Editing Tranch warfare for a noble (section)

==Chapter 1: Welcome to Tranch==

Georgio Belechus. Black haired, blue-eyed, tall, fit 28-years old man. Youngest of his line, following his father in glory of the Imperial Guard, hammer of the emperor. Or so he thought. But instead of being assigned into the role of an officer, he found himself getting loaded onto a ship, heading to a world he had never heard of. This had to be a mistake, he was no mere recruit! He was of noble blood, and that alone made him better than any of the mud-huggers around him. And now he has to do some work-out with them?! No way. 

"Excuse me sergeant... I am Geo-" 

The sergeant cut him short: "I know damn well who you are, private Georgio! You will do the exercises just like everyone else! Stop your dilly-dallying and give me twenty push-ups!" 

Georgio frowned: "But sir, I am of noble origins and-" 

"NO BUTS PRIVATE! MAKE IT THIRTY PUSH UPS!" Georgio did not expect that, and he decided his best option was to follow the orders for now. 

But he had one question he would not tolerate left unanswered: "Sir? where are we going?" Sergeant stared at him, with a look that could be described only as amused: "You lazy bastard will be transferred to Calixis-sector, to a planet called Tranch. It is a great place to get whatever got into that thick skull to use!" This would be a long warp-travel...
 
Two weeks later, the ship finally exited the immaterium. Georgio had been trained the basics and the job of a loader: Mortars, artillery, heavy weapons... Skills Georgio found useless for an officer. They really were making him start from the bottom like the rabble. Vox-casters roared to life: "ATTENTION. ALL PERSONNEL ASSIGNED TO TRANCH. PROCEED TO THE DOCKING BAY. PLANETARY STATUS: 1,0829 GRAVITATIONAL STANDARD FORCES, AVERAGE OF 12 DEGREES OF CELSIUS STANDARD AND PLANET-ENCROACHING DUST-CLOUDS. MAY THE EMPEROR BE WITH YOU." 

Doesn't sound too good, Georgio thought, but not too bad either, considering he came from a world in its early stages of imperial industrialization, which had caused its skies to darken and temperature to drop year by year, so the climate wasn't too different from what his home would be in twenty years, if the calculations of the adepts could be trusted. Georgio was stuffed in a shuttle that had seats for 50 soldiers... And had 67 already stuffed in. Great. Landing was surprisingly comfortable, as Georgio expected anti-air fire or engine failure, or any other disastrous event. On the landing pad, recruits were assigned to form new squads. Georgio was an exception. 

"Georgio, your new partner is waiting for you in barrack 21. Get moving!" as Georgio found the place, he saw a man standing next to the door smoking a lho-stick. The man looked old (for a guardsman) and had a heavily modified set of flak armor. The man also had a dirty stubble of a beard. Last, but not least, his right arm was much better muscled than his left one. 

The man noticed Georgio and took took a last inhale of lho-stick´s bitter smoke before asking: "You the new guy? Recruit assigned here?" 

Georgio was not sure what to think of this man, but chose to tell the truth, as embarrassing as he thought being called recruit was: "Yeah. And you are..?" 

"Jericus. Heavy weapons team. You have been assigned as my new loader. I´ll teach you the ropes, don´t worry." 

"I already got the training..." 

"Oh, no you didn't get nearly enough. Welcome to Tranch, rookie."