<em>Why do you fight us...</em><br/><br/>Honey slipped over his mind, warming every carves as it slid slowly across his mind. Fear filled him as he stalked dark corridors feeling them press in around him. For the past few others he had been traveling them, passing through blood painted doors all the while a low female voice teased him at every step. Images of his past flickered beyond glass portals. Something was stalking him and he broke into a run using his shoulder to smash through the door in front of him.<br/><br/>Stumbling he landed in liquid face first. Coughing he lifted himself up with his hands to see under the dim hallway lights a red pool underneath him. Blood running off his face Tarkus noticed the legs in front him. Following the bare legs up to the tiny red tuff of hair between the legs then further up. He found Blaze smiling down at him reaching out her hand, a hole in her chest. Black encircled a burnt hole from a las weapon...his las weapon. In horror he watched his hand reach out and take hers. She leaned down to stare into his eyes, her green eyes black oozing blood down her cheeks. Opening her mouth to reveal a black void she let out a piercing scream.<br/><br/><em>She's with us...join us....join her</em><br/><br/>Sweating Tarkus shot out of his bunk slamming his head into the bottom of the top bunk. Cursing the guardsmen held his head before swinging his legs off the bed. Closing his eyes the soldier sat composing himself. Slowly the voices faded to a distant scratching at the very edge of his consciousness. Scanning the bunk room most of the voidsmen and soldiers were sound asleep which relieved him. With just snoring and breathing of fellow comrades he grabbed the pack of Lho sticks form the little sack he pinned to the wall beside a tacked up picture. Lighting the stick he untacked the picture staring at it. It had been eighteen years since Mara but it was like a prison sentence for him. Taking a puff he wondered how long ago sleep claimed him.<br/><br/>Something beeped on the floor drawing his attention. Reaching down with the stick hanging from his lips he reached down and retrieved his dataslate still paused in the middle of a simple card game. Setting the photo down Tarkus clicked the message button and read the new mail. Mostly just spam nowadays since most of his friends were dead or on the front lines. One caught his eye though marked with the icon of the big I as he liked to call it. Opening it the Dusk born saw it read like the one that ordered him to climb aboard this ship.<br/><br/><em>Officer's Wardroom, Now<br/>Make Haste and expect company<br/><strong>-The Emperor Protects</strong></em><br/><br/>Rubbing his face Tarkus set it down beside the photo taking a long drag on the stick this time. Reaching down he slipped his boots on before strapping them on. Standing up he took the photo,pack and slate with him. Moving to the lockers near the door out of the room he opened the one labeled<em>T. Antoz</em>. Unlike most of the other lockers around him his was clean and devoid of personal touches. All that stood hanging off the hook was his gear. Setting the stuff in his hands inside he shrugged on his fatigue shirt (http://www.sofmilitary.co.uk/products/Vietnam%20OG%20107%20Utility%20shirt%20290113%2004.JPG), buttoning it up before tucking it in. Only thing missing was his armor and weapons which he would have to get from the armory.<br/><br/>Leaving his webbing in the locker he pulled out<em>Mary</em>(http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs9/i/2006/007/6/3/Pistol_by_psionic.jpg) and her black synth leather gun belt putting it on. On the left side of the belt a reload of the massive caliber rounds lay in little loops. Sliding out the cylinder Tarkus confirmed she was loaded before putting her in the custom holster beside the custom sheath for his Bolo knife (http://www.worldwideswords.net/White%20Jigged%20Genuine%20Stag%20Giant%20Damascus%20Bowie%20Knife.jpg). The last things were putting the photo,notebook with pen,lighter and Lho pack in the breast pockets. Taking another puff of the stick between his lips Tarkus grabbed the olive keffiyeh and dark brown bush hat (http://www.jplegacy.org/jpencyclopedia/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/muldoon2.png) then closed the locker locking it. Wrapping the garb around his neck he slipped the hat on his head. Stopping to look at himself in the mirror absently brushing the many faint stains on his clothes.<br/><br/>Slipping into the corridor he looked left then right as the bodies moved both ways. Voidsmen moved in orderly chaos to him but to them this was routine and in control. Several glanced at him in his regiments odd headgear but soon moved on with their day. Looking down at the dataslate which held a map of the ship Tarkus for a few minutes studied his route. Although he had been on this ship for a few weeks the Dusk born had taken the time to commit the layout to memory. Mostly an exercise to stave off sleep but served a practical purpose. In any boarding action knowing where to hold and where to fall back to was crucial in such tight spaces. Even though he missed the swamps of Dusk he understood that such things were necessary in the Imperial Guard.<br/><br/>It was relatively quiet walk through the decks beside the usual din of men doing duties and rounds. They were accompanied with the groans of the ship in the void. Listening to the sounds of ship life gave him the excuse to ignore the monster balled up in his soul. Stopping by an observation lounge Tarkus stared out at the stars beyond the thick armaplas. Warm memories of Blaze and him staring up through the straw roof at the stars came to him causing a faint smile on his grim lips. Tugging out the notebook and pen he lost himself in sketching a nearby frighten that drifted by, the scratching of pen on paper filling the empty room. A few minutes later the gaurdsmen slipping the book back in his pocket.<br/><br/>Glancing at his chrono he noticed it had been several minutes since the message arrived. He would be late but it didn't bother him, they wouldn't go on without him and he wasn't in his regiment anymore. For him this may as well be leisure time. Anytime away from the frontlines found him generally soaking it up. One learned that life is fleeting and to enjoy every moment out of the fire. Besides what were they going to do? Shunt him out a airlock? Doubtful given how much time they put into him. Coughing he lit another stick and made the final leg of his journey.<br/><br/>A hiss from the hatch after a beep from the scanner revealed the wardroom. The Dusk born stood in the doorway with a stick hanging from his lips brown eyes sweeping the occupants. Resting on the First Mate then to the priest with serious sleeping issue, the Oyrgn with an interesting taste in hats and to a man who by the way he sat was of high birth. At him the very large feral worlder let off a small smirk before nodding at the Oygrn's words,<br/><br/>"I prefer to stand sir, okay if I smoke?" Although his gravelly voice (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s3rxYfglcpw) was low, there was the underlay of a man who was far from timid. Moving into the room Tarkus slipped beside the door. Taking a long drag on the stick he closed his eyes before exhaling. Opening them again he did another count of the people around him. This time he did a more in depth analysis of weapons,personalities and quirks. Instinctively a hand fell down unconsciously to the grip of<em>Mary</em>, fingers caressing the grooves. Naturally he stayed silent beyond his assertion and question. If they wanted him to speak they would of told him. For now he would stay silent till otherwise instructed.