Sorrow had taken place in his solitary seat without comment or complaint. It was his burden to be a Blackshield and he would carry it silently, even if it hurt to be deliberately separated from his new companions. Memories of previous boarding actions and scenes of combat with his former Chapter flitted through his mind's eye and Sorrow grasped the grip of his bolter tightly. It was an ancient specimen, the least advanced and prestigious of such weapons he had been able to find in the Deathwatch's armory. It would not do to fulfill his journey of penance with artificer gear. 

As the boarding ramp opened and his battle-brothers disembarked, Sorrow turned to heed Aldaric's orders immediately. The FFI systems inside his helmet identified his fellows with small nametags that popped up on his HUD, and Sorrow positioned himself to be behind Victar and Draksal, bolter at the ready. He found himself standing next to the Chaplain, Zaphiel. The religious fervor of the Black Templars was a little alien to Sorrow, but he had begun to understand lately that it was comforting to place one's trust in the higher power of the God-Emperor... and, perhaps, a chance for salvation in whatever waited for him beyond the veil of death.

"Acknowledged and in position. The Emperor protects," Sorrow whispered over the squad's vox-comms.