[Center][b]Edmund Andamar - Rogue Trader[/b]

[@ClocktowerEchos][@Erezrim][@Jeddaven][@POOHEAD189][@BangoSkank][/center]


[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]

Edmund allowed himself a somewhat sardonic smile, as well as a nod of his head, because of course Sister Agathe would be making her way into the thick of it. To even consider that she would be anywhere else, well, that was quite ridiculous. As to her suggestion...

"Well, Mister Kurg? Do you think our resident Navigator would he happy about such a manoeuvre?"

Tyg Kurg gave a grimace of his own, his wrinkles wrinkling up on their own wrinkles as he shifted his facial expression, "blow me if I know, milord! She's got the right idea though. Either we fight in the Warp and give 'em a chance to summon Emperor-knows-what, or we take the risk of bailing out while we can."

A cutting gesture toward Vox-Master Arsune was quickly followed by a crackling of vox - the screeches of the damned and the whispers of daemons excluded - before a weary voice answered.

"My lord Andamar, what is it you require?"

"Apologies for the breach of focus, but-"

"Yes, it is possible. I shall need time, vox-silence, and a clear path... but I can guide us back into realspace."

The Trader did not even question the response, answering in the affirmative and cutting the link.

"Hmmmm..." He hunched over the interior blueprint of the vessel, dots shifting and swarming like a good game of regicide, when Dahti's efficient voice came over the bridge vox.

[i]Dahti to Bridge: I've sent you my teams' locations. Bravo and Echo are secured. Moving into the Enginarium now.[/i]

This was good, and the further along time went, the less Edmund feared the loss of the enginarium - apart from numbers, he did not truly believe that these accursed cultists had anything that could match his trained soldiers and those of his retinue. Nevertheless, numbers had a quality all their own.

[i]"Bridge to retinue, continue on your course of action. Yet please be prepared for translation back into realspace as soon as possible." [/i]

[i]I cannot wait here[/i], thought Edmund to himself, a fist now closing about the grip of his sabre, [i]time to put my regimen to use[/i].

Cold eyes found their equal across the bridge, those of a human looking momentarily into those of the alien, Ak Te'un not even needing a prompt from his employer to heft his bladed Kroot rifle into a position of readiness. Together he and Edmund stepped to the bridge door, a nod to Ship's Master Kurg opening the portal with a hiss, and Kroot and human stepping out as one.

Let the hunt begin.


[hr]


Demir watched as more infidels were dragged kicking and screaming into the vacant storage room (which had since become an abattoir of flesh and faeces), overseers, Martians, or marine it mattered not. All and any would serve.

Allowing the noise all around him to slip into the back of his mind, the former Imperial slave gently shut his eyes and began to hum a tune; allowing himself to half fall to the floor, his legs folding up beneath him until he sat on his own heals, the tune contracted and expanded with the motions of a living heartbeat, colours of all hues coming alive and flashing behind his eyelids.

[i]Breath knowledge into me Wayfarer, allow your servant to see with the true sight.[/i]

Yes... [b]yes[/b]... the assault upon the enginarium was going as planned, wave after wave of true believers giving away their lives for a deity and cause worth dying for. It appeared the Imperials were moving as expected, that blundering, mannish, Sister of Battle and her bull-like bellows as futile as her past. The half-robots... well... what were they anyway? Nothing, so much scrap metal and desiccated flesh. Hmmmm, and Abhumans, now that was curious.

[i]I hear you, my feathered master. Your will be done.[/i]

All was going according to plan.