The Princep's Pub
"As I was saying, what can you tell us about Leprade's current location? You already know he has forsaken his divine duties, surely."
Danicos shrugs, turning his attention to Iacton while betraying no visible animosity in the face of Krade's agent's judgmental stance.
"I could give a damn about his divine duties, but the man is very dangerous. An ambitious serpent who coils happily around the leg of whosoever can give him the power he craves."
"If I were to have the intelligence you seek, to what use would you put it?"
"If I were to have the intelligence you seek, to what use would you put it?"
"There is no greater sin than to forsake the duties you were handed. He no longer serves Him, and for this he shall die."
When Ivaanov says nothing more to his curt response, Danicos turns his attention to Savalos.
"My intentions are my own, with how did you say it? Ol' Bones?. If I choose to tell you more, I will."
He waits for this to sink in.
"As for Aebena, she is safe. She has been asking after you, as well. The poor girl thinks she has seen a ghost."
"Hey take it easy. I was just asking a question. Not conducting an inquiry."
I noticeably look more relaxed hearing Aebena is safe. "Good" Looking at my reflection in the glass I wonder if she saw a ghost as well.
The Princep's Pub
Danicos shrugs, turning his attention to Iacton while betraying no visible animosity in the face of Krade's agent's judgmental stance.
"I could give a damn about his divine duties, but the man is very dangerous. An ambitious serpent who coils happily around the leg of whosoever can give him the power he craves."
"If I were to have the intelligence you seek, to what use would you put it?"
"You evade the answer we want. Where is Leprade?"
The Princep's Pub
"You evade the answer we want. Where is Leprade?"
Dunkan Danicos raises one eyebrow and turns back to Rico querulously.
"You presume I know where he is in, then? I'm not being evasive, I simply expected more pertinent questions before this one. The fact that you are fixated on him suggests to me you know more than I do about his part in things. So, I believe an exchange is in order. You tell me what role he is playing in this little farce, and I'll tell you how to find him."
"Hahaha! What proof do you have that you really know where he is?"
Beneath Geltdown
Kaltos and Launce have been waiting for one of the numerous servitors to open the vault-like door for over an hour. When one finally does, its metal-trimmed fist extruding an oddly-shaped, gear-like key from one knuckle, they hurry to reach the portal before it seals.
Stepping through sideways, barely making it before the door seals shut again, they find themselves on the edge of an impossibly large abyss, bridged by a narrow gantry with rusting handrails. The plodding servitor takes methodical steps across the span several meters ahead of them even as they watch, the faint bluish lights of far-off fusion torches illuminating the walls both above and below were dozens more of the mindless automatons labor upon treacherously hanging scaffolds, their forms nothing more than dark blots against the cavernous metallic space all around you. Risking a glance over the side of the bridge, you feel a sense of vertigo looking into the drop, noting between flashes of light where the angles of the walls narrow to perspective's vanishing point, a dark pit, hundreds of meters below. The ceiling cannot even be seen where you stand, although some part of you senses that it is closer than wherever the bottom is.
Looking along the length of the gantry again, you see that the servitor has nearly made it to the other side while you stood in awe of the massive space around you. Realizing that if you hesitate any longer, you likely will be trapped here given the similar door on the other side, you must make a quick decision.
The Princep's Pub
"Hahaha! What proof do you have that you really know where he is?"
"I have none. I told you I can tell you how to find him, not where he actually is. Note the distinction. I guess you'll have to trust me."
The Princep's Pub
"Hahaha! What proof do you have that you really know where he is?""I have none. I told you I can tell you how to find him, not where he actually is. Note the distinction. I guess you'll have to trust me."
"Hahaha. Well, you will have to trust us then when I tell you that Leprade works against the the Golden Throne."
"Are you a loyal servant of the Emperor, Danicos?"
Now, Johnnie points the business end of the combat shotgun at the Danicos' privates.
"One wrong word and it's the end of your line."
"Hahaha. Well, you will have to trust us then when I tell you that Leprade works against the the Golden Throne.""Are you a loyal servant of the Emperor, Danicos?"
Now, Johnnie points the business end of the combat shotgun at the Danicos' privates.
"One wrong word and it's the end of your line."
Danicos looks down at Rico's extended shotgun where it abuts the opposite side of the bar, directly across from him. He sighs heavily.
"Let me make this clear. I serve the Inquisition, I am an interrogator, but not by choice. At the end of the day, I serve myself. Now, those loyalties, or lack thereof, aside, I have a vested interest in helping you find Krade. I have a vested interest in helping you succeed. Now, I understand you all have been through a lot, particularly you Juan Rico, so I will say this once, and once only: do not threaten me."
He says the next almost sympathetically.
"Or, do you never want to find your Dove?"
Johnnie immediately rushes to Danicos.
"Where is she?!"
"Tell me now!"
Johnnie immediately rushes to Danicos.
"Where is she?!"
"Tell me now!"
Unable to rush around the heavy wooden bar, Johnnie lunges over the counter, barking his questions while wildly clawing at Danicos, trying to grasp him. The broadly built heretek merely steps backward casually, keeping well out of reach.
"Now, that is the question I expected from you."
He looks at Rico with something akin to pity, tinged with disappointment.
"I think you know the answer to this one, though. The Eviscerator has her. Again, I sincerely wish I could tell you where exactly he has taken her, but again, I cannot. I can tell you where you might be able to find out this information, however, if you are willing to return to having a civil discussion."
I can't believe whats going on in front of me. "Johnnie think ya fragger, or you taking Ishamaels place? Seriously your better than that." I shake my head. What the frag did they do to him when he got mind scrubbed.
Albrek grasping Johnnie's arm, begins to pull him slowly back to his stool.
"Easy, easy there, Johnnie. Give him a chance."
"I'm tired of games, Danicos. Give us a satisfactory answer and I'll see you repaid in kind."
"I'm tired of games, Danicos. Give us a satisfactory answer and I'll see you repaid in kind."
Danicos frowns slightly, carefully considering which question he should answer. He seems reticent to look Johnnie in the eye.
"Leprade has a mistress, a smile girl who works out of the Gran Pallazzar in the Grey Way. He's a master of contingencies, and I doubt you'll find him on your own if he has gone to ground in some bolthole, but if there is anyone he may have confided in, it would be her."
Danicos turns and stares the still agitated Rico down.
"Now, if that is sufficient, what can you tell me? Perhaps then we can continue this exchange."
The weight of what he knows about Quincus is carried in his retort.
Johnnie looks at his companions, waiting for confirmation to proceed.
"I will give this, there are two different factions of ruinous powers involved. One of them is connected to disease, was involved in the kidnapping of Krade and what happened at The Gear Box, and one that is connected to what happened at the Mercy, and is what Leprade and the Eviscerator are involved with. These two powers seem to be working counter to each other"
Beneath Geltdown
Kaltos and Launce have been waiting for one of the numerous servitors to open the vault-like door for over an hour. When one finally does, its metal-trimmed fist extruding an oddly-shaped, gear-like key from one knuckle, they hurry to reach the portal before it seals.
Stepping through sideways, barely making it before the door seals shut again, they find themselves on the edge of an impossibly large abyss, bridged by a narrow gantry with rusting handrails. The plodding servitor takes methodical steps across the span several meters ahead of them even as they watch, the faint bluish lights of far-off fusion torches illuminating the walls both above and below were dozens more of the mindless automatons labor upon treacherously hanging scaffolds, their forms nothing more than dark blots against the cavernous metallic space all around you. Risking a glance over the side of the bridge, you feel a sense of vertigo looking into the drop, noting between flashes of light where the angles of the walls narrow to perspective's vanishing point, a dark pit, hundreds of meters below. The ceiling cannot even be seen where you stand, although some part of you senses that it is closer than wherever the bottom is.
Looking along the length of the gantry again, you see that the servitor has nearly made it to the other side while you stood in awe of the massive space around you. Realizing that if you hesitate any longer, you likely will be trapped here given the similar door on the other side, you must make a quick decision.
Cursing I begin to run to the other side. "Hurry Lanuce"
The Princep's Pub
"I will give this, there are two different factions of ruinous powers involved. One of them is connected to disease, was involved in the kidnapping of Krade and what happened at The Gear Box, and one that is connected to what happened at the Mercy, and is what Leprade and the Eviscerator are involved with. These two powers seem to be working counter to each other"
Danicos listens to Uriah's calm, reasonable voice intently, straining to hear the soft-spoken psyker's rasping vox after the loud tumult with Johnnie. He appears reflective, and a trifle concerned when the voidborn finishes his statement.
"Much of this I had already surmised. I have been watching for a long time, far longer than any of you might realize. But you say these two factions are actively opposed to one another? How did you come by this hypothesis? I must admit, this comes as something of a revelation, but it fits together like the missing piece of a puzzle when coupled with what I've observed as of late..."
Beneath Geltdown
Trying to overtake the trudging servitor as it steadily tramps across the grillwork catwalk of the bridge, Kaltos and Launce run after it as quickly as the treacherous footing on the gantry will allow. They are nearly to the other side when a deafening klaxon sounds, blaring an emphatic alarm. Red lights begin flashing over the vault-like doors on either side of the bridge. The tech-priest, careening forward with his momentum, each footfall clanking loudly back to him with the vast chamber's echoing acoustics, nearly plows into the suddenly rigid servitor standing frozen before him within five meters of the opposite side.
A sense of dread fills you, as, with a hiss of depressurized air, the door slowly begins to cycle open.
"Since I have been on this planet, I have been having visions. I have seen what will happen if either faction wins. I have not seen them working together, but against each other. Neither side winning will be good for this planet nor this sector."
"Johnnie leave Leprade to me. I think I know how to run with that angle. We need you to find us some clean badges that you can trust."
I take another drink to wet my lips.
"Dunkan what have you seen thats given you pause since you independantly agree with our findings."
Beneath Geltdown
Trying to overtake the trudging servitor as it steadily tramps across the grillwork catwalk of the bridge, Kaltos and Launce run after it as quickly as the treacherous footing on the gantry will allow. They are nearly to the other side when a deafening klaxon sounds, blaring an emphatic alarm. Red lights begin flashing over the vault-like doors on either side of the bridge. The tech-priest, careening forward with his momentum, each footfall clanking loudly back to him with the vast chamber's echoing acoustics, nearly plows into the suddenly rigid servitor standing frozen before him within five meters of the opposite side.
A sense of dread fills you, as, with a hiss of depressurized air, the door slowly begins to cycle open.
I push Launce back behind me with the hand that has the staff stating. "Launce get behind me and hold this. Don't attack until I do. If what ever is on the other side of the door comes into close combat run back to the other side and try to hide." I then pull the las-carbine from my back and place the auspex back in its pocket. I then stand so the servitor will provide me some cover here on the gantry.
The Princep's Pub
"Since I have been on this planet, I have been having visions. I have seen what will happen if either faction wins. I have not seen them working together, but against each other. Neither side winning will be good for this planet nor this sector."
Danicos looks back to Uriah, the first hint of unease settling over his countenance since you arrived in his chambers. Even in the face of Johnnie's ranting demands and Ivaanov's leveled accusations, he never seemed in the least perturbed, but something has changed with the psyker's admission.
"Visions, you say? Portents? What specifically have you seen?"
"I saw this world where everything was rusted and decayed. It will start in the south, a fountain of roaches will pour forth, swarming over the claustrum, the Archipelago and the oceans themselves a seething tide clawing its way to the northern continents, before climbing over, into, and under the hives, infecting them utterly.
The other power has an indigo feather shot through with heliotrope and adorned with a staring eye floats down lazily over it all shifting with infinite possiblilities, when it is pierced by the highest tine of the highest hive. The edge of a pitchblack circle begins to cast a lengrhening shadow over first the heves and the world itself, consuming everything in its malign radiance like a blot of nothingness, eclipsing all that is, was, or will be."
Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
A few minutes later, Vincent's cogitator chirps and clicks, returning a brief and terse response from Bothle.
[INCOMING COGITATOR DISPATCH//MESSAGE SENT 2.816.M41 @ 08:44 Local Time//ORIGIN JBothle*40761]
...<parse><FINALIZING DECRYPTION PROTOCOLS>
[MESSAGE FOLLOWS: Arrangements complete. Agri-Scow flight 1320 beginning pre-flight preparations. Word received from Sgt. Einhardt that squad has been mustered to assemble in hangar #13. Commercial pilots have been placated with triple duty-pay (you owe me for this, Vince, I needed to empty my gaming night petty cash fund to stop these guys from whining!) and have been told only what they need to know, per your request.][AUTHORIZATION//JBothle*40761]
Vincent calls up the pict-corder system once again and begins entering search parameters. He needs to get a better idea of Commissar Ekubal, and though he cannot access the systems for V-Block, the Commisar has to leave sometimes.
Beneath Geltdown
I push Launce back behind me with the hand that has the staff, stating, "Launce get behind me and hold this. Don't attack until I do. If what ever is on the other side of the door comes into close combat run back to the other side and try to hide." I then pull the las-carbine from my back and place the auspex back in its pocket. I then stand so the servitor will provide me some cover here on the gantry.
An inarticulate screech of binary chatter sounds from the disabled servitor in front of you as it strains against whatever machine language override shut it down in mid-stride. Perhaps the only tactical advantage you have is that the automaton had the courtesy of granting some measure of cover between you and whatever is about to emerge from the door on the far side of the narrow gantry.
Launce halfheartedly takes your staff in hand, slowly backpedaling along the bridgework, seemingly fearful to move too far away from where you stand. Saying a quick prayer of activation over your las-carbine, you lower your profile behind the stationary servitor, watching as the doorway ahead completes the process of cycling open, revealing three intimidating figures illuminated by the blood-red glow of the alarm light. Gun-servitors. Their bulging, vat-grown, slab-muscle limbs are reinforced with chrome-finished flak armor and well-maintained mechanicus augmetics. Each points a sinister looking truncated autogun, an integral extension of its right arm at you. They do not immediately fire, instead minutely adjusting their aim in an effort to obtain a viable line of sight to where you crouch behind their stalled monotask variant.
The sound of the nearer door sliding open almost masks the far quieter, but identical noise of the door behind you activating. As you risk a glance over your shoulder, you see Launce pivoting frantically to face a new threat, as another trio of gun servitors step out on to the side of the bridge you originally emerged upon. Each trains its weapons on you in turn, the faint whir of targeting servos audible. They hold their fire as well, merely centering you in their sights in a potentially deadly crossfire with their counterparts in front of you.
Looking back to your original destination in desperation, you watch as a towering figure clad in dull gray powered armor strides into position behind the smaller servitors on the narrow landing. You can just make out the craggy, silhouetted features of a thick-necked man of hulking proportions, his head jutting just above the profile of his curved pauldrons, backlit by the crimson alarm lumens.
When he speaks, his booming voice amplified by some type of built-in voxcaster, you feel your eardrums shuddering. His tone is one of command, the threat implicit, leaving little doubt as to the consequences if you disobey him.
"Agent of the Cult Mechanicus! Surrender yourself to my authority and no harm will come to you. Defy this order and your life, and sadly that of your young companion, will be forfeit. Stand down immediately and I will assure your safety on my word of honor."
Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
Vincent calls up the pict-corder system once again and begins entering search parameters. He needs to get a better idea of Commissar Ekubal, and though he cannot access the systems for V-Block, the Commisar has to leave sometimes.
Bypassing several routine dispatches from clerical subordinates, Vincent attends to an urgent request for clarification on the routing dispositions for several thousand prisoners being escorted to terraced fields abutting the Stozani massif by significant elements of the 7th legion. He taps on the hololithic geographic overlay floating in front of him, specifying areas of the vast fields of ripened breadcap fungoids that have reached sufficient growth potential based on satellite imagery and meteorological conditions. He follows this with a hearty sip of caffeine before calling up datablocks containing pict-footage based on what intel he has accumulated on Ekubal.
The Princep's Pub
Dunkan Danicos pales visibly.
"When did these visions begin for you, Uriah?"
I stand up straight holding the las-carbine by the barrel and holding my hands up in the universal signal of surrender. "Launce come forward we are surrendering." Then in a louder voice as I straighten up. "Upon your honor I surrender. Let the boy go as he was just following me and is not part of my mission." All the while I am thinking that with 6 gun servitors I might have had a chance if I got lucky, because of thier notorious bad aim, but my las-carbine could barely penetrate the power armor of this Adeptus Astartes.
I continue to move out from behind the motionless servitor and towards the forward bulk head.
The Princep's Pub
Dunkan Danicos pales visibly.
"When did these visions begin for you, Uriah?"
"My first vision was while we were coming to the Gear Box, we saw a child and I had a vision about the child. The one I just told you, happened at the Astropathic Choir, while we were waiting for an answer from our Master."
Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
Bypassing several routine dispatches from clerical subordinates, Vincent attends to an urgent request for clarification on the routing dispositions for several thousand prisoners being escorted to terraced fields abutting the Stozani massif by significant elements of the 7th legion. He taps on the hololithic geographic overlay floating in front of him, specifying areas of the vast fields of ripened breadcap fungoids that have reached sufficient growth potential based on satellite imagery and meteorological conditions. He follows this with a hearty sip of caffeine before calling up datablocks containing pict-footage based on what intel he has accumulated on Ekubal.
One degree of success
The Princep's Pub
"My first vision was while we were coming to the Gear Box, we saw a child and I had a vision about the child. The one I just told you, happened at the Astropathic Choir, while we were waiting for an answer from our Master."
As Uriah answers Danicos, at the very moment he mentions the vision of the child, his eyesight blurs, and a sharp pain seizes him in the base of his skull. He closes his eyes as moisture clouds his vision and the world around him winks with bright, spinning motes of light that he knows are not truly there. Instead of the blackness behind his eyelids, he sees a starkly real scene: the same child from the Vaxus slum, standing upon a treacherous span that crosses an endless void, his frightened features lit by a hellish red light. As the voidborn watches, his disembodied vantage point twisting and rising above the scene, he sees another figure on the bridge with the boy, his hands held overhead in submission as shadowy forms move to meet them from either side. A booming voice, oddly familiar, says,
"The boy...
Beneath Geltdown
...will not be harmed, you have my oath on this."
As the tall figure in the well-worn powered armor lowers the bolt-pistol he was training upon you, the servitors behind you begin to move forward on to the bridge, Launce cowering at your back as they clank ponderously toward the two of you. The remaining trio cover you with their built-in autoguns from the far platform, standing like a phalanx before the giant you take for one of the Astartes.
The man in the armor raises one wrist to his face and rapidly taps in a sequence of keys on a panel embedded in his vambrace, and the dormant repair servitor in front of you suddenly comes to life again. It pivots in a slow circle of shuffling feet in front of you and Launce, ultimately holding forth its outstretched arms as if it means to embrace you or claim your cloak. A dead green light shines from its non-organic eye, and a whistle of machine language stutters forth from its primitive vox-box.
The imposing man speaks again.
"Hand over your weapons to the servitor in front of you and proceed forward. Do not attempt anything foolish, I assure you that in surrendering you made the correct decision for yourself and the lad."
Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
After completing a handful of other tasks that cannot wait, Vincent begins sorting through various datablocks, keying in a steady stream of logis code based on the pertinent identifiers he has isolated for Commissar Ekubal. The flickering, greenish glow of his primary cogitator display flashes with the scrolling data as the powerful dataloom that orchestrates the entire claustrum's systems picks over hundreds of thousands of hours of footage extracted from the tens of thousands of pict units that honeycomb the entire prison facility and the numerous adjoining ancillary buildings.
Vincent cracks his weary knuckles after his fingers finally stop flying over the keys faster than the eye can follow, and he busies himself with some more routine duties during the automated analysis, driven by his specialized search code parameters.
Only an hour later, a testimony to his precise coding and the power of the claustrum's combined cogitation power, and the search is complete.
The primary screen blinks with three spinning icons indicating viable pict links.
Vincent selects the most recent, and is not especially surprised by what he sees. It is the most recent span of footage, and shows a flickering array of parsed screens that begins with the fat, storm-coated commissar, peaked cap drawn low over his corpulent features emerging some hours ago from the gargantuan vault doors securing the entrance to V-Block. A cached sequence of pict captures follows, tracing his path through the claustrum bowels, then the lift system, and finally just outside the hangar bay as he assembled with a contingent of flak-armored guardsmen. In all the frames it is hard to make out anything clear with regard to Ekubal's features. It is most certainly him, but the picter captures seem to blur and waver with interference when viewing the commissar's face from any angle. By the timestamps, this span of footage reflects the time just before he boarded the shuttle on his duplicitous departure for Orcut VII, it seems.
Vincent frowns. Only two other sequences of footage? It doesn't seem possible. The time-frame on his search parameters began almost three months ago...
Accessing the next sequence, Vincent looks up at the screen and nearly falls from his chair. The footage makes his skin crawl, and go suddenly cold all over. An abject terror unlike anything he has felt before fills him. It depicts Commissar Ekubal, his face again blurred and indistinct, but now it is clear why this is so. A cloud of bulbous black flies buzz and hover over his face, covering every inch of jowly flesh. Creeping in and out of his ears, nostrils, and mouth as he stands utterly still like a horrid piece of profane statuary at the foot of an ornate canopied bed set in the middle of a luxuriously appointed bedchamber that can only be the Warden-Colonel's. Flies buzz back and forth from Ekubal to the prone form resting fitfully beneath artfully embroidered blankets upon the bed. An awful miasma of putrid gases seem to hover like a low fog throughout the room, curling and wisping in unnatural eddies and currents. Occasionally something seems to twitch, or wriggle beneath the low-hanging cloud where it touches the floor. As you watch, the figure of the commissar opens its mouth impossibly wide and vomits forth a solid mass of wriggling maggots that sprays across the coverlet. They seethe and writhe, caked in filth, spilling off the bed they are so numerous. Some manner of interference is being picked up from the old pict signal as well, an awful buzzing comes from your screen despite the absence of any sound in the original recording.
The screen abruptly goes black.
It makes no sense. There is not a single bit of footage that shows Ekubal either coming or going from the Warden-Colonel's chambers. Nothing at all.
You queue up the last bit of footage find yourself unable to fathom what you are seeing. It shows a chubby, glowering and decidedly irritable, but normal-looking Commissar Ekubal entering V-Block, approximately twenty-seven days, seven hours, and seven minutes ago from the present date.
There is absolutely no other footage of Ekubal leaving V-Block outside of the terrifying tableau recorded in the Warden-Colonel's bedroom. You shudder at what it may mean. How could the man have sequestered himself in the oubliette for three months? To what purpose? How could this go unnoticed by his superiors and peers? What manner of madness was this?
Beneath Geltdown
...will not be harmed, you have my oath on this."
As the tall figure in the well-worn powered armor lowers the bolt-pistol he was training upon you, the servitors behind you begin to move forward on to the bridge, Launce cowering at your back as they clank ponderously toward the two of you. The remaining trio cover you with their built-in autoguns from the far platform, standing like a phalanx before the giant you take for one of the Astartes.
The man in the armor raises one wrist to his face and rapidly taps in a sequence of keys on a panel embedded in his vambrace, and the dormant repair servitor in front of you suddenly comes to life again. It pivots in a slow circle of shuffling feet in front of you and Launce, ultimately holding forth its outstretched arms as if it means to embrace you or claim your cloak. A dead green light shines from its non-organic eye, and a whistle of machine language stutters forth from its primitive vox-box.
The imposing man speaks again.
"Hand over your weapons to the servitor in front of you and proceed forward. Do not attempt anything foolish, I assure you that in surrendering you made the correct decision for yourself and the lad."
I hand the las-carbine in one of the hands. I then gently take the belt holding the las-pistol and the mono knife from around my waist and loop it over the same hand as the carbine. "Launce give the servitor the pistol I gave you." As Launce nears I take the staff from him and I start walking forward like the staff is a swagger stick. When I get to in front of the Power armored figure I hold forth the staff and state. "I trust I can keep this. You can inspect it for any thing hidden if you so choose. It could hardly crack one of these servitors skulls much less damage you in that armor."
Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
After completing a handful of other tasks that cannot wait, Vincent begins sorting through various datablocks, keying in a steady stream of logis code based on the pertinent identifiers he has isolated for Commissar Ekubal. The flickering, greenish glow of his primary cogitator display flashes with the scrolling data as the powerful dataloom that orchestrates the entire claustrum's systems picks over hundreds of thousands of hours of footage extracted from the tens of thousands of pict units that honeycomb the entire prison facility and the numerous adjoining ancillary buildings.
Vincent cracks his weary knuckles after his fingers finally stop flying over the keys faster than the eye can follow, and he busies himself with some more routine duties during the automated analysis, driven by his specialized search code parameters.
Only an hour later, a testimony to his precise coding and the power of the claustrum's combined cogitation power, and the search is complete.
The primary screen blinks with three spinning icons indicating viable pict links.
Vincent selects the most recent, and is not especially surprised by what he sees. It is the most recent span of footage, and shows a flickering array of parsed screens that begins with the fat, storm-coated commissar, peaked cap drawn low over his corpulent features emerging some hours ago from the gargantuan vault doors securing the entrance to V-Block. A cached sequence of pict captures follows, tracing his path through the claustrum bowels, then the lift system, and finally just outside the hangar bay as he assembled with a contingent of flak-armored guardsmen. In all the frames it is hard to make out anything clear with regard to Ekubal's features. It is most certainly him, but the picter captures seem to blur and waver with interference when viewing the commissar's face from any angle. By the timestamps, this span of...
Vincent blinks for a second, but quickly regains control. Observing the commissar's actions is a new experience for him, accustomed as he is to the forbidden lore or scrolls and tomes. The feeling is...unusual.
...
Beneath Geltdown
I hand the las-carbine in one of the hands. I then gently take the belt holding the las-pistol and the mono knife from around my waist and loop it over the same hand as the carbine. "Launce give the servitor the pistol I gave you." As Launce nears I take the staff from him and I start walking forward like the staff is a swagger stick. When I get to in front of the Power armored figure I hold forth the staff and state. "I trust I can keep this. You can inspect it for any thing hidden if you so choose. It could hardly crack one of these servitors skulls much less damage you in that armor."
As the repair servitor pivots awkwardly around on the rusting catwalk, it stares blankly ahead, almost as if it is looking through you to some undefined point in the distance. A hand that is more a three-fingered augmetic claw, reaches out and clasps the carbine in an iron-hard grip, and you drape the strap of your kit belt over the barrel of the carbine.
Getting and expecting no response from the servitor now serving as the porter for your weapons acknowledging that it has them, you turn to Launce and summon him forward, which he readily does, moving forward nervously in the press of the three gun-servitors crossing the bridge and closing the distance. He extends a shaking hand holding the ganger revolver and gingerly slips it into the folding claw of the servitor's other hand. The boy squeaks in fear as the hand grinds shut, scoring the barrel slightly with its strength.
The servitor turns around and begins to shuffle the short distance to the far side of the bridge, the boy walking before you as you clasp the staff retrieved from him.
Reflecting, you feel foolish for ever believing you could have infiltrated this heretek's defenses to accomplish your mission alone. Upon recognizing the scope of Danicos' operations you should have simply played your role as the small cog in the Great Machine, serving your function as the dutiful scout reporting back to Magos Triskaedestes that greater resources must be brought to bear. Unfortunately, with a sobering sense of shame, you realize now that the mission will be a failure, and, in all likelihood, your role in this endeavor is at an end. Neither you, nor Ivaanov Drivanovich, will likely ever be found, even should your master enact his wrath on the heretek. He will not leave loose ends.
You state your request to keep your staff to the power-armored man and are surprised when he allows you to retain this small measure of dignity after taking it from you in one enormous hand and giving it a brief scan with an auspex wand.
"You may keep it, tech-priest."
He looks down at you with his narrow eyes, deeply inset into the craggy features of his old-man's face. His wrinkled, almost friendly-looking countenance seems absurdly out of place on so powerfully built a man, lost as it is in his large, thick, bullet-shaped head. His appraisal of you is almost one of disbelief.
"I must say, with respect, that I am underwhelmed in a sense. My master has for these many years been waiting for agents of the Cult Mechanicus to uncover us here, enacted stringent measures of security and contingencies uncounted that I have diligently maintained, and it is not Praetorians from the Skitarii or Hyspasists that are sent against him, but merely a lone tech-priest and a small child?"
He cycles the door while awaiting your answer, sweeping his massive power gloved hand forward and indicating that you should follow the three gun servitors from the platform out into the dimly lit corridor beyond. As you do so, the remaining gun servitors move into a phalanx formation behind you, boxing in the man, yourself, Launce, and the hobbling servitor clutching your weaponry.
Beneath Geltdown
... He looks down at you with his narrow eyes, deeply inset into the craggy features of his old-man's face. His wrinkled, almost friendly-looking countenance seems absurdly out of place on so powerfully built a man, lost as it is in his large, thick, bullet-shaped head. His appraisal of you is almost one of disbelief.
"I must say, with respect, that I am underwhelmed in a sense. My master has for these many years been waiting for agents of the Cult Mechanicus to uncover us here, enacted stringent measures of security and contingencies uncounted that I have diligently maintained, and it is not Praetorians from the Skitarii or Hyspasists that are sent against him, but merely a lone tech-priest and a small child?"...
"My main mission here it to retrieve the derelict cog by the name of Ivaanov Drivanovich. It would seem that you have him captured and held captive in this structure. Your boss was a secondary objective so don't flatter your self in your victory. When the time comes the Mechanicus will come to dispatch the heriteck and his minions."
Not a clue.
The Princep's Pub
Uriah peels his hands slowly away from where they were firmly clutching his scalp, and lets out a low groan of pain as the last vestiges of the powerful vision fade from his inner eye. He wipes away at a heavy wetness beneath his right nostril, and is not surprised when the finger comes away bloody.
He looks around Danicos' sanctum to find everyone one looking at him with a measure of unease and concern. Albrek, standing beside him, hovers one hand warily over the voidborn's shoulder as if afraid to touch him despite feeling compelled to comfort somehow. His eyes, like the others, tell the story. His kind will always be feared, always suspect. Just when the psyker believes he has accepted what he is, what he has become, something like this happens, the stares, the admixture of pity and revulsion.
The fear.
These were allies and friends, as well. The thought of what those who truly hated his kind would say or do is not difficult to imagine in these moments. It was a burden he learned to live with long ago. Still, there were times when he wondered how much easier it would have been if he was compelled instead, like the majority of those touched by the Warp, to worship at the Golden Throne. A sacrifice to the God Emperor.
The visions were getting stronger. The last seemed like a second reality overlaying his own, so vivid, so clear.
Albrek's hand finally settles on his shoulder consolingly, like a shuttle that had been waiting out a storm before making a final descent.
Danicos is the first to speak.
"Another vision, Uriah?"
Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, Unduz II
Poring over the loathsome footage again is an exercise in self-control for Vincent, one that takes the limits of his willpower to complete. After doing so, he looks away, trying to stop the grotesque carousel of disturbing thoughts spinning through his mind.
Some manner of pestilential possession, but he is no wiser for the second viewing, only much more nauseous. He keeps his head suspended over the small trashcan to one side of his station, closing his eyes until the compulsion to spew his guts out mercifully passes.
He vaguely recalls a foul, blasphemous name from his studies on Fenksworld, one of the Ruinous Powers given the deficient string of consonants and vowels that could approach a name for its Empyrean-spawned awfulness.
He would not dare speak it, not so much as think it at this moment.
It was unwise to tempt fate.
Beneath Geltdown
"My main mission here is to retrieve the derelict cog by the name of Ivaanov Drivanovich. It would seem that you have him captured and held captive in this structure. Your boss was a secondary objective, so don't flatter yourself in your victory. When the time comes, the Mechanicus will come to dispatch the heretek and his minions."
You cannot see the smirk on the huge man's face, but you can sense it in the slightly amused tone of his answer.
"I see. Well rest assured, you will soon be reunited with your primary objective, this derelict cog you speak of, so you can count among your successes actually finding him. As to the rest, I guess we shall see, tech-priest."
The grim procession of the lobotomized gun servitors soldiers on, enfolding you in a tight formation as you and the others are led through a series of interconnecting passageways, great vaults of that smell of lingering fyceline, and even a vast chamber filled with corroding floor to ceiling racks that might have once been a battery of some kind, holding enormous munitions for some unknown purpose.
The Princep's Pub
The visions were getting stronger. The last seemed like a second reality overlaying his own, so vivid, so clear.
Albrek's hand finally settles on his shoulder consolingly, ...
Danicos is the first to speak.
"Another vision, Uriah?"
I smile at Albrek.
"I saw the child again with another man who seems to be surrendering. I think it is happenig now."
"Child?"
"Do you recognize the place where your vision occurred, Uriah?"
Beneath Geltdown
"My main mission here is to retrieve the derelict cog by the name of Ivaanov Drivanovich. It would seem that you have him captured and held captive in this structure. Your boss was a secondary objective, so don't flatter yourself in your victory. When the time comes, the Mechanicus will come to dispatch the heretek and his minions."You cannot see the smirk on the huge man's face, but you can sense it in the slightly amused tone of his answer.
"I see. Well rest assured, you will soon be reunited with your primary objective, this derelict cog you speak of, so you can count among your successes actually finding him. As to the rest, I guess we shall see, tech-priest."
The grim procession of the lobotomized gun servitors soldiers on, enfolding you in a tight formation as you and the others are led through a series of interconnecting passageways, great vaults of that smell of lingering fyceline, and even a vast chamber filled with corroding floor to ceiling racks that might have once been a battery of some kind, holding enormous munitions for some unknown purpose.
I nod and continue forward.
"Child?"
"Do you recognize the place where your vision occurred, Uriah?"
"All I know about the location, is that it is on a bridge."
