You slump against one of the pews, “Kathrine, how are you holding up?”

Kathrine tugs what is left of her robes back over her chest, “better for a break, but..”

Atellus is scanning the area, “Its quiet.”

You pause and listen as best you are able. No machinery noises, no moving air, no scuttling rodents. Even your footsteps are eerily muted. “Very quiet. I may be a disciple of the Omnissiah, and thus less than fully familiar with the workings of the Ecclesiarchy, but that altar looks… not correct. We need to rest, and this place seems safe enough, but…”

Kathrine nods, “it would be safer were it consecrated. We don’t have time for the months of sermons it would usually take, but I think I can do something.”

You push yourself back to your feet, and hobble towards the altar, “an examination first shouldn’t hurt, just to be sure. We won’t survive another attack. Atellus, overwatch please.”

Kathrine follows you towards the altar. She stops when she gets a decent look at its surface, “God-Emperor’s oath! Is that blood?”

You hunch over for a closer look, “well, it’s either that or spilled haemolubricant. Someone died here. Violently. This altar is in most desperate need of re-consecration. Kathrine, if you could see to that please? I’m going to examine the map, see if I can spot another way back that doesn’t involve a deathtrap of a ladder.”

Atellus takes up position in the central aisle, looking back down the rows of pews. He thumbs the but of his shotgun nervously.

You take a seat in the first row of pews and pull your dataslate out to pour over its contents. Something will come to you, but it will take time to examine your map.

Kathrine gently tugs a prayer book from her pack and reverently flips through the pages, looking for the proper incantation. She finds it with little trouble, runs a finger down the page, and begins to intone a chant in High Gothic.

As she begins to speak, you notice that the air trembles slightly, as if there was a slight breeze, but no sensation of moving air crosses your skin.

Willpower test: Resist an unknown Influence. Failure: needed <46, got 76.

Suffered 5 points of Insanity damage.

You try to focus your attention back to your dataslate and ignore the sensation, but it just won’t go away. In the corner of your eye you see the shadows of the same flickering colors you saw in the observation port, before you fixed the shutter. A soft laugh echoes strangely in the depths of your mind.

Kathrine’s chant continues, sweeping higher, pushing back against the odd sensation in the air. It comes to its natural conclusion, and you feel the tension in the air vanish. Almost instantly your ears are assaulted by the sounds that you were missing before. You close your senses to them and focus back onto your dataslate. Whatever malign influence was here, it is no more. You glance back down at the slate and note a nearby room that might help: a Cogitator Bank.

Atellus gently taps your shoulder, “That stain on the altair vanished without a trace. We should move on.”

You stand, reinvigorated, if unhealed, from your brief rest. “And I may have a place for us to go. A Cogitator Bank. With any luck, we can pull a deck-map of the Mhongu Khagahn from it’s hallowed memory-banks. With that, we should have an easier time getting back to the void-hab.

Atellus’ eyes cross, “say that again? In Low Gothic this time?”

You blink, slowly. “My map doesn’t show another way back, but it does show the way to a better map.”

“Oh. Well, why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

You fight down the urge to bash Atellus’ skull in and lead the way out of the Chapel.

A short while later you are standing before the Cogitator Bank. You had hoped that it would still be mostly functional, but you are surprised to see that this was also the dedicated ‘black box’ emergency Cogitator Bank as well, the place where the ship’s log would be backed up to in case of emergency. The gravity is low, probably because the cogitators are feeding on the extra power. It doesn’t bother you in the slightest, but your remaining party members are slow and awkward in their movements. You take the time to interface your Electro Grafts with the cogitator bank, drawing knowledge and a slight current of power from the cogitators, and begin performing the Rite of Delicate Data Retreval to extract the Mhongu Khagahn’s log.

Tech Use test at +10% (-10% base, +10% for Electro Graft Interface, +10% for Combi-tool): Extract the Ship Log.

Success! Needed <53, got 34. Ship’s Log Recovered, Ship Map (This Ship) retrieved.

With a minimum of effort, you enact the rite on the first try, and the heavy memory-casket slides free of the Cogitator Bank. You take a moment to acquire a deck map, and then disengage from the interface.

You examine the memory-casket. It is perhaps 20 kilograms in weight, the size of a large backpack, and has convenient grab-handles protruding from all sides. Some of that mass is clearly a magnetic clasp system, intended to lock the casket to a ferrous stretcher (which you can’t find) or to the backplate of a powered environmental suit (which you aren’t wearing). You sigh and have Kathrine take one set of handles. Between the two of you, you can easily carry the thing, and Atellus, now in possession of a (reasonably) accurate map, can lead the way back to the Visitor and the void-hab attacked to it.

Interrogator MacWater sucks air through her teeth as she examines the battered state of you and your diminished party. “Shit. I knew these missions were going to be dangerous, but that was only a minima-threat mission, and a short one at that. One KIA, two critical casualties, and all we get out of it is one Ship’s Archives?”

You give her a dead-eyed look, too tired to make any further comments.

“Well, I do have some good news to offset your disappointment. This should at least make the point to Inquisitor Ironsides that mundane humans are not match for this endeavor. Rest and heal for now, I’ll see about getting you transferred to another area within his remit. With any luck, you won’t be seeing this place again once you leave.”

Inquisitor Ironsides looks at the report in his hands and sighed. He could not disagree with his Interrogator’s conclusions, nor could he spare the proper forces to complete the task. He could dispatch only one additional Deathwatch Space Marine to the Capitalis Congestus, and he would have to choose from among the individuals both available to him and not currently assigned to other tasks. That left only two marines at his disposal.

The first was Forian, an Assault Marine on secondment from the Blood Angels Chapter. Sanguine in most things, his tendency to solo action placed him outside of most kill-teams. Savage as a close-combatant, but young (for a Space Marine) and over-eager.

The second was Marcellus, a Tactical Marine on secondment from the Ultramarines. Notably lacking in the arrogant streak common to many of the Ultramarine special operators, having in its place a quiet, almost silent demeanor and skill as a designated marksman. Used to operating in proximal support of a kill-team instead of as an integral member, it would not be hard to put Marcellus into a solo role.