Only a handful of other voices joined in after the sergeant spoke his piece. The Catachan looked for a means of escape, barking the hardy defiance that Frank had come to expect of men from his Deathworld. There was...a modicum of comfort amidst the frozen shade. He knew there were good men with him. If Steiner were to die, he'd at least not die alone. A selfish thought, he grimly considered, but one that made it just a little easier. There was the distinct pop of a joint being wrenched purposefully out of socket. It was a painful thing, but it [i]sounded[/i] like someone was trying to wiggle their way out of their binds. Steiner chose to remain as still as possible. Let one of the younger men hurt themselves trying to get free- if it worked, he'd be out of his binds soon enough anyway. No need to go breaking anything just to hurry the process along.

While they sat in pitch black darkness, joking while they sat imprisoned, thunderous noises played in the distance. The aging sergeant strained his ears to make sense of what he was hearing. Those were...explosions? Was the ship going up in flames? No. Grenades. Someone was setting off krak grenades. "The hell is that?" He muttered from beneath his hood.

The cacophony of explosives was joined by the piercing zap of las-bolts. Footsteps grew close, then voices. Indistinguishable but very obviously human. A smile crept up the man's usual grimace. They were being rescued! [i]'About damn time.'[/i] He thought, light piercing the darkness even through his blindfold.

Among the chaos of battle, he could make out words. Among them, 'recruits' was the most pressing, as well as an order to set them free. Recruits? Were these the guys who had put him on the Voidship in the first place? That 'special task' the lieutenant had briefly spoken of, back home? It was the only possibility that made sense. The shadows cast by the hood were torn away with that piece of cloth, tearing away the veil to reveal the faces of his saviors. Men in carapace armor and wielding las-guns- Imperials. Steiner's hands and feet were freed. Finally he was able to move and flex, after what felt like hours of captivity. Standing on unsteady feet, the medical officer turned his eyes on the other stripped down prisoners he had shared a cell with. People of all different sorts. Women, two darker skinned jungle fighters- one a Catachan, the other unrecognized by Frank- and even some Cadians.

Across from them were the only two men who's names he knew. The noble-looking Major Bonham, and a Sergeant Latenius. He explained, in far too few words for Frank's liking, that they belonged to some...Imperial organization called the Shadow Order. He'd never heard of it, though there was much the grunt admittedly didn't know about the Imperium he so 'faithfully' served. Before the NCO was able to fully process what in the hell was going on, the Major made things all the more distressing when he called in more soldiers- dragging a dreadfully familiar warrior between them.

It was the corpse of a Stormtrooper. Belonging to none other than the Inquisition. A ghostly paleness passed over Steiner at the sight of the Inquisition's seal, plastered upon the carapace armor of the dead man. [i]These[/i] were the ones that captured and tortured them? "What the hell?" Steiner held back a flood of curses that he so gleefully wished to unleash at the sight of that corpse. Nothing made a lick of sense. Bohman named them loyal officers of the Imperium. They were not traitors, even by the admission of the Shadow Order's representative. The only logical conclusion that Steiner could draw, then, was that this 'Order' was not as loyal to the Emperor as it claimed to be. Not if they slew Inquisitors and Stormtroopers. Yet those same Stormtroopers had detained Steiner and, apparently, the other prisoners. They had tortured them.

An option was presented to the soldiers of the Imperial Guard. Rifles were placed down upon the floor before them. Cadian pattern, by the look of them; standard issue throughout Imperial space. Bohman wasn't forcing them to take up arms against their captors. Against other men of the Imperium- adversaries or not, still loyal to the God Emperor. Steiner glanced around at the others, waiting to see how they might react. The first to pick up a las-gun was a young man with features that Steiner guessed descended from Cadia. [i]'Loyal as ever.'[/i] The medic thought. Next was a woman, of strong build and fiery hair, to lift up a gun and claim in a haughty tone that she'd shoot whatever they ordered her to.

Others were not so keen. The Cadian could see it on their expressions. They didn't want to fight against men of the Inquisition. Not against fellow Imperial citizens. To do so was to be branded a traitor and a heretic, to damn oneself forever. Frank understood their hesitance. If it were not for the circumstances surrounding the situation, he might even choose to deny the Major.

But circumstances did not allow for defiance. Frank bent down, grabbing up the cool metal of the las-rifle, feeling it's familiar design in his fists. It was a comforting thing, to wield that gun once more. It gave Steiner some sense of protection, even then. Even with the terrifying implications of his decision hanging just over his head. With heavy eyes and a sigh, the hardened medic turned to look at those who had yet to pluck up a rifle and join this 'Order' in their traitorous battle against officers of the Emperor.

"I'd do what he says." He began with a frown and a harsh gaze. "Either he shoots you now, or the Inquisitors shoot you later. They already think we're part of this whole mess. Didn't torture us for nothing." It was a grim thing to consider- in all actuality, there [i]was[/i] no choice to be made here. If they didn't go with Bohman and Latenius, they would be: Stranded in the husk of a dead Voidship, doomed to die in the vacuum of space. Shot where they stood for refusing to join the Order. Or, if somehow they survived, they would be recaptured by the Inquisition and either killed immediately or tortured to death as traitors anyway. That's how the Imperium's finest conducted business. Steiner didn't like it. He hated it, in fact. But he- and his fellow prisoners- had only one option that [i]might[/i] let them survive.

"By the throne, just pick up a damn gun."