The assault ram possessed a lesser, but no less violatile machine spirit when compared to the vessel which is was subservient too. Not as ancient as the warspite but It was certainly more aggressive more energetic and youthful. It relished carving its way through the hull of the enemy vessel as a young warrior relishes the opportunity to charge into the ranks of the enemy. Heedless of the danger to itself and concerned onoy with the glory of the charge.
In contrast there was the hate of the enemy cruiser. And hate was the simplest way to describe it. Pure, unrepentant hatred towards those blessed souls come to scour its blighted hallways clean. He had no respect for this vessel's spirit, as potent and vast as it was. Only cold pity. It was a literal cancer plying between the stars, a tumour fit only to be cut apart or bombarded from afar.
Stepping forth into its stinking emptiness, the rust armoured brother surveyed the sorroundings. The various icons and graffiti painted along the walls in blood.... or worse. But he heard the chaplain's request and stopped to analyze. It was still a cruiser of a hallowed imperial design, though if that should make him feel better or worse in regards to its profanity he did not know. And navigating it should be a simple enough matter. 'Should be' being the operative choice of wording. It all depended on where exactly it was they boarded. It was hard to tell for certain but....
“That way.” Hefting his power axe towards the right hand direction. He paused as if re-considering his analysis. Calculations whirling in his head in a rather difficult attempt to take in the variables of their transport. “...yes, that way. And up, at least three decks above us.”
Behind him four servitors lurched out of the assault ram with their ungainly mechanized gait. Two of them sported heavy bolters instead of arms, these massive guns and their associated mechanizisms made up nearly half of their torsos. And their other arms ending in vicious industrial pincers that could shear through steel pipe and copper wire as if it were soft flesh, augmented by mechanical muscle. They clunked heavily ahead of the two more mundane servitors, themselves a mess of wiring and connection cables and little else of use. They stood idle, their faces which were already half destroyed by their machine parts blank and stupid as the automotons awaited orders to continue, or to do anything for that matter.