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The first sip of Emperor’s Finest StimCaf tasted strangely bitter this morning to Colonel Wishart, sitting in his Command Chimera. Gagging, he resisted the urge to fling the cup at the driver, who probably brewed it using the primary oil filter again. The tankers felt it was a right of passage. The infantry (rightly) thought they were insane.
Perhaps reading his thoughts, his vox officer took the cup away from him before he created a regrettable mess.
“Message from the front lines. Second platoon’s located and secured a crashed Inquisition vessel, Blackstar class. It doesn’t appear there are any survivors.”
Wishart wrinkled his brow in contemplation. Having Deathwatch involved in his airspace was an indication that the battle is about to get a lot hairier. Despite a large Imperial Armada presently in orbit, the navy was no-where to be found during the fierce fighting these past few days, which makes ground operations needlessly difficult. His relationship with the navy had been… Acrimonious as of late.
“Did second platoon indicate the condition of the craft?”
“Poor, but it may be serviceable.”
The gears continued to spin. “Send it on our chief mechanics to take a look. Do not alert the Commissariat, Inquisition, or the Mechanicus. …We’re going to need all the help we can get.”
“…Understood, sir.”
Both knew there would be no Tribunal hearing if anybody dressed in black found out about this.
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Continue reading “Conversion: Corvus Vulture”