In a small non-descript room aboard the vessel, Goose knelt in absolute silence as he prayed and meditated. 

Before him was an impromptu altar dedicated to the Emperor...or what he was able to make of his humble belongings. Prayer beads with the symbol of the imperial cult sat atop a small stack of his folded clothes. The smell of incense permeated around the small room, but only barely. Not for the lack of sticks burning but more of the ventilation the ducts that regulated the air and temperature of his room that prevented the smell to persist long. The former guardsman was taught by munitorum priests that quiet prayer and meditation would help alleviate the torment his memories brought him. It helped for the most part, but there were always those nights where his nightmares got the better of him. Perhaps if he doubles the times he sets for meditation and prayer would help? Though as Throne would have it, the still silence of his room was suddenly interrupted by the blaring vox announcement of the Captain. With a mildly irritated sigh, Goose wraps up his meditative prayer. [color=steelblue]"...the Emperor protects."[/color] And with that, Goose casually puts out the lit sticks of incense for future use and returns his clothes back to his footlocker that he kept underneath his bed. The prayer beads stayed with him though, as something to bring him luck and ward away dark energies.

He brings out his maintenance kit from the trunk and begins to oil and lubricate key joints in his bionics and some minor readjustments to screws to ensure smooth movement and proper performance for the next few cycles; Emperor willing. Next was to perform the rites and rituals the gearheads taught them to appease their weapon's individual machine spirits. From carefully oiling all the moving parts of his chainsword to calibrating his hand flamer and laspistol, it was a rather time-consuming process. Though, through diligence and years of repetition, Goose finished all the rites with a little over thirty minutes to spare. He even managed to squeeze in time to do his stretches in full combat gear before he was even needed in the hangars. With nothing else needing to do, he stows away all his unnecessary equipment and heads to the bay where he was to meet his new coworkers and, of course, the Inquisitor too.