Chapter: 3.4

Chapter: Accazius II

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Part: 4

Onboard Departmento Munitorum: Imperial Transport 'Gauntlet'

Hanger WW-004 (West Wing Hanger number 004)

The Inquisitor marched snuck out of the chaotic scene in the small armory, behind a virtual horde of angry tech priests. As for the Honor Guards, well, they chose to follow her, except for the engineer who was too busy fondling a tech-priest's Mechadendrite which promptly shut up the cog-boy... or maybe it was a cog-girl?

From there, she made her way to the cargo bay, the wall of which had recently been torn down to merge it with a couple of others to form a makeshift hangar, housing the pair of drop pods and the ancient aircraft.

The hangar door hissed open and what came into view was more like an ant hill rather than the military deployment compartment. The place was abuzz with activity as the techpriests scurried about, performing last-minute rites and checks, adjusting the Thunderhawk for flight.

She made her way through the bustling hangar, her Honor Guard in tow, their heavy footsteps echoing against the metal floor as a couple of rusties began to stare at their armor, pointing toward them and chattering in their secret binary language.

As she approached the Thunderhawk, she couldn't help but feel a pang of annoyance and regret at its dilapidated state. It was a far cry from the sleek and heavily armored Space Marine-issue aircraft she had hopped for and spent nearly half a year's worth of her Acolyte salary. Not to mention her master had laughed her ass off when she heard that Greybrand had been duped by a rogue trader.

Well, what's done is done and beggars couldn't be choosers, especially now when she had to take care of a space station.

The tech-priests paused in their work, their mechadendrites freezing mid-air as they caught sight of the less-than-imposing figure of the Inquisitor. She ignored their curious glances, her focus solely on the task at hand.

"How long till the Thunderhawk is ready for departure?"

The lead tech priest answered with his characteristic lisp,

"It is already prepared for flight, Inquisitor. The machine spirits have been properly propitiated and the blessings of the Omnissiah have been bestowed."

Greybrand nodded, acknowledging the tech priest's report. She wasn't particularly fond of their nut-and-bolt cult or their religious fervor, but neither she nor the Imperium could deny their usefulness when it came to maintaining and repairing Imperial technology.

'Although...'

She thought about the STC tucked neatly inside the Void Engine's inventory... 

Those rusties would likely take it from her and spend a couple of centuries debating whether it was corrupted or not, actually waiting for her to die of old age before manufacturing the said gunship for their Skitarii Legion like so many of the advanced technology that the Adeptus Mechanicus hoarded in their rotten cogitators.

"Good, prepare for immediate departure. I want the gunship up and flying within the next half an hour."

The tech priest bowed his head in obedience, his mechadendrites whirring as he relayed the Inquisitor's orders to his fellow cohorts. With practiced efficiency, they began making final adjustments and preparations for the Thunderhawk's launch.

Greybrand turned to her Honor Guard, who were somehow keeping the Tech-Priests away by slightly raising their weapons. Sensing her gaze upon them, the curious Tech-Priests made a hasty retreat, not ready to brave the fury of an Inquisitor, no matter how Junior she was.

Several other strike teams arrived shortly after, easily identifiable by their unique uniforms. Among them was the 541st Light Infantry Regiment's Guardsmen, also referred to as The Lightfoot Rifles Regiment. Their squad consisted of ten members or rather two fire teams equipped with light weapons and flak armor.

Then there was a squad of ten Guardswomen from the 332nd Mechanized Infantry Regiment, known as The Ironbloods Mechanized Infantry, armed with heavy weapons and carapace armor.

A common factor she had missed in her musing was that the two regiments accompanying her were both single-sex ones.

The 541st Light Infantry Regiment was created on some random civilized mud ball out there that sported a couple of hive-cities which provided soldiers enough for twenty whole regiments along with their reserves and yearly refurbishment. Still, the 541st was a rather unique regiment, formed by survivors from over half a dozen other regiments from their homeworld that were utterly decimated by an Ork invasion.

Her dislike for the regiment was quite evident, stemming from the fact that almost all its members originate from the underhives of some overpopulated planet, same as her except she was nearly burnt alive. Also, their combat and disciplinary record had been rather poor, going as far as to have fragged seventeen Commissars over the course of the two months they spent fighting Orks whom they outnumbered two to three before failing to annihilate them on time and got overrun in return.

As for the 332nd Mechanized Infantry Regiment, well, this regiment's origins were no less unique. It was formed by surviving female members from over fifty mixed-gender regiments, which were even more unique than an all-female one. Cadians, Catachans, Drookians, Dhonovars, Chem-Dogs, Valhallans, and Emperor knows how many others. Heck, there have been rumors that the regiment's got a platoon of crazy Krieg chicks stowed away somewhere in their quarters.

Generally, the Astra Militarum does not tend to form regiments from different homeworlds, as that can make coordination extremely difficult. That's exactly what happened with the 332nds, their regiment was deemed a failed attempt and dumped into Inquisitor Greybrand's hands.

So far, the Commissariat has been doing an adequate job of keeping them from each other's throats... or rather each other's crotches. Greybrand shuddered as she remembered walking in on one of their Friday night lesbian orgies and wondered whether the ship had been infested by Slaaneshi Cultists.

The Inquisitor snapped out of her thoughts at the arrival of the last two participants of the raid, the Adeptus Sororitas squad and a group of five Navy Troopers. The latter undoubtedly would be the ones to fly the tin bucket while the former would make up quite a bulk of their strike team or rather teams.

With all the strike teams assembled, Inquisitor Greybrand stepped forward to address them, as was her duty being the highest-ranking personnel on the strike force.

"Listen up, all of you,"

She began, her tone commanding, causing most of them to straighten up except for the Sororitas, their face morphing into barely contained disgust toward the Inquisitor. In fact, it was her standing as an Inquisitor that kept Greybrand from being throttled by the Sisters of Battle.

This was perfectly understandable considering she was a Psyker and they wanted nothing less than to burn her alive in the name of the Emperor who would undoubtedly be face-palming, considering he himself was a Psyker of sorts. Admittedly, he was a far stronger, larger, and shinier psyker than her, but a psyker nonetheless.

Ignoring their looks, Greybrand continued with a brief overview of their mission,

"Our primary objective is to secure the space station orbiting Accazius II. We've detected signs of recent conflict, and the planetary command is unresponsive. We need to assess the situation on the ground and determine the best course of action to secure the planet."

She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing.

"Our objective consists of neutralizing any and all hostile elements on the space station and establishing a secure foothold for further operations. The likely hostile element will be heretic and xenos pirate individuals and possibly more threats, unknown as of now."

The Inquisitor's gaze swept over the assembled strike teams, her eyes lingering on each one in turn, taking in their weapons and equipment, and looking around for the best role for each individual.

"We will be boarding the space station via the Thunderhawk while the Gauntlet provides us with cover fire long enough for one boarding opportunity. If we miss that, the chances are the Space Station's defense batteries and lance weapon will tear us to shreds."

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