Chapter Text
There’s something wrong with the datapad’s instructions: return to the dormitory for a day of rest. You wait for the joke to end while your chemically scrubbed ranks don fresh uniforms. When it doesn’t, you leave the device in your locker and follow the order.
Holiday
is the unabatedly boisterous consensus in the cells, but twenty years of putting pieces together tells you otherwise, that there’s little chance today marks the Emperor’s decisive victory over chaos. Another three in here have clearly illustrated none of his myriad celebrations reach Narkina, leaving only one reason to suspend work: there isn’t any.