I hummed the tune to Pal?stinalied as I worked in the armory. Aside from guarding Anibeli, I spent most of my time in the armory, going over the weapons.

  The armorer had pitched a fit of epic proportions, and we had a 'argument'. She kept cursing me even now, even as she assisted me in learning the ins and outs of the weapons aboard the ship.

  There was little else to do, after all. It was estimated that we were close to leaving the warp, and I was glad. I disliked the imaterial hellhole. Always had, really.

  Necrons were firmly placed in the material realm of things. The imaterium, as the humans and human adjacent called it, was anathema to me.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  So, I sat here, going over weapons, and making sure they had full functionality. We had run some drills, which I was told to lead, which went over poorly with senior voidsmen personnel.

  We had run attack and defense drills with training lasguns. I led each side multiple times, and I generally came out on top on a 62.8/37.2 ratio. It wasn't realistic, the training, as every hit shot was counted as a kill, but it was what it was.

  I had subsequently earned a modicum of respect, and I had learned some of the tactics employed by the voidsmen. They walere acceptably trained for general troops. But, admittedly, I was never a part of the infantry, so I took my everything with a grain of salt.

  It did help me build leadership skills, and I would assuredly run drills like those again with different rules. I needed more experience if I wanted to lead properly.

  I had leaned on my seconds for the first few drills, and attempted to use my own judgment in other drills. I believe a mix will be optimal, as each person gives a slightly different perspective.

  But, I digress. I return to giving my full attention to the shotgun I was holding. Was that a hairline crack in the bolt?