They were about to board another ship. That much was clear. Somehow they had gone from an infested spacehulk to a small ship of some xenos origin, bearing strange pods and icons. Xepherial had no concept of how long it had been since he had been out cold, wounded, tortured... It couldn't have been long since he recognized his present company, even... Azazel. The black void around them carried no sound of the firefight outside, but the constant sounds of wrenching and clanging metal and wavering artificial gravity indicated a serious problem. 

Xepherial had seen the mechanicus, with the cybernetic face and the darkly marred red robes, exit through an airlock. The viewport outside showed the outer hull of an Imperial vessel, and that was more than enough reason for Xepherial to want to enter it. Allies, peace, sanity, answers. All this awaited him if he could only get inside. And what of the others? The heretics and xenos would obviously be quarantined and exterminated. His own association with them would probably also condemn him to the same fate. Still, knowing this, Xepherial didn't even hesitate. 

The large Dark Angel strode over to the airlock without a word and prepared to exit. He paid no heed to any around him as he seemed to fixate on one apparent goal, a goal they all shared. Turing on the apothecary or the ork at this point would only end in all their deaths, and in addition, Vedius had a mean glare. 


The second door of the airlock opened, and a suction pulled through the rent in his armor's torso. Secondary systems attempted to compensate, the helm of his powerarmor tentatively sealed around his neck, allowing him to remain conscious for a few moments while he struggled to breathe against rapidly dropping pressures. The light of a relatively nearby exploding ship illuminated the hull, and Xepherial's magnetic greaves fixed themselves against the cliff of plate. 

Quickly spotting where he needed to go, he walked over and opened the access panel on the hull of the new ship as did Zuriel before him. The dendrite on his glove still functioned. They could enter. The pressure would be restored, and they would be inside in some distant unpatrolled part of the ship. Then, other matters could be addressed.