The first mission

Petrix watched as the Auto-scribe scratched its stylus across the parchment, searing the squad's equipment requisitions, perforating between duplicates. Two articulated arms gracefully rolled the scroll into a tight bundle, sealing it with wax. Petrix placed one hand on the lever beside the machine, giving it a moment to read his bio-signature and verify his identity, before depressing the plunger, sealing the order with the authority of the Inquisition. The scroll tumbled from the device, into a tube in the floor, where it was pneumatically guided to the armory.

He turned to his squad, after their long debate over requisition and necessary equipment, and no small amount of side-eyeing over the allocation of resources and strategic need and direction. He noted that they all had confidence in their ability to close with the enemy. They had taken his advice without complaint, and he nodded appreciatively.

He stepped into the center of them, raising one fist. "Here, now we fight like brothers, with shaken fists and bruised ribs. Soon, out there," he motioned expansively towards the door, and more generally, at the galaxy, "we fight like Battle Brothers, shoulder to shoulder, back to back."

He put one fist out, waiting for his squadmates to acknowledge him. "We are ready?"