Quietly slipping out of the room at the same time as the blonde man, trailing behind him briefly. After leaving the room Tarkus broke off and headed towards his berthing. In a few minutes he would be down at the shuttle bay before everyone else. Grinning a little bit he took another puff as his boots clanged down the steep ship stairs. Gears grinding in his head as he mulled over the intel given to them. What was given to them made the term military intelligence seem like a compliment. Chuckling he caught the stares from a few voidsmen on his route but none bothered the stone man who weaved his way through them.<br/><br/>So there was a rebellion like on Tranch but with a surprising quick response by the Guard. That alone bothered him a bit given the fact he knew first hand how slow the brass wheels churn in the massive organization. So the single platoon tasked with putting down the revolt was successful at least partially. No info on what caused the revolt or the strength of the rebels or their equipment. That was also troubling given the fact such intel should of been transmitted to those two. Either they were holding back on that intel, something he wouldn't be surprised by, or the corruption ran deeper then they suspected. The whole operation smelled of mismanagement and cover up. Then again it wouldn't surprise him Antoz has been in the middle of such a operation.<br/><br/>He highly doubted any of the men of that platoon would be seeing another battle. Flinching as the voices grew louder as scenes from Mara flashed across his mind. Briefly he felt blood splashing on his legs, cold stinging his eyes then they were gone. Coming to his senses that he was standing outside his berthing clutching<em>Mary</em>in white knuckled hands with a very terrified crewman in the doorway. Holstering the revolver he stepped aside for the man, who scurried away down the corridor. As he grabbed the duffel bag with his kit Tarkus mused that they were probably being sent down more as janitors then investigators. Not boring kind of janitors either.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>"Here you go Sergeant; one M36 Kantrael Pattern lasgun with two charge packs modified with a lamppack, ammo for your pistol, one set of flak armor and your maintenance kits." Grizzled the armory sergeant buzzed the stuff in a large bin through the plassteel wall that separated the two. "Please sign here and here"<br/><br/>Taking the clipboard which was slid through the hole in the armaplas window Tarkus scribbled his name down. Pushing it back through the hole the other man looked at it and met the other Sergeants steely brown eyes,<br/><br/>"Good luck Sergeant" The man sounded sincere but didn't give him time to respond before disappearing in the back again. Taking the bin under the other arm the Dusk born headed cross the small waiting room to the lockers. There the gaurdsmen changed into his full battle loadout which included several weeks of rations. Sitting down on the bench after slipping on armor,webbing and tucking everything into it's proper place Tarkus set the lasgun between his legs. Gently he checked her over with meticulous attention reciting simple chant of not the standard Imperial chants but some strange language. Sliding the charge pack in he listened with a smile the subtle hum as power surged through her.<br/><br/>Slinging her over his shoulder Tarkus did a last check of his equipment and their positions. First he did a check of his armor making sure it was strapped on good and tight. After that came the webbing (http://s3.hubimg.com/u/3930982_f520.jpg) check along with it's gear. In one pouch on the front was his two charge packs, the other big pouch held the ten speedloads for<em>Mary</em>strapped to his leg in a drop holster, a smaller pouch held his notebook,pen,folded photo and compass then the canteen pouch, entrenching tool finally his bolo knife. In the butt pack was his ready ration pack, extra glo-sticks,Lho pack,lighter, protein bars and dataslate. The extra lamp pack was carried on the left strap over his chest along with a mesh pouch holding a bloody rock on the other side. On the straps three per side was six ready glo-sticks for marking and light. Everything neatly packed in an orderly fashion all in easy access for him, each pouch marked with the symbol of the Imperial Guard.<br/><br/>Satisfied he adjusted some webbing straps before looking through his backpack (http://simage1.sportsmansguide.com/adimgs/l/6/6260m2_ts.jpg) to make sure things were packed correctly. Off the side hung his bush hat which even when he wasn't wearing he carried just out of habit. Issued flak helmets grew uncomfortable in hotter temperatures and lacked ventilation.  Reaching in he pulled on some tight brown leather gloves before closing the pack and tying the bedroll/blanket combo on top. Sliding it on his back Tarkus adjusted it before finally making a check of his boot straps. All suited up the gaurdsmen made his way down to the shuttle bay.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Leaning against a Arvus lighter the Dusk born pulled a Lho stick from his pack, lighting it despite the complaints of nearby flight crews. Replacing it Tarkus finally could dwell on the briefing further. It was odd that a single platoon was tasked with putting down the rebellion then securing the area against further insurgents. Even over on Tranch it took an entire army to quell then afterwards it required a regiment to keep things on lock down. Letting out a cloud of smoke he watched it swirl in the air compelled by invisible currents. Looking down at his chrono he sighed blowing the thick smoke away from him as it did a lazy dance towards the massive ceiling. The other thing he didn't buy was the fact that the rebellion was localized to one valley. It sounded more like a diversion to something greater.<br/><br/>However like the smoke that danced to unknown currents Tarkus didn't really have a choice in such things. Duty to the Emperor meant his lot in life was just to follow where others told him to go. No control over where or how he would do so. What a load of bullshit he thought sarcastically as he added more spineless smoke for the currents to play with. The Emperor was simply a man who was born to lead, not a god but so many fools seemed to revere him as such. Tarkus respected him as a warrior and leader but never bought the godlike shit the Ministorium spewed. Different strokes for different people.<br/><br/>The Inquisitors were shocked by his outright confession that he didn't fight to further the Emperor's power. At least they looked surprised when they asked why he fought. To tell the truth he fought for a better future, his duty was to humanity rather then a single man. Deep down he knew it was in his hands to allow no one else to suffer his fate. What he suffered every night he didn't wish on even the worst enemy of the Imperium. Tarkus fiddled with the stick, noting that several flight deck men grew nervous, as he remembered the Eldar Farseer who opened his eyes to the truth about such things. Of course such things he kept quiet about and would for the rest of his life.<br/><br/>"Your role may be thankless but if you're willing to give it all, you may bring success to those that outlast you" The statement was said to no one in particular as he puffed on the stick.<br/>