compelled. Unacceptable weakness. At least the Captain was willing to do so.

Trooper Telaci. Nearly incomprehensible. Undisciplined. Untrustworthy. Jittery. Likely the sort to shoot those who couldn't shoot him back, if he decided to do so unjustly. Weakness. Such traits were incompatible with cohesion in a command squad.

Trooper Richard. Heavy gunner. Strong. Focused. Arrogant, however. Inefficient use of a heavy bolter. It was designed to kill large numbers of enemies. It was not designed for precise shooting. Foolishness.

Trooper Deacon. Gunner's mate. Improper focus. Too keen on survival. Attempted to spread his cult at any opportunity. Not interested. The Emperor asks that you die in his name. This would not include gathering supposed holy trinkets. Weakness.

Corporal Tharn. Slow for a corporal. Partially deaf. Undisciplined. Unmotivated. Talked too much. Poor etiquette. Barely able to hold his lasgun properly. Weakness.

It was hard to tell which of these was worst. Only Captain Di Fieroccu and Sergeant Cestarn seemed anywhere close to competent. The former was Mordian. Too intent on drama. Insistent that he not "walk to his death" on the battlefield. Nonetheless, disciplined. Willing to die for the Emperor. Firm leadership skills. Did not allow incompetence. Any Watchmaster would be proud, but for her failure to punish sufficiently. The latter was put together. Veteran. Still too jovial, but intelligent in his approaches. Fearless, as a grenadier ought to be. Neither was perfect, but they were impressive compared to the rest.

The rest of the company were neither green nor veteran, mostly. Their training was impersonal. Their attitude was lax. Weakness. Training progressed too slowly, not harsh enough, albeit firmer for the command squad. It was necessary. It was appreciated. Still, too much time passed. One month before redeployment; two weeks in the Warp, a much greater span of months in realspace; days more moving to the destination in realspace. Incompetency. Much too slow. Vocintis might well have been gone by the time they arrived.

Arrive they did, however. 415633-983223-17-Zhatka remained utterly silent in the straps of his harness, patiently awaiting the gunship's touchdown. His weapon was attached to the ship's wall; one strap of his pack remained over a free shoulder, firmly held in place; his outfit remained unchanged, down to the rebreather, but for nine squares of checker patterning placed upon the topmost segment of his breastplate. This latter idiosyncracy had been insisted upon by several squad members for identification purposes. Sensible enough. It was nonetheless undesirable. It marked him as an individual. That wasn't his purpose. None of this ought to have been his purpose. He was to die for the Emperor. This position, placement within Captain Di Fieroccu's command squad and her instructions to him, ran counter to this.

He had tried to content himself. As long as he died doing the Emperor's will, he would ablate Krieg's shame but marginally. Yet it seemed insufficient, especially given... the rest of the command squad.

'It's been too long. [i]In life, war. In death, peace. In life, shame. In death, atonement.[/i]' This was his response to the Lieutenant. He had not needed to steel himself. He was ever-steeled.