[color=598527]"Remember I said [i]after[/i] any delimbing incidents, Cogs. Throne willing, that won't be an issue anytime soon."[/color] Stukov very much preferred himself intact, he wasn't some fanatical zealot like Celeste, or those dour sodding Kriegsman, or the Cogboys and girls of the Mechanicus in their zealotry for the Omnissiah. Regardless of that, he had to mentally note that Cogs was probably the most unstable out of all of them, and that was saying something. Regardless, the remark on sanctioned terms of his like got a snort of amusement from the armsman. Tunnel rats, maintenance roaches, plenty of terms one could call those who were more familiar with tight, enclosed spaces than broad, open skies. Reminded him that he'd never be totally comfortable with boots on the literal ground, but that was a bridge to burn once they reached it, should it need burned.

	[color=598527]"That's probably the most diplomatic term I've heard in quite some time, Smiles, though flattery will get you no where. Well, nowhere terribly interesting."[/color] Smirking to himself, Stukov considered the response to the array of trouble. Tzeentch wasn't one he had much dealings with, not to his knowledge at any rate. Khornate and Slaaneshi cultists and daemons were the ones he'd run afoul of before in his rather...turbulent career. Still, nothing a judicious application of force couldn't sort out once tracked down, though Khornate would have been by and far the most simplistic and easy to deal with. Meanwhile the Kid was having his own shock at meeting Smiles. Not too surprising, given her...unique stature, but as the Armsman was settling into a seat, roughly even distance between the Kid and Cogs, he chimed in after Celeste remarked on Khornate being boring.

	[color=598527]"Good thing I don't knowingly take bets I'll lose, then. And I wouldn't call Bloodthirsters ripping through a bulkhead 'boring' by any stretch Celeste. Still, daemons are daemons, and those stupid enough to side with them need sorted out just the same."[/color] Stukov closed his eyes, seeming to relax and enjoy the trip in the transport, mentally bracing himself for the trouble to come planetside. He could feel their entry into atmosphere, subtle little things that larger ships would never experience. Well, not under any normal circumstances, and as the vessel settled down he kept resting his eyes, nothing he did would have any impact currently. The sound of additional engines, distinct to those of the transport, coming near before fading had the armsman opening his eyes again. Thunderbolts, he knew those engines anywhere. They weren't proper Fury interceptors, but he had to give begrudging credit. When it came to atmospheric operation, he'd prefer Thunderbolts holding the skies over the Lightnings any day of the week.

	[color=598527]"Standard low count escort patterns usually put them behind the escortee. Nominally, this is to be able to either peel off or launch forward to intercept trouble. Of course, its also a prime place to be if the escort needs an unfortunate accident to occur. Unfortunately they aren't Lightnings, you could almost ignore them with the right atmospheric craft."[/color] Stukov spent enough of his life on Imperial Naval vessels to know his stuff when it came to commonly employed craft, and he'd brushed up on stuff that hadn't been available to him after his formal assignment to a retinue. He was no officer, mind, but knowing a Thunderbolt from a Lightning, from a Fury, was always useful. It gave him something else to consider as they diverted and touched down to deal with this Planetary Governor. Celeste was all business now, and Stukov was on his feet, smirk fading to his usual resting neutral expression. The Kid got a dressing down, which Stukov suppressed a chuckle at. Time and place for everything, he could rib the Kid later for that.

	Following Celeste out of the transport, Stukov made a quick mental headcount of the well armed 'escort' present. Outnumbered, though he couldn't say outgunned given the nasty tricks they had, but the show of force was duly noted. Not as a concern, but what to expect should the Planetary Governor indeed prove corrupt, and his subordinates equally so. In due time they were admitted to the Governor's quarters, and Stukov found himself scanning the man intently. Armored, though it was of foreign make and model to him, and festooned with medals and commendations. Either had actually spent some time in service, or wanted to make a show of it. Still, the man was abnormally tall, which was discreet until he, of course, stood up and began babbling. Quarters were offered, lavish nonsense, and fortunately Celeste turned him down. She'd already arranged that, thank the Throne, and Stukov found himself reminded why senior officers and officials were avoided. Still, the question posed got a curt shake of the head.

	[color=598527]"None here, the sooner we root out the heretic, the sooner they can be put to the torch."[/color] Stukov could have come up with various questions, mind, but he was focused on analyzing the varied medals and insignia on the armor, as well as the armor itself, seeing if he couldn't drudge up any sort of recollection of any of it. Asking after the man's 'glory days' would not have had any direct impact, perhaps he could do some digging later through records on the man, should they have time to do so. The attitude was, well, not surprising but not welcome, and he doubted this world was all that wonderful. That, however, would remain to be seen.