A song drifted through the dropship as it rattled through space and to a hot insertion. It was a mournful song, a song in High Gothic, but accented with the flavours of Mordia. 

"Era una notte che pioveva
e che tirava un forte vento
immaginatevi che grande tormento
per un Mordino che stava a vegliàr."

She looked about, knowing that there were none of her planetmen around her to sing with her. It was the sort of song that would normally be sung on the march, but she had turned it into almost a dirge, reluctantly admitting that her death was hurtling towards her faster than she could comprehend.

"A mezzanotte arriva il cambio
accompagnato dal capoposto
ohi, sentinella, ritorna al tuo posto
sotto la tenda a riposàr."

The next verse came and went, but before she had finished the song she would note what the Krieger had said, and how she would need to be a Captain, not a Mordian. "Zhatka, I will not have you be throwing the Emperor's currency away as if it held no value. If you so much as [b]think[/b] about hurling yourself headfirst into the first heretic or xenos we see, I will personally drag you back to your barracks in disgrace." She had rapidly learned that there was very little threatening a krieger with physical violence accomplished but this? This generally seemed to work quite well.

"Right then ladies and gentlemen. Our duty as a command squad is to ensure that the soldiers under our banner are working in an orderly and efficient fashion. I will have no dereliction of duty, no recklessness, no cowardice and absolutely no splitting away from the squad, is that understood?"