THE GUARDSMEN, THE BULWARK - WARHAMMER 40K

3.

          The extravagant noise has replaced the eerie silence from before, and the once nearly empty compound became filled with the sight of guardsmen that have recently arrived—more still disembarking from the massive transport spacecraft.
          She continued along, uninterested in the events around her as she found herself back at the barracks. Upon entering, she noticed that what were once neat and empty beds had become dishevelled and used. Gears and equipment were scattered on previously vacant beds, and the small locker room beside them was now filled.
          Some guardsmen lingered, sitting on their beds and checking their gear, while others were nowhere to be seen, their belongings and standard equipment the only evidence of their presence. It almost felt strange to have others around—almost.
          As she took a seat on the comfort of her bed, she began to disassemble her lasgun and started replacing damaged parts that would have been prone to malfunction if they weren't swiftly attended to, maintained, or replaced altogether.
          Stuck in her own world, uncaring about the elements around her, she polished and fixed her lasgun with such focus. At some point, she even began to hum happily. The world around her ceased to exist, and the lasgun she was holding became a simple doll. Unperturbed, she looked at the doll—a hand-knitted doll—which somehow looked familiar.
          But then the sound of an alarm blaring stole her attention, and albeit briefly, she looked back to see it was a lasgun once again. The image of the doll became blurry when she tried to recall what it looked like.
          Shaking her head as her mind felt like it was breaking, she hit her head—though the helmet took the blunt of it—and before she knew it, everything fell silent. At least, the noises in her head did. An officer approached her with a questioning look despite the gas mask concealing his face.
          "Proceed to the assembly to be addressed by the regimental commander. You should be punished for your tardiness. Find me when the speech is over."
          She remained unresponsive, locking gaze with the identical gas mask she wore, before replying with a simple nod of understanding. With that, she stood up and fixed her trench coat and appearance before starting on her way to the assembly.
          The place was crowded with columns and rows of guardsmen, their posture straight and perfected through discipline. Facing the regiment was a small and simple pedestal—ironic when the man standing on top of it commanded such reverence—before a voice spoke through the microphone.
          "The enemy has corrupted this beautiful Imperial world and made a mockery of the Imperium with their accursed incursion. But we have forced them to their last foothold in the hive city. It will only be a matter of time until we cleanse them of their heresy from this planet."
          The speech continued with a tone of conviction as the commander addressed the guardsmen, speaking of their goals and recent victorious triumphs. "Let the Emperor witness our courage and undying loyalty in the final battles ahead," he screamed with vigour, "Kill the traitorous heretics, to victory!"
          At the end of the assembly, the guardsmen dispersed upon dismissal—returning to their duties—while she went to find the commissar. As she searched around, it proved difficult to find him, especially since the commissar had never actually introduced his name or serial number. It was made even harder by the fact that they, too, wore gas masks, despite not being from her death world.