Horacio would wince at each shot used upon the traitors. It might seem almost ironic considering moments ago his shotgun was turning men into red mist but to him it wasn't. After a battle there was to be peace, serenity. But for some, the battle had never truly ended. Still, he followed calmly with his shotgun held at his hip. It was quite spontaneous and he didn't notice how humming turned into hymn, but it did. It was a popular song he sang with soldiers; while not the High-Gothic of document and scripture it was still a faithful, pleasant, and homely song, one which perhaps some of the Sisters might know but not admit to knowing or join in on depending of the convent they grew up in. 


[i]Praise the Emperor and pass the ammunition
And we'll all stay free
Praise the Emperor and swing into position
Can't afford to be a politician
Praise the Emperor, we're all between perdition
And the deep blue sea
Yes the sky pilot said it
Ya gotta give him credit
For a son-of-a-gun of a gunner was he....
Shouting Praise the Emperor, we're on a mighty mission
All aboard, we ain't a-goin' fishin'
Praise the Emperor and pass the ammunition
And we'll all stay free
Praise the Emperor and pass the ammunition
And we'll all stay free....[/i]

Quite abruptly he was startled when the heat-signature was called out. Horacio didn't have a helmet, just a rebreather which if anything removed two of his sense and made detection of the inner-ship creepy crawlies difficult. Not a professional soldier (even if a tolerable shot) and thus possessing little trigger discipline it was only the active safety that made a few quick accidental pulls go [i]clack-clack[/i]. "Bloody 'ell." He muttered as he saw the creation before him. He'd seen Ogryns, Beastmen, Ratlings, Psykers Scalies, even more rare specimens like Felinids, Blanks and Squats. But this was a new curse wrought upon man. 

Still, he'd cared for men possessing all sorts of plagues. He held the hand of a man that had half his head squashed by a traitorous sledge-hammer in his death throes and so there was no difficult radiating an affable smile to the man. 

Once 'Gruk' went off to speak with his kin, it would seem the proverbial ball fell to him as Victorine spoke. Caught off guard he twiddled his robes, suddenly somewhat self-conscious that he was in his fuzzy slippers and sleepwear. He gave a pained sigh, and shrugged. "By the Emperor's hand, it should be thus: Gruk will aid us in discovering our wretched enemy. If at any moment he is suspected of trickery you will destroy him, but in the case your suspicions were unfounded it be best that in honour of his ultimate loyalty you kill him and his kin instantly, before they may even sense fear - even if he is a heretic, him sensing fear before death will still hurt our cause." he added, both placation and a dare to contest his recommendation to those more puritan in the party. "Of course, we may not leave him alone here. He will reveal the full extent of the underclass living aboard the ship, and be expected to provide some sort of proof that he is indeed faithful to the God-Emperor or be provided short time to acknowledge him as his one true God should it be the case they were not even aware of our wondrous Lord in this ignorant recess. In addition, a Genetor, a Magos Biologis will examine him and his kind to determine if they are still within the fold of humanity, I shall not have one determine genetics by the glance of the eye whilst my consciousness remains pure. Should he be determined impure, then once again the purge best be swift with no time for fear or sorrow to arise. If he however does remain true to man's nature then he and his kin will be expected to integrate with the vessel appropriate. Learn High-Gothic, receive jobs. They may stick to their kind but enclaves and exclaves will not be tolerated." Another though arose but he squashed it, already exhausted by the swift efforts of iteration he had to force out of himself. Lazily his tired eyes scanned for the reactions of those present. His long words were necessary to convey the truth that he knew in his heart but, they also had the purpose of pressing the party for time. The zealots would not have time to speak what with Gruk by now most likely being about to return, and it hopefully meant only the calm, concise voices would be raised.