RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION pt.2 #4
It does not take long for the last of the Kill-Team to arrive aboard Thunderhawk, it whined and screamed as quad core extra-atmospheric engines primed and warmed up for take-off. Brother-Librarian Lazaros, being the final member to board casuses the soft spoken conversations to momentarily pause. As Lazaros makes his way to an open seat, Watch Captain McGarrack acknowledges the Librarian with a slight nod of his head before continuing.

“You may not be the best with a chainsword or a bolter, my tech marine friend, but you sure as hell could always talk me to death in those training sessions,” the Watch Captain says to the Astartes sitting beside him. “Haeron always told me about your talks and how that big old brain of yours would do well for the Deathwatch. Glad to see you made it to us.”

“An honor to be here.” replied the Guardian of the Covenant.

The seated Astartes extends his forearm in a warrior's shake, this newcomer now as close a battle brother as any of the Wardens of his company back on Sacris.
	
"Neither," he says responding to the question of which title he should be addressed.

"Call me Daelon. Well met. Storm Wardens, 2nd Company, 4th Tactical Squad." He gives the Techmarine a once over and nods in approval. To a Storm Warden, Techmarines were always a boon to have on a squad. He was glad that they would have that level of technical support on their missions. "We are brothers now, but I prefer to keep things simple." A first name basis was how Daelon preferred it; each brother was now reliant on the other and the mission would change considerably from how they were used to training. The closer the faster the better.

A robed marine bearing the white helm of the Apothecary sits next to a Battle-Brother bearing the markings of the Mechanicum. Opening up his Narthecium, he started to tinker with its inner workings, making sure they were all up to his standards, and hopefully had not been tinkered with by that near insane Marine Errant. First the Reductor…then the drill…then the diamantine tipped chainswords whirred faintly. Clicking his tongue, the Apothecary reached for a set of tools he habitually kept on himself, but could not find. Looking over to the Techmarine, he hmmed thoughtfully. 
“Brother…may I trouble you for some assistance?” he asked through his armour’s Vox-speakers as he continued to fiddle with the diagnostor and the various syringes and drugs that made up his Narthecium.

"That is quite a Narthecium you have there, brother. How did you come by it? If you require my assistance, I will be glad to help. These whistles and bells aren't just for show!" He chuckles, as he begins to assist his new brother. 
His mechadendrites and various gears whir and whiz about, ready to obey their master.

In the cockpit the servitor-serfs finish communing with the Machine Spirit and Captain Kyros dismisses them with a silent jerking nod of his head. The Watch Captain enters the cockpit and closes the door behind him. 
“A miserable bastard...” Captain McGarrack comments just as the door slides shut. “But no finer pilot is there to be found in all the Imperium, lads.” Shifting in his seat to face the seated Dark Angel his cheery voice amplified by his helm vox-speakers.
“Ho there, Brother Alaric! There is hushed talk that you met Kyros in single combat and prevailed victorious! If this is true, I salute thee! I have dueled the Death from Dark Waters many a time, each to a stalemate. You should consider yourself privileged; it is not often Kyros spars with anyone who does not share the brotherhood of command. Perhaps someday we shall see how we match up against each me, a true champion of the Watch!” 

Suddenly, a large shadow fell across the open Thunderhawk access hatch, ceasing all conversation. The bulky form blocked out most of the light, the few stands broke through, giving outline to the heavily armored yet slightly-bestial form.
“Commander Strombjorn…I did not expect you to see us off personally!” Brother-Captain McGarrack says startled but before he has a chance to rise the growling-bass voice cuts him short.

“Sit, Caeden! No need for formalities.” the Watch Commander said as he learns in to the Thunderhawk. In the low light his eyes reflect golden, like the predatory canine that share his Chapters namesake. 
“It is rare for Brothers to not spend some time aboard the Watch Station after their training is complete. Reforging the bonds of brotherhood, refamiliarizing themselves with their beloved tools of war. It is to my regret that I did not get more time to spend with each of you, learning more of your heroic sagas. Though, should the All-Father see fit, I’m sure when we meet again, you will have far grander tales to tell” he said with a rumbling laugh.
“I cannot tell you much about your new command, as often with the Inquisition, there is little to tell,” Commander Strombjorn continues with a roll of his eyes. “Shortly, you will depart Watch Station Eternia aboard this Thunderhawk Gunship. Watch Captain Kyros will serve as your pilot and second the command of Captain McGarrack. You will then be transported to the Dawnstar, a Rogue Trader vessel that has been commissioned to discreetly insert you further into the Canis Salient. Do not leave this Gunship. An inglorious first command, I know brothers, but fret not there is always plenty of time for bloodshed amongst the Watch. The hunter does not stand upwind from his prey.”
“Immediately upon entering real-space the Dawnstar will open the hanger doors and jettison you and this Thunderhawk into the gravitational pull of a passing asteroid belt. You will remain here until the arrival of your command vessel, a Gladius Class Frigate, Righteous Indignation. From here you will bring death to the enemies of the All-Father under Inquisitor Darkhour.” His eyes narrow to thin slits as he continues in a hushed tone. 
“Remember your Oaths. We shall meet again. In this life or at the End Times, at the side of the All-Father.”
After a brief pause and a respectful bow of the head to the assembled Astartes, the Watch Commander leaves. His departure is accented by a loud clank as the reinforced side access hatch slid shut.

The overhead vox speaker and a raspy voice crackles overhead. 
“Clearance authorized. Departure in 5…4…” as the Thunderhawks engines roar to life “3..2..1.”

With a slight lurch the gunship leaves the hanger, hurtling towards Dawnstar and the unknown it brings with it. 
((#1)) ((#2)) ((#3))