It didn’t seem right to Varens, disrespecting their weapons like that, and he scowled at his fellows. Most of them were from worlds far away from his. They were too tired and too sick to notice his disapproval. He elbowed his way forward and carefully laid his and Bolus’ gun down at the circle’s edge.

‘You’ve served me well,’ he said quietly, resting his hand on the stock of his rifle. ‘I pray your spirit finds rest, if you are not to return to the war.’

Leaving his gun was like leaving his heart on the floor, but when he stood and let out a shaky breath, he realised it was a release to be free of it.

His hands went to the buckles fastening his webbing and armour. He was still clothed, but he was cold and shivering already, and his numb fingers struggled with the catches. It wasn’t just the chill: his hurts troubled him. There was a core of flesh missing from his back, just below his shoulder blade. It was still raw around the edges, unnaturally hot. He had not even noticed receiving the wound. In one moment what had once been simple had become permanently fraught with pain. Try as he might, he could not refuse to acknowledge the frailty of his own flesh. The evidence of his weak fingers slipping on the catches was right before his eyes.

After half a minute of fumbling, the catch cooperated and undid. His shoulder plates slid weightily from his body, taking a good portion of his bodily warmth with him. He wasn’t looking forward to taking his uniform off.

Bolus’ shouts had him looking up.

‘Fifteen!’ Bolus was struggling in the restraining arms of a medicae. He was trying to get at Gideon, his arms outstretched. Shouted orders from the medicae team ripped across the throng, augmitter harsh. In a minute, there would be armed men emerging from the tents.

‘Don’t know what’s got into you, old man!’ said Gideon as Bolus lunged towards him. He smiled widely. ‘You should calm down. Easy street for a month or so, before we’re back to the front.’

‘Fifteen!’ shouted Bolus. He pawed at the medicae’s faceplate.

‘Stand down!’ shouted the man. His colleague was reaching for a compact webber. It looked to Varens like the medicae were used to this kind of thing. He wasn’t surprised. The sights they’d seen were enough to drive anyone insane.

‘Hey!’ called Varens. He dropped his armour where it was and shoved his way back through the soldiers. A gaggle had stopped to watch, and it made the going tougher on the way back. He carved a path with his elbows.

Bolus had made no move to disrobe or remove his armour.