Moon in WH40K-Roast Almonds, stories set in the grim darkness | World Anvil

Moon

"That's no moon..."   "Then what is it?"   "That's Hydraphur's orbital yards..."   "Very nice, who's that?"   "Wanda, they're not letting her out of their sight, apparently she starts bar fights..."   Private Wanda "Wintermint" Wolowicz looked miserable, her wrists cuffed together closely, her ankles also cuffed, but long enough to let her take half-strides, her body language a mixture of anger, resentment, humiliation and resignation.   "Hey Sir."   "Hey Marsha."   "Sorry Sir, I could never pronounce your name correctly."   "It's simple though, Wan-da, Wan-da. See, easy!"   "Sorry Sir, I meant your last name."   "You'd be the only person who'd bother, even they call me subject irate." Wanda indicated her captors with a manacle. Some of the anger was seeping out of Wanda, just from talking to... someone familiar. "And you've known me long enough to use my name, you're trying to distract me?"   "Sir, how come your troops aren't with you?"   "I got demoted, they aren't my troops anymore."   "Oh? How come I haven't heard of your replacement?" As a senior non-com and the acting quartermaster for the unit, Marsha knew about everyone's promotions and demotions, usually by providing new rank items for the former, and by having them returned, for some of the latter.   "Me and the Commissar, you remember him? The funny looking kid?" The sarcasm in her voice was thick enough to pass for soup. Since Marsha and her were both the product of the same schola progenium, they both knew who she meant.   "I remember Michael, Sir, we all go way back..." She'd dated Michael until... She found him and Sophia...   "Anyways, Michael said, if he can't find a replacement before the next battle, he'll reinstate me, just for the battle, then demote me again. I'm just fine for combat leadership, but I can't lead troops outside of combat worth a damn."   "That's funny, that doesn't sound like something Michael would do." Not to the girl he exchanged first kisses with, she wanted to say. Michael was no longer the unimaginative, plodding determinator they all remembered in their youth, he'd earned his own edge, more's the pity.

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