conversations: human
conversations:  It had been three short Warp Jumps from Watch Station Barrow to the place the Diviners had a vision of. It was a system that wasn't on anyone's maps, as far as you know. An ancient system, who's star has long since burned out and collapsed into but a tiny, pale light amid rings of destroyed worlds. There was a sense of ancient despair in the system, the voidfarers aboard the vessel all in a morose mood, offering muted and solemn prayers to the God-Emperor. Rumors of this place being a cursed system, where the souls of the damned gathered soon spread like wildfire through the crew.
  
  For days your ship has been on silent running, burning the plasma drives on low as it steamed deeper into the rock fields of the unnamed star system. Tensions are high, the system is choked with rock, and any given rock could hide anything from Fighter-Bombers and Gunships swarming out to blow chunks out of your ship and board it, to minefields or defense cannons. Even the hardened sailors, proven in battle, were getting on edge as the Augurs continued to show nothing for day after day.
  
  You were nearing the point where even the pale star was giving off tremendous heat, the airless rocks inhospitable, nearly molten chunks of slag, when the first scans came in reporting an unusual contact. Refined metals and shielding, unlike the simple base metal ores that had comprised the rocks in the field so far.
  
  The black hulled Deathwatch ship eased around and asteroid, and saw the dockyard facility. A large, open "Rib cage" floating in the void, big enough to fit even a massive Imperial Vessel such as a Battlecruiser, or perhaps the Chapter's Battle-Barge.
  
  And most disheartening of all, the expected  Roboute's Gambit  was not inside the docks. Instead, cradled within the relatively thin, spindly looking supports of the dockyard facility. Empty? No. Currently a smaller vessel, identified as a Strike Cruiser, rested within it, scans reporting that it was currently under repairs.
  
  The Kill-Team holds the final say on how to proceed. It is your mission. Your expected prize isn't here, but a Strike Cruiser is. A dockyard facility is discovered, and the crew awaits your orders, to attack, to run, or otherwise.
conversations: ArcturusV:
conversations: human
conversations:  As the flood of preliminary reports began to hit the bridge, Sarosh released a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. The days of travel, while not unsettling as it was for the normal folk on board the vessel, had worn on his mind--he was restless. He had petitioned for the Watch Captain to assign him to what he'd thought would be the thick of the action, taking the fight to the traitorous Astartes. And yet, despite all the careful planning and sleepless hours of Divination, they'd fallen just shy of their quarry. The heretic-crewed  Roboute's Gambit  was nowhere to be seen. A shipyard and War Knight Strike Cruiser made for small recompense for such an indignity, but it would have to suffice.
  
  Relieving himself from his post nearby a holo-tank's tactical map, the towering Battle-Brother turned towards the Captain-Pilot of their vessel. He'd made a point to familiarize himself with the woman and her officers aboard the voidship, taking great care to ensure that he himself (and his blessed Armour) had been seen about the ship; calling on mortal men to combat Adeptus Astartes, even those who had forsaken the Emperor and his divine protection, was a daunting task. The issue of morale had become all the more important with their entrance to the blighted system, the ratings murmuring amongst themselves and gently sowing the seeds of fear. With his conspicuous appearances and occasional interactions with the common crew, Sarosh hoped to have instilled enough strength of purpose to guide the men through the charnel house he and the rest of the squad intended to lead them. Only the trials and terrors of combat, unfortunately, would provide an answer.
  
   "Captain, continue to run silent. I understand that an augury scan of great depth would reveal us as well as our opponents, and I trust in your discretion with finding other, quieter methods."  Ensuring that he maintained eye-contact, Sarosh grinned disarmingly.  "It wouldn't do to let our prey know we've come for them--while exhilarating, we can ill afford a chase through the void. I require you to obtain estimates of the enemy's strength, and the capacity of the shipyard. We may well need to strip it for resources or destroy it, as best benefits our mission objectives. My Brothers and I will be conferring in that same time to refine our plan of battle; the  Gambit  has eluded us, but there is only so long it can outrun our justice." 
  
  After bowing slightly to the woman (a gesture of great respect, Sarosh supposed), the Tactical Marine straightened to his full height.  "I likewise require your assistance in a smaller matter. In the span of one halved Terran hour, have the naval reserves gathered in the main hangar and engage the vox systems. I would speak with the men, and not merely those following our Squad into glorious combat. Throne guide and keep!" 
  
  With that settled and a crude plan outlined, the Star Marauder went to collect his two squadmates, his grin growing wider and more joyous with every step. It was a tragedy that the War Knights had broken troth with Holy Terra...but by the Emperor, what a way to prove the mettle of the loyal Astartes! Huzzah!
conversations: Vexing:
conversations: human
conversations:  Enoch has been training constantly since he heard the news about the War Knights. It wasn’t the role of the Deathwatch to punish such treachery but they would clearly be needed in the coming war. Besides, the War Knights had made it personal. Not only had they spat on their Oaths, they had decimated his gene cousins the Doom Brothers. Even if no other members of the Unforgiven were at hand, he had a duty to his chapter to seek vengeance. Yet, no battle against fellow Astartes should be undertaken lightly, and he has spent most of the voyage training with the practice Servitors in order to keep his reflexes sharp.
  
  In the last hour, Enoch had felt the tell tale signs of the ship entering real space, and now he could hear the distant sounds of the ship’s engines change as it slowed. They were almost at their destination. After dispatching the last of his opponents, he nodded absently at the attendant menials as he left the room.
  
  He was not unduly worried. There had been no alarms or messages to suggest that the ship was entering battle immediately but still, it would only be a matter of time.
  
  Over a vox channel, ‘Sarosh, what news is there?’
conversations: Idley:
conversations: human
conversations:  The female captain, an aging white haired Imperial woman with a cybernetic right arm and eye, nodded in deference to the SPESS MEHREEN Sarosh's request. She had been competent enough seeming on the voyage, kept her ship well disciplined, there were rumors that she was in Naval Security in her younger days, been involved in boarding actions against everything from Orks to Eldar. She at least seemed comfortable with the battle-brother and his power armor on the bridge, not rattled or intimidated by him but very respectful.
  
  "It will be done Lord." With that she walked out over the bridge, giving quiet orders to her command crew, passed on amongst vox casters through the bowels of the ship. She seemed to be lingering over the Augur operators in particular, overseeing their work in compliance with Sarosh's request for further information.
  
  Several minutes later the Captain came back to the SPESS MEHREEN, holding out a Data-Slate with preliminary reports on the Dockyard facility. It seemed to be unarmed, a repair structure that most likely counted upon its hidden nature as a defense, rather than firepower. The Strike Cruiser was damaged, estimated at a 75% combat capability, currently undergoing repairs, both from servitors working in the void and mechanical arms on the dockyards working the exterior, to the God-Emperor knows how many bodies repairing the internal structure.
  
  
  
  Meanwhile the armsmen gathered in their armor and weapons. Highly nervous over the upcoming action, but seemed to be a good tension. No whispers of fear and defeatism at the moment, just eager and keyed up for the action, some uncertainty about the approach, as there often was among the merely mortal after all. People making last minute appeasements to their machine spirits, or offering up prayers to the God-Emperor.
conversations: ArcturusV:
conversations: human
conversations:  "Comrade Enoch, the news is unexpected but still enticing. The  Gambit  eludes us, but the Lady-Captain has uncovered a sizable shipyard hidden amongst the celestial debris. Its energies are currently being directed to repairing a Strike Cruiser--that of our wayward brethren. While the traitor Knights and their ill-gotten prize will have to wait, we can take or disable this cruiser."  Sarosh's boisterous chuckle could be heard loud and clear over the in-built vox system.  "I'm heading to the armory to observe litanies, and then to the main hangar to speak with our reserves. I've a servitor nearby me with a hailer, but I would prefer to speak with you in person as we prepare our wargear." 
   "Find priests, if you're able. We will require them to bless our endeavor as well as lift spirits. Our translation into the system has rattled the morale of the more weak-minded of crew and requires replenishment with the God-Emperor's wisdom, to stoke their fury."  A slight pause preceded his next request, though it was phrased more as an order:  "Bring Battle-Brother Wilhelm. Our task requires the full of our strength. I expect you both in the Armory within the hour. Ours is the fury, Brother."  Signalling the nearby mono-task servitor to wander off (wheezing as it went), Sarosh conducted himself immediately to the Armory himself, calling on the attendant Priests of Mars to wake and bless the machine-spirits of the weapons he had chosen: a powerful chainsword from his own chapter-vaults, his trusted and thrice-cleansed boltgun, and the assault shotgun with its heavy slug rounds. He could think of no more glorious armaments to bring justice to the traitor marines.
conversations: Vexing:
conversations: human
conversations:  Behind his helmet, Enoch grins. 'Then we are in luck. The more of them we can catch away from Coma the better. Taking their ship away from them is no more then they deserve.' Then he will break into a jog, which causes a pair of naval officers coming the other way to flatter themselves against the corridor walls. 'I will be with you shortly.'
  
  Enoch is already wearing most of his battle gear, including the sword he had reforged to Astartes scale when he was raised to his Chapter. He has been in too many naval engagements to feel entirely secure aboard a warship, even when it isn't expecting battle.
  
  Opening another vox-link; 'Brother Wilhelm, we are needed in the armoury. We have work to do.' He will then go and find a priest.
conversations: Idley: