Interlude: Cursed

I burst into the captain's tent, dropping to my knees. "Mission complete, Sir!" I panted.
 
Captain Gresham looked down at me, the bedraggled mess that I was, before looking to the officer at his side. "Major, set the next phase of the offense in motion while I debrief this solider." The major snapped a salute and marched out, barking orders immediately at anybody in the vicinity.
 
"Get up, you fool," Gresham motioned that I stand. I caught my breath and came to my feet. "We could have done with this news earlier, " he continued. "What happened to Jacobson? Your vox operator?"
 
I flinched as I recalled the memory of him being hit by the enemy artillery. I stared at my feet and shook my head.
 
"I see. And the rest of your platoon?"
 
A memory of wild las fire, of bodies, of the thunderous clatter of small arms fire. Screams covering our retreat.
 
I shook my head.
 
Gresham sighed. "Very well. Report!"
 
"The western fortification was breached, sir. We executed the plan and supported the main strike team with our snipers, picking off greenskins as they charged. The strike team held them off valiantly, allowing us to inflict high casualties on their side. However, after the strike team were wiped out, it was only a matter of time before they saw our position. The first thing we knew was we were being hit by one of their lobbas. I ordered a fighting retreat so that we could draw them out and maximize our damage, sir."
 
Gresham raised an eyebrow, "A retreat?"
 
"Yes, sir. Knox had rigged our position with explosives, and so that allowed us to take some of them out as the reached our outpost. From there, we tried to fight from a distance, but they are so fast, as so you know, sir. Nevertheless, we managed to defeat the squad that was sent after us. Art and Den survived the battle, but with our medical supplies having been lost as well, they didn't survive the trip back. I surveyed the enemy encampment after the battle and it has been abandoned, as was your plan, sir. The remnants look to be massing near the southern mesa." I handed him the magnoculars that were strapped to my belt. The recording on that would be evidence of the mission's success.
 
"I see. So, one strike force and one platoon down, but mission complete." Gresham shook his head. "If it weren't for the fact that you deliver more success than most other operations, I'd be talking to the Commissar right now. You know the men already don't like being assigned to you. None of them make it back, and you scurry away like some kind of rat without a scratch on you. I myself am trying to work out whether you're blessed by the Emperor, may he live forever, or cursed.
 
Go, clean yourself up. There's a rogue trader arriving with some extra supplies tomorrow and we need all the help we can get if we're to take back this blasted rock of a planet. Dismissed, lieutenant!"
 
***
 
I awoke with a start, sweat beading down my face. I got up and splashed water from the washbasin over myself and stared at my reflection in the mirror. Three months had passed since we had been turned over to Inquisitor Rorkin. In some ways, it was the same old story: facing down the firing squad at the end of a mission. For Rathbone, it had been Braxton's testimony that had saved us. This time, Inquisitor Kristoff had been our saving grace. Appearing out of nowhere to corroborate our skills and motivation, giving just enough benefit of the doubt to be deemed an asset instead of a liability.
 
I squinted my eyes and shook my head as I tried to dismiss the memory of Kristoff gunning down the family during our escape from Luggnum. I had told him then that I thought it unlikely that we could work together. And there he was coming to our rescue. At least his own motivations and methods were clearer and ostensibly more righteous than Rathbone's. Some kind of vendetta between him and a heretek.
 
I wondered off-hand who my curse would get killed next. But then, maybe it was different now? I remained untouched by the enemy where everyone else been struck. But my squad had survived. We had survived on Luggnum, we had survived on Scintilla, and we had survived on Barsapine. A sign from the emperor that I my path was just and I had gained his favour, perhaps? Or perhaps something in the group counter-acted whatever fate I would usually bestow upon them. I muttered a prayer under my breath as I changed into my fatigues. A few laps of the upper decks should help clear my head, I decided.
 
I ran until my legs gave out.