Arn throw up into his helmet. Which is not a good way wake up. He was not 100 percent he was sure it was his helmet since his eyes were still closed so he could not be sure it was his helmet. But he definitely had a helmet in his hands and he had definitely thrown up. Broken thoughts chased each other around his head debating if throwing up into his or somebody else helmet was worse - but the ideas fall apart before coming to any conclusions due to the 2nd thing he noticed.
His head was ringing. Ringing was to nice a description. It was a pounding vibrating noise that he could feel deep down in his bones.... and was not actually a headache. It was actually external to him.
He opened his eyes. He could not see much, it was somewhat dark where ever he was but he could see tell four things. Firstly it was his helmet and it was filled with sick. The second was that he was strapped into something and his chest really hurt. The third was that he was in the belly of some sort of vehicle which was generating the noise. The fourth was that his sense of perception was all messed up. Because the figure looking at him seemed enormous.
A memory from last night coughed politely at him - waiting for him to acknowledge it. He remembered yelling "hey dickless" before leaping of a first floor balcony and plummeting feet first into the face of a man dressed in a uniform that seemed very similar to the one that sat across from him. In the name of the Gods, no not that anymore, in the name of logic and law he'd killed the man with his reckless attack and now he was off to face his punishment. Penal battalion at best, death probably, death and being hollowed out into a servitor if he was unlucky. You heard rumours.
"Ah good your awake." The voice was deep, and mellow "Trick I got taught - a one hundredth dose of the Astarte emergency xenos infection purge sorts out a drunk person a treat, Why I always carry a few doses with me even if I don't expect to need it for it's proper use. You should now be noticing your hunger and thirst. It's on chair to your left."
Arn found himself agreeing with the figure but rather unable to take advantage of the kindness due to his hands being occupied holding a helmet full of sick. He dithered until the helmet was removed from his hands by his companion. He grabbed the rations and water and wolfed them down. Utterly standard emergency rations - bland and tough and it tasted better then mothers basted Gronx Nutts.
It was then that he noticed how small his helmet was in that person hands, there was nothing wrong with his perception the figure opposite him as just massive. Larger then any person had right to be - I mean he was big enough to be an Astarte.....
Oh Gods he'd killed an Astarte. Having his corpse turned into a servitor was literally the best he could hope for. Wait that was definitely not possible Another memory waved for his attention. It was the gentleman he'd kicked in the face. The figure lifting him up with one hand and throwing him back on the balcony he'd leapt off - and straight into a wall. That would explain why his entire front ached so very much.
It was not just the uniform that was familiar - the face was as well. Very familiar. This was the person he'd kicked in the face, alive, unharmed it seemed, so Arn was not a murderer then.
But then why was he.... oh in the name of Imperial Truth Rough housing. Rumour had it that if you impressed them you'd make up onboard a ship bound for the Legions......
Arn sat bolt upright.
The figure chuckled "that rumour still going around I see - total myth. You don't get into the Legion as a result of a single bar brawl. We are just making sure you get back to your base - consider it a courtesy from the XVIII legion. We are on descent now in fact. I suspect you have some memory loss that's normal. I don't want to ruin the surprise for you if it comes back but Alighri told me to say 'Thanks'."
Arn gulped "what for?" he stammered out.
The smile went even broader. "Well I missed it but apparently you walked up to Alighri and tried to chat up the young lady he was with...." He paused leaving it hanging - Arns eyes went as wide as saucers.
"...because he was pretty sure she was a spy for a Remembrancer group looking for scandal, trying to needle him about losing the bet. And what she got was a young hero of the Empire saying lovely things about working with the XVIII legion while doing his best to impress her and remain standings. His exact word were 'you can't buy coverage like that - thanks."
The craft landed with a thump - and Arn's companion pulled the door open.
"Off you go!" Arn clambered to his feet and made his way towards the door, taking his helmet back. He hesitated "so your really not going to take me to the legion?" there was a touch of disappointment in his voice.
"Of course not - you don't get in that easily. I mean we've tagged your file with 'of interest' since you seem to have the right stuff but there is world more to it then that. You'd have to work at it, really earn it, and then work some more. But lets just say you kicked the door open a little bit. Off you go, you've got friends coming to meet you."
Arn stepped down out of the craft, dazed and confused. He looked up and saw the unit 'Morale' officer coming towards him. Oh hell.
From behind him he heard his friends voice one last time "Oh by the way you've been gone for a week. So you might want to make the best impression you can." Arn's panicked, jammed his helmet on his head and started straightening his uniform.
Amongst the blast and whirr of the craft lifting off Arn swore he could hear a belly laugh even over the roar of the engines, as the vomit slowly slid down his face.