Incense burned on a small plinth, smoke coiling away from the source to wreath the room in an aromatic haze. The faint light of the candles set alight the dull plating of gold of the object above them, gleaming as well off the polished stygian wood which formed the majority of the Simulacrum Imperialis. Vellum sheets hung from the temple-like structure, inscribed with inks of red and black for their entire length and attached to the Simulacrum by waxen seals bearing the iconography of the Adepta Sororitas. Faint burn streaks and projectile wounds were visible to any with a trained eye and close enough to see, stitching across the sides of the sturdy wood or forming as a slight discoloration on the front facing, any blatant markings having been repaired by the caretakers of the Simulacrum. An old and experienced symbol it was, and any who saw it would never discount the battles in which the relic had fought.

Kneeling in front of the makeshift shrine were two figures, greatly distinguished in height and form. On the right knelt a shaven child, limbs thin and scarred and eyes aged beyond their years yet filled with a fervor contrasting his simple tunic of rough-spun brown cloth. To the lift, towering above the boy was an armored figure, broader and bulkier by far even without the protective covering. Brown hair, cleaned recently of grime, shimmered as it hung loosely about the woman's shoulders, framing a rugged face with a prodigious scar cutting across the left side. A glow of bionics emanated from the shadows of her left eye, a pinprick of muted red and blue. In unison did the two pray, voices mixing before the weight of the air consumed the sound, leaving only a lingering quiet as the two bowed their heads one last time.

Signing the Imperial Aquila with her hands, Mycandra stood to her full height, one which, even without power armor, would have topped many normal men by a not insignificant amount. Some foresight granted her by the Emperor had told her of the approaching emergence from the Warp and as such Mycandra had prepared for the arrival at the planet of Escalon Seven, gear pre-selected and laid out on the bed. No window into the void of space occupied her chamber, no announcement of Drake’s had alerted her, nothing but an intuition told her that the moment of arrival was now, their position above the planet steady. That and her learning the time of travel to the planet after warp transition.

Having completed her ablutions and various other rites of service across the span of the past couple of hours, Mycandra found her religious and physical duties completed to the fullest extent possible on this ship. Thinking as to her meager possessions made Mycandra recall the flight from Outpost 57, accumulating as much of her own personal equipment before the unfortunate station suffered critical existence failure. She could not say she grieved the loss of life but her sensibilities would have much preferred to have acquired passage on a more reputable or at least provisioned vessel. Nothing to be done for it.

Extinguishing the candles, Mycandra took the small Simulacrum, attaching the piece to her waist as was her custom, a reminder of her vows and an inspiration in times of darkness. Bolt pistol and hand flamer magnetized to the legs, Medicus Ministorum below the power pack of her armor, and the litanies of faith attached by cord to the Simulacrum Imperialis. Near the entirety of her worldly possessions excluding a few necessities within the storage units at the feet of the bed. Followed by the boy, she exited the room assigned to her, muttering as she went, “Our Emperor, protect thy faithful servants as we pursue your will.” The trip to the hangar itself was of no consequence for she had learned the layout of much of the ship during her daily regimen of exercise. She had no indication as to the length of time she would wait until they gathered but she knew it would not be long. Stepping into the expansive bay, she sighted the Rogue Trader with his retinue at the opposite end of the hall. Placing her helmet on her head and hoisting the boy in virtue of speed, she crossed the expanse quickly, reaching the group after the lady Blissponis had already made her greetings. Halting two meters from the Rogue Trader, she released the boy from her grasp and removed the helmet subsequently, face impassive yet instilled with an underlying determination to not be refused. “Lord Drake, I shall require passage for myself and my page to the surface of this planet to replace the stock of supplies I have lost. I am certain you would be willing to oblige.” Calm and loose she was, but her body was ready to react to any form of violent action, although she did not suppose the situation would come to that unless the man was truly foolish.