The Aerie, Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
Vincent nods respectfully to the Colonel and returns his greeting before sitting down at the place set for him, removing his coat and draping it across the back of his chair, then setting the data-slate on the table beside him.
"Good afternoon Warden-Colonel, I was glad to hear of your swift recovery."
Vincent lets the chill air calm his nerves as he carefully deconstructs the folded napkin, undoing each fold in turn until it lies flat on the delicate china plate, then gingerly lifts the cloth from the plate and drapes it across his lap, smoothing out the creases that form. This ritual completed, he carefully removes his glasses, folding the temples and placing them on the table beside his data-slate. Only then does he return his gaze to the Colonel, staring past Triggs as if he weren't there.
"I observed that security has been tightened in the Aerie, are there any threats I should be concerned about?"
Vincent adopts the casual tone he has observed others use when engaging in 'small talk,' though his words are carefully chosen.
The Aerie, Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
"Good afternoon Warden-Colonel, I was glad to hear of your swift recovery."
"Thank you for your concern, Sepheris, but it was really nothing more than a mild ailment. I can assure you I have weathered more troublesome maladies; the stagnant ague as a child, and a pernicious case of trench foot while fighting in the jungles during the Cooj Bay Insurrection just after I received my major's bars."
He sips a tall flute filled with burnt-orange colored juice.
"I observed that security has been tightened in the Aerie, are there any threats I should be concerned about?"
A pair of dark-skinned, slender female servitor waitstaff saunter in, their faces covered by the polished shellwood medicine masks ringed with neon-blue spurclaw chitin that are favored by the natives of the southern coast. They wear loose white shifts, corded at the waist. Each carries another covered dish, setting it down with deft, almost mechanical grace. One traipses over to you and begins pointing mutely to different beverages, waiting for your selection so it can pour.
Kreed waves his hand dismissively as you pick your drink, chuckling good-naturedly.
"It seems I am sometimes at the mercy of my adviser's over-worried counsel without even being aware of it. As I took some extra rest over the past few days, the adjutant did what was in his nature, and had additional guards posted on my doors. I think chiefly to give me some measure of privacy. The men don't need to see their fearless leader in a fit of gripe, laboring on the commode, don't you agree?"
You note Adjutant Triggs looks up from his empty plate, waving off the liqueur offered by the second servitor. His high and reedy voice is a brittle counterpoint to the Warden-Colonel's baritone.
"I merely wished to allow you adequate time to recover from your illness without interruption of rest, sir. It is an adjutant's duty to look after his commander's welfare, even when he is too overworked to recognize what is best for him."
The Warden-Colonel claps Triggs lightly on the arm, jarring him slightly, and chuckles again, not noticing the momentary look of irritation that crosses his majordomo's pinched face.
"You see, Sepeheris? I apologize if he was keeping you at arms length, Triggs here worries over me like a Drusian nun."
Forbidden Lore (Warp) 24 / Scholastic Lore (Legend) 48: 1d100=60
You take a moment to glance at the strange mirror again, trying to puzzle out the murky reflections swimming like a sheen of oil on its surface. The metallic rim is an elaborate motif of interlocking avian talons, eyes and beaks. There is something outre about it that you cannot quite place.
The Princep's Pub
"If you are able to acquire the armor that has the higher preference for me I will accompany Oktammor. Both of us would be the rock that the others would be able to bash our foes upon." I turn to look at the power armored figure with a nod.
Dunkan and the giant, Oktammor, both acknowledge Kaltos offer of assistance with curt nods. Your host then turns his attention to the rest of you.
"What of you and yours, Uriah?"
"There are things we must do here and in the south. We must talk to Leprade and find out what he knows, and stop his hunt of us. If possible, without interfering with our main mission, find Quincus. But the priority is finding Krade and stopping the infestation of the Warp. My guess is that he is in the south, unless someone else has a better guess. Anyone else have anything to add?"
The Aerie, Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
The Aerie, Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
Vincent clicks his tongue at this response.
"I'm surprised, I wouldn't expect Mr. Triggs to reassign the claustum's most trusted and experienced soldiers without a concrete threat. Based on what I have seen, the staffing of V Block must be quite depleted."
The Aerie, Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
As the otherwise hale and healthy looking Warden-Colonel raises the slender glass to his lips, you notice that his hand shakes very slightly with a small tremor.
Vincent clicks his tongue at this response."I'm surprised, I wouldn't expect Mr. Triggs to reassign the claustum's most trusted and experienced soldiers without a concrete threat. Based on what I have seen, the staffing of V Block must be quite depleted."
Triggs does not hide his irritation this time, staring daggers at you from the other end of the table, but making certain to do so out of the Warden-Colonel's field of vision.
Kreed chuckles again, setting his flute back down on the linen table cloth and sloshing a few drops from the lip of the glass as he does so. He brings both hands to his lap as one of the servitors begins to ladle a thick, brown, savory-smelling stew into a porcelain bowl set before him. He inclines his head toward Triggs as if the two of you are sharing a joke.
"As I said, Mr. Sepheris, the adjutant overworries on my behalf. I indulge him this little misconception that I am a feeble old man only because he is exceptional in every other aspect of his vocation. Triggs here, much as yourself, is a man who pays attention to detail. In my career I have always recognized this quality in others, and have striven to make certain it is a characteristic possessed by all of my most trusted subordinates. It makes my job far easier."
He inhales deeply over his bowl, and then sips up some of the broth.
"Indulge me if I do not dispense with the pleasantries, my illness of late has limited my time for polite conversation."
"So, how is your health, and how is the health of my the claustrum's clerical division?"
The Princep's Pub
"There are things we must do here and in the south. We must talk to Leprade and find out what he knows, and stop his hunt of us. If possible, without interfering with our main mission, find Quincus. But the priority is finding Krade and stopping the infestation of the Warp. My guess is that he is in the south, unless someone else has a better guess. Anyone else have anything to add?"
Albrek finishes his second drink with relish, wiping the foam from his lips.
"My former affiliation with the 7th Legion should help us somewhat when it comes to the claustrum. One thing is troubling me though, and I'll admit I hadn't thought of it until now: if there are two mirrors, and the Prisoner possesses one, why did the Eviscerator take the risk of creeping into Krade's office after the kidnapping just to take the other one?"
"Tis obvious, Albrek, the mirror is very important to him."
"More amasec?"
The Princep's Pub
After conferring with Dunkan for the better part of another hour, the assembled acolytes, Krade's lone remaining agent, Iacton, and the pair of tech-priests discuss how best to achieve their various objectives.
The most immediate matter at hand is the surveillance of the unauthorized churraptus shuttle which seems to have carried the corrupted commissar and his guardsman retinue from the 7th legion's claustrum to the Geltdown docks. Oktammor, Kaltos and Albrek (for his former guard affiliation) have agreed to take on this task and rendevous with the squad of trusted penal legion guardsmen arriving later today that were dispatched by Danicos' agent on Unduz II.
The Aerie, Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
Vincent returns Trigg's gaze with his own before returning his attentions to the Colonel once more.
"I have no objections M'Lord, the clerical division his hale and hearty, rather like yourself, sir. Though we do have our troubles, which is why we are all here. It has come to my attention that certain members of the Legion have been misusing their authority in order to circumvent Administrarium procedures. They have failed to file the appropriate paperwork for outgoing and incoming shipments, requisitioned unnecessary equipment, and flouted important safety procedures. I normally would not bring this to your attention, sir, but in this case it involves high ranking officials who are outside my normal purview, including commissars."
The Aerie, Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
Vincent returns Trigg's gaze with his own before returning his attentions to the Colonel once more.
"I have no objections M'Lord, the clerical division his hale and hearty, rather like yourself, sir. Though we do have our troubles, which is why we are all here. It has come to my attention that certain members of the Legion have been misusing their authority in order to circumvent Administrarium procedures. They have failed to file the appropriate paperwork for outgoing and incoming shipments, requisitioned unnecessary equipment, and flouted important safety procedures. I normally would not bring this to your attention, sir, but in this case it involves high ranking officials who are outside my normal purview, including commissars."
The Warden-Colonel continues tucking into his stew with relish, grunting an occasional acknowledgment for you to continue, half-listening with his eyes down, as you recount your concerns. When the word 'commissar' is spoken, his head snaps up abruptly, his gaze transfixes you like a predatory bird roused from devouring its prey by an unexpected sound.
"Wait, Sepheris, did I hear you correctly? Did you say Commissars?!"
The Aerie, Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
The Warden-Colonel continues tucking into his stew with relish, grunting an occasional acknowledgment for you to continue, half-listening with his eyes down, as you recount your concerns. When the word 'commissar' is spoken, his head snaps up abruptly, his gaze transfixes you like a predatory bird roused from devouring its prey by an unexpected sound.
"Wait, Sepheris, did I hear you correctly? Did you say Commissars?!"
"You have not misheard, at least one commissar is involved."
Iacton approaches the barkeep. "Danicos, I have a favor to ask. I took something from Master Krade's office. Something that should be kept behind wards, something that I dare not keep on my person any longer. If you had somewhere safe I could place this until I find Master Krade and can return it to him, I shall be grateful."
The Princep's Pub
Iacton approaches the barkeep. "Danicos, I have a favor to ask. I took something from Master Krade's office. Something that should be kept behind wards, something that I dare not keep on my person any longer. If you had somewhere safe I could place this until I find Master Krade and can return it to him, I shall be grateful."
The counsel concluded, the others slowly file out of Danicos' inner sanctum in resolute silence, Oktammor leading the way back to the quarters furnished for the acolytes in the medicae's asylum ward. It has been decided that everyone will take what rest they can after checking up on your wounded allies and the Yellobouros prisoner. Your mission will begin anew as soon as the night cycle falls, the teams setting out into Vaxus district once again on their separate investigations.
Only you and Savalos linger behind, and an unspoken familiarity, a bonded kinship that now connects the two of you makes it so that nothing need be said beyond your fleeting eye contact. He walks to the entryway, waiting patiently well out of earshot, leaving you and the heretek alone at the bar for a moment of privacy. It is a favor you mean to return to the ex-ganger as soon as you are done. You both carry concerns you prefer the others not to hear.
After your earlier words with Dunkan Danicos, you can see he is wary as you approach again, but you credit the man for the firm control he keeps on his fear. The colored, cut-glass lamps shed a prismatic mask over his features, his narrowed eyes lost in shadow. The big man polishes the bar out of habit, as a touchstone of sorts, the spills and glasses from your dialogue long since cleared away.
He leans forward to better hear your whispered words, at first curious in spite of his uncertainty about your intentions, gradually growing more apprehensive as he begins to surmise what you are asking of him.
"Why, Iacton, would you entrust me with this, especially after all that has been said? More to the point, what is this thing that you speak of?"
The Aerie, Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
"You have not misheard, at least one commissar is involved."
Kreed finishes his last spoonful of stew before answering, clucking his tongue with irritation when he notices that you have barely touched yours.
"There will be time enough for discussion, Sepheris, please do not let your shaulyaki get cold, it insults my hospitality."
The servitor begins to ladle a heaping mound of spiced fungoid tubers, fresh vegetables, and a melange of ground cheeses on to the Warden-Colonel's plate. He sips his drink, sighing as he sets it down.
"Who, then?"
"Don't be coy, I haven't the patience for games."
"Give me a name."
"Because you know what shall happen if you betray my trust, and I have no one else to ask this of. I speak of a feather, tainted by the unholy. I brushed against it unprotected once and was nearly lost. Only by the Emperor's mercy have I not gone mad from it's heat. As I said, I hope you have a warded container."
Iacton then looks Danicos directly in the eyes, his unblinking stare piercing the darkness. "Now let me ask you a question, Danicos. What has you so afraid that even I can sense your fear? Has the warp's presence here rattled you so that the facade is cracking? Or is it simply the realization that you too shall one day be brought to justice?"
The Aerie, Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
Kreed finishes his last spoonful of stew before answering, clucking his tongue with irritation when he notices that you have barely touched yours.
"There will be time enough for discussion, Sepheris, please do not let your shaulyaki get cold, it insults my hospitality."
The servitor begins to ladle a heaping mound of spiced fungoid tubers, fresh vegetables, and a melange of ground cheeses on to the Warden-Colonel's plate. He sips his drink, sighing as he sets it down.
"Who, then?"
"Don't be coy, I haven't the patience for games."
"Give me a name."
"Ekubal."
The Princep's Pub
"Because you know what shall happen if you betray my trust, and I have no one else to ask this of. I speak of a feather, tainted by the unholy. I brushed against it unprotected once and was nearly lost. Only by the Emperor's mercy have I not gone mad from it's heat. As I said, I hope you have a warded container."
Iacton then looks Danicos directly in the eyes, his unblinking stare piercing the darkness. "Now let me ask you a question, Danicos. What has you so afraid that even I can sense your fear? Has the warp's presence here rattled you so that the facade is cracking? Or is it simply the realization that you too shall one day be brought to justice?"
1d100
Contrary to what you expected, Danicos leans in, almost intimately close to your face and you know then with certainty that it is not you or the reckoning you have promised him that he fears.
It is the tiny object wrapped in your sister's bloodstained kerchief.
This close, you can see that his eyes are those of a much older man, one who knows all too well the horrors that push against the fabric of reality, knowingly questing for the tentative touch of mankind, to impart impossible knowledge better left unknown for those curious enough to draw back that flimsy veil.
You also know without doubt, that heretek or not, despite his faithlessness he is one who has fought to push back this insidious tide for his entire life. A wise man, he does not pretend he is not afraid of such things, and you feel better for it.
He is one to be trusted.
"Iacton, I pray that we all live long enough for you and our tech-priest friends to have the opportunity to try and punish my heresy, I really do. That said, you can be assured I will not submit willingly, I'm just a little too set in my ways for that."
"But, all this dogmatic nonsense and difference of opinion will not matter a bit if whatever evil is building on Oremor is allowed to come to fruition. I think we all sense this."
He raises one calloused, gear-ring covered finger to point at the small packet of cloth you hold, stopping just short of touching it, his face and body cringing in unconscious loathing at the mere possibility of making contact.
"Do you have any inkling of what you carry with you?"
The Aerie, Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
"Ekubal."
The Warden-Colonel swallows the last morsel he took with difficulty after hearing your answer. Smacking his lips slightly, he methodically wipes away his mouth with the corner of his linen napkin.
He makes eye contact with you again, and this time you see his veneer of indulgent courtesy is wavering. Even so, he keeps his voice even and level, if somewhat severe when he answers.
"Mr. Sepheris you are the consummate professional in your field, and I respect you and your capabilities to an extent that I have very rarely held for a civilian in the service of the Emperor's great army. Your work is impeccable and your attention to detail without peer. It is a welcome change from the Munitorium bean-counters I have dealt with over the course of my long career."
He emphasizes his point by jabbing his fork in your general direction.
"That being said, make no mistake, I do not take accusations against the honor and loyalty of my senior command staff lightly. Commissar Ekubal has served with distinction and excellence for me since I smote the filthy revolt of those Cooj Bay savages. I trust you are not so foolish as to fail to bring proof of his transgressions, otherwise, asset or no, you will have something to answer for yourself."
You note with trepidation that despite what you are suggesting, Adjutant Triggs remains perfectly calm and at ease.
The Princep's Pub
"Do you have any inkling of what you carry with you?"
"I have told you all I know. It is not the servant's place to comprehend things such as this."
The Princep's Pub
"I have told you all I know. It is not the servant's place to comprehend things such as this."The Princep's Pub
"Do you have any inkling of what you carry with you?"
Dunkan Danicos looks at Iacton incredulously after his answer, but a part of him seems to understand on some level. He, after all, serves a master of his own.
"Fair enough. You probably also hold true that a servant should never question his master. We differ in this respect, I think. It is something you should consider."
Danicos begins to peruse the bottles lining the lower shelf, finally retrieving a long wooden chest crafted from an unfamiliar wood, inscribed with archaic designs and faded religious iconography. He opens it with the gentleness one would afford a holy artifact, pausing in the process to look over the raised lid at you, the contents concealed from view.
"I believe the burden you carry is meant for you, and you alone, Iacton. Even after all these long years of watching your master, I am still in awe of his mind, his ability to build contingencies, his uncanny talent for knowing what the future will bring. Do not fool yourself for a second that it is a coincidence that you entered his service."
He lets this last sink in before continuing.
"The plume you carry is part of something for whom reality is but a plaything. Your master is the warden of two beings of incalculable malefic power, beings who even now, in his absence, are shedding the shackles that once held them in check. This is one such shackle, and you can be certain that the entity that seeks it will stop at nothing to make itself whole again and be free of your master's prison."
Danicos produces an ornately fluted bottle, stoppered with a cylindrical golden plug, the transparent blown glass covered in raised markings that can only be hexagramatic warding. The sanctity of this object is palpable to you, and you can only wonder how it came into the hands of this nonbeliever.
"This bottle may serve the purpose you seek. It was blown by a priest-glazier in the Terran Mountains once known as the Himalayas when the God Emperor of Man was in the memory of living men. It once held the holiest of meltwaters drawn from the icy caps of those endless peaks and is stoppered by a golden bolt-casing said to have been fired from the weapon of Drusus himself."
He places the bottle upon the table, pulling the stopper free with a faint 'pop'.
"All this, and I still have doubts if it will keep the feather safer than it is, on your person, wrapped in that simple kerchief. You must decide yourself if you will leave it here. If you do, I promise I will guard it with my life, bound in this bottle. If you do not, I will understand. I do not think there are many who possess the strength of will to have carried it as long as you."
The Princep's Pub
The Aerie, Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
The Warden-Colonel swallows the last morsel he took with difficulty after hearing your answer. Smacking his lips slightly, he methodically wipes away his mouth with the corner of his linen napkin.
He makes eye contact with you again, and this time you see his veneer of indulgent courtesy is wavering. Even so, he keeps his voice even and level, if somewhat severe when he answers.
"Mr. Sepheris you are the consummate professional in your field, and I respect you and your capabilities to an extent that I have very rarely held for a civilian in the service of the Emperor's great army. Your work is impeccable and your attention to detail without peer. It is a welcome change from the Munitorium bean-counters I have dealt with over the course of my long career."
He emphasizes his point by jabbing his fork in your general direction.
"That being said, make no mistake, I do not take accusations against the honor and loyalty of my senior command staff lightly. Commissar Ekubal has served with distinction and excellence for me since I smote the filthy revolt of those Cooj Bay savages. I trust you are not so foolish as to fail to bring proof of his transgressions, otherwise, asset or no, you will have something to answer for yourself."
You note with trepidation that despite what you are suggesting, Adjutant Triggs remains perfectly calm and at ease.
"Rest assured Colonel, I have no shortage of evidence on Mr. Ekubal. Perhaps you would care to summon him, a man of his stature surely deserves a chance to explain himself, does he not?"
Vincent gives Triggs a small smile as he lets the words sink in.
I will check on Ishmael and Savalos' friend.
Johnnie continues to drink. A dark, brooding look settles over his face.
The Princep's Pub
"It is by the Emperor's will that I have joined Krade's service." Iacton is nonplussed by the idea that he is only a pawn in some larger scheme as he draws his knife and begins to cut through the bands holding the handkerchief shut. "You are a heretek, but you are also a man of your word. When your time comes, I only hope it will not be my duty." Iacton carefully slips the feather into the bottle and replaces the stopper. He then turns and walks away, clutching the bloodstained fabric in his hands.
The Aerie, Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
For the briefest of moments it seems as if the genteel Kreed has difficulty putting down his fork. He gives his plate an avaricious glance before refocusing his attention on you and dabbing at his lips with the linen.
"Rest assured Colonel, I have no shortage of evidence on Mr. Ekubal. Perhaps you would care to summon him, a man of his stature surely deserves a chance to explain himself, does he not?"
Even as the words leave your lips, replaced by the ghost of a smile meant for Triggs, the confidence you feel falters. While glancing in the adjutant's direction, your eyes catch the faintest ripple across the oily black surface of the disturbing mirror. So unexpected and unnerving is the sight that you feel as though you are apart from yourself for a few seconds, your disembodied mind and perceptions swimming uncomfortably somewhere over the dining room. The sense of being watched by another being, apart from Kreed and Triggs, is almost overwhelming.
Popping a baked popkin into his mouth, the Warden-Colonel chews and swallows before continuing, another already impaled on his fork.
"I am a fair man, Mr. Sepheris, if you have the proof then, hand it over to Triggs here for my review. I will summon Ekubal after reviewing your evidence of wrongdoing and bring him before me to offer his testimony concerning his actions. If he is guilty, he will be dealt with as appropriate by his commissariat peers within the claustrum."
He wolfs down the next popkin ruthlessly and smiles.
"It seems my appetite is back, forgive me my manners."
"A popkin, Mr. Sepheris?"
The Princep's Pub
Awareness Test (1d100=43)
Savalos cannot be absolutely certain but it appears as though Iacton has produced a small square of folded cloth from his cloak, holding it in front of Danicos as he speaks.
After speaking his part, Dunkan reaches below the bar and produces a box or crate of some kind, removing a slender glass bottle and setting it atop the bar. There is a gravity to the heretek's words when he next speaks, even though you cannot be certain what he says. Iacton slips something into the bottle, keeping the cloth.
Iacton then walks back to where you stand, Danicos watching his back as he goes, his expression hard to read. He replaces the bottle in the container and disappears behind the bar for a few seconds with it before standing again to resume his polishing.
Seeing Iacton give me space so I can talk to Duncan. I try to keep it short and sweet as I approach the bar. In a low voice: "Between you and me, those Tech Priests are lying. They're here for something else, and just using you as an excuse."
"Finish building that damn Titan. We are going to need it."
The Aerie, Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
For the briefest of moments it seems as if the genteel Kreed has difficulty putting down his fork. He gives his plate an avaricious glance before refocusing his attention on you and dabbing at his lips with the linen.
Even as the words leave your lips, replaced by the ghost of a smile meant for Triggs, the confidence you feel falters. While glancing in the adjutant's direction, your eyes catch the faintest ripple across the oily black surface of the disturbing mirror. So unexpected and unnerving is the sight that you feel as though you are apart from yourself for a few seconds, your disembodied mind and perceptions swimming uncomfortably somewhere over the dining room. The sense of being watched by another being, apart from Kreed and Triggs, is almost overwhelming.
Popping a baked popkin into his mouth, the Warden-Colonel chews and swallows before continuing, another already impaled on his fork.
"I am a fair man, Mr. Sepheris, if you have the proof then, hand it over to Triggs here for my review. I will summon Ekubal after reviewing your evidence of wrongdoing and bring him before me to offer his testimony concerning his actions. If he is guilty, he will be dealt with as appropriate by his commissariat peers within the claustrum."
He wolfs down the next popkin ruthlessly and smiles.
"It seems my appetite is back, forgive me my manners."
"A popkin, Mr. Sepheris?"
"I happened to have some of the evidence with me."
Vincent gingerly takes the napkin from his lap, folding it and placing it on the table before picking up his data slate and rising from his chair. He activates the slate as he strides towards Triggs and the Colonel. As he reaches the head of the table, he sets the slate down in plain view of both Triggs and the Colonel and starts the recording.
"Here it is Triggs, what do you think?"
The Princep's Pub
Seeing Iacton give me space so I can talk to Duncan. I try to keep it short and sweet as I approach the bar. In a low voice: "Between you and me, those Tech Priests are lying. They're here for something else, and just using you as an excuse."
"Finish building that damn Titan. We are going to need it."
Tossing the polishing rag behind him into a small basin, Dunkan finally seems to relax his guard somewhat with you. Gone is the good-humored, overly hospitable host's facade he greeted you with, as well as the guarded and defensive heretek who traded barbs with the tech-priests. It is all replaced now by a man who simply seems old and tired, but steadfast in his duties just the same. When he speaks again, it is refreshingly honest and plainly said.
"It's my life's work. I plan to."
He sighs, deeply.
"Do you know what the crazy thing is, Sav? I still don't truly know why I'm doing it. I just know that there is a purpose to it all, and some day I'll understand."
He laughs in the way that folk do sometimes when they surprise themselves by their own words.
"Heh! Sounds like faith to me, eh? Perhaps Iacton and the tech-priests are wrong about me after all."
"From my stand point they are."
I tap the top of the bar. "Knock on wood we all make it out of this alive. Got to catch up with the others. Hopefully I can see Aebena before I head back out..."
I turn away realizing how heavy those last words feel. I exit the room, and catch up with the others.
The Aerie, Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
"I happened to have some of the evidence with me."
Vincent gingerly takes the napkin from his lap, folding it and placing it on the table before picking up his data slate and rising from his chair. He activates the slate as he strides towards Triggs and the Colonel. As he reaches the head of the table, he sets the slate down in plain view of both Triggs and the Colonel and starts the recording.
"Here it is Triggs, what do you think?"
You notice that Triggs seems to tense with the word some when you refer to the evidence, but otherwise he maintains his effete and aloof composure admirably. You walk on the opposite side of the table to approach the Warden-Colonel, away from the adjutant and the disturbing mirror and find yourself certain that your subconsciousness is telling you something beyond your deeply seated loathing of the Warden-Colonel's aide.
The built-in pict corder on the slate begins to play back sequential images of the hangar dock; digital displays of altered flight-plans and manifests, grainy images of guardsmen boarding a churraptus class shuttle, magnified pict-stills of Commissar Ekubal, his piggish features clearly visible through a plasteel viewport.
You thank fate that the Warden-Colonel is an astute and shrewd man. Although he doesn't interrupt his meal, chewing at a cut of rare-cooked maulchup's flank with gusto, he does commit his entire attention to what he is seeing. You do not need to explain anything to him, the man is no fool. You can tell as his chewing becomes slower and slower, his predatory hawk's eyes darting from the slate to Triggs and back, that things are slowly shifting in your favor.
He is decidedly not pleased with what he is seeing.
The adjutant has a theatrically-severe expression of outrage on his face.
A face that is missing something from its over-powdered features.
"From my stand point they are."
I tap the top of the bar. "Knock on wood we all make it out of this alive. Got to catch up with the others. Hopefully I can see Aebena before I head back out..."
I turn away realizing how heavy those last words feel. I exit the room, and catch up with the others.
Dunkan Danicos waits for you to reach the door before knocking on the counter as well. Hearing your words, he calls to you as if remembering something that he had forgotten.
"She's asked about you, lad. The Gear Box isn't safe for you and yours, though. That isn't to say you can't visit her at the hab. I put her up in an apartment in one of my buildings when...well, after what happened to her kin..."
"...Isolde Stack C, level 13, flat 177, it's a dormitory for female hab workers."
"Thanks Dunkan...." I leave the room with racing thoughts, and a racing heart.
Beneath the Gear Box
With their fast-moving gun servitor guide leading them through passageways carved from the rusting bones of the fallen titan, it does not take Iacton and Savalos long before they are reunited with their companions, still being led by Oktammor.
It is impossible to say if your slow march through monolithic, red-lit corridors, vault-like, irising doors with whining hydraulics, and octagonally cross-sectioned construction passageways is the same as the route which took you to Danicos' inner sanctum, but it matters little, you doubt you could find your way back by either route were it to come to that.
Oktammor leaves you in the vestibule to the decontamination chamber just before the medicae suite, and this time you pass through the sealed chamber's air jets and antiseptic mists comfortably, knowing full well what to expect.
When you emerge into the blindingly white, well-lit corridors beyond, Nessa stands waiting for you, arms crossed over her oxblood colored medicae's vestment. Her surgeon's mask hangs from one gloveless hand as if forgotten, an expression of mute disbelief on her normally stern face.
She speaks before the last of you are even through the door.
"You need to see this..."
The Aerie, Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
With a sharp tap of the controls, Vincent deactivates the data-slate.
"As you see, there is no shortage of evidence."
The Aerie, Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
With a sharp tap of the controls, Vincent deactivates the data-slate.
"As you see, there is no shortage of evidence."
Switching off the recording, Vincent regards the Warden-Colonel, who continues to chew and cut his meat almost angrily, as if his brutal mastication could dispel what he has seen. Quaffing another swallow of his drink, he waits for the servitor to refill it before reluctantly setting his fork down.
"It cannot be more clear, Mr. Sepheris. I thank you for bringing this to my attention. You have my apologies for presuming to berate you on the presentation of a valid complaint. It is the duty of all in the service of the Imperial Guard, whether commissioned officer, rank and file grunt, or contracted civilian, to root out corruption within the ranks. The Emperor's faithful all share the burden of this duty, and you are no exception."
Unable to resist, he plucks another popkin and chews on it, pointing to the slate and inclining his head in such a way as to acknowledge Adjutant Triggs. Kreed's voice sounds somewhat irritated, as if trying to goad the rail-thin man into a quick response.
"Well then, Triggs what is your assessment of this travesty?"
When you look at the Warden-Colonel's aide, you find yourself searching frustratedly for the detail that has changed in his appearance. Unable to place what it is, the uncertainty gnaws at you, making it impossible for you to fully enjoy the wheedling, servile backpedaling that commences at Kreed's stern words to him.
"It is most damning, Warden-Colonel. I...I...I am aghast that one charged with upholding the very precepts of the Imperium's discipline and standards of conduct should violate them so blatantly. He must be punished severely, both as a matter of course for his actions and as an example to his brethren in the commissariat and the enlisted me, lest his dereliction of duty and violation of the regiment's regulations be perceived as weakness amongst the command and political officers."
Not missing an opportunity, Triggs turns to you.
"What has the rest of your investigation uncovered, Mr. Sepheris? Can we reasonably conclude that Commissar Ekubal was using someone in the your clerical ranks to access the restricted personnel files of the command staff? Have you discovered yet who is responsible?"
Beneath the Gear Box ~ The Medicae
Without elaborating further, Nessa turns and begins to make her way back down the hallway, not waiting to see if you mean to follow.
I will follow Nessa.
Iacton will also follow.
The Aerie, Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
Looking to Triggs, Vincent replies without skipping a beat.
"Restricted personnel files? When did this happen? This is the first I've heard from you about malfeasance from my staff."
I suspect I know what happened, so I also follow. I will say a silent Prayer to the Emperor and the saint whose bones the Aquila is made from.
I shrug my shoulders and follow keeping my hand on Laurenc's shoulder.
Beneath the Gear Box ~ The Medicae
You follow Nessa through the main corridor of the medicae, past unlit examination rooms, the closed doors to the asylum ward, and one of the skeletally gaunt servitors as it passes in the other direction carrying a tray holding filthy bandages vac-sealed in plas. She moves briskly, her ill-at-ease manner readily apparent even from behind, her head shaking occasionally from side to side like a person trying to shake off the fog of some bizarre dream.
For the first time in a long time, since well before this cursed mission began, Savalos feels a trickle of hope, his new-found faith invigorated by a sense of some impending revelation that he dare not utter aloud for fear he could be wrong. Uriah prays quietly, striding purposefully just behind Danicos' agent, fingers anxiously massaging the aquila motif hemmed into the cuffs of his robe. Only they know what transpired in the operating theater before the meeting with Danicos.
When you reach the door to the operating theater, she stops, turning abruptly, and your heart sinks when you see that her face betrays no amazement, awe, or relief of any kind. The shaking of her head as she stalked down the corridor now seems less like disbelief, and more like barely contained fury. She is angry. Enraged, even. Angrier still for the frustrated tears that are springing unbidden to her eyes. She looks from Savalos to Uriah, lips pursed in contempt, eyes scanning the others cursorily. Her irritation grows when she notices the dirty child accompanying the unfamiliar tech-priest.
She offers no preamble to her next words, delivering them like a slap in the face.
"Your friend is dead."
It is clear from the contempt in her eyes that she blames you.
I meet her gaze without flinching. In my heart I know what I did was right. My only regret is that I waited to long. The disease had taken to great of a hold on Sigmunt.
She can judge me. She can hate me. But I know what I did was right. I don't look away.
With every ounce of disdain she glares at me with I return with conviction.
The Aerie, Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
Looking to Triggs, Vincent replies without skipping a beat."Restricted personnel files? When did this happen? This is the first I've heard from you about malfeasance from my staff."
Your feigned insouciance, although it may have worked on the Warden-Colonel, in no way deceives Triggs. He ups the ante almost immediately, the hint of a cold smile on his face. He is clearly enjoying this little war of words despite the fact you managed to draw first blood.
"I presume the slate you carry also has the information the Warden-Colonel and I requested regarding the clerical division's access logs? The tech-adepts eagerly await the opportunity to conduct their audit and compare it with the primary cogitator's authorization data-stores. Or perhaps you have already found the person responsible for this serious violation of our security protocols?"
Even with your head turned to regard Triggs' barely concealed, self-satisfied expression of contempt, you can feel Kreed's eyes boring into your back, awaiting an answer.