The drop pod listed slowly from left to right as the sounds of the docking arms vibrated through the hull. Debin’s eyes followed the battered lines of the interior. The bulkhead showed countless battle scars and more than a few dark brown spots that left little to the imagination. He followed the thick line of rivets to the ceiling of the pod were two servitors hung suspended from it busying themselves with the care and feeding of the tiny machine spirit that resided in the central panel. They twitched, their servo arms whining eerily as they went about their tasks. Their dead, vacant eyes stared mindlessly at something not there. He couldn’t help but wonder who they had been in a former life. They were too high for him to read the brass plates on their necks. The plates that announced to all the world what had lead them to that half life. He wondered how true it would be. Theft might be accident, murder could be self defense and combat cowardice could have been failing to die with the rest of your men. The longer Debin lived the more heretical his thoughts became. He feared that he might be slipping into moral purgatory. Damnation waits in question and doubt…, the prayer began on his lips and he pushed it down. He heard a grumble among the men as he muttered the first few words. He had not spoken to many of the men. Most of them seemed to tolerate his presence as one would a meddlesome child. Despite feeling like an outsider Debin was grateful for his newfound fortune. He felt even more so staring at the grey flesh hanging from the ceiling.
Had it not been for the commander he might have already been staring blankly at some panel or performing some mind numbing menial task for all of eternity. That is at least until all that remained of him were ‘no longer serviceable’ bits of rotting grey flesh. Debin let his eyes wonder over the rest of the tiny vessel as it settled roughly into the launch tube. The man sitting directly opposite Debin sat snoozing despite the noise and the jostling. His hellgun sat across his lap haphazardly.
‘Careless fool’ Debin thought. Above the man’s head there were rends in the metal hull that had been hastily patched. “It will hold
little soldier” the man said seemingly from a dead sleep. He never lifted his head and his breathing was still regular. Had he not seen him speak he would have sworn the voice came from elsewhere.
‘Little Soldier’ he wanted to spit the words back at the man.
Little soldier, that was what they had insisted on calling him, despite the fact that he had survived three campaigns, and despite the fact that he had seen four worlds. He felt the irritation welling up into a fine smoldering rage. Debin opened his mouth to speak then closed it. Opened it again, and then thought better of it.
Instead he busied himself with checking his lasgun again. He walked through the checks by rote. He came to the lens and removed the sock. The lens was crystal clear and smudge free. He replaced the sock satisfied with what he saw. Debin moved to place the lasgun securely back in the seat holster, “Don’t
little soldier. Just hold it. You see sometimes when we have a rough landing the hull flexes…” He paused as though drifting off to sleep “…just a little mind you.” The man shifted as some one asleep might, trying to find comfort in a lumpy bed. “ When it does that, well… the latch might bend a thrones width, and not release that pretty lasgun you keep frettin over. Don’t matter how throne damned clean and pretty it is if you can’t get it out of the pod hunh…? I'd say it happens one in three, ain' t that right boys.... fifty seven drops since I last secured my lady" A low guttural chuckle rolled around the pod and as it did Debin noticed that all the other men had their weapons in their laps. Debin had been quick to label the man as lazy and careless when he saw him seemingly asleep with his weapon laying there unsecured.
It was at that moment that he realized that his experience had been nothing, paltry in comparrison. He
was a little soldier, a child among true veterans. "Fifty seven" he whispered incredulously. A roar of laughter errupted from the man, Debin was happy when the thunder of the pod engines finally drown it out.
Subject: Re: The Jozian 5th 
