[i]Milord, this is Sister Agathe. I am gathering a militia of the faithful. We will strike the enemy formation from the lower decks and attempt to cut off their advance toward the Gellar Field generators. The Emperor Protects.[/i] "A spiritu dominatus, Domine, libra nos, From the lighting and the tempest," Agathe intoned, testing her chainsword with a quick rev of its powerful motors. "Our Emperor, deliver us." Came the chorus of assembled crewmen before her - they, likewise, were preparing themselves, gathering up improvised weaponry from massive utility room around them. A handful were lucky to get their hands on auto-weapons, but most simply wielded hastily repurposed tools - bulkhead cutters, salvaging saws, maintenance torches repurposed into flamers... "From plague, temptation and war," "Our Emperor, deliver us." Satisfied with her chainsword, she clipped it into place at her waist, priming her power maul with a [i]click[/i] of the angry red switch on its handle, a sharp crackle filling the air. "From the scourge of the Kraken, Our Emperor, deliver us." Most of the assembled were young, fit men and women - those assigned to manual labor duties - but only a few, much like the heretics, knew how to fight any better than the common man. "From the blasphemy of the Fallen, Our Emperor, deliver us," Those were equipped with the heaviest, most powerful implements they could find; illegal boarding shotguns and flamers intended for use in exterminating vermin and dangerous mutants. "From the begetting of daemons, Our Emperor, deliver us," They, too, were equipped with commbeads, the only ones capable of coordinating their fellows. "From the curse of the mutant, Our Emperor, deliver us," The most lucky, perhaps, was the first Ogryn in Agathe's motley crew, wielding a blast door bent into the shape of a shield and a massive power hammer. His fellows, equally massive, were just as gigantic - but power hammers were a rare tool, many of which, she imagined, were held in the upper decks. "A morte perpetua, Domine, libra nos. That thou wouldst bring them only death, That thou shouldst spare none, That thou shouldst pardon none," This time, they all spoke together - Agathe and her militia, marshalled behind her - as the utility room's doors slowly began to roll open. "Sister Agathe to the bridge. We are engaging the enemy. May the Emperor protect." "We beseech thee, destroy them." "For the Emperor!" They cried out as one, spilling out from the utility room and into the halls, almost immediately meeting the scattered number of the enemy. Agathe, of course, was at their head, her face beneath her helmet etched into a snarl of zealous rage as she marched forward, knocking one heretic down as her revving chainsword cleaved through another, sawing him in two on a diagonal running from his shoulder to his waist. He barely had the chance to scream before his guts spilled across the floor, one of his comrades unloading a hail of lead into Agathe's chest. To her, the assault broke over her plate like water, bullets smashing themselves into pieces to no effect. The cultist was unlucky enough to receive a bolter round to his ribcage for his efforts, blowing open his chest cavity like a gory piñata. "If I must slay you, lost children of the Emperor, then I will!" She shouted, her voice artificially amplified into a bellowing howl by her helmet. Her pronouncement was punctuated by another swing of her chainsword, casually decapitating another cultist as it tore through flesh and bone. "-but I will take no joy in this work! Lay down your arms, and you can yet be redeemed!" None did, though perhaps, Agathe thought, she was partly to blame, carving bloody ruin through the cultists with every word. Or perhaps the Ogryn bore some of that weight - she could see the enormous man from the utility room angrily crush the skull of one of the cultists in his meaty palm as the noise of stomping feet nearby alerted her to the activity of more of the labor-Ogryn, ever-dim, but unambitious and ever-loyal. She was thankful for their presence more than anything aside the Emperor's grace, perhaps, though even they couldn't stop their allies from bleeding and dying as they aggressively pushed away from one of many utility rooms, up through the lower decks... And, if He bid it, toward the Gellar Field generators. Ogryn or not, the Gellars, Agathe guessed, were the most important target. Unless they summoned a horde of daemons, the cultists would melt into ash before the onslaught of fire and rad-weapons the Mechanicus possessed. If the heretics took the Enginarium, they could stop the vessel, destroy it, or perhaps redirect it... Unpleasant options, to be sure, but if they reached the Gellars deeper within, mere death would be a mercy. [i]Agathe to Bridge. We have momentum, and are continuing to push out of the lower decks and toward the Enginarium to aid the Mechanicus in securing the Gellars. Sustaining acceptably minor casualties as of present - I've rallied several of the labor Ogryn and a great number of the crew - no time for a headcount but will attempt to rally more when Any possibility of emergency translation into realspace? Expect that cultists are attempting to disrupt Gellar Field generators to affect a daemonic incursion. The Emperor Protects.[/i] "The Emperor is very proud of you all, for refusing to bow to heresy!" Agathe shouted, waiting as the Ogryn proudly puffed out his chest, clubbing down a pair of cultists with casual ease.