The background noises aboard the Pious Lament have changed significantly over the past few hours as the Engines are bought into an operating condition and here on the bridge there is a sense of quiet anticipation. The view of space has gone now as the great armoured shutters have closed over the huge 'bird cage' window, the insides painted with images of the emperor destroying the foes of mankind in a series of imaginary ways. In the centre of the bridge the great, primary visual auspex display hangs like a giant pocket watch, showing vid feeds and tactical data to the command bridge, the helmsmen and the navigators below them. The three dimensional effect created by the tactical auspex display that dominates the floor gives the impression of a sphere of space, shrunk to forty feet across, in which a tiny image of the Pious Lament floats high above the planetary surface, accompanied by various other craft, including the Emperor’s Glory, each with their name floating above along with various coloured coded letters and symbols, and each surrounded by lines and circles representing predicted courses, weapon ranges and anything else anyone might need to know in the heat of battle.

Searlait stands in the command pulpit, looking down over the left head of the huge aquila that forms it, alongside her is Alexi and at their stations behind her are Sabrynn and Gregory. Off to her right, on her own balcony Hormonia conducts the prayers to the emperor while on the balcony to her left the enginseers conduct their own prayers to the Omnissiah. The helmsmen stand ready below the captain and below them is Cennet and one of her assistants.

The information displayed to these people indicates the Pious Lament in readiness to proceed, the Emperor’s Glory and the Grey star already moving, the Cowlan Blue and the Adeptus Terra scout ship at readiness and ten days flight time before the ship can enter the war. The Niger Porcus is in orbit but not prepared for action.
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All things considered, Harmonia felt good about this expedition!

Of course, she was an optimist at heart, but despite the rumors and bad start to this whole business, it looked like the crew and the new officers had good hearts and respectable skills.  Even now, she'd had little issue with the occasional sermons she's had to give out, or the bits and bobs of blessing that were always needed to keep everyone nice and perky even here in the deep void of space!

She even had her own little balcony here from which to dispense her benedictions!  Of course, she wasn't initiated into any of the arts used by the bridge crew besides what she was expected to be good at, but it was nice to watch!

Soon, the Pious Lament would ply the starlanes once more!  Ready to do God's work!  It was a wonderful time to be aboard!

Cennet Melek Shiraishi held the staff and symbol of her office close as she relied upon it's strength of steel to maintain that rigid and imperious posture that many expected of the Navis Primaris. The familiar agony of fatigue and overtaxed, wretchedly withered musculature crawling through out leg, spine, neck and stabbing deeply into her temples. Dulled only partially by the tightening jaws of the serums, compounds, and sundry medicines that would prepare her for the coming rigors. After all, while she had been built, as well as tailored, to purpose... the act of Navigation remained an ordeal even for one the once perfect daughter of House Shiraishi.

Such pain was little but a distraction, however, as it was held at bay by the combined force of duty and the indomitable will that was required to stare openly into the depths of the Endless Sea and retain even a fraction of wit and sanity. The idle question still burning like a small star in her mind as to how many were aware of what was to come next. Even if this emerged planet was well and truly free of the storm's grasps... Well, there were many other complications to be considered that strayed close to topics best left unaddressed. She drew a quiet, steadying breath then as she continued the ritual tasks of inputting the initial course, adjusting for real time corrections in the predicted traffic from the tactical Hololithic display. Each motion of her free hand done with the painful care of one dedicated to the perfect execution of the task and to minimize the needless motion as she the burn extended into the upper reaches of her mutation wracked arm.

It would be no more than 9 hours by real time reckoning to reach the Mandeville Point at which time she would retire herself to the Navigator's Throne. The place where the real work would begin in contrast to the relative ease and lacking complexity of real space. A final stroke upon the baroque keys notifying the Helmsmen of the final iteration of the course and ensuring it's projection upon the Hololithic display for rapid reference.

Such done, her mind focused then upon that next step of their shared journey. Another slow breath was drawn in then as she closed her eyes and focused, for just a moment, to feel the light of the distant Astronomicon upon them all as she whispered prayers to Omnissiah and Emperor both in the tongue of her house. There was no doubt one or another among the ordained orders that ruled every vessel might draw exception to such a division of faith but she relied upon both the Machine God and the God Emperor to execute her duties... and to displease either seemed an all too unwise thing to do.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:34, Sat 31 Dec 2022.

Searlait stands at her pulpit above the mass of the bridge and its crew moving about at their various duties from weapons powering, to astrographic telemetry. It moved the heart seeing hundreds of people working, knowing that moved thousands more further down the line to their tasks to make the ancient powerful monster of a ship move, live and breathe.

When the prayers of the ecclesiarchy and Omnissiahic congregations quiet down she activates the comm-link in the pulpit ++Hallowed be the God-Emperor of man for the protection he provides the Imperium of Man. Hallowed be his guise as the Omnissiah, for the works he provides for the machines that keep motive force it provides to keep the Imperium alive.++ she starts her speech ++We give thanks as we prepare to depart from this realm in his Imperium to search out the darks spaces to spread his light, to expand the borders of the God-Emperor and to stop the malign forces of the traitor, heretic, & xenos. Forward, into the darkness we venture, but I believe we will persevere together, In the name of the Immortal God-Emperor, light the drives and cast us into the void.++

When finished she makes her way to the throne and takes her seat and address the navigatrix directly and says "At your leisure please direct the drives to the mandeville point and to our ultimate destination."

++Explorator Draccius, if you could report to Deck 3, senior visitor quarters, the quests there could potential use your assistance." [= team]]

Looking over to Vormav she tells him "Do you have any more news on Blake al'Duath and who his accomplice may be?"

If anyone notices that the Master at Arms is carrying an extra arms-coffer while standing at his station, in addition to his storm bolter and his two bolt pistols, or that he is fiddling with his "genuine Astartes bolt shell casing" while murmuring to himself, they give absolutely no sign.

Despite his obvious consternation over the imminent Warp translation, however, he has enough presence of mind to note status reports from the Lament's armsmen complement and their readiness status; they need to be ready to respond to potential... abnormalities but also protected themselves; he's asked the onboard Ministorum contingent to send a few extra priests among them to safeguard his men's souls.

As for him, he doesn't know if he'll have to fight off merely human boarders (in which case his borrowed shotgun and laspistols will minimize damage to the ship interior), or something like the horrible daemons the fresco of the Emperor before him is purging with his terrible swift sword, in which case he's giving the blasted things both barrels of his storm bolter and damn the collateral.

Searlait's speech does calm him down a little, but still...

Looming in the shadow of Searlait and her throne, a grim-faced woman stood protectively. Clad in gunmetal battle-plate that had obviously seen quite a deal of combat, and covered with icons of devotion to Him on Holy Terra, it was clear that this person was capable of great violence and great piety. Which was almost the perfect description of Sabrynn Rose, the new bodyguard of the Rogue Trader. Formerly of the Adepta Sororitas, Sabrynn looked to be undertaking her new duties very seriously. For in the aftermath of Searlait's prayer, the dark-skinned warrior reflexively went into the Fede Imperialis, but made sure to keep her eyes on her ward, and made sure to keep her in the protective range of her massive, wicked looking Penitent Eviscerator.

"A spiritu dominatus,
Domine, libra nos,

From the lighting and the tempest,
Our Emperor, deliver us.
From plague, temptation and war,
Our Emperor, deliver us,
From the scourge of the Kraken,
Our Emperor, deliver us.

From the blasphemy of the Fallen,
Our Emperor, deliver us,
From the begetting of daemons,
Our Emperor, deliver us,
From the curse of the mutant,
Our Emperor, deliver us,

A morte perpetua,
Domine, libra nos.

That thou wouldst bring them only death,
That thou shouldst spare none,
That thou shouldst pardon none
We beseech thee, destroy them..." the Celestian Sacresant whispered quietly, but fiercely.

Prayer finished, Sabrynn raised her shaved head and peered at the Sea of Stars and the crew in the grand bridge with equal measure. This was the beginning of the adventure she had set herself on, which made her heart sing, but fidelity would never fully allow her to relax while on duty.

"The stars of His domain are...beautiful," Sabrynn muttered to Searlait, knowing the horrors of Warp travel, and how different such sights would be.

That was about as close to a complaint or sign of anxiety that the Sister was ever to give.

The captain's vox crackles.

The enormous Explorator stood immobile, watching at the proceedings with the utter neutrality that only the near-lifeless face of a Tech-priest could manage. This might considered fortunate, for Arius Draccius found the whole ritual the captain surrounded the ship's departure to be unnecessary pomp. At least the Lord-Captain had the decency to invoke the Omnissiah.

He had no role to play here. The ship's functions were Enginseer Tesla's domain. The captain did not require his counsel at this stage it seemed. Although he did not know their destination yet, it would take weeks if not months to arrive there, so there would be enough time for him to be briefed.

A faint flicker of emotion called surprise lit his mind as the Lord-Captain ordered him to attend some guests of hers. Since he had nothing better to do, he might as well get to this task. He turned to look at the Lord-Captain.
++As you wish. What is the nature of the quandary your guests face?++
This message was last edited by the player at 23:11, Sun 01 Jan 2023.

Alexei stood silently at her station. It was both a familiar and strange experience to stand on a bridge again in this manner. The strangeness mostly due to the small differences she couldn't help but notice between the crew here and what she had grown used to over the course of her previous Naval Career. She absentmindedly had placed her hand over the Wings she had pinned on her chest, the simple thing marking that she was a Imperial Trained fighter pilot being a source of pride for her and in this case a simple reminder of where she came from.

With a deep breath she focussed her mind on the task at hand and left the reminiscing for later. She pulled out a data slate as she read over something for a moment before laying it aside again. She didn't quite know what kind of a Captain Searlait was, so for now she was content to just observe and ascertain in what manner she could best support her and enforce her will as needed.

At the Lady Captain's instruction, the Navigatrix turned back to the console and let her free hand dance along the keys with that same, almost painful deliberation of motion. Each of the helmsmen were provided with the charted course now to their specific terminals. There was no more for her to do until such a time as they arrived at the translation point but she was wise and educated enough to await the completion of pomp and ceremony before retiring to the Navigator's throne and undergoing the required isolation. Still, the command was required even if it was redundant for the maintenance of discipline and smooth function.

"The course has been charted, approved, and locked in. Helmsmen, guide us out." she commanded into the microbead, not wishing to raise her voice above the din of prayer and binary. Her voice professionally reserved and imbued with a measure of will behind it despite the soft spoken intonations of the words.

"Yes, they are Sister Celestian, even in the polluted space near the accursed eye." she tells her newly 'acquired' bodyguard.

++They will specify requirements upon arrival, should their requirements prove less demanding, you may attend anything you wish in your studies or assist in any repairs required of the ship that strikes your fancy.++ she quietly voxes the Explorator.

"Officer Talionis, how would you rate the armsmen aboard this vessel?" she asks almost conversationally as the Pious Lament starts to pull away from orbit, accompanied by the frigates.

There are subtle changes in the deep, powerful murmurs of the ship as the enginseers apply thrust and the helms man brings the mighty vestal slowly round onto the correct heading. Above the Mechanicus station, and repeated countless times throughout the ship the nixie array reads 9 hours, 58 minutes, and 42 . . . 41 . . . 40 seconds.

Auspex displays show the Emperor’s Glory, an hour or so ahead, moving off at a slight tangent to starboard so the gap between the two ships is getting ever wider, The Grey Star follows her from a good distance behind and the Cowlan Blue also gets under way, steering a course that will bring her between the two Cruisers.

Suddenly, across the entire ship, warning claxons burst into life with their intermittent growl, automated blast doors begin closing and the nixie display flashes twice before settling on 2 minutes, 27 . . . 26 . . . 25 seconds to the impact of three planetary defence missiles that are now rising up through the planet’s atmosphere. These are indicated are moving at hypersonic speed on the auspex displays and various other instruments across the bridge.

Coms channels light up with panicked queries but are quickly silenced by the comms team so that only essential traffic gets through and all goes ominously quiet.

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Scarlet was conversing with the juniors and preparing the choir when she felt the ship shudder and the blast doors close, locking them in the bridge as the central auspex array flashed with signs of missiles. She flinched as a burst of chatter flooded her ears from the comms channels she was monitoring before the lines went dead once again and she pulled away from her juniors, informing them to find a safe place to stay, before she went to greet the captain, giving her head a small bow.

"It seems yet more complications come from this accursed planet, does the planetary governor's personal astropath perhaps need a foully worded message, after this?" She comments, attempting to break the tension with a small joke before sighing, glancing out at the auspex terminal, aware that there wasn't much she could do. She was a combat psyker, of course, any boarding party who tried would feel her wrath, but ship combat? beyond her specialty, so she was stuck waiting for news as anyone else, listening to the information the captain was receiving the best she could to gauge the situation. She just hoped and prayed that this was some sort of mistake, and most of all, was rather angry at the people who had orchestrated all this, she wasn't privy to all the details, but it was certain now that there was some sort of effort put in place to attack the captain and her crew.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:20, Tue 03 Jan 2023.

Gregory's hand flies to his bolter as the klaxons blare, but he resists the urge to draw it. One way or another, this is out of his hands. Instead, he voxes the flak-turret complexes nearest the missiles.

"Incoming planetside ordnance, flak-crews track and destroy."

He then turns to Alexei and Searlait, addressing them both (since it's impossible to do otherwise).

"Madam, it seems obvious that this is meant to delay us. If the missiles hit us, we'll have to slow for repairs or to demand an explanation from the governor. Meanwhile, our quarry gets away. We might be best served trusting to the flak-crews to take them down while redoubling our pursuit. Issuing a brace for impact order might help too."