Heinrich nods with a grim expression on his face, then waves for Iota t accompany him and Solonius.
On the way, he leans to Iota, muttering:
"Just stay in sight and make sure he can see you, that is all."
Over his com-bead, he requests a status report for the evac shuttle - which he expects to have a medic team with them - and orders them to make a hasty landing as close as possible and be ready for emergency treatment.
Once arrived, he will wave aside whoever was watching the would-be-assassin and kneels beside the wounded man with an expression of worry and compassion - as much as he can muster.
His voice is friendly, conversational.
"By the golden throne, that looks bad, mister.
Brave of you to follow through on this attack.
Stupid, too, considering the previous assault.
But that is hardly your fault, is it now. You strike me as a man just following orders.
And so am I.
And my Boss, ordered me to figure out who is your boss.
Which, really, is a problem for both of us, don't you agree?"
He shakes his head as if deeply troubled by the situation.
"I see two ways of how the next few hours go down..."
He cooks his head, listening for the closing-in sound of a shuttle.
"Either, I get our med-evac team to work on you asap, making them fight for your life as hard as if you were one of our own - which I am certain our Captain will be all to pleased to offer you to become.
Assuming you cooperate out of your free will of course.
He can offer you a new start. New name, new documents, new job.
The world and your old boss will assume you dead, our word on it.
Not many people get such a chance - let alone from people he was tasked to murder in cold blood."
His speech suddenly gets hard as the void.
"Which brings me to the second option.
The option involving my friend, Magos Explorator Iota Signus.
I am pretty sure he will be more than interested to explore your brain up close.
You see, I don't understand much of that matter, and I really don't want to actually, but I am pretty positive that a Magos of his ranking can produce a Servitor with still a somewhat intact memory.
One more than willing to tell us everything we need to know.
Before sending it to scrub the radioactive residue out of the plasma drive or something."
He let his words sink in for a moment, before adding the question:
"So, which way shall you serve my Master Thunderblossom?"
The wounded man looks up at Heinrich as he begins his spiel, and perhaps to your surprise, he starts looking more and more sad.
Not afraid, not angry, not defiant, just really sad.
What's worse, Heinrich suspects on some level it's PITY, the attacker is pitying Heinrich and the others, not himself.
Then he begins to cry.
"You don't understand...you just don't understand.
We've all seen it, freedom!
Not the ruinous powers, not slavery to Xenos, true human freedom!
Free of dogma! Free of repression!
No need to fear being burnt by zealots just because we didn't bend the knee deep enough to some statue of some saint nobody even remembers the name off!
No being forced into combat against people who merely wanted slightly less of their harvest stolen by the uncaring lords of some far off planet they've never been to!"
His words are clearly having an impact on the people present, ranging from revulsion, fear, hate and shock.
Solonius steps up and aims his bolt pistol straight at his face, before looking questioningly back at the Captain.
Archibald's eyes narrow. This was unexpected. He had assumed a lackey of one of the other Traders would spew nonsense or simply die silently. Now Archibald is questioning whether what the Mayor said about him not being local is true.
So many questions. Important questions. Questions that needed answering.
The moment stretches as he comes to his conclusion.
Archibald leisurely strolls up to the would-be assassin. He lowers his face close such that only Heinrich, Solonius, and Iota's augmented hearing can detect him.
I am a Rogue Trader Militant. My Writ is of old, recovered recently from the corpse of a dream fashioned in the image of Emperor's Great Crusade. I am Freedom. You haven't answered my good XO's question.
The man keeps sobbing, tears streaming down his dirty cheeks.
"You don't understand! Oh how I wish I could make you see...
THEY don't need writs...they don't NEED them...
They don't..."
Here his sobbing that wracks his body makes it impossible to discern what he is muttering under his tears.
Meanwhile, the mayor has been looking carefully at the man, eyes slowly narrow as he leans forward as if to get a beter look.
"Excuse me, could someone please bare his left shoulder? Also his right wrist?"
Iota takes this task gladly, stepping closer and using his utility mechadentrites to bare the mans shoulder and wrist without need to actually come into touch with him. Assassins tend to have tricks up their sleeves. Sometimes literally.
Still, what the man says needs a response, and a logical one might help when put that way here in public
"Ah my friend you have tasted freedom? Quite lucky for you in this galaxy I'm sure you will agree. And a basis on which a conclusion to attack the new 'oppressors' could become the logical solution. But I fear you have only been shown the privileges of freedom, not the responsibility it brings. Have you ever seen a system overrun by greenskins? The remains of those tortured by the vile dark kin xenos? Populations after the arch enemy overran the planet?
Make no mistake. Those in power would gladly throw off the Imperium and it is not even the fear of its own reprisel fleets that keeps them from doing it. It is the knowledge that they need its protection.
The truth to freedom in this Galaxy is to be under someone high enough in the hierarchy that THEY can decide what your freedom is, and pray to the Omnissiah that they decide to give you the freedom you crave.
And here we stand. Candidates to be your new higher ups. With the lord rogue trader having none between himself and the very lords on terra through the power of his writ. Free to give you the freedom you crave without loosing the protection we all require. And here you are trying to get rid of that chance for the whole planet, no the whole system..."
Iota reveals an electoo on the man's shoulder, in the shape of an imperial skull, with the background of a kite shield and a pair of swords crossed behind the shield.
On the man's wrist is a small tattoo in the shape of a high gothic numeral you identify as six.
Anyone paying attention to the lord mayor sees his eyes narrow even further than before, and a clear sign of anger crossing his face.
The man's sobbing doesn't diminish, but Iota, his hearing more capable of filtering out sounds that could be considered irrelevant, is capable of picking up a continued muttering of "No xenos, nor heretic, only brotherhood..."
Iota pauses as he sees the electoo. His first query to his memorancer implant index brings up a noble house from a small planet 3 systems away. But that conclusion is in violation of basic logic - that world is not in possession of a notable system defense fleet, much less warp capable craft to arrive here.
He instead first starts a rebuild of his sub-image to memory index, then refines the search query some more. This time he does not come up with an exact match but instead finds that he has seen the electoo and number combination almos exclusively with ship crews. And since the style is not registered in the system(otherwise he would have that data available) he concludes that this must be from a privateer crew.
Iota then blinks, returning his attention back from working his inner logic engine and data stores to the "outside" world. And tries to get a feeling on how long it actually took to come to this conclusion. It felt like a while to him but time always stretches for him when he is in his inner world of data.
You are answering questions with mysteries. Archibald growls.
Lord Mayor, do you know these markings?
"I do indeed." The Mayor nods.
"It's the marking of the crew of "Admiral" Benneto. A notorious privateer crew that has plagued this system for centuries.
Every time we think we're finally free of them, they eventually return. Sprouting from the calm skies like a recurring weed!"
The Lord mayor spits on the ground, his face contorting in absolute rage and hate.
"Freedom, they claim! FREEDOM!
From what I ask you? Freedom to do whatever they want and damn everyone else, that's what!
Freedom to take from others what they worked hard for, so they don't have to do any work themselves!
The warp take their high minded claims of freedom when all they do is act like locusts and MURDERERS!"
One thing is clear. There is more here than casual raiding. One doesn't become invested enough to shout about him raiders murdering unless someone close to them is suffered that fate. Archibald to focus is intently on the mayor. My lord mayor. I need you to disclose any connections you may have to this group. Your personal investment in this is obvious.
The lord mayor spits on the ground again.
"Of course it is personal.
I doubt there are many people on this planet that has not lost someone to these...animals!
Centuries of depredations against us, since we are such a tempting target.
On occasion they made it planetside, and raid and rampage like monsters, and even when they are stopped BEFORE, it is always a costly victory.
But the people of this planet always step up and make sure our defences are manned and in working order."
Lowering his voice, his whisper to Archiblad is raspy with repressed emotions.
"If you can cut the head of this snake, it is more than a feather in your cap in this race, much MUCH more..."
Heinrich has a look part exhausted part confused at the series of seemingly contradicting revelations and accusations.
With a grunt, he dislodges the golden Aquila medal he got for the Battle of Kazek XI and shoves it into the hand of the troubled man.
He then looks down at the man and asks with a dead serious voice:
"Anything you want to reply to the Governor of this Imperial world, knowing that HE on holy Terra will hear and know your words?"
Archibald nods at the hint. Message received. How would one gain access to every scrap of information even tangentially related to this group? he asks quietly, wanting to hear the prisoner's answer.
Not wanting the man to expire, he adds, And allow the medics to see him. He's going to be our key to this group, I feel.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the man, wounded as he is, and in a heightened state of emotions, finally faints dead away.
You quickly realise that it's exhaustion and little else, and given some seeing too by the hands of a capable medicae, he shall live, to potentially reveal more secrets in time.
The Lord mayor meanwhile, have managed to collect his frayed nerves and re-compose himself.
"Well, certainly there have been quite an eventful couple of days, has it not?
First an assassination attempt, and now the rearing of a particularly ugly head from the past.
Much as it pains me to admit this, I have a sneaking suspicion that the two events are NOT linked however...
Perhaps more like simply a case of...plans coinciding?"
Pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing his forehead, the Lord mayor sighs.
"It looks like there will be preciously little sleep for me tonight, as I need to begin to deal with this right away.
My lords, feel free to enjoy what remains of the feast, or retire back to your chambers at your leisure.
I must take my leave now."
Archibald very much wants to get to the bottom of this now. His hands flex a couple times as he forces himself to calm down.
Yes, of course, Lord Mayor. With your permission I'll be taking this prisoner back to my ship. You may claim you are concerned for his security or whatever. I plan to hand him over to my best and get what we can from him. Please have your people coordinate with Iota for a full access data stream on this faction. From what you've said it looks like we're going Pirate Hunting.
He looks over to Heinrich. Time to see if all your drills payed off.
A couple of days passes by, thankfully they are uneventful, even a little dull.
The previous high alert status amongst the crew gradually wears off, with one notable exception.
Solonius absolutely refuses to stand down, citing the fact that there have been TWO attempts already, and the second one might have succeeded without his preparations.
This of course means that the Lord Captain is followed by the honour guard at all times.
The prisoner is currently in a healing coma, and thus unreachable, unless one is willing to use psychic interrogation of course.
The Lord Mayor have been bust, compiling a list of likely "targets" for your ship, as well as a rudimentary map of the system (as much as such a thing exists).
Obviously, he places a lot of focus on the Benneto crew, though while the information is exhaustive, it lacks any good leads, since they've not been seen for over thirty years previously.
Another target is a planet enveloped in three separate warp storms, said to hold a potential cache of either archeotech or xenotech.
There is a planet that is said to be populated in a sector not TOO far away, potentially a colony in the making?
Aside from that, there are a number of smaller and less likely targets, plus a reminder of just how much of the sector is unexplored and potentially FULL of secrets and loot.
In the aftermath of the second attempt, Heinrich will intensively review the auspex records of the Sun, searching for any traffic off-planet shortly before or after the attempt and if nothing surfaces he will draw upon the traffic control of the capital and will go back several weeks, searching for irregularities or undisclosed landings in search for a clue how the attacker's got down to the planet in the first place and in doing so, hopefully identify the void-going ship they were using to do so.
While he deep-dives into the logs, he is having 'his' fighter pilots perform extensive deep void patrols throughout the systems, spreading them far and wide in groups of two.
Even though the Honor guard gets annoying sometimes, Archibald doesn't fight Solonius on this. This has been a trying trip for the surly Master at Arms. As grumpy and inflexible as he was, he has been consistently right about matters of security. So he deals with it stoically, as a navy man should.
At the end of two days they have narrowed it down to two targets. One a Warp-wreathed mess and the other a reported new colony. Both seemed to be good places for a separatist group to hide. He was drawn to the Warp Planet just because he knows that Iota would practically chirp in glee at such an opportunity and Jeager would love the navigational challenge. But his first priority needed to be this group, wherever they are. He hopes Heinrich's search turns up something soon. He hopes even more that the prisoner comes around and is in an honest mood...
Iota spends most of these days linked to the MIU, sifting through all the available data. But first things first: While the prisoner himself is out of commission his equipment is not. Iota will first throughly check all his equipment for leads on where he came from, going as far as using AdMech rituals to question even the most primitve machine spirit for whatever they can tell him about themselves, their users and what they know about their whereabouts for as far back as they can remember.
Well, this is different...
The last thing you remember is entering your quarters after a hard day.
Perhaps it's a dream?
If so, it's a very lucid one though, since you are AWARE it might be.
Either way, as you examine your surroundings, you notice that the ground is...a collection of metal objects, fused together.
Lasguns, cogitators, glow orbs, armor, both from men and tank...
Some of it is rusted together, some seems half melted...
You cannot see to much though, as you seem to be standing in a tunnel, a tunnel formed from swirling mist.
Its slowly billowing around, if you focus on one stand of mist, you see it slowly drift further and further away.
Looks like the mist is moving in a corkscrew fashion.
You feel a pull to move, further and further ahead.
Something is calling you, something or...someone?
You are moving more or less without any real input from yourself now, more or less observing from within yourself.
There! Something ahead just over there.
It looks like a...sword?
A single item in this graveyard of metal that has not been corroded or damaged in any way.
It's a large sword, beautifully made, if at the same time basic, in that it lacks most of the typical imperial ornaments.
No gold or skulls or anything like that.
No, the beauty comes from just how well its form fits with it's purpose.
No! What is that!
A creature ahead of you.
Large, red and menacing. It's holding it's own sword, large, crude and vicious looking, made out of bronze or something, and it's on fire.
Once again you wonder if it's warp trickery rather than just a dream, because this looks like a Daemon to you!
Then you are holding the sword, and suddenly, you feel a great calm settle over you.
The weight of the blade in your hand is comforting, it feels right, and any fear you felt is banished.
somehow you KNOW that now the Daemon is the one not armed for the task.
Before you suddenly find yourself back in your bed aboard the ship, the last memory you have is of the Daemon shrieking in absolute agony as you cut into it, the sword clearly being anathema to it's existence.
It's a memory that leaves you with a massive smile plastered on your face as you finally come to, your hands still clenched as if gripping the hilt of the sword.
Well, this is different...
The last thing you remember is entering your quarters after a hard day.
Perhaps it's a dream?
If so, it's a very lucid one though, since you are AWARE it might be.
Either way, as you examine your surroundings, you notice that the ground is...a collection of metal objects, fused together.
Lasguns, cogitators, glow orbs, armor, both from men and tank...
Some of it is rusted together, some seems half melted...
Interestingly enough to your analytical mind, many of the itmes appear to be from very different time periods.
And some, you suspect of once having been Archeotech or other lost technology, and some might even be of xeno origin.
You cannot see to much though, as you seem to be standing in a tunnel, a tunnel formed from swirling fire.
Its slowly billowing around, if you focus on one stand of flame, you see it slowly drift further and further away.
Looks like the fire is moving in a corkscrew fashion.
You feel a pull to move, further and further ahead.
Something is calling you, something or...someone?
You are moving more or less without any real input from yourself now, more or less observing from within yourself.
There! Something ahead just over there.
It looks like a...rifle?
A single item in this graveyard of metal that has not been corroded or damaged in any way.
It's a large rifle, beautifully made, if at the same time basic, in that it lacks most of the typical imperial ornaments.
No gold or skulls or anything like that.
No, the beauty comes from just how well its form fits with it's purpose.
No! What is that!
A creature ahead of you.
Large, red and menacing. It's holding it's own sword, large, crude and vicious looking, made out of bronze or something, and it's on fire.
Once again you wonder if it's warp trickery rather than just a dream, because this looks like a Daemon to you!
Then you are holding the rifle, and suddenly, you feel a great calm settle over you.
The weight of the gun in your hand is comforting, it feels right, and any fear you felt is banished.
somehow you KNOW that now the Daemon is the one not armed for the task.
Before you suddenly find yourself back in your bed aboard the ship, the last memory you have is of the Daemon shrieking in absolute agony as you fire into it, the energy bolts clearly being anathema to it's existence.
It's a memory that leaves you with a massive smile plastered on your face as you finally come to, your hands still clenched as if gripping the trigger of the gun.
The last thing you remember is entering your quarters after a hard day.
Perhaps it's a dream?
If so, it's a very lucid one though, since you are AWARE it might be.
Either way, as you examine your surroundings, you notice that the ground is...a collection of metal objects, fused together.
Lasguns, cogitators, glow orbs, armor, both from men and tank...
Some of it is rusted together, some seems half melted...
You cannot see to much though, as you seem to be standing in a tunnel, a tunnel formed from swirling lightning.
Its slowly billowing around, if you focus on one individual bolt, you see it slowly drift further and further away.
Looks like the storm is moving in a corkscrew fashion.
You feel a pull to move, further and further ahead.
Something is calling you, something or...someone?
You are moving more or less without any real input from yourself now, more or less observing from within yourself.
There! Something ahead just over there.
What is it?
You've never really seen anything like it, it looks a bit like some form os sceptre, or rod of office.
A single item in this graveyard of metal that has not been corroded or damaged in any way.
It's a large piece, beautifully made, if at the same time basic, in that it lacks most of the typical imperial ornaments.
No gold or skulls or anything like that.
It looks to be made of silver in fact.
No, the beauty comes from just how well its form fits with it's purpose.
No! What is that!
A creature ahead of you.
Large, red and menacing. It's holding it's own sword, large, crude and vicious looking, made out of bronze or something, and it's on fire.
Once again you wonder if it's warp trickery rather than just a dream, because this looks like a Daemon to you!
Then you are holding the sceptre, and suddenly, you feel a great calm settle over you.
The weight of the item in your hand is comforting, it feels right, and any fear you felt is banished.
somehow you KNOW that now the Daemon is the one not armed for the task.
Before you suddenly find yourself back in your bed aboard the ship, the last memory you have is of the Daemon shrieking in absolute agony as you hold the sceptre aloft, the light that shines forth clearly being anathema to it's existence.
It's a memory that leaves you with a massive smile plastered on your face as you finally come to, and the exhalation you felt as you smote the vile creature stays with you for hours.
Still - Prophetic dreams are not realy something in the purview of the Adeptus Mechanicus. If there is something calling out to him then there should be some traceable aura of it. And Iota tries his hardest to find that. He activates all the scanners available to him, which at least includes the full auspex scan from Variable but possibly more esotheric scanners if he has had time to bring them down from their ship. He also sends a message to the Ships Astropath, asking whether anything messagelike was detecable heading towards the direction of their quarters on the planet. If a heading is even a thing in the warp. But that's for the specialist to say.
There IS a lingering energy signature that Iota can detect, but it's too weak by now, and fading fast, to be able to identify.
While a creature of logic, Iota still get an intuitive feel that this energy signature doesn't belong to anything he's previously encountered.
The Astrophatic choir takes some time to look into things and get back to Iota about two hours later.
It seems like a wave of warp energy had indeed passed through the system just last night.
They are troubled, however, by the fact that it felt quite different from normal.
Less troubled, more...clean for a lack of a better word.
Archibald lays on his bed for a long moment after waking. The feeling of banishing one of those hated demons was downright cathartic. After his struggles with Iota in the quest to reclaim his Charter, killing one of those things was a dream come true. Maybe literally.
I need to know. Was it literal?
He sends a heavily message to Granddame De Vier asking if she experienced anything it of the ordinary last night.
Iota then gets up and checks the time. Not early anymore, it took a while to gather the data. Still he books a meeting room in theirresidence and sends a meeting request to the other high officers, dated to start in one hour or whenever all of them arrive before that.
Iota has taken one of the side chairs of the meeting table, indicating that while he will kick off this meeting he does not intend to chair it.
He is also on a dataslate, clearly not wanting to leave time that could be spent working on _just_ waiting for everyone else
Waking - was it waking? - with a start, Heinrich gasps.
From exhaustion?
Exhilaration?
Fear?
His heart still pounding, he wonders whether the Captain has ordered a rapid warp translation - but he never had not heard the bells-and-prayers warning of an iminent warp jump...
A quick vox call to the bridge later confirms, that they are still docked in high orbit and that it is quite early in the morning.
Having a daemon in ones dream is no joking matter at any rate, so he decides to pay the ship's confessor a visit.
Heinrich is by no means a zealous believer but his Faith in the God Emperor is quite strong - although he thinks little of the Ecclesiarchy in general. Thus, his visits to the on-board chapel are not frequent (or infrequent) enough to mark him out in any way, besides a tendency for quiet attendence in the early or late hours of a given day as opposed to the main, crowded services.
As Heinrich joins the meeting, a bit late, a distant smell of incense clings to his uniform and he looks thoughtful and a bit concerned about something.
Iota looks up and greets Heinrich
"Good morning, Heinrich. You look... less than well rested. May I assume you have been affected by the nightly message?"
Heinrich nods a greeting at Iota then makes a double take at the Magos' unexpected and dead-center deduction.
"Yes, indeed...
Wait... How would you know?
Who else got them?
You?
Don't take me wrong but...
Do you even dream?"
The sturdy form of Father Julian is one that tends to inspire faith and comfort in the crew, and as he turns to face Heinrich, that quality almost immediately comes to the fore.
"Ah, come in my son.
It has been some time since your last confession, has it not?"
Reaching behind him, the father takes down a large hammer from the wall, he then thumps the butt down onto the floor as he holds it upright before you.
"Kneel brother, before the blessed Hammer of Saint Benedict, and tell me what troubles you?"
At the meeting.
Since the Captain is likely to join you at some point, Solonius makes an appearance, as does the Granddame.
You are also joined by Father Julian, as well as "Mic & Mac".
Mic is short for Micharius, the Head of the Choir Telepathica, whereas Mac is Macronucleus, a Sanction battle psycher recruited from the Imperial guard.
Heinrich greets the Confessor with a bow and the sign if the Aquila before his chest.
"It has indeed, father, for I felt little I had to confess, whilst doing my duty to my captain and my Lord in HIS name. And as to my supplications: is it not written by Saint Luttar, that honest prayer doesn't require chapel nor altar?"
He then kneels in front of the hammer with downcast eyes.
"Tonight, a demon came into my dreams. And my dreams were of metal, machines, smoke and a perfect if bare and featureless sword of beautiful, singleminded purpose. It seemed to call me and wanted me to pick it up and use it. The demon then came, huge and fiery, with its own wicked sword of fire and brass. But then I was holding the sword from before and knew that it would effortlessly slay the daemon - and then it ... I did. And then I woke, hands still clasped around an imagined sword."
"My son, lay your hand upon the hammer."
As Heinrich does so he feels the cold metal, and a slight electric current, pulsating in the mechanisms of the Thunder hammer.
"This is a holy weapon my son, and the fact that you did not flinch from it tells me your spirit is pure."
Stroking his chin with one hand, Julius looks thoughtful for a moment.
"A dream such as yours was recorded to have been seen by Saint Benedict as well. His interpretation was that the sword in his dream represented his will and his faith, granting him a weapon to strike down his unearthly foe."
Iota shows no signs at all indicating he would be taking offense to the question. He simply stays logical as he always has.
"Dreams are the effect on your concious mind when your subconciousness defragments your memories, most notably the most recent ones. Naturally I do still have this process running every so often so althought my perception of it has changed with the implants I do in fact still 'dream'.
But as you might have inferred from my quetsion what has happened tonight was not a dream. I will present my current information once everyone has gathered so it won't have to be repeated over and over."
As of on cue, Archibald strides into the room radiating confidence and... Good Cheer? He's actually wearing a cavalier smile!
Good morning, all. Let's get started, shall we?
He takes his place at the head of the table and motions to Iota. The meeting is yours, Magos.
Iota nods and puts the dataslade down.
"My friends I believe we have been called by the archeo- / xenotech planet. I myself have experienced the message and Heinrich here seems to have had a similar experience. He has called it a dream just now but I have confirmed that it was a measurable message sent to us."
Iota presses a button on the meeting table and a holo projector opens in the center. A little "percusive maintenance" from Iota and the projector is actually in focus. What you can see is a bunch of statistical measurement data, with a notable purple bar highlighted, noted as 'aetheric energy readings'. Below this is a smaller dataview, listing a transcription of a talk with the astropathic choir on the ship which confirms a warp energy passing through the system towards the the quarters of the chief officers, coming from the direction of the alleged treasure planet. One sentence is highlighted "The warp energy felt clean, for lack of a better word."
"I'll let you study the data yourself in a moment but to summarize it: We have been sent a message from the alleged treasure planet. Using alleged 'clean' warp energy. And I am not sure what to think of it. Clean warp energy is an oxymoron if I ever heard one."
Archibald steeples his fingers, Allow me to add another data point to your case, Iota. Last night I had a dream as well. Granddame, Michaelis, your thoughts, please?
Heinrich looks puzzled and a bit alarmed at that.
"And... Did he? Strike down a daemon I mean."
He self-consciously adds:
"Or am I thinking too literal again?"
Heinrich looks puzzled.
"Are there any records of such a thing happening before? I mean, long range telepathic sending to non-psykers? And... What even did you dream about?
My dream ... Or message...
Featured a deamon and a blank but perfectly made sword with which I subsequently slayed the daemon.
Confessor Julian seems to interpret it as a prophetic dream similar in shape and meaning as one of Saint Benedict's.
It was interpreted by the Saint to represent his will and determination to slay the otherworldly foe."
He shrugs.
"Really not my forte, all of that, but I fail to understand the meaning of this message-dream in relation to a lost planet... At most, I could see it as a warning, to only approach if one is strong and ready in will and focus - or something like that."
Father Julian smiles kindly and places a hand on your head.
"He did indeed strike the daemon down, his will and righteous faith serving as arms and armour for him."
"Indeed, Saint Benedict was known as "Malleus daemoniorum", or "The Hammer of Demons".
And this is the Hammer that he used."
"Perhaps you too are fated to take the fight to the foe of mankind in a very literal way my son?"
Before anyone else have the chance to speak, Macronucleus cuts in, something that earns him a glare from the Granddame.
This in turn seems to amuse Solonius enough that he breaks character enough to actually visibly smirk, which in turn makes the granddame recompose herself quickly.
"There are legends that once, long ago, the warp was known under a different name, the Empyrean, and was a place of tranquillity and peace.
Like a calm ocean, with only the mildest of ripples."
"From time to time, there are reports from Navigator, Astropaths and regular psykers of find a small "pocket" of such tranquillity even now.
As if the corrupting influence of the chaos gods have not quite reached all of the warp."
Pursing his lips for a moment as he considers, Macronucleus continues.
"It is not impossible to imagine that a "wind" my at times emanate from such a pocket and wash through real space..."
The Granddame then picks up the thread.
"As I was ABOUT to say, glare, last night I did note a number of small waves in the warp, followed by a much larger one that felt...remarkably peaceful, despite it's size."
Archibal nods. My dream was much the same as Hienrich's, but instead of a sword, I held a scepter of authority and knew that the demon stood no chance against my will and authority.
Granddame, Macronucleus, could you determine where this wave originated, to confirm Iota's hypothesis that this planet wreathed in storms is the source? If it is, than I'd say it's a high priority target for us just after dealing with this persistent Freedom cult.
"It would be impossible to truly pinpoint it's origin as we have no instruments capable of following it back to the "treasure" planet even if it WAS the source.
However..."
She stands up and moves a little closer to the holo projector.
...learned Magos Signus, and here she favours Iota with a radiant smile, have presented ample data here to extrapolate that the wave certainly came from the direction of the planet in question.
So it IS a likely point of origin."
Macronucleus merely nods, seemingly having nothing he feels worth adding at this point.
Do we have reason to believe this rebel group hails from that planet? I think that unlikely due to the storms, but is it a reasonable possibility?
Solonius mutters for a moment before speaking up.
"Reasonable? No, I wouldn't say so.
Can it be completely ruled out? No.
It's not listed as a place they've been found before, that is about as much as we know."
Frowning a little, he looks more sour than normal.
"It would obviously be a good hiding place, but not a very safe one.
It wouldn't have much in the way of infrastructure for them to use."
Would this "colony" world be more suitable then? What do we know about it?
"Well, information is limited, since our host planet is the only one that is developed in this sector, and it's been focusing on internal growth from it's inception, they've done little to monitor the "colony" beyond the bare minimum."
"But by all accounts, it's a fairly primitive place.
People are aware of the greater Empire, but do not have the technology to move beyond a primitive society on their own."
"So, if the "Freedom brigade" had taken it over, it would probably have been fairly obvious."
Ok, so right now our more likely option, unlikely though it may be, is that the "Freedom Brigade" is hiding it in the warp storm planet. I can't say that's an option I relish, but that's our best at the moment from what I'm seeing. Thoughts, anyone?
Archibald offers the floor for discussion.