Commissar Kulinov removed his high peaked cap and set it reverently down on the small bedside table. His room could hardly be called extravagant; the only embellishment to his spartan quarters were hundreds of Imperial propaganda posters glued to the walls. The original color of the wall itself was lost as layers of the posters had eventually covered all 4 walls from floor to ceiling. Inflaming and blatantly fabricated Imperial slogans were written over the posters providing a vision bending illusion as the posters and paint competed with one another.
In complete contrast to the busy walls, the rest of the commissar’s quarters was stunningly organized. Everything had its place and the commissar quite clearly made sure that every item made its way back to the correct position at the end of each day. After setting his elegantly peaked cap on the bedside table, he removed his trench coat and set it on the back of his desk chair. The desk itself was covered in classified materiel. Maps, security team strength and layout, shift times, everything that could be of any possible use to the commissar lay in great, teetering stacks upon his desk. In addition to all of the documents, Kulinov also had his own personal radio tuned to the HQ’s frequency. It was plugged into the wall socket but had an emergency cell inserted just in case.
Commissar Kulinov rubbed his temples and grimaced in pain. He had been having headaches for quite some time now, and with no discernable reason, he had been unable to find a cure. He reached into the bedside drawer beneath his hat and withdrew a small bag of green leaves. Grabbing a cup off of his table, he quickly made some homemade tea and sipped the warm liquid appreciatively. Just as he sat down on his cot, the radio crackled.
“Bravo One-Two, this is Echo Six-Seven, do you copy over?”
Kulinov looked up hurriedly from his tea and set the cup down with a load thump on the hardwood table. He hurried over to the set and glanced at the unorganized slew of documents. Shuffling the papers hurriedly, he pulled one out from among the others and lay it on top of the stack.
“Echo Six-Seven, this is Bravo One-Two, what is your report over?”
Static filled the room after Kulinov released the button and awaited a response. There was a brief pause before the patrol in the tunnels responded.
“Sir, this is Echo Six-Seven. We have reached Objective Whiskey. Auspex needs to be repaired upon our return, machine is picking up false signals. All green after that, please advise over.”
Commissar Kulinov smiled at this, and he gloried in their success for a moment before depressing the transmit button.
“Echo Six-Seven, this is Bravo One-Two. Hold position at Objective Whiskey, wait for my command. Situation fluid at current time. Will keep you advised, Bravo One-Two out.”
Commissar Kulinov threw the receiver down and put both of his hands onto the table. He smiled with great satisfaction as he looked over the map in front of him again. There was no noise in the small barracks room, the only sound was Kulinov’s heavy breathing.
Everything is going according to plan.