The Navigatrix had her instructions but there was little use in denying the fact that it stung her pride. To be relegated to licking her mending wounds left a bitter test of invalidity that remained perpetually close to the surface thanks to the machinations and betrayals of her supposedly perfected genetics. It was beneath her, however, to use such personal ruminations as justification for the dereliction of her perceived duty and the value that she might put forward through such matters as her astrological knowledge, broad education, and sundry other cultivated talents that had ensured she was ready and able to step in for their convalescing cousin... who increasingly she suspected had reached the point of no return in his personal evolution.

A grim terminus that they would all arrive at eventually. That thought was a black and bitter comfort if she were to be honest with herself as she continued to lean heavily on her shaking arms, eyes locked on the sprawling calculations that played out over the cartography table before her. Each avenue of warp transit connecting the countless celestial bodies that littered the vast void of the Cosmos. Each notation, each delicate mathematical consideration of the utter insanity of the Endless Sea done by her own hand and torn from the jaws of laughing, thirsting abominations through will and insight alone.

Her gaze drifted on that thought to the black, sleek form of her prima navis. The gene lock open and it's precious databanks linked by snaking cables to hololithic projector of the table. It was the totality of her work including the latest charts that the Lady Captain had requested prepared. The truth of the matter was their route here and back had been complete for some time. Every turn, hazard, calculation and re-factoring there of incorporated into a final product of superlative quality that would, again, prove her worth to her peers, elders, and with continued addition... her father. Her body may have failed but the mind behind it was razor fine in it's edge.

She braced herself carefully then, shifting the majority of her weight onto one shaking arm as she reached out to the control panel for the display. Fingers tapped in further additions to the sprawling calculations, high lighting nearby hub systems to see where the lanes might overlap and allow for connections into the original, circuitous route that had brought them here. The pain churning up from her hips, through her spine, across the plane of shoulders and up through her neck to drill into her temples with each motion. Her will forcing it aside, forcing her wretched body to remain standing and support itself under the weight that she had inflicted upon it and what remained of the once fine figure she had cut.

She tapped again and again at the keys of the control interface, turning the projections to suite every possible avenue of perspective as Master Grund lurked quietly by, his own fingers working at the data tablet from the comfort of a plush seat she had inflicted upon him. His protests still felt in the quiet, thoughtful grumbles as he continued through his ledgers and data reams in the single minded way of any true veteran of the Administratum. The seat an unwanted luxury and comfort that detracted from the focus only pain could bring to the learned and blessed mind.

A lesson Cennet knew all too well as she with drew her hand from the console for a moment to drum lightly at her chest. Her mind drifting to the mended plate that produced such sweet and gentle notes through the lighter fabrics of her gown. The violence of the aeldari blades addressed with careful insets of newer material starkly contrasting against the more weather sections in a jagged pattern down the length of her chest. The once pristine patterns of vine and vein of blue and gold now off set by millimeters despite the exacting obsessions of the Adeptus Mechanicus and digging all the more deeply at her well nettled pride.

The Navigatrix sighed softly then as she braced herself once more against the table with both arms. Her attention turning to the steady stream of comms chatter through the vox systems worked into the table as well. It's steady cacophony keeping her appraised of this or that aboard the Pious Lament but most important to her, beyond her craft of course, was the formal announcements of planet fall. The flight plans and itinerary relegated to a secondary data tablet that was gently propped up to her left.

Until they intended to set sail once more, this was all she could do and see to curbing the worst of the intrigue of her peers... Though she far preferred the company of numbers in the moment. The gnawing of her wounds still present but well addressed by those of the medicae staff who had such clearance as to attend to the peculiarities of navigator physiology. The fuss of it earning a small laugh in the quiet of the chamber as it was not like pain and discomfort weren't well worn and tested companions.

++Lady Captain, I'd hope all is still on track for planetfall in the coming hour?Else the collected flight plans may need to be refactored.++ the Navigator asked with a voice that reflected little of her condition as she reached out via the direct lines afforded to department heads. Her attention turning briefly to the various status updates she was privy to of such preparations.

++Yes Navigatrix, we are currently on schedule, I thank you for the assistance provided in their computations." She responds from behind a blast shield to help keep the deafening cacophony of the launch deck. ++How fairs your recovery++

++The least I can do in the moment.++ Cennet replied, her tone as polite and pleasant as ever though evident that her attention was perhaps slightly divided. Whilst her strength waned, she continued to will her body to maintain it's current position with weight growing more and more precariously balanced against the cartography table. Her hand continuing to dance with pained alacrity over the control keys to add more and more to the growing tapestry of the local star and warp charts.

++The prognosis is that I'll recover and was given leave to attend to the repairs of my my dermal plating. I've since chosen to ignore the fragilities of the flesh, as the Priesthood of Mars might put it, and focus upon the bastion of the mind.++ the Navigatrix replied with a certain care. ++A project helps and the charts, base don the already collected data, are complete to a passable level by my own measures and exquisite by the estimations of others. I've also taken the opportunity to patch myself into the command channels as well, for the duration of your absence along with most of the executive staff. To keep things running and lend what help I can from here for the landing parties.++ the woman added with a certain care and propriety as such initiative could toe a line but the circumstances had made it seem prudent for the moment and it was, technically, not outside of the realm of influence a Navigator might exert on a host vessel.

Vormav walked up behind Gregory and Ravandio "Quite right, logistics are MY thing." He leaned on the railing near the other two, his great coat in the Saoirse colors looked freshly cleaned  but it was still tailored and modified to support his mounted weapon. "This will be a tough one I imagine. Small, well equipped highly mobile force against a more numerous fortified enemy? Lets hope it's at least two loyal factions or at east a loyal one and one that we can buy off."

He straightened up when Vormav came up and joined them in their observation of the roll out of the Pious Lament's armor. "I wasn't desiring to intrude. I was only observing, witnessing our preparedness so soon after we were attacked by the Xenos. It is quit impressive." Ravandio turned to the side so that he could continue to observe while still being available for conversation with the other two men. "We know they are fighting down below, so there is at least one faction that has fallen from grace. Which one, though? Seems like a dice roll so far."

Gregory turns to Vormav and nods. "You have that right. We're in a pickle when it comes to Gelron," he begins. "We've got lots of forces, but they're mostly infantry, which means they'll slaughter us if they can mass armor and artillery in any significant amounts. Granted, we have the Lament for fire support, but orbital bombardments are not terribly precise, and we'll have to risk the Lament if we want to employ it. I don't like that. And despite Rav's men and his skills, we don't exactly have full aeronautica wings for air support, or much capacity to move troops down. Oh sure, we can transport the ship's complement to the surface... eventually. But not in a hurry, and we're going to be fethed harder than a joygirl when a regiment passes through town if they have air assets. In short, military intervention should not be our first option; securing an alliance with military power should be. Then we can talk about airdropping our assault companies on pre-softened targets and so on.""

He sighs. Much as he hates having to admit that he's useless here... Gregory is keenly aware that trying to win too much glory for himself here is fatal for the enterprise as a whole, and so he's trying to rein himself in. But he owes it to his fellow officers to give them his assessment of the situation.

Faith blinks, and then she realizes she's standing in the middle of the corridor leading to the landing bay. Apparently, she's been spacing out and imagining herself talking to the Captain and the Head Navigatrix.

It's not entirely unheard of; there are stories that a psyker's vision can occasionally lapse into another world that is almost the same as their own, except for one or two small details. For instance, perhaps in a certain world she HAD been speaking to the Lady-Captain and Miss Cennet... But not in this one.

She shakes her head, noting the voidsmen muttering and making the Aquila as they look at her, and then she proceeds into the bay. No time to worry about cross-dimensional visions; they have a job to do!
This message was last edited by the player at 12:28, Mon 26 June 2023.

"Not a reprimand just stating the facts. Logistics is a solid half of my department." he flashed a grin at Ravandio

He pondered, his education had only covered the broad strokes of military history not the particulars of the Tactica Imperialis "I don't know if I would count us out. Coming from orbit we can appear nearly anywhere. Dropping a forces behind enemy lines, while their armies are occupied, in a position to capture their VIP's could end a conflict without notable loss of life. It's really about assessing their anti-orbital capabilities at this point. Their airforce is all but useless if they can't refuel after all, and we can attack those from orbit fairly easily. Honestly I don't know how a ground based force defends against an orbital opponent. We traverse their entire planet in what 20-30 minutes? They can't redeploy fast enough to stop us dealing damage somewhere even if we lose the force to their response afterward. But I suppose that's why you wanted a penal battalion, eh?"

+++You do a lot even from up here Navigatrix, besides this is just a first re-introduction, I plan on a more formal meeting between all parties aboard the Lament to be upcoming.+++ She response not just to boost her spirit but also in earnest as that was her plan.

"Orbital artillery is the ultimate high ground. I'd say they'd need ground-based macroweapons of their own to even get a shot against us; and you can't hide those. Not easily, at least." Gregory muses. "And yes, the Lament does have a lot of advantages against ground-based targets. But they don't come free, and the price we may end up paying is the ship itself. Which is why I'd rather only consider the use of the Lament's guns in extremis. Mind you, that's just what I think. If they think we're ready and willing to rain macrocannon broadsides on anyone who opposes us, that might give us an edge in negotiations. Also; that IS part of why I wanted a penal battalion. If our first boots on the ground are going to walk into ambushes or have to clear minefields with their feet, I'd rather they be people we don't care so much about."

+++Anything less would be disgraceful. I'll ensure my peers, aides, and I are ready for that event.+++ Cennet replied with a slight warming of tone beyond the typical cordial composure. The recognition was a temporary balm if nothing else given the complexes she nurtured but it was still a welcome one as she ultimately allowed herself to sit and unburden the undeserving stretches of sinew that had been the first and greatest betrayal of her anatomy to date. Instinct and well drilled habits ensuring that the work of the past few hours was saved and exported once more from the table to her navis prima.

+++I'll leave you to the last preparations for now but I'll keep an eye on the departure timers should anything need to be refactored.+++ Cennet concluded, knowing fully well that the Lady Captain had much to do and leaving the offer of further administrative assistance unspoken but on the table. That drive to prove her worth defying the battered crippled state of her body.

+++Again thanks for your assistance+++ She voxes back before moving across the launch deck to the overhead cross decking to the other Officers "How are final preparations?"

Gregory salutes the Lady Captain crisply before beginning his report.

"The honor guard are ready and waiting, while I have a company of assaulters on standby in another barge in case they're needed. You'd have to speak with the techpriests for the exact status of the Land Raider and other ground vehicles, but I am assured that they are fully functional. Colonel Bottrell is in charge of the Lament's garrison while I'm planetside."

Faith arrives behind the Lady-Captain, allowing herself to be heard and seen coming (apparently people don't like being blindsided by psykers!) before clearing her throat and announcing her presence.

"Reporting for duty, ma'am," she says. Strangely enough, she is not dressed in her Astropath robes or carrying her staff of office; instead, she is wearing a set of white Administratum robes and carrying a dataslate. The overall effect makes her look like a junior scribe rather than a sanctioned psyker... and perhaps that's what she's shooting for.

"Ah, since I'm meant to be a hole card, I borrowed a set of Administratum robes from Ms. Talionis' typing pool. I will be pretending to be a secretary while planetside."

Ravandio bristled slightly at the mention of using a penal legion in such a manner, but the reaction was quickly lost when the Captain approached. He immediately straightened up, slipping his little note pad into his pocket, and waited for the others to address her first with their reports. "As soon as everything is loaded, our ships are ready to depart. Should be shortly," he reports the readiness of their space craft after Asgard.

Vormav yells back down to the captain "As ready as I can be captain. Hard part will come once we make planet fall."

There really wasn't much to be done last minute from his department. Everythihng he could do all came in the weeks and months prior, making sure the troops and crew were fed, trained, and happy, buying enough fuel that they could ready the landing craft. It was all undoubtedly important. But if it wasn't done before now would have been far too late. It was kind of nice, he thought to himself. Everything being handled ahead of time meant he could dedicate himself fully to missions like this one.

"Excellent, once we are ready we shall depart to meet this Northern Alliance and their leader, Sir Norman Cecil. I will descend first from the lander when we depart then the rest will descend from the barges in full military style with their vehicles, have weapons ready in case of ambush but no-one fires unless fired upon or I give the order." She tells the officers as she takes once last look over the controlled pandemonium across launch bay "We shall be departing within the hour if I can help it, the Lament will provide overwatch while we are on the surface."

Gregory suddenly glances to the side as he gets a messsage over his microbead, and then he turns to Searlait.

"Madam, it seems the little surprise I asked Mr. Tesla's subordinates to work on has been completed. As you know, we have shipboard emergency kits which contain emergency vox units for broadcasting prayers for void salvation. My plan was to alter a few of them to instead broadcast an obscure targeting signal which the Lament's fire control systems could lock onto at long ranges and minimize the harm we might take from planetside counterfire. Hopefully they will allow us to bring the Lament's firepower to bear more effectively and safely."

Searlait is momentarily shocked at such a thing but then smiles deviously "Excellent idea Mr. Asgard. The more precises we can get the better, I would like to limit collateral damage to the population and facilities for the re-integration"

"That was a concern, yes. While I believe the Lament is fully capable of deleting entire cities from the map, that may come at the cost of deleting friendlies as well. Macrocannon salvos are not known for their subtlety, as I'm sure you're aware. Nevertheless, I'm sure we'll be able to build better versions of these targeting beacons, improve our ability to deliver them, and get the gunnery crew to strike them with greater accuracy."

"Hopefully we won't have to use them, the Northern Alliance seemed more amicable to our presence so we will be heading there first. I will be taking the Grey Pilgrim down, Officers who wish to accompany me can, there are 6 further slots. May the God-Emperor go with us" with that she turns on her heel, and makes her way to the shuttle, striding up the ramp and unto her throne.

The small fleet of small ships descends on the planets, heading for given coordinates in the northern hemisphere where there is a vast void port on the edge of the planets only sea. The area has been carefully scrutinised via auspex sensors and seems to be free from anything that might be considered a threat, however the port did look severely neglected.

Ravandio, you are in charge of this flight, which ship are you in and would you like to describe how the fleet makes it’s landing.
.

Ravandio finished observing the ballet down below as the rest of the officers loaded up in the vessels they'd be taking down to the surface. He climbed down from the gantry and crossed the deck towards the Grey Pilgrim, the craft that would take the Captain and her Honour Guard as well as the senior officers down to the surface. He climbed on board the ship, kissing his finger tips and tapping it to the doorway that would seal the bridge from the rest of the ship. He slipped into the pilots chair awaiting the go-ahead from the Captain.

---

He hated planetfall. The viewport shields were up and in place, protecting the interior of the drop shuttle from the immense heat that was building up on the exterior of the Grey Pilgrim. Even with proper shielding, however, the interior temperature of the craft had risen noticeably. Nothing intolerable.

The heat wasn't why he hated planetfall. With the viewports covered and with the instrument panels on the exterior of the craft protected, there were many long minutes where the pilot was essentially blind. They were in an enormous block of metal crashing into the atmosphere, leaving a bright trail across the sky that anyone that knew what to look for could plainly see. If the people down below knew what they were looking for and had the weapons to reach, the descending craft would be completely defenseless.

Keeping his hands tight on the control yoke, Rav rode out the turbulance until they were finally clear. "Sensors," he called out and immediately received a response from his crew. His screens started to flicker and come back online. "We are on target for our destination, Captain," he says as the viewports uncover and he levels out the craft, peeling off towards their chosen landing zone.

The ships land in quick succession and troops and vehicles disembark into a defensive formation. The void port is vast and mostly neglected with vegetation growing through the apron, much of which is cracked and broken. An are near the reception buildings has bee cleaned up and repaired and this is where the Lament’s small ships have landed. They have even gone to the trouble to bring out a red carpet which they now unroll towards the Grey Dove and alon which a small group of dignitaries are approaching.
.

Searlait strides down the ramp of the Grey Pilgrim fully encased in her gleaming polished armour, one of her honour guard carrying her shield while she used the witchlance as a walking stick. She stops about halfway to the approaching dignitaries, the xenos cloak flowing faintly in the wind. Once they are close enough she greets them "Ave Imperator, I am Captain Searlait Saoirse of the Pious Lament, we bring the greetings of the Imperium to Gelron"