Conference

Hawk was using the bridge on his assault shuttle as his master tactical nerve center. Cables snaked from the belly of the blunt armoured craft. With its heavily armoured hull and bulky weapons pods, stubby wings for atmospheric maneuvers and shielded engines there was no mistaking the ship for what it was. Beside it the pragmatic design of the Arvus Lighter that Hammerhand had arrived with seem graceful in comparison. The towering walls of the remains of the hanger in which the Orks had ambushed the first assault dwarfed both. Both ships sat in vacuum. But technical servitors had domed part of the hangar and linked the ships in the landing zones to the domes and the airlock entrances to the Hulk with atmosphere tunnels.

Cables were stapled across the undomed part of the hangar to link the ships to the manned Hulk command rooms that Hawk’s teams had activated.
Chaplain Arsestus was reporting the Red Hunters progress to the conference Hawk had called. Present were Hammerhand, Hawks autosavant, Captain Meddigo, the Colonel of the Belisimar boys and a Holo of Captain Pilgrim.

“The Red hunters Teams have opened a route through the Ork infested area to hullward. The advanced tactical squad Panther has entered the unknown section. No resistance has been encountered.”
“Sergeant Mudmilk has a datavox report which has been downloaded to the Holopict projector.”
“With your permission?” he asked Hawk.
Hawk nodded.

The image quality on the screen was superb. Hawk had made and maintained many friends within the ranks of the techpriests having supplied many xeno and archeotech artifacts without allowing them to be subjected to a full bureaucratic assessment through the Ordo Xenos. As a result Hawk’s technical equipment was always fully functional and of top specification.

On screen and with sound Sergeant Mudmilk demonstrated the vast cathedral like empty space that squad Panther had entered. Powerful searchlight failed to penetrate to the far wall of the cavernous chamber. The floor was covered in a fine dust.
“Scanners indicate that the dust is organic in origin. Only 78% probability of entirely human origin.” A background ticking noise could be heard over the link.
“Turn the pict sender on the walls and roof,” asked Hammerhand.
The walls were ribbed. Each rib rose tapering in an arc to meet others in a point on the ceiling. The walls were significantly indented between each rib.
From the rib arch points on the ceiling hung glistening white moist material, that slowly oozed fluid dripping to the floor 20 metres below.
“The atmosphere is breathable but only if you are desperate. The air temperature is only slightly above freezing. The oxygen concentration is only 10%. The remainder is carbon dioxide some nitrogen plus sulphur dioxide and a high level of complex organics as you can see from the data downloaded to your auspexes,” continued the sergeant.
“Comfortable if you are wearing power armour,” commented the Belisimar Colonel.
“Good job we can’t smell the air over there from the data you have downloaded. “The stench from the sulphur dioxide and organics must be overpowering,” commented Felix the autosavant.
“It must smell like rotting flesh of some sort,” thought Hammerhand aloud.
“What is that in the distance, rotate the pict sender clockwise 45 degrees,” commanded Hawk.