It was a piss poor team, Alcander realized as he rammed the magazine into his bolt-pistol. 

Jocasta, swathed in wool and thermal wear, along with a loud scarf, bounced from foot to foot as if they were about to step into a warm bar and not a frozen land of endless tundra. Hugging Camilla's skirts was a refurbished utility-combat servitor, though how it was going to traverse the terrain was beyond Alcander's abilities to fathom. Behind them, three voidsmen were checking their gear, each wearing winter coats that would not look too out of place on valhallan guardsmen, down to their (likely bartered) ushankas. 

Alcander had on his usual, though covered by a greatcoat befitting his office, shanghaied though he might be. Alcander held up a hand to hold the shuttle up for a brief spell, as two of the ship's crewmen stepped from the corridor accompanied under the watchful eye of a high guard in the Trantio regalia. Between the two crewmen was a plasteel crate, heavy by the looks of how they moved it. Camilla quirked an eyebrow, and stomped forward. 

"What's the meaning of this? If you're going t-" 

"Et's a melta-drill." He said simply, without a hint boasting. While he took pride in his work, he knew everyone had their strengths. Mucking about in slums finding things he shouldn't just happened to be lucrative if you marketed yourself correctly. Though he admitted he did have a small amount of satisfaction from the look that twisted onto Camilla's face. He raised an eyebrow. "D'ya thenk I wis jest twiddlin' m' thumbs the pest week?" 

Camilla regained her poise so quickly, most people without a background in acute observation might have missed it entirely. She tossed her hair back with a quick flourish of her head and stepped beside him, watching the cargo being loaded onto the shuttle. "Where did you find it?" 

"Hab 14 Gamma," Alcander answered. After the announcement on the bridge, he'd needed to take a good shower and find some recaff. It had been an exhausting few days, and he hadn't gotten as dirty as that since his time in the Underhive of Chima Lomas. Much like then, the corridors had been thick with gangers and verm, but he'd gained a rapport with the guardsmen of the Navarre ever since the coup. A firing line and a well ordered march and the scoundrels scattered like rats. "There's aboot three dozen o' th' things. Frem what I ken tell, they've been there fer two centuries." 

Alcander knew they would be invaluable on a world covered in thick ice sheets, especially for reconnaissance for resources. Oddly enough, they could also be impressive weapons in a pinch if they found anything too hulking for their small arms to handle. 

"Well, I need you closer. You're a seneschal, not a probator, anymore." She said, somehow succeeding in towing the line between a gentle reminder and speaking to a particularly slow child. Alcander gave her a neutral look, but it miraculously spoke volumes of the muddied thoughts between them. "However...good work."

Her compliment was accentuated by the gleeful squeal of Jocasta from the sight of the casket. How she knew what it was, Alcander could not know. But engineers had their ways he supposed. She hurried over to the crate as it was being set down, her hands out and her eyes wide as if she could not even begin to guess how to open it without offending the archeo-tech.

Alcander inclined his head at Camilla's approval. He remember when he had first laid eyes on Camilla, he was certain he couldn't trust a beautiful woman. Then later, they had become somewhat acquainted and gained a certain modicum of respect, followed by days of various dashing rescues and firefights, and then the imprisoning promotion of becoming her second in command. He felt vindicated from his first impression, but at the same time, he knew she had done it out of necessity. Well, he was not going to appear cheery or even congenial until she apologized or asked, but in the meantime, he would do as he was bid. 

"So, wet's on the docket when we lend, Capt'n." He asked her, before the shuttle thrummed to life, and the motley crew began boarding. Jocatsa began to babble about the Melta-Drill, and while Alcander was at first amused, by the end of the flight he was hoping one of the voidsmen could use their auto pistols to grant him the Emperor's Peace.