For the briefest interval of time, tensions reached a crescendo. Two of the blindly faithful Guardsmen did indeed lift up rifles, though they chose to turn them upon their saviors. A man of gaunt features and of unshakable loyalty to a broken system led the mutiny, 'demanding' of the Major evidence to prove himself a speaker of truth. His insanity was backed up by the woman who deigned to call all who lifted a las-gun traitors. It was preposterous, in the eyes of Steiner, for these two to choose to side with the Inquisition. They hadn't a clue what was actually going on, only the barest knowledge possible;- all of which was provided by the men they called traitors.

"For the love of-" The medical officer grunted. He didn't raise his gun up in defense of the Major. For all of his prattle, Franklin didn't have a real dog in this fight. None of this political bullshit mattered. Not when there was a firefight going on just outside that room. He couldn't care less about shadow organizations, secret wars or whatever the hell else had sparked this whole thing. All he wanted to do was stay [i]alive.[/i] Why was that such a difficult concept to grasp for these guardsman? Steiner swore some of them must've had a death wish, the way they went around flashing firearms at everyone that helped them out of a tight spot.

Thankfully for Doc's sanity, Bohman wasn't going to stand there and let two troopers way out of their depth get themselves killed for the men that tortured them. He revealed the nature of the enemy they fought against. These were not normal Tempestus Scions of the Inquisition, but...mutants. Heretics, touched by the cursed magic of the Ruinous Powers, and deformed by their damnable existence. Chaos, as Frank had originally surmised, was actually responsible for what was going on. "[i]I[/i] called it. If we're keeping score." He muttered under his breath, no matter how inappropriate a comment it might be in the moment.

If that wasn't enough for the grunts, the Major [i]also[/i] produced an item of incredible value. A talisman, bearing the icon of the Ultramarine Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes, apparently given to the leader of the Shadow Order by the Primarch himself. Steiner held back a sarcastic whistle. It was a fancy little trinket. Really, it was. And if Bohman had really received it from Guilliman, than his path was certainly the 'righteous one.' As righteous as the Imperium could be. However. If the gaunt, robot-of-a-man and his babyfaced partner in crime refused to acknowledge that the Inquisitional Stormtrooper with a horrifically mutated face was sufficient evidence against their 'theory' that Bohman was a traitor, Steiner very much doubted that a necklace would do much to help Bohman's case. Though, on further thought, icons and items were important in the mind of the loyal guardsman; all it took was the symbol of the Inquisition to turn them against their rescuers, after all.

Thankfully, though, it was enough. Both decided to lower their weapons, joining the Shadow Order on their righteous crusade to purge that voidship of it's ruinous infection. Steiner let the tension in his muscles visibly relax. A firefight in this tiny room would end in several bodies falling. Steiner didn't want to be among them. "Thank the throne."

Next came the hard part: actually clearing the remainder of the ship. Stormtroopers, those infested by Chaos especially, were a bitch to kill. Their armor was stubbornly hard to cut through with a standard las-gun, unless one managed to land a clean shot. To make matters worse, all of the guardsmen of the glorious Imperium were practically naked. All they had were some cloth to cover their naughty bits. Steiner could shrug off the draft, his body hardened to the freezing temperatures of his icy homeworld. But a las-bolt or two to the chest was a little harder to ignore. 

What was most difficult to look past, though, were the grunts of pain coming from the lady officer that was planning to shoot him a couple of seconds prior. [i]'Ah, Emperor above.'[/i] Steiner moved toward the door, purposefully keeping at least one body in front of him to absorb the first round of las-bolts. He shifted his harsh gaze over toward the loyal guardswoman. "Ay, pup," Frank called to get her attention. "You fallin' apart on us? If yer hurt, I can give it a look. I'm a medic." He informed her and, by extension, the rest of the company, of  his skill set. "Sergeant Steiner. Been a [i]real[/i] pleasure gettin' to know ya." She was going to shoot him in the back. It was all but guaranteed.