Editing The Commissar and His Maid (section)

==Part 17==
It's been a long day, Tricero.

6345 caught a cold yesterday. She had been helping out with clearing the parade ground of empty bottles and streamers with the Valhallan soldiers, while the Valhallan commissars and I dealt out the usual post celebratory disciplinary measures. One of the Valhallans was up for the lash, for commandeering a chimera and doing what the Valhallan commissar called "doughnuts" in the motor pool.

Needless to say, the cogboys weren't happy about having to perform a full track replacement. So we agreed on twenty lashes and a prohibition on the unit's dessert rations.

Anyway, turns out the Valhallans had said that the Kriegers were being soft by wearing their greatcoat, instead of their shirtsleeves like the Valhallans were. The majority of Kriegers ignored them, but 6345 is not the sort of girl who would take it.

So she has a cold, and is tucked into her bunk getting some sleep. She tried to do her normal aide work, but i ordered her back to bed. She grudgingly trudged back to her bunk, but I heard her working on her dataslate, which i promptly confiscated. The Imperium needs strong soldiers, i explained, and if she didn't get better, she wouldn't be an effective solider if she was sneezing and sniffling in a combat zone.

She pouted as she handed me her data slate, and glared at me as I pocketed it. So I went to my foot locker and pulled out the scarf she had bought me. I wrapped it around her neck, and told her to get some sleep, I could handle the reports for one day.

I'll be back soon Tricero, going to get some lunch. Do you actually eat anything? No?
<...Buffering...>
In another mirroring of how she looked after me, I just finished feeding...
Tricero? Should your scribe unit be making that noise? Yes? If you're sure.
So i got some soup from the mess hall, as well as some toast, the Valhallans know how to make a good meal, let me tell you.

So I come back, with the meal on the mess tray, some soup, some toasted bread, a dessert ration, and something the locals called guava juice.

I tried to feed her, like she had fed me, but she outright refused.
"It's not right sir. I can feed myself", she said, as she pulled the tray from my hands and glared at me again. I know that sometimes, there isn't a point in fighting, so I left.
A few minutes later, she called for me, and when I entered the room, she sheepishly grinned at me, and offered me the tray. I just laughed and took it, but she then beckoned me closer.
She offered the last square of her chocolate ration to me.

I Returned the favor she had given me, and took the square from her fingers. She blushed as she snuggled back down into her blankets, and dozed off again.

Yeah, i stood there and waited for her to go back to sleep, don't give me that look.
<...buffering...>
Hey, you okay? Just seemed like you finished the missive, but I'm not finished yet.

She dozed off again, and I returned to my reports for the day. Later that evening, she shuffled out from the sleeping quarter, blanket pulled around her, helmet on, mask around her neck. "Permission to go to the mess, sir?"
"Permission denied, can't risk you infecting the troops."
She glared at me for that, "What about you, sir?"
I smiled, "Commissarial immunization, I'm immune".
She just pouted, and asked for some dinner. I told her I would be back in a moment.

I returned to find her at her desk, data slate in hand, still wrapped in her blanket. I frowned at her and put her meal tray down on her desk.
"I thought i ordered you back to bed."
She just shook her head, "You did not, sir"
"Well I am now. Bed. Go."
She glared at me and returned to her bed, leaving the tray of food on her table. I sighed, grabbed the tray and followed her. Doing the reports had been hellish, I don't know how she does it all.
<...Buffering...>
I found her back on her bunk, looking very unhappy.
"I know you feel like you always have to be strong, but it's okay. You can be like this. Around me anyway", I explained.
She looked up at me
"Really?"
I nodded, and offered her a spoon full of soup. 6345 smiled at me, and wrapped her lips around the spoon.

And that, Tricero, is how I finally got to see 6345 eat. Well, eat without a mask on. How they eat with their masks on is beyond me. So she finished the soup, and her toast, and the dessert ration. She snuggled back down into her blankets, the scarf still around her neck.

She smiled at me, and bid me good night. I, well, I did what the Sister superior did when i was a young boy back in the orphanage and was sick. I kissed her on the forehead, and whispered the litany of healing. 6345 giggled, and asked what I was doing. I explained how that's what happened when commissars get sick. A sister hospitaller kisses them on the forehead and says the litany of healing, as well as sings the hymn of the cushioned feline.
6345 laughed, and asked what the hymn of the cushioned feline was. So i sang it for her, after which I explained that it only got sang to the commissars who had gone above and beyond the call of duty. There is a tale of how Commissar Fuklaw had it sung to him by a choir of Hospitallers. She laughed and snuggled further into her blankets.

I bid her good night, and here I am, spilling my guts to you. Strange times, strange times.


Recorded 4210988.M41
68th Krieg Field Artillery – Saghalain
Autoscribe #303440288