In his bunk, Carneas studied the primer of his fallen trooper. He was embarrassed to admit it, but sometimes he had difficulty remembering the names of his men. It was easier to cope with their deaths if he didn't become too familiar with them.
Allen Warwick, private. He remembered now. The company had not yet been assigned a commissar, and he had almost had him flogged for walking around with an unfilled primer.
His service record was empty, save for the field labelled "theaters of war". Junkar IV. One sole planet. He probably had less skirmishes than fingers on one hand by the time he died. The page right next to it was the one labelled in bold, death notice. Blank as it stood, now demanding to be filled with details of its former owner. Carneas' eyes paused on the field "next of kind". It was little more than wishful thinking to believe that every single death notice would reach the hands of the kinsmen of the slain. Yet, for some reason, Carneas wanted this notice to reach the hands of his family badly. Perhaps it was a way to appease the guilt in his heart that had plagued him since extraction. Yet another thing to talk about with his confessor.
For now, though, he had to make sure he got as many details on the Warwicks in Darryel as possible. Collecting a pen and piece of parchment, Carneas left his quarters and made towards those of his permanent disciplinary headache, private Teikin. He had, against his better judgement, overlooked that one time he caught him gambling, letting him go with a colorful description of the jail and its rodent population. This had only made him bolder, and better at hiding signs of his activity. Still, his squad mates liked him, and he could be mistaken for a storm trooper the way he behaved in battle. It was the only thing keeping Carneas from exposing his habits.
Out of habit, he knocked on the door of his bunk before entering. "Hey baby, you're here early-" A shirtless Teikin came to meet him with a wide grin, an expression that quickly mutated into shock, and into a contrived salute. "Sergeant Rook, sir." Carneas saluted back, all too eager to return to military formalities. "At ease. Teikin, I assume you were familiar with private Warwick?" The man's face twitched for a moment. Carneas felt a pang of guilt. "Sir, I had the honor of being counted as one of his friends, sir." And probably one of his debtors as well. "Did he ever talk about his home town and family?"
Teikin blurted out every kind of detail about the deceased Warwick's life, obviously in a hurry to sate Carneas' curiosity. For his part, he also did not desire to stay and discover which girl was fated to be the mother of a gun baby. He took the notes he deemed relevant, and withdrew towards the quarters of the chief medical officer, eager to be rid of the remorse invoked by Warwick's unfilled death notice.
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Topic: Charlie Company 40k (W40k meets 'Nam) - Creating Mission 2, sign up if you like! (Read 21216 times)