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Alright, here's Stukov, cleaned up and revised and all the hair brained stuff retconned for review.

And I'll have mine put together over the next few days, when I have time after work.
Ansgar Staudinger


"Medical attention? You've got dead and dying on your tables, worry about them first. Triage ain't a word for your kind?" Any electrical damage that had gotten through his protective clothing, possibly concussive as well given the explosions he'd been near recently, paled in comparison to the condition of those who actually needed help in here. That was his way of saying no, he wasn't submitting to medical fiddling until pretty much directly ordered to. Of course, things always could get worse as the fookin' tin man decided to show up right then and there and start mouthing off about not having any actual tin inside him. Wisely, the deadpan death glare that the man was giving the machine right now ceased that line of talking. He was distracted by Kev declaring that it was time for him to leave and go clean up his mess. His expression softened slightly, from completely pissed to moderately irritated, when the man joking addressed him.

"You'll forgive me for not being in a joking mood, if any of those pirates are alive and I get my hands on them, I have every intent of beating them unconscious for every hour of work it takes fixing this ship. I won't have bastarding no lifes putting holes in m...our ship. I'll need a lot of drugs for that, to keep them alive, Doc. Also nothing for me, I have real work to do." There wasn't a joking tone in Ansgar's tone of voice right now, he was deathly serious that, he ever gets his hands on the pirates who attacked them, they'd be praying for a Judge to simply execute them. Having addressed the empty, hanging statement, he was paused by the Captain chiding him on being nice and reminding him that the tool mooching pink Ithlo was, apparently, going to fly them to the port. Well, he prayed to whatever God came through with them that that would at least go well.

Imagine his shock when, of all people, Teg revived and was all but swarmed by both the captain and doc. The man stared and shook his head in low disbelief. Able to revive the dead, apparently, what a universe they found themselves in. "How about you get Teg a drink instead of swamping her after coming back from Mr. Grim's parlor? I'd offer something of my own stash, but....Oh. IF THOSE FUCKERS BROKE MY STASH, I SWEAR I WILL PERSONALLY HUNT THEM DOWN."

The suddenly royally irate mechanic bolted from the med bay, storming down the way towards the engine room, having seethed through gritted teeth and stormed into the engine room, all but radiating pure rage. He stomped back to a corner, grabbing a fallen plate that, well, should have been lifted using mechanical assistance to avoid possible personal injury, and with a groan it was hauled up and slammed to the side. After some digging and more cursing, he produced an undamaged bottle and sighed in relief before stashing it away and spinning on heel, grabbing his tools again and glaring at the pink Ithlo for a few moments.

"Don't go fiddling with stuff outside that control panel, I won't have you shorting something out from not understanding the design layout." Despite the rather abruptness of the statement, anyone with a lick of social skills could see he was at least making the vague attempt to reign in his temper and general irritation when addressing Perse. He then, while the engines were going full blast, started clambering up into the guts of the engine itself, without the slightest regard for what was considered common safety practice to, well, shut down an engine or at least have it idling before crawling in to begin inspecting and applying repairs. But not Ansgar, oh no, he couldn't leave well enough alone even if it tried to bribe him.
Clad in the colors that they were, it was still unforgivable for any sort of individual to miss the fact that the Skitarii were moving through the hive streets at their untiring, unyielding pace. RT-A-221 picked up the crowd on the omnispex, before the burst transmission from the Foundry-Foreman was received by the Magos. Normally, mere humans would have to pause and hold a conversation, however, blessed augmentations allowed them to converse in the span of what it would take others to even inhale to prepare to respond in kind.

"Cordial Reply. Situation noted. Investigation will be processed during siege breaking." The Magos was clipped and precise, even for the unfathomably fast method of communication that the Mechanicus employed when communicating among each other. The hive was to be purged, and these unaugmented humanoids certainly would not be loyalists of any sort. RT-A-221 employed the omnispex again to sweep the crowd, picking out any high value targets, be it weapons of note, figures of apparent authority among the crowd, identifying markings or other general information, being logged and processed for gathering intelligence and further computing an ideal route forward. The mob of unaugmented hivers would be a hindrance to the ultimate objective regardless, so they would necessitate removal.

Nominal firing patterns were uploaded and applied to the targeting of each Skitarii Alpha. Cognis Flamer would be utilized to prevent any from getting too close, Rotary Cannon would be applied to rapid numbers depletion, Volkite Caliver reserved for any potentially unusual targets. Galvanic Carbines would provide steady fire to prevent any gaps in the screen, and positions were taken up, all plotted out and ideal for the situation. Not a word or overt sound was made by the Skitarii Alphas, taking position and waiting patiently, unmovingly, for the kill command. The moment the Magos issued the command, the Ranger Alphas would open fire in perfect unison, Galvanic Carbines hammering in volley after volley in unison, Rotary Cannon roaring to life, under precise control of its augmented wielder, whilst the Cognis Flamer and Volkite Caliver remained ready, the former for any foolish enough to close into reach of the flames, the latter for anything noteworthy that necessitated specialized focus. RT-A-221 and the Magos, both wielding Phosphor weapons, also scanned for targets requiring illumination and priority targeting, should any such things exist.
The Skitarii Alphas and the Magos boarded the transport in perfect order, locking into place as the briefs and first mission parameters were updated and downloaded to the Skitarii Alphas. Purge the scrap code traitors of the foundry, secure the blessed munitions should they remain present, and ensure they are reassigned to use by the Inquisitor. Better the weapons be used by nominal servants of the Imperium instead of tech heretics or worse, the uninitiated traitors. All relevant data and valid intelligence was being downloaded and processed as the transport departed from the transport and began heading down to the target hive in question, all the while the Magos was monitoring friendly communications while also searching records for information on this foundry.

Binary communications between the Alphas and the Magos were surprisingly limited, only discussing necessary items, or rather, a plan of attack on the foundry being planned. Nominally, a full taskforce would send more specialized forces in, but given the eventual joint operations that were no doubt going to come up, more specialized troops could not actually be deployed without interfering with the lesser troops that have been requisitioned by the Inquisitor, and the varied forces responding to the Inquisitor's call had been logged and relevant information was being processed and acquired for the purpose of planning out likely responses and uses in terms of combat allies and performance. It was efficient use of processing power while waiting for touchdown and disembarking.

Upon touching down, map data revealed that the Skitarii troops were going to be putting their augmentation to good use and started off at a brisk, but steady, pace. The classic reason the Ranger Alphas were augmented the way they were, and Rangers in general, was the ability for them to just move and keep moving, keep tracking down their foes, and hound them to the ends of the planet. The Magos was perfectly capable of keeping up as well, following the Ranger Alphas as they moved down the streets, either evading or simply pressing through any civilians, dealing with any that might attempt to bar or assault the red clad Ranger Alphas. The flamer was on point, the Volkite Caliver and Rotary Cannon bringing up the rear alongside the Magos. RT-A-221 was scanning ahead with the implanted Omnispex, relaying data through his tether and the entire squad was moving in perfect unity, the superiority of their design and builds keeping them moving deceptively quickly towards their target.
Sergeant Rojack was only being given more and more confirmation that treading the skies was not a great idea, though he forced himself to keep his face level and focused. At least he hoped he was, feeling the incoming fire against their transport as they hurtled further downwards towards the surface. His eyes half closed as he offered up a prayer to the Sky Father, continuing to wait to be released from the harness and to be free to get down to blessed ground. As much as he didn't like the idea of throwing himself from the transport into a brief free fall to the ground, but it beat getting shot into pieces before the transport could ever simply touch down properly and let the cargo walk off the transport as if it were a stroll into a sky port. The count down to the harnesses being released was a relief, a brief moment of respite in the face of the impending warfare. Rising when the harness released, heading for the nearest available exit and, the moment he could, throwing himself out of the transport almost eagerly.

Adrenaline pumping as he plummeted downwards, hitting the ground with a tumble and a roll, he didn't immediately throw himself upright, keeping to a knee and not simply throwing himself upwards into the line of potential fire. The classical sounds of warfare, the screams of dying, the rage of weapons fire, battle cries and incoherent noises that one could not simply piece apart without risking their own well being. He snapped the Lasgun to his shoulder, familiar weight of his cut down shotgun and large sword on his hip a reminder he hadn't lost his kit on the landing. The first he spotted was the Lieutenant, as others were landing, he barked out, the loud, booming voice capable of overriding the sounds of warfare and weapons fire. "This way! We regroup over here!"

The sergeant was quick to move, joining the Lieutenant in cover, hopefully having rallied the others who were landing and giving them a location to rally to, a direction to go instead of simply wallowing in a hole, getting shot at and waiting for an unlucky weapon to strike them down. There was issues with sitting put, even if it was in a solid spot, eventually someone would find something to hit the position with that would end up wasting the Father's soldiers. Still, per the Captain's orders, no splitting the squad, so he took cover and waited by the Lieutenant for the rest to rally so they could advance towards actual objectives and do the Sky Father's bidding.
Ansgar Staudinger


Ansgar growled as he worked his way back through the ship's corridors, ripping through panels and wiring, cursing at the sprays of sparks and smoke that sometimes, too often, emitted from the panels as he dug into the guts of the ship, isolating the sections prior to repairing what he could before resuming the functions of the panel, closing it back off and making mental notes as to what was done, what wasn't done, and what wouldn't be effective prior to being docked. Of course, a casual observer would simply see this irritated, annoyed human seemingly tearing into things at random and then just cobbling the parts back together with seemingly no regard for any sort of safety or concern. Eventually, he was nearing the med bay, and given what he had heard and what was going on, he paused what he was doing to march in and assess what was going on.

"Right, since I happened to be passing by. How the hell did we end up with a tin man on the ship, and who the hell thought it was a bright idea to bring it online?" The mechanic crossed his arms, his protective garb singed and blackened superficially from the work he'd been doing so far, showing its worth in keeping him from getting injured by his work. Of course, the fact it was even necessary to begin with marked how delicate his work was despite surviving both the beating it took, and the attention of the man who put it together. He knew about the pilot being effectively downed for good, but he hadn't heard nor even been told about the other being put on death's door as well. Narrowing his eyes at that, no doubt the poor bastard of a medic was going to need a drink or three to get over that one's loss. Two dead, replaced by some pink cyborg and a tin man. What the hell world did they live in?
Aboard the escort vessel detached from the Explorator fleet, Magos Eldarian Null was in what passed for personal chambers on board such a vessel. Numerous mechandrites hooked into dataports, sifting through countless records and data streams, observing and waiting for the Inquisitor Hera to finally begin tasking. The Skitarii detachment had arrived promptly, and instead of immediate tasking, they were left waiting for the other responding Imperial forces to arrive. Inefficient, which was noted, otherwise it was time to continue preparing the protocols and upload relevant information to the Skitarii Alphas, preparing them for the operations to come. The moment an incoming comm was received, a small portion of the Magos' attention and processing immediately diverted and, by unaugmented senses, responded to the comm hail immediately. The magos, at least over the line, was hooded and the facial features nigh undetectable, three glaring red dots from where the eyes should have been located indicating the to be expected extensive augmentation.

As the Inquisitor prattled on through taskings for each group, information and data was gathered and stored for further analysis and diagnostics. Hive side HQ has not been established, inefficient, and that meant, as the escort vessel would not suffice as an appropriate HQ position for the Magos, he would be accompanying the Skitarii until a local position, that did not deal with interference from the Hive constuction, could be established. Servitors were already fetching the Magos' gear, a sub directive snapping the appropriate subordinates into action. The escort vessel lacked the appropriate equipment for orbital guidance of Skitarii assets, acting as little more than transport to bring the Skitarii Ranger Alphas and their Magos to the planet and fulfill the obligation required by the Inquisitorial call for aid.

Orders were first dispatched to Adeptus Arbites and Astra Militarum elements. Arbites, law enforcement, typically well suited to urban combat. Ideal deployment for such forces, Militarum forces an unknown. Lack of uniformity between regiments means planning for requires further information. Typically useful for holding positions, likely able to hold cordon while Arbites secure the prospective HQ position. Given the likely number of specialist forces, this HQ prospect likely able to house and store not only relevant parties, but resources and munitions to execute their operations. Initial orders had already been issued to the Ranger Alphas, and they had already begun rituals to arm and prepare the machine spirits for war. The next orders finally, almost painfully slowly, came from the Inquisitor.

Leadership among the traitor forces split three ways between offspring of the former Governor. Assassin operatives confirmed with orders issued to such individuals. Most appropriate use for such individuals, three targets to be removed in tandem with the seizing of an HQ structure, organizing multiple prongs to strike at the same time. Likely best solution for Assassin forces is long range, near simultaneous elimination. Jamming or interfering with communications to eliminate ability to warn between targets also optimal if efficient means to eliminate all three at proper moments. However, the most relevant current information came forward next. Marching orders for the Skitarii tasked with assisting the Inquisitor, and secondary orders were uploaded to the Ranger Alphas as relevant information was downloaded from the data archives.

Upon mention of a foundry that housed Melta Torpedoes, the Magos already was linking to and cross referencing relevant information on operations in the hive. Quickly narrowing it down, the foundry in question produced great deals of voidship munitions, significant levels of torpedoes. No imports or exports, and a cessation from work order had been issued in response of the Damnatio sentencing. Loyal servants would have continued producing arms and munitions for the Imperium even in the face of such a thing until they had no further resources. The magos spoke candidly, at least as candid as one could expect of a senior member of the Mechanicus, though there was almost no humanity left by virtue of augmentation to the voice. "Inquisitor, there is no peace for the scrap code of the heretek. Objectives logged and downloaded. Departure routines underway."

Schematics for the Foundry, likely numbers and hierarchy, and other useful census and logged data was being searched, scrubbed, and prepared for use by the Skitarii team, while the Magos continued waiting for the call to end so that he would go join the Ranger Alphas. Final orders were given to Adeptus Sororitas and Adeptus Tempestus to sow discord among the gangs of the hive by eliminating the highest two gangs in terms of authority. No survivors, complete ruin. Vanguard operation should the full might of the Explorator Fleet have been called in, but it was not. Radium weapons poor choice for joint operations, despite high effectiveness in urban environments. Without senior gang leadership, lesser gangs rebel and turn on each other. Inefficient, but expected of such forces. Initial operations noted as securing vital resources, locations, and sowing chaos and preventing effective responses by hostile forces within the Hive. Ulterior motives of Inquisitor, as of yet, unclear but expected. Upon the closing thought of the day and cessation of the communication, the magos disconnected from the ship archives and communications directly, a weathered, worn servo skull hovering down from its dock and joining him as he strode out.

Servitors waited, weapons and equipment of the Magos waiting. Mechandrites and superior metal arms reclaimed weapons and equipment, arming and preparing without missing a stride. The Magos Null would arrive at the hanger of the escort vessel in short order, the Ranger Alphas in perfect ranks, already armed, online, and prepared for further orders. At the head of the ranks was Alpha Primarus RT-A-221, effective second of the Skitarii task force. No words were exchanged, blessed binary communications happening in far faster succession than verbal communication could ever possibly imitate. The Magos would not normally deploy directly so soon, but the aformentioned lacking HQ functionality currently available dictated initial operations must be overseen directly. The Ranger Alphas, upon deployment with their Magos, would operate even more precisely than normal. Such direct guidance had its benefits.
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