Perception check: look for things that could help. Failed: needed

Tech Use check: fix the shutter by percussive maintenance. Success: needed

You frantically look about for a reference manual, a spanner left behind, a datapoint that might contain a helpful user guide. You find nothing of the sort, and must force yourself to drag your eyes away from the view through the open shutter at least twice. You suck air through your intake valve (the closest you can come to sucking air through your teeth) and start in on the Rite of Percussive Maintenance (abbreviated). On the requisite second repetition (the first being a warning to the machine spirit in question), you strike the stuck shutter squarely with your fist. Nothing happens for a brief moment. Your organic heart races as catecholamines race through your blood. You curse it's frailty and your own fear as you ready your fist for another strike. You lower your fist, relieved that the shutter appears to be functional again.

Fear Test: brief Warp exposure. Willpower test at -30%. Failed: needed <6, got 66. +1 Insanity.

Shock table: rolled at +60, got result 81-100: Run Away!

But without something to focus on, your fear gets the better of you. You turn and sprint through the doorway, slamming it shut behind you. You don't have to ponder what you just did for long. You just glanced, ever so briefly and unintentionally, into the Warp. You thank the Omnissiah that you did not linger, for doing so leads to madness and mutation: the corruption of organic flesh and the ruination of mechanical perfection. You flee headlong down the hallway, heedless of your path. You don't know or care where you are going, just that it is away from the observation dome. Your flight is brought to an abrupt conclusion as you round a corner and slam headfirst into something tall and solid. You pass out.

Failed a Level 4 Fear test involving the warp: +4 Corruption.

Passing exposure to the Warp: +10 Corruption

>10 Corruption: Malignancy test (Willpower). Failed: needed <36, got 40.

Malignancy Table: rolled at +0, got result 64-70: Poor Health. Lost -10% toughness.

You wake up in the bunk in your quarters with a fellow techpriest leaning over you. You recognize the rank-insignia of a Mech-Wright about his neck. Before you can speak, the Mech-Wright nods.

"You saved me a bit of work, so I guess some thanks are in order. Take this, it might be helpful next time." The Mech-Wright drops a combi-tool on your chest, then turns and clomps out of your berth.

You lean back into the bunk and let the air wheeze out of your lungs. You feel weak, helpless. You doubt you could even carry your backpack and weapons in your current condition. You resolve to spend some time at exercise during the remaining portion of the trip.

The Onyx-skinned man appears in the doorway, "a runner dropped off a dataslate for you while you were out. Paperwork, unless I miss my guess. You should have plenty of time to fill it out, given that we're in the warp now and confined to quarters for the duration. Orders from the arms-master, in case you were wondering. Standard procedure for passengers during warp-transits."

You nod and settle back. You have some time to expend, you presume, and resolve to use it to better yourself.