Editing 97th Conglomerate's Tyrannic War (section)

=== Part 1 - Calm Before The Storm ===

''Well...'' Samson thought to himself. ''This has gone surprisingly well so far.'' He looked down to Natasha’s head resting on his bare chest, her lips just about touching the tip of the left wing of his aquila tattoo. While Samson remained wary of the lack of assault by the enemy, he and his sergeant had become very close. 

As the dull early morning twilight spilled into the quarters through the small window slits at the top of the walls, Samson couldn’t help but smirk. Natasha had worked out an agreement with Hanz and Grayson for them to vacate the bunk room in favour of another one every few nights. Grayson initially had protested until she had threatened to let slip that the Catachan had been sleeping with the Colonel’s daughter. So, he complied and now her and Samson had enjoyed 4 nights together alone. Samson turned slightly to look at the chronometer to see how off it was, as the day/night cycle of this world did not agree with the regiments 24-hour system. As he turned, Natasha roused somewhat. 

“What’s wrong, darling?” She lulled in her sleepy voice. Samson turned to look down at her again as she lazily rolled to straddle him. She turned her head upwards to rest her chin on his sternum, her tired blue eyes looking into his.

“Nothing.” He lied. He had been awake for a couple hours now and his mind had been asking more questions than he could find answers for. “I was just checking the time.”

“Why bover? You know it’s wrong anyway.” She pouted slightly with her lips as she nuzzled into his chest. Samson never thought he’d see his sergeant like this, but he also knew he’d never see her like he did before either. 

“Come on.” He said, moving the blanket off of them. “Let’s get ready for muster.”

It was around noon locally, and Cronus stood over the tacticarium table. The other company commanders stood around, a gathering of the 18 different companies of the 97th. All looked at Cronus, who was not only commander of the first company but also the regimental commander. The tacticarium table was lit up with 3-dimensional figures and runes denoting meaning to the information. All the officers scanned the data with their eyes, all made uncomfortable by what they saw. Samson and the rest of the squad sat in the corner on high stools around a high table, Grayson shifting with discomfort from the silence. 
The tacticarium room of the Sector 1 Command Bunker was almost cavernous, able to easily fit all of the company commanders plus some of their choice retinues. Cronus was the only one with full retinue, accompanied also by Lady Commissar Aurelia and his regimental advisors. 

“Just... It doesn’t...” Cronus pushed off the table, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “It makes no sense.”With the silence broken the company commanders milled about more comfortably. Some grabbed coffee from a table to the side, other stepped outside for a cigarette. Cronus grabbed his mug from the table and walked over to the squad in the corner, followed by the Lady Commissar.

“Alright, being honest, I wasn’t half paying attention so please,” Grayson said with a tone of sarcasm. “Enlighten me?”

“The swarm... they aren’t attacking.” Lady Commissar began with a glare at the Catachan. 

“What do you mean ‘not attacking’? I’ve had to pop shots off at whole platoon-sized formations poking to find a hole in the line.” Grayson responded, disbelieving. Aurelia shot him an extremely annoyed glance. She contemplated physically dragging him to the table and shoving his face into it, but she restrained herself. 

“You see that big red blob 100 kilometres out?” She pointed, talking to him like an idiot, her voice laced with disdain. She then crossed her arms and looked at the display suspiciously. “That’s the primary concentration of the Tyranid biomass. For whatever reason, they don’t feel like moving. They’re waiting for something.” 

“So how do we plan to deal with it?” Natasha butted in from the corner table, other company commanders have drawn their attention to the incredulous Commissar and Catachan. To this, Cronus replied. 

“We are sending out a bike-mounted scout detachment from 3rd Company, I believe.” He sipped his coffee thoughtfully. “They will be departing tomorrow morning. In the meantime, most of the companies will be redeploying to this side of the city due to the lack of enemy presence elsewhere. No activity has been reported at all on the western side of the city, and with the walls and guns behind us on the eastern side here we have a better chance of holding them. If we get lucky, the enemy will push soon and we can crush them through overwhelming firepower.”

“And if that doesn’t work?” Hanz spoke up for the first time all day. The gathering eyed the pallid Krieger uncomfortably, silence settling between the guardsmen.

None of the squad members stuck around for an answer. Samson was the first to stand and make for the door, Natasha close behind. Grayson walked away from the tacticarium and Hanz was slow to follow. As Samson stepped out into the dull light and almost immediately began to sweat through his fatigues. The air had become stuffy and hot over the past few days, the clouds slowly blushing to a sickly green hue. Samson hadn’t decided where he was walking to yet, he just knew he could no longer stand the high-collared officers and brass that filled the command bunker. He started in the direction of the forward Aegis Line to where PDF crews were digging trenches directly in front of the wall of metal. Grayson and Hanz broke away to go carry on with their own business while Natasha caught up to Samson’s brisk pace. She went to ask him a question, but he beat her to it.

“Okay, so this is going to seem random.” Samson began, slowing down to a more casual pace to accommodate for Natasha’s height. “Do you remember the night before we deployed that we - well, you - got drunk and I had to walk you to your personal quarters?”

“Vaaaaaguely...” Natasha replied, the details foggy in her head due to her drunkenness. 

“If those were your quarters that I walked you to, then why were you in the barracks my first morning on the ship?” At this, Natasha stopped dead and went wide-eyed with fright. “What?”

“Samson, you know how I have a reputation amongst the company?” She asked lightly, knowing it displeased him. 

“Who were you sleeping with?” He asked with a deep sigh.

“Does it matter?” She asked, wanting to avoid the subject. “We used the barracks to avoid prying eyes because, well, they were normally empty.”

“I guess that’s fair.” He concluded. 

As they walked, they both breathed in the stink on the air that filled the noses of everyone. Samson looked out at the vehicle pools briefly, watched as the scout bikers loaded their saddlebags for departure the next morning. To him, something felt off. This world was changing and there was nothing they could do to stop it.