It's not all ornament, though. Artemis finds the armoire set into the far wall is keyed to his voice, and there he can stow any gear he wishes. After doing so, he sets off in search of the medicae ward.
A guard points him the right direction, and soon enough Artemis locates it, a few twists and turns through the corridors and onto the other side of the deck.
As the doors whoosh open, the steady hum of a busy ward fills Artemis' ears. Men and women in white uniforms flit about, ministering to the many sick and injured. The Horizon's Pride hosts a crew of ten thousand, and so in the packed ward Artemis sees all kinds: rough looking sailors waiting for stitches after a few too many off duty amasecs; pregnant women looking for a checkup; crewmen and women with the cuts and bruises that go along with working in the bowels of a ship. Fortunately, nothing looks too serious.
The buzz of activity slowly dies off as awareness of Artemis spreads through the ward. It seems everyone is staring; it seems Lan's entire crew doesn't share his comfort around Space Marines.
A harried looking young woman pushes he way out of the press. She wears the robes of a Sister Hospitaller, a medical auspex dangling from her belt where a Sister of Battle might carry a bolter. "That's enough. Back to work. Idle hands are heresy."
She approaches Artemis, bows at the waist. "My Lord, you honor us with your presence. I am Sister Magdalena, at your service."