Desperate Reinforcements

"Another unit."

Yushikin sighed, removed his lenses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"What news have you brought?"

He looked up at Colonel Ivanov's face, sincerely hoping the man had not come here.

The one-armed officer looked as though he had just been soaked in water and then left out to dry. A greasy sheen clung to Fask's double-chinned face, and his uniform looked as if he had slept in it countless times without ever washing it.

But clean water was scarce throughout the camp now, let alone enough for washing and pressing uniforms.

Even officers in command positions had no choice but to wear the same uniform for months on end.

Usually, after a while, most people stopped noticing the smell.

An hour after the combat meeting ended, Ivanov appeared in his room carrying a bottle of liquor, smiling.

The bottle was already one-third empty.

Reeking of alcohol, Ivanov sat down in the folding chair opposite Yushikin.

"Buddy, is this how you relax these days?"

Ivanov's eyes swept across the stack of maps spread over the folding table beside Yushikin's bed.

Lines in different-colored inks crisscrossed the maps, while neat handwritten annotations filled the empty spaces beside the circled areas. Yushikin dearly wished he could put them away before Ivanov started reading them.

"Is everything all right?"

After a long silence, Ivanov asked.

"I mean, are you holding up?"

The Imperium general shrugged.

In truth, he was very, very tired.

But he did not want to sleep, nor did he want to talk to Ivanov.

They had once served together in Aswan.

Back then, they had both been company commanders, young and full of the comfortable nonsense so common among soldiers.

Yushikin believed it was that history which made Ivanov regard him as a true friend.

The only