Callidon was the first to arrive at the room. He wasn't surprised. He hadn't been doing anything when the Summons came. He was wearing much the same he had been pushed out the airlock in. Battered Guard Armor, with the uniform, old, but meticulously cared for. His sword sat in its sheath, his Rifle in his hands. The barrel of the Shotgun stuck out from behind the pack. His hands shook slightly as he took a seat, and began to clean his rifle... if for no other reason then he needed something to do.<br/><br/>He hadn't heard from his unit since the Exterminatus. They had escaped aboard the ships, just like him, but they were Emperor knew where, likely engaged in some other battle. But Callidon? Callidon had landed. And told to wait for assignment somewhere. He hadn't minded. He got food, and water, if not much of either. No one was actively trying to shoot him. And since no one knew what he was for, he didn't have to interact with people. Things were fine when he was alone. Generally, his problems started when he opened his mouth.<br/><br/>But he finally had orders. "Go here, do as instructed." This instruction neatly encapsulated most of his life. His mother, his family, his CO, inevitably they found someone else to dump him on. He doubted this would be any difference.<br/><br/>Callidon sat, not touching the Data Pad, hands shaking slightly as he reassembled his Las Gun. He sat in the dim room, eyes staring off into nothing, just waiting for the next person to arrive as his muscles reassembled the weapon by rote memory.