[DH2] Dark Pursuits

[TheOctopus]

In orbit around Desoleum, Inquisitor Lara Vakarius gathers her acolytes for a mission briefing. She passes around dataslates with relevant information about the planet below before beginning.

"As you know, our current objective has been to take down, or at very least, disrupt the vast smuggling operations known as the Faceless Trade in the Askellon Sector. Our sources on Desoleum have detected artifacts both of xenos and heretical origin being funneled through Desoleum. Your mission is to located the source of this trade, how the artifacts are coming into the hive, and end it."

She pulls up a file on her dataslate, which opens it up on all of yours as well. The first page of the file shows two picts; the first is of a Desoleum nobleman with dark hair, pale skin, and a proud bearing. The second pict shows the same man, disheveled and with dark circles beneath his eyes.

"This is Lars Guljian, a noble of some standing in Desoleum Prime's social structure. We have been informed of a recent madness that has overtaken him. He forgets his appearance, ignores social obligations, and is becoming somewhat of a shut in. Our sources on the planet suspect he may be involved in this Faceless Trade. Heresy often has such effects on the weak minded. He is your primary lead."

The rest of the file contains information on Guljian, including where he resides in the hive, his various meaningless titles, and a short description.

The Inquisitor closes the file, stows her dataslate in the pocket of her storm coat, and turns to leave.

"A shuttle is waiting for you to take you to the surface. I'm leaving for Juno in six hours to pursue other leads. Emperor be with you, and good hunting."

[ArcturusV]

Well that sounded like a dismissal if anything else did.

Carlos had been scanning through the Data-Slate, committing the features of the mark to memory as best as possible. It sounded fairly cut and dry to himself. Desoleum did have its Xenos Ruins on it, if there was trade going on in both the Alien and the Dark, it would seem logical enough this was a middle man between some Xenos Scavengers in the Ruins, and some offworld factor serving darker powers. Least, it seemed obvious to the young Octavius. He tucked the Data-slate into one of his coat pockets, keeping it for future reference.

Standing up, he snapped off not a perfect Imperial Naval Salute, but at least a fair imitation of one as the Inquisitor left. No support, not much to go on, either, but then again no one ever promised him this would be easy work either. Only that it was a better option than being declared Excommunicae Traitorus along with anyone else who crossed them.

"Well chaps, seems we got some work to do," he said, clapping his hands to draw attention of the other Acolytes, "I don't know about the rest of you, but I could use an hour to round up some necessary items. Of course my skills are available should you need me but..." he looked over at the others there, "... you don't seem the types to be interested," he resolved it, doubting that the apparently brutish looking warrior or the obvious glowing eye witch really were looking for anything in the realm of not being noticed.

[Hemnon]

Kanya quelled a yawn, trying her best to not look... too skittish. She'd been have odd dreams lately and being a Psyker on top of that makes it a bit, uh, scary for others. So she tried to fit in a bit more, wearing average-looking clothes and such. it's a pretty big 'OMG it's a psyker' when you walk around with Imperial Psyker clothing and Adeptus Astra Telepathica markings on their staff.
So she looked much more downtoned and with an ornate-enough walkingstick.
But besides from that, one would have to look very close to even spot her Psyker-nature, and then possibly being a psyker themselves as well and be around while she was using her Powers.

[Checkmate-Pony]

Slatan stood up his mouth opened at what Carlos said and his eyes wide

"No!" he exclaimed "I am interested" "this is everything that matters!" he walked around the chairs and tipped over more by accident as he tried to move up towards Carlos and reached his shovel hands out and took Carlos's hand for a double shake weather he wanted that or not. Although his body odor beat him to it...

his nails were long and black like he had claws. He wore Fatigues too small for his muscular dimensions, but his face of which was full of excitement and deepest respect for Carlos. Slatan was odd to behold, from his build and almost literal black mane of hair growing all around his head like a lion, one would assume he was in his prime, but his large dark eyes (almost all black to absorb more light) and small nose gave away his actual youth. Such was the envious boons of strong genes and a bloodline of primitives.

"I will go where you go, I will use an hour to round up necessary skills and my items are available when you need them" He said unintentionally switching Carlos's previous statement. He let go and stood his full height looking down at Carlos for a moment before saluting (as if he had forgotten to do it) making his cloths creak from stretching. He made a huge smile but then quickly remmembered that it was wrong to smile and look happy in the army and instead glared at Carlos. Which was legitimately scary; even if he dident mean it.

[ArcturusV]

Carlos's face screwed up, his throat rebelling as the veritable wall of stench hit him, and the savage took up his hand in an overly enthusiastic shake. He was about to take out a pocket handkerchief to wipe off his hands when the Calf broke into his glare and salute. His eyes went wide, and he froze, perfectly still in that moment, struck by the effect of the large, savage, foul creature and just how dangerous it could really be.

Slowly he snapped out of it, finding his handkerchief and wiping off his hands, and returning the salute to The Calf. "As you were," he said in a clipped, miltaristic manner, having at least a little experience as a commander of some of the House Guard before.

His eyes flicked over towards the other two, apparently still just sitting in their chairs, completely unconcerned with their mission or any sense of decorum. Oh sure, the Tech-Priest might be doing some heavy cogitating inside that brain box, Carlos knew that well enough from the Explorator Corps, but the Psyker was yawning, showing a complete lack of interest.

His eyes were starting to water from standing around The Calf, and his throat was gagging regularly, "See to it Mister..." he trailed off, not knowing The Calf's name, though his hand waved towards the psyker and the Tech-Priest, "that they get ready to disembark in the allotted hour. Consider yourself field promoted to sergeant." It was a meaningless title, he had no authority beyond his breeding and nobility here. But giving him a title and one he recognized most likely from his military bearing could only serve to engender this dangerous beast to him, and establish a clear Officer/NCO relationship that should make things run smoother.

"Or should I say Sergeant?" He gave The Calf a confident smile, and took two steps back, getting some space from the Stench, before snapping off another salute. "Make sure to hit the showers before leaving. Stealth protocols are to be in effect, and while you may be suited well to a wild place, your current odor will give away our positions constantly down there." Well that should at least help make the shuttle ride more comfortable he thought, snapping off another Salute to The Calf to signal that his orders were given, and to see how well it took.

[Hemnon]

Kanya finally cracked a bit, her eyes shifting around, like she was seeing something JUST outside of her peripheral, keeping on shifting around her gaze from time to time, her hands fidgeting a bit. She was trying to keep it under control and less noticable, but some of her nervousness was still seeping through the cracks.

[Checkmate-Pony]

"Sergeant!" he said surprised, he immediately didn't understand how Carlos was able to give him that title, and without sacrifice of an animal no less. Slantan suspected it might be a lie of good intentions, and he knew many people told him lies out of good intentions to protect him, which spoke well of Carlos. He certainly wasn't going to start asking questions... That would be a sign of weakness.

"Thank you sir" "It's Slatan Mak'Muk'Mak'Mel" he relaxed his salute and felt sadness, as he could see his discomfort.

ofcourse upon Carlos telling him to shower Slatan's eyes narrowed and he looked to the side "I know..." he grumbled before Carlos was done talking, apparently fully aware his musk.

"Okey!" he saluted him again, which he did in such a manner that it clearly showed he' didn't do it regularly. His regiment might salute in some other brutish head butting fashion
"I will be there to beat the wild out of your positions sir" he turned to eagerly leave, he wanted to see his gun... and expend his water rations in a shower that he had been building up for a while now

[Checkmate-Pony]

As the psyker and techpriest sat in their laxity

Slatan would return eventually, his mane wet and his body fitted for war, he looked swolen, his flak armour and combat vest making him even more bulkcy, his bags and satchels of ammonituion hanging off his hips and back, even chest, it looked like nothing would knock him down. he carried with him a large army case with coding letters and bar codes, he could carry a person inside that case.

he made a booming noise for attention, he breyed almost like a cow "Listen!" he looked out over the two, but refused to lay eyes directly on atleast 'one' of them

"You!" he pointed out at them all as if they were a whole assembly "The commander's shuttle leaves soon, you will be there for him-" his voice whent lower and lower till suddenly he yells "-AND You will Kneel Before him! as your lord commander" he bundled his fist getting hyped he chewed down so hard his head started shaking "there will be no hesitation" "Get out of your seats!"

[Hemnon]

Kayna did not look all that impressed at the Feral-worlder's outburst. She's experienced MUCH worse during her Black Ships stay and sanctioning, as well as what she'd seen since she was taken under the wing of the Inquisitor. Sure she may look not much more than a child barely out of the teens, but her cold watery-blue eyes turned steely towards the Guardsman that sounded like he had too much starch in his pants. She's seen and experienced MUCH worse that what some upstart Dog Trooper most likely would ever see, hear or feel during their entire career in the Guard.

So she just threw him a steely, cold glare, partially interrupted by the odd twitchy movement and skittish wandering stare. She might look frightened and uneasy, but it was NOT fear or scare of anyone Present here.

She's got no obligation towards anyone here. Only her Charge, the Inquisitor held anything remotely close to 'personal connection' or Trust. Or at least Obedience.
As for everyone else.... no. Trust had to be earned, the truth about their person would be revealed to her as they went on this mission together. And if she did not like what she saw, maybe that 'Truth' would need to be changed.

Kanya held out her nicely-looking staff and ran her hand over the exotic-looking object on the top, as if either trying to calm down a pat, or showing reverence to some ancient relic. whichever the case, it seemed a bit... odd and uncomfortable to stare at for too long.

[Checkmate-Pony]

"you!" Slatan said again, and then smiling because he could not hold it back any longer, he then walked down towards them and it became suddenly apparent what he meant by "you"

He meant Nova Alta, he aimed for her and walked towards her and adressed only her, and it became apparent that Slatan didn't notice the psyker at all, as if she didn't exist in the same world as his

"Come on now" he said much quieter and timid looking down at Nova "I just want you to make a good impression with me for the commander" he said warmly, he carefully reached out with both hands and rook hers and tried to pull Nova from her seat, he didn't try too hard, hoping she'd do it herself, and because he didn't want to upset her too much

"I am clean now if that's what bothers you" he said, trying his best to convince the Techpriest following him was the best cause, "the chair will still be here when we get back", pausing "you are not scared are you?"

[Miraqariftsky]

Then...

Longest briefing I've had so far with the boss. Blunt and right to the business of the matter. As expected, given previous behavioural observations and extrapolations about her traits from... other... sources.

While the hooded techpriest's hands caressed the dateslate she was given, remaining largely still the while during the briefing, one mechadendrite swivelled about her shoulder, its array of optics keeping watch on the doors and on her fellow Acolytes. Upon their dismissal, she but bows in acknowledgement, but keeps on working, murmuring a stream of litanies and prayers to the machine spirits in the 'slate---

---and the soon enough, commandeered a maintenance crew's incense burners as well as the suite's connection to the ship's data-net. Her unexpected sweet melody of Nova's voice softened the otherwise mechanical drone of the susurrus of prayer, appeasing the spirits of the circuits to speed their retrieval of data regarding the case, anything that might help to get the investigation a boost.

++Hive Desoleum, overview, and pertinents, processing... ++Query: Desoleum security situation?
++Accessing crime database. Accessing internal cogitator archives: re: HERESY. Processing...

Presently...

The cogitation trance continues apace despite The Calf's antics. Once or twice, she'd grimaces as a particularly strong bout of distraction made her lose her focus and some threads of data compilation.

Suddenly, at his touch, Nova's mental operation goes awry, her head suddenly throbbing. She reels away, backpedalling, blinking furiously against the flare of pain and a surge of adrenaline even as her hands bring the well-kept lasgun to bear. Above, the chainscalpel in her other mechadendrite whirls and purrs.

Ugh. Stoppage-sucking meatbag. I... oh. It's you.

Forcing herself to relax, she slicks her rifle's safety back on and slings the weapon back over her shoulder. Nova's chest heaves as she tries to calm down.

"I. Know. The. TIME. M... " Sighing while tucking away some stray golden locks, she croons to the cogitator's console as she sets systems back in order and gathers her dataslate again. Looking upwards at Slatan with her emerald eyes, Nova says, "Sergeant Slatan Mak'Muk'Mak'Mel. Thaaaaaaaank you for that resooooounding remmmminder. Also, thank you for disrupting work that could have landed us some more initial clues to build our case on. Such as it is---"

Tapping her forehead with one finger, she continues with a grimace, "---you know how when you're cleaning your gun and someone startles you and you spill everything? Or if you're on the hunt in the wild and your colleague is suddenly noisy?"

Nova nods, then pats the feral's brawny arm with her hand. Or, at least, the side thereof that's still composed of warm, weak flesh. "Relax, ya damn mountain of meat. Mark's still fifteen minutes off. We're still early." Counting off fingers, she says with a thin smile, "Yes, you do have a distinct not unworthy aroma that bears study. Dusk, was it? Then again, voidships, hive-cities, beasts, people... all are worthy of study. The universe is full of wondrous and terrible and beautiful things that we have yet to learn. Oh, and faaaaaaaaaaascinating as this chair is, it's what's in the data-net that I was working at. And... while I do look forward to serving our Allfather with you fine people, and look forward to seeing you all in action, and getting to know you all on and off the field... no, I am not scared of you, nor the mission. The Heretic, the Mutant, the Alien, the Ruinous Powers? Jam the lot and piss on them. You know what's to be afraid of? Failing with your duty not done. And failing and letting those who're depending on us down."

And all the while, the two mechadendrites, like steel snakes over her shoulders, nod in time to her points.

Hefting her backpack and smiling once again at Kayna, Nova says, "Mamzel Menghch. You alright?"

[ArcturusV]

Carlos had made his own exit, leaving "Sergeant" Slatan to deal with the other two, and make sure they were on task. He had little idea how well they were going to work out, and for the time being, it wasn't really his concern. A Tech-Priest was easy enough to deal with, Logic made for a simple handle to manipulate someone with, facts were perhaps the easiest thing to control after all. Opinions, faith? Now that was hard to talk to. The other was perhaps a faithful mutant, maybe a mute he gathered as he left. Not exactly a useful body on a mission like this.

He moved through the decks of the ship with purpose, giving a stride and an air of certainty and command that would make ratings scramble out of his way, recognizing the stature of a noble officer on duty. His mind was already busy, knowing he didn't have much time to accomplish things. His quarters were stately, fitting someone of his status. Where others on the ship might have maintained spartan quarters, more out of need rather than desire, or as he imagined a highly utilitarian forge shrine the Tech-Priest might have favored, his quarters looked... lived in. Behind his bed was a fine Sablecat Pelt serving as a backdrop, a large desk of dark, rich wood was along one wall, over the desk a fine painting by an up and coming artist (At least when he purchased it), depicting Lord Solar Maccharius's crusade into the Ghoul Stars, with his regiment that conquered most of the Galaxy in adulation of the angelic figure. It always served to inspire Carlos in his works, and just looking at it brought a smile to his face.

Sitting down, he pulled out his work kit, papers, books, inks, paints, holofoils, and more, arraying it before him. Who did he want to be this time? Closer to the truth tended to be better than further away. Less lies to tell, more shared history that could be used. It was entirely possible in the shadow wars of the Inquisition someone might know of Carlos Octavius however as an Inquisitorial Acolyte.

Instead, he started working up papers, forging them with the eye of someone who often dealt in such official papers. It was a rush job, but he felt confident in his work. A factor for a Merchant Cartel of House Cassifex, close enough to what he did back with the Salix Dynasty, and something that should provide wide access to noble targets. He even bothered to draw up some papers for Sergeant Slatan Mak'Muk'Mak'Mal, drawing up a history of a Guardsman who had been seconded to House Cassifex, with his honorable discharge papers, and Open Carry permits for his weaponry. Something most former Guardsmen Men at Arms serving a noble house would most likely have to prove they weren't deserters or criminals, after all.

Papers squared away, he armed up himself, his shock maul on his hip, his laspistol hidden away so he was certain that it would be fairly accessible and avoid detection from all but the most potent of Auspex Spirits. His coat was well armored, he trusted it to turn aside blades and knives, and the mesh weave meant it looked like nothing more than an elaborate highborn noble's overcoat. Deception was always chief to warfare for a noble, leave the savages to their blunt fury, an enemy who doesn't know what he faces is an enemy already defeated, after all.

He smiled to himself, finishing his packing, washing his face, spritzing a little lavender perfume over him, just in case the shower didn't take as well with Slatan. He should be able to be on time, presuming no great delays. Walking out of his quarters, he keyed a lock code, thinking that he would indeed return whenever the Inquisitor finished with her mission. And if not, wanting to make sure some Rating didn't loot his art. He doubted they could appreciate the full effect of it, after all.

Making his way to the hanger, he entered, chin up, imperial airs presented, walking with purpose as he sought out a lighter, the Sergeant, and the two women. The Sergeant seemed to be having a moment with the Tech-Priest, causing Carlos to arch an eyebrow at it, as he didn't really expect that they would be getting along. But perhaps the empty vessel waiting to be filled had an appeal to the magus of lost lore. Stranger things had happened.

[Checkmate-Pony]

Slatan just started looking really depressed a female reacted this violent to him, and was more stunned to react much to the weapon, too afraid, happened so fast he didn't know how to feel about a woman pulling a weapon on him

As she put it away, which made him calm and also wanted to cave her head in with a rock for aiming a weapon at him no matter how safe or unloaded a weapon was, no one points a weapon at anyone.

But to Slatan's absolute horror, she started talking... rambling, incoherent, condescending stream of platitude, halfway through he clamped his hands on his ears and looked with big eyes on her as he whispered "please stop"

it wasn't that he didn't understand what she said, but it was meaningless, why talk if you didn't have something good to say? calling him names, accusing him, implying he had ruined the mission by touching her. Was this how all women behaved? whatever the case, this was hell

"shut up..." he said with utter sadness in his voice as she started lecturing him about fears and failings

he backs away from her and just leaves with his case fearful. He had enough, he was not trained to be a leader, and when a recruit just treated him with a weapon he became discouraged, he wanted to tell Carlos, he needed help.

---

He ran across the busy hangar decks to look for Carlos, almost getting run over again by a bag carrier, and upon seeing him: "Sir! Octavius, I don't know what to do!" he huffs over to him, the combat vest and ammo stocks makes him look so comicaly broad and wide limbed, like a mascot for truck tires

"Can we just go? The other girl Nova just threatened me with a weapon" he grimaced concerned, his face was easy to read. "I mean, I tell you because I've never seen a private do that to a sergeant before, I'm not sure how it should be punished... I didn't think someone would be that suicidally stupid!" his last part being almost like a rant, in reality he ofcourse just wanted help from someone he considered a friend.

[Checkmate-Pony]

he leaned in to whisper as if it was even nessesary in the noise of shuttles

"Perhapse we might have to bring them along, so they don't hurt anyone else here" looking around as if it was a big conspiracy going on.

[Miraqariftsky]

Rust and corrosion, you void-jelly swilling meatbag!

Curses crackle through Nova's mind, still piecing together her disrupted cogitative research, as she tromps through the voidcraft's clanging corridors. She tries to refocus, taking a little solace in the familiarity of the bustling, ever-rumbling streams of machinery and men.

Is he THAT young and unproven? Mother of chrome. ...Huhm. RUST! Omnissiah singe my memory, you remind me of me, well... no matter how far the Machine takes us, we're still human.

Impressing one's superiors, HAH. You need to look beyond that, little cog. But look into yourself as well. You accept yourself as you are, and strive as best you can in the circuitways the Voidfather wrote you, and no censure nor doubt can touch you.

Still nursing the dataslate and rubbing her temple to soothe the throbbing headache, grumbling curses against "the weak flesh", Nova arrives at the shuttle hanger and nods at Carlos with her three heads and says, "Prime. Greetings. Please. Pardon the wait. But once this ---ghh--- scrambledfrak headache clears, You Will have a Report Detailing as much as I could Research REGarding our case, despite our short prep time. YOur COG here was quite... diligent and creative in his methods of... reminding. Oil him down next time, if you please."

graaaaaaannn... The gold-fringed techpriest suddenly lolls against a nearby shuttle's hull, her green eyes seeming to roll back into her head, otherwise sweet voice dissolving into a grating groan. It was usually ill-advised, but Nova presently downcycles her processors and imbibes a small string of scrap-code to aid in forcing down the headache and retrieving/reconstructing her research.

[ArcturusV]

Carlos's prim, proper mask cracked when his "Sergeant" approached, and reported weapon play in the hanger between figures. His eyes shot over towards the Tech-Priest, with no proper denial of the incident, and only reporting malfunctions and subpar performance. A lesser man might have cracked at that moment, might have lost his temper, raged about like a Grox flicked right in the balls, and swung his shock maul at anyone and everyone who came in arc.

It was likely good that Carlos did not consider himself a lesser man. Straightening up his jacket unconsciously, hands smoothing out the lapels he squared his shoulders, and marched towards Nova.

"I do know something of the Priesthood of Mars, not much, but a little," he started with Nova, his voice calm and measured as he looked down at her fit. "I've worked with Tech-Priests ancient and magnificent before, so do understand that I am accustomed to being able to function properly with those who follow the path of the Omnissiah, aligning our goals to serve the same good."

"But a team is akin to a void ship. Many machine spirits, ruled by one overarching spirit, all having to work in harmony under the guidance of the Omnissiah in order to achieve perfection of purpose and accomplishments." It was at this point his eyes narrowed, "Drawing arms upon them, is akin to you performing an unsanctioned modification of a Plasma Coil that destroys the Life Sustainer Spirits." He said it, knowing that to an Omnissian such a comparison should be like a slap to the face, something so unthinkable that most would rather hardwipe their cogitators than even contemplate such an action. At least the ones he knew back in the Dynasty. Cold, and calculated to make her realize just how unacceptable such behavior would be, no matter how she might excuse it.

"Further incidents will result in reports sent via my personal contacts to Arch-Magos Delacroix, who I assure you will pass the information on to Mars, for further review," he figured that while he might not have any actual authority over the Tech-Priest, except that which the Tech-Priest thought possible... almost anyone in a relatively free ranging job like this had some skeletons in their closets, and some grey decisions that would be hard to justify to outside review. It might just be enough pressure to threaten it to keep things in line and let her know how serious he was about this.

Oh he was sure that Slatan wouldn't understand what he said and did to the Tech-Priest, or think he was far too soft to respect as a leader at this point. But it was the way he wanted to handle it, and he wanted that line drawn clear in the sand. Pointing weapons at teammates was not acceptable.

"Now, if you're all ready, lets get our gear stowed, mount up, and awaken the machine spirits," Carlos said loudly for the benefit of everyone there, letting his voice carry so even the Ratings would know to start deck crew operations and making sure that all was cleared to fly.

[Hemnon]

Kanya got to her feet, sighed and began to head off to meet the rest of the blunt-headed members of her Cell... Team... whatever you wanna call it. It was a pain to deal with the simple-mindedness and lack of any true knowledge of the sort of universe they all lived in.
The Pompous Nobleborn - Truely a moron from breeding. First-impression screamed 'selfserving pompous ass'
The Feral-worlder - Smelly, loud and an asskisser. Useful for combat and not much happening in his head except 'follow orders, yell loudly, pull trigger to shoot things'.
The Adept of Mars - Blunted like the rest, possibly a bit more intelligent than the other two. Might make a useful body-sized cover, with all those bulky augmetics. Might be useful knowledgewise.

Arriving at the carrier, Kanya went on the kneel down and do what most should be doing before heading into the depth of the void in a floating tincan: Pray and meditate. Awaiting the rest to arrive as well. She was muttering the blessings and abjutations of protection, thought both from birth, but also from her time with the Black Ships to help still her mind towards the task and guard it from the vileness of the warp.

[Checkmate-Pony]

Slatan pursed his lips and just went into the shuttle, before entering he held his breath as he always did when crossing a threshold, strapping in and dreading what would come, he knew he'd become sick from being thrown around while staring into a wall

[ArcturusV]

Carlos gave Nova a little pat on the shoulder, considering the situation handled at least for now. Heading up the lander ramp, he paused next to Sergeant Slatan, reaching into his pocket to pull out the small package of official looking papers that he held out to Slatan. "While we are on planet, if anyone asks who you are or to see your identification or papers, show them these. It lists you as my personal bodyguard, a former Guardsman honorably discharged, licensed to openly carry arms and armor. Mostly try to look intimidating and make sure no harm comes to me, and it should all work out." He gave the feral guardsman a nod, and that handled went to get his own seat, strapping in, looking pretty relaxed. It wouldn't be his first planetfall by a long shot, he was a spacer after all and the prospect of the approach flight was no more worrying to him than walking to the local PX would be for Slatan.

Still he crossed his hands in front of his chest, making the sign of the Aquila, bowing his head. "God-Emperor, see our trip safely through the darkness of the void, bring us from this noble vessel to the light of your world, so we may serve you in earnest. Protect us so we may prove worthy of your protection. In our time of travel we beseech you. Ave Imperator."

[Hemnon]

Kanya got up from her kneeling, praying position and headed on along inside the transport, still feeling no real wish or need to talk to any of the others there.