After they were dismissed, everyone chose to return to their rooms aboard the Warship, their heavy footsteps echoing through the corridors of the lower decks.
The Word Bearers Recruits returned to their quarters in orderly fashion.
Unlike the private cabins enjoyed by officers and seasoned veterans, the Recruits' living spaces were simpler and more compact.
This was not discrimination, but a purely practical consideration: as the Great Crusade continued, the Legion kept expanding, bringing in vast numbers of new warriors, and space aboard a Warship was an extremely valuable strategic resource.
Housing Recruits in shared quarters was therefore a necessary measure to make efficient use of that space.
These cabins were usually communal quarters for three or four, with extremely basic furnishings: sturdy, fixed alloy bunks, personal lockers, a basic weapons maintenance bench, and the necessary environmental control interfaces.
There were no unnecessary decorations. Everything served the most basic needs of rest and maintenance.
Yet not a single Recruit complained.
From the moment they successfully endured those nineteen grueling gene-modification surgeries and emerged from their Mortals' shells, their understanding of themselves had fundamentally changed.
They were no longer independent individuals, but weapons forged in the Emperor's hands for humanity's future, blades raised against xenos and heretics.
Personal comfort and pleasure had long since been stripped from their priorities.
Collective efficiency, Legion discipline, and readiness for battle were all that mattered to them.
Perseus, Frank, and the other Recruits assigned to Fifth Squad followed the familiar corridors toward their allotted quarters.
The airtight door slid open, and the somewhat cold lights inside the cabin came on automatically.
The moment they stepped inside, a figure rose beside one of the bunks at the back.
He was an exceptionally powerfully built warrior. Even in basic training clothes, the tremendous strength beneath them was