This wasn't the first time she'd found herself having to make a hasty exit from a ship--though it was undoubtedly the first where stopping the ship from breaking entirely had been within her purview, and Honoria was rather... irked that she hadn't the time to ascertain what had gone wrong. Still, she was well versed in escape procedures: step one was always, [i]always[/i] to put size and bulk to use securing an escape route. The haft of a chainaxe made a good tool for tripping errant guardsmen, and as she rounded the last corner, one unfortunate man found a metal claw seizing him by the collar and tossing him to the ground.

She wasn't part of the Guard, so it wasn't like immediate commissar reprisal was a threat, and any indication of her actions would soon be lost to the void.

The tech-priest had no difficulty securing a spot in the plummeting craft, even though she ended up securing herself by dint of latching onto the ceiling itself rather than sitting. The craft simply wasn't designed to accommodate mechadendrites, after all.

The landing, however, was not something that she would recommend to endure whilst standing once more. Unlike some of the... fleshier humans in the escape pod, Honoria retained consciousness. Sadly, it wasn't all that useful a bonus, as she had no view of where they had landed. Troublesome indeed, the white-haired enginseer thought, exiting the escape pod to check on the surroundings and those few that had somehow been ejected entirely. Emergency surgery might be needed, though preferably nothing involving missing limbs. There were hardly the tools to replace entire body parts on a feudal world.

Honoria leant against the axe and surveyed her surroundings, glancing briefly at the commissar and the... Ogryn, really? Finally, though, she responded to the asked question. She felt no need to introduce her profession, the metallic edge of her monotone [i]more[/i] than gave that away: "Alive and uninjured. Ready to perform emergency surgery."