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Thread: [M] The Prophet In Silver - IC

  1. #21
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    Someone mentioned going in blind after Machairi finished the brief, to Sebastian, this was nothing new. Of course this was also the way of the medical researcher; after all, if you knew what you were researching, it wouldn’t be research. Still, it bothered him that an agent would complain about the lack of information. Still others were already thinking about the current situation on planet and just how involved the team would need to get.

    “Did Interrogator Schafer go to Hercynia on his own? If not, do we know who went with him?” If he was not alone on planet, there might be someone else still active to contact. “If not, injured or dead, he would show up at a medical facility of one sort or another; I’ll start there.”

    Sebastian knew it was unlikely that he would actually find Schaffer at any such facility, legit or otherwise, but they still needed to be investigated. There would be no chance of finding him at a med facility if he had agents with him. On the flip side, if agents went with him and they too were missing, this too would provide information to work from, even if it was little to nothing.

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    "So it could be anything from swords and crossbows right up to proper tanks and artillery." Kally put in. She grimaced at the thought of that.

    "We may as well be walking in blindfolded with out hands tied behind our backs," Vizkop said, a little louder than he meant to, "For all the good this out of date information is."

    "Believe me, adept." Machairi answered, turning her dark eyes on the tech priest. "That worries me just as much as you. We'll be gathering information before we make any moves. And we should pack under the assumption that we won't be getting any easy opportunities to resupply."

    "We should pack some of the heavier gear if we have it." Kally opined. "Cookers and plasma guns make the most sense for traveling light and could 'impress' the natives, maybe a missile launcher with krak and flakk missiles if we can scrounge it up."

    "I would suggest foregoing plasma weapons given the surroundings of the world." Vizkop said. "Their volatile nature does not lend well to prolonged operations with limited resources.

    "If I may." said Abdur, looking up. "My people specialise in these weapons. I know several tricks that can be used when you use them, as well as ways to get round some of their defects, like if the plasma gun were to overheat. If we do elect to bring them, I can train the designated carriers on how to use them in the best ways possible."

    "Guardsman Salah does know his way around a plasma gun." Machairi put in, her eyes switching quietly towards Vizkop to try and ascertain if the tech priest had been offended by the interjection of an outsider to the priesthood. "His former regiment had full mechanicus sanction."

    Kally shrugged her shoulders. "I don't like the idea of being caught out against a heavy gunship or tank and having to improvise again. Me and Vince can handle most heavy weapons."

    "As can I." Tomas offered.


    Machairi favoured her bodyguard with an approving smile, and then nodded once. "Good. I'll arrange open access to the armoury so McKenzie can get you whatever you need. Any more questions?"

    "Did interrogator Schafer go to Hercynia on his own?" the young medicus Sebastian spoke up. "If not, do we know who went with him?"

    "Eight of his best." Machairi replied, "Most of them soldiers. I assume he took them all with him, wherever it was he went, because otherwise whoever was left behind would have astro'd some sort of report."

    "Any injured or dead would show up at a medical facility of some sort or another; I'll start there."

    Machairi nodded. "That sounds sensible."

    "Unless he's feeding the crows somewhere out in the native territories." Vincent pointed out.

    "That's true, too." Machairi said neutrally.
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  3. #23
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    "If I may." said Abdur, looking up. "My people specialise in these weapons. I know several tricks that can be used when you use them, as well as ways to get round some of their defects, like if the plasma gun were to overheat. If we do elect to bring them, I can train the designated carriers on how to use them in the best ways possible."

    Under normal circumstances, Vizkop would have let such a comment go with only a slight facial tick to give away any irritation. But, fifty-two hours without sleep had done wonders for breaking down his social graces, especially with those outside the Priesthood. His jaw visibly clenched and he rolled his neck. “It remains a high-maintenance weapon,” Vizkop said. “With the possibility of spending extended time in uncivilized country, bringing such a weapon would only result in serious injury and dead weight when the limited ammunition supply inevitably runs dry. If there is serious worry about vehicles, bring melta charges fitted with delay triggers and magnetics.”

    He cast a surprisingly angry glance at Abdur and let a small blurt of binary escape him. +If circumstances were different, I'd have his head on a spike for such blasphemy. Mechanicus sanction or not, he no longer stands among his regiment.+
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    ++15 years ago++

    The cell was dark and humid. The stench of fear and feaces was heavy in the air. Solvan stood for a second in the doorway and said to the guard. "Do not disturb us under any circumstance." The guard nodded. He had been his church boy before joining the arbites, a good lad, considered Solvan a saint the poor fool.

    The door made a metal clang as it closed behind the bishop, he was blinded for a moment as his eyes agjusted to the dark, then he noticed a figure wearing rags trembling in a corner. "Little brother? Is that you?" Came a frightful whisper he recognized as Allana's. His sister was also addicted to rejuvenation drugs, keeping the looks of a woman only 40 terran standard, but now she appeared at least 50 after the time spent imprisioned. Solvan went down on his knees fighting back the tears and held her in an embrace. "Yes it is me Allie." He said with a breaking voice. "Don't worry, I'm getting you out of here."

    As soon as the words left his mouth his sister panicked "No! You can't! Solvan, you musn't." Allana began protesting.

    "What are you talking about Allie? Are you mad?" The bishop asked in a mix of surprise and anger looking into her panic filled eyes. He was risking more than his neck here, this wasn't the moment for histerics. "We have to go now!"

    "No Solvan, listen to me!" She sobbed. "You don't understand... you don't..." Her voice trailed into a whisper and her face made a blank expression for a second. Then she smiled enigmaticaly and said. "Fine Solvan, I'll go with you. What's the plan?"

    Solvan stepped back confused by the sudden change his sister was showing. Was she truly crazy or was it something else? She looked at him with eyes that felt unnervingly strange to him. He felt cold sweat run down his back as a suspicion started to form in the back of his mind, the meaning of it too horrible to even imagine.

    "Allana..." He said through instantly parched, trembling lips. "Let us... pray first."

    ++Present Time++

    "Unless he's feeding the crows somewhere out in the native territories." Vincent pointed out.

    "Or worse..." Murmured Solvan ominously. "Death may be a blessing in this line of work."

    He cast a surprisingly angry glance at Abdur and let a small blurt of binary escape him. +If circumstances were different, I'd have his head on a spike for such blasphemy. Mechanicus sanction or not, he no longer stands among his regiment.+

    "You rise good points, agent Vizkop. But I'm sure we are all doing our best to contribute to the success of the mision." Said the priest in an even tone after the outburst of that horrible tech lenguage the machine god's followers used. "And calm and civil conversation, in a lenguage the rest of us can comprehend is much more conducive to mutual agreement." He turned to Abdur before continuing with a smile. "And Interrogator Machairi has the final say on the issue. I'm sure she'll take both your advice under consideration."

    Finally he looked at Alia and added. "In case we do bring plasma and heavy weaponry I hope we have a good excuse as to why some random rogue traders going to a pseudo-primitive world at war are carrying such rare and precious weapons." A touch of irony could be heard in his voice. "One or two may not be that suspicious. But more is definitely going to atract attention."
    Last edited by Thrannix; 03-20-2014 at 12:15 AM.

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    --- An hour previously ---

    The room had once been a chapel, as was hinted by the high vaulted ceiling and exquisitely stern imagery of the God-Emperor’s sons. Now it seemed more like a hunting lodge, with hardwood furnishings and a push carpet along the floor. Several dozen xenos artifacts, undoubtedly trophy-relics of a long career, decorated the interior on plinths or behind stasis fields. More than a few actually were xenos, stuffed and mounted on the walls. The space was commanded by a large wooden desk and high-backed leather chair, both of which were surrounded by faintly glowing cogitator screens.

    “Lord Sidonis.” Sapphira addressed the figure behind the desk, with a differential curtsey. Lord Inquisitor Immanuel Sidonis was the most dangerous individual she had ever met. His unassuming and weathered features did not betray that fact. With silvered hair and short beard, Sidonis appeared more like a scholar with his spectacles, perched as he was behind a large tome. The small rosette of a senior Inquisitor, which was pinned to the lapel of his elegant smoking jacket, was enough to dispel that false illusion.

    “Sister Sapphira. Please, take a seat.” Sidonis acknowledged her with a nod, and gestured invitingly. “While you were on Venatora, I commissioned Archmagos Brunswick as my new primary explicator.” The Inquisitor arched a knowing eyebrow as Sapphira sat down. “No doubt you would approve of Nathaniel’s replacement.”

    “Not that you need my approval, or explain where you were.” Sapphira politely differed, before she answered with a slight nod. “But I do, my lord.”

    “Wonderful.” Sidonis replied, and looked at her expectantly. “Now, Sister, I believe you have a report for me.”

    “Yes, my lord.” Sapphira answered, and handed her file over to Sidonis. “My summary; which includes the purity checks on assets Kally Sonder, Marcus Black, Kelly Black, and Vincent Nyl. I have uploaded the complete file, as well as my full report on the Venatora incident, into your personal data archive.”

    “You found them to be pure,” Sidonis immediately noted, with a mild frown and note of surprise, “even though most of them had primary exposure to Subject Omega-Omicron?” The Inquisitor glanced up at her over his spectacles. “Sister Sapphira, you are aware of what Lucius Pembroke was by then end?”

    “That I am, Lord Sidonis, at least so far as I can accept and understand such a profane concept.” Sapphira reflexively made the aquila as she spoke. “But no, after several months of close examination I found no evidence of taint. The non-purity concerns I do have about Kally, Marcus, Kelly, and Vincent have been individually noted in the sections beneath. While some have issues that are more worrisome than others, overall I have no doubt they will be capable agents.” Sapphira frowned contemplatively. “And perhaps some of them will rise even further.”

    “I see.” He intoned heavily, and leaned back in his chair. Sidonis studied the Sister appraisingly, with fingers pressed together in a steeple as he posed a question. “Has your objectivity about the Makita survivors been compromised?”

    “Absolutely not!” She snapped quickly, with an almost offended expression. That look quickly vanished as Sidonis neutrally stared at her, silent and unmoving. Sapphira fidgeted uncomfortably as she bowed her head and promptly offered an apology. “Lord Sidonis, please forgive my tone and my continued impertinence. But I must ask you, is my work not to your satisfaction?”

    “My opinion is quite the opposite, Sister. You know I had to inquire.” Sidonis replied, and shifted so he could continue to read the document. “I see you have assessed the other agents on the Venatora mission. That was not part of your assignment.”

    “No, my lord, it was not.” Sapphira acknowledged, and glanced back up at the Inquisitor. “However, I am obligated to act and report on concerns as necessary. I take my responsibilities as a Sororita and Inquisitorial asset very seriously.”

    “That diligence is precisely why I chose you, Sister Sapphira, and you have not disappointed me in the slightest.” Sidonis archly replied as he then continued to read on. One of the Inquisitor’s brows raised slowly as his eyes narrowed fractionally. “Although I am surprised you included a self-assessment…where you indicate possible exposure to the ruinous powers?” Sidonis folded his arms over the report and leaned in, with a curious expression on his wizened face. “Well that’s no good. Would you care to elaborate further?”

    “I should have died on Venatora, my lord. The final replicant had me dead to rights, a headshot.” Sapphira recalled, and her posture and affect immediately became very tired. There was a notable strain in her voice. “The sain-” She winced and corrected herself. “Pardon, rather, my servo skull interceded and took the fatal shot for me. He…I mean it, was destroyed and I was wounded yet mission capable. After the immediate threats had been dealt with, Agent Nyl…informed me that he knew the truth of my attendant. I investigated his allegations, and I found evidence that corroborates his story.” Sapphira paused as she struggled to manage the words, as Sidonis patiently waited with the same curious expression. “Saint Lehner was a real Guardsman, whom Vincent Nyl did serve with, that has never officially beatified. Inquisitor Rask was unable to conclusively determine the source of his supposed miracle. Although there was definite residual taint aboard the Governor Seydlitz, as the Inquisitor had to euthanize over a hundred and fifty passengers and crew.”

    “My esteemed colleague had the compromised executed, as is proper and as you have noted.” The Inquisitor replied, as he removed his spectacles and placed them on the desk. Sidonis interlocked his fingers and directly regarded her. “Sister Sapphira, did you believe that your assistant-familiar was an Imperial saint, graced by the God-Emperor’s divinity to aid His soldiers in their time of need?”

    “Yes, my lord. I genuinely believed.” Sapphira quietly responded, with palpable shame for that fact.

    “You are hardly alone in that regard, Sister.” Sidonis rationalized, and started to illustrate his point. “First his regiment, then the planets they helped liberate, followed by the planets their veterans settle on. Factor in decades of trade between those planets and the wider Imperium? Potentially billions of faithful have been exposed to his miracle.” Sidonis nodded knowingly, and continued his impromptu lecture. “Faith is no abstract concept. Faith is tangible. Faith is power. You believed in corporal Lehner’s divinity, and only the God-Emperor alone knows how many others do. Whether or not your familiar was the real Nicolas Lehner, I cannot say. But the fact you believed that it was Saint Lehner?” Sidonis reclined back and contemplatively stroked his beard. “Perhaps that genuine belief made it a conduit for a genuine miracle to happen, regardless of what the original truly may or may not have been. How interesting.”

    “I-” Sapphira started, quite uncertain of how to process the Inquisitor’s words. “I have no idea what to say to that, my lord.”

    “I suggest you thank the God-Emperor, and all His saints, for your good fortune to still be here.” Sidonis concluded, with a definitive edge, as he leaned over to squint at one of the cogitator screens. “Now, Sister Sapphira, you look like a woman in desperate need of need productive work.” Sidonis picked up a stylus and wrote onto a notepad. “Alia is forming a retinue at my direction, and I do believe that you could be of use there.”

    “I am ready to serve, Lord Sidonis.” Sapphira affirmed with an intent nod, as she stood and accepted the slip of vellum. The Inquisitor gave her an encouraging pat on the hand and smile as he did so. Still unable to find her words, Sapphira could only nod her appreciation and thanks to him.

    “Most excellent. Go with the God-Emperor, Sister Sapphira.” Sidonis offered his benediction, and watched the Sister depart from his office. His warm smile dropped away once the thick oak door closed. Lord Inquisitor Immanuel Sidonis picked up the Sister’s report, and crumpled it in his fists with a deep scowl of frustrated annoyance.

    --- Presently ---

    Sapphira froze momentarily in the conference room threshold, quite surprised with what she saw. The Sister had expected Interrogator Machairi and a collection of her chosen agents, but not the Venatora mission team. It had been months since she had seen most of them in anything more than passing or at a distance, and yet here they all were; Kally, Vincent, Remus, Kelly, Marcus, Lia, and Adept Vizkop. Everyone was present except Doctor L’Hoace, and of course John Shere. Sapphira blinked and rallied from the unanticipated circumstances to make her introduction.

    “Interrogator Machairi,” Sapphira addressed the regal woman at the head of the table with a respectful nod. “Lord Sidonis has assigned me to your team, if you would have me.”

    "I would, Sister Sapphira." Machairi answered, linking her thumbs across her chest and signing the aquila towards the grey-clad sister before letting her hands fall to rest on the table.

    Sapphira returned the gesture, and kept it as she nodded respectfully to the confessor by the Interrogator’s side. She offered a polite smile to everyone else and promptly took a seat as the Interrogator began her briefing. For the most part Sapphira was content to quietly soak in the details and review the information packet. The Sister could not quite hide her disapproval when she heard Machairi’s subtle contempt for Schafer. Javid had spoken ill of his opposite in her presence, and Sapphira had been just as disapproving of him in those moments.

    After the confessor spoke, Sapphira finally interjected. “To build off that last point, the two of us will attract attention. While that could be a valuable asset in Illyrium or the Enclave, out in the Uru axis it could be a dangerous liability.” Sapphira said, and gestured to the unsubtle tattoo on her face. “The axis is also divided between the Solar and Sept. While both are violently resistant to the Imperial Creed, it’s also plausible there could be sectarian violence in the region as well.”
    Last edited by PaintSerf; 03-19-2014 at 09:30 PM.

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    “To build off that last point, the two of us will attract attention. While that could be a valuable asset in Illyrium or the Enclave, out in the Uru axis it could be a dangerous liability.” Sapphira said, and gestured to the unsubtle tattoo on her face. “The axis is also divided between the Solar and Sept. While both are violently resistant to the Imperial Creed, it’s also plausible there could be sectarian violence in the region as well.”

    The priest leaned forward slightly before answering. "Indeed we would... if I had any qualms about pretending to be something other than a priest, which I don't if it benefits the mission. I can pass quite convincingly as a merchant of wine, foods and luxury items, to give you an example." He paused for a second, the smile gone from his face and asked respectfully. "Forgive me if I sound brash, but would you have a problem with this sort of impersonation? The tattoo certainly is a problem. But as Abdur here could tell you there are many places in the Imperium where women have to cover their faces, I would add some facial paint just for insurance though."

    Solvan had learned quickly that to fulfill many of the inquisitorial assignments he couldn't show that he was a priest, and he would do anything if it meant the destruction of the Emperor's enemies. His talent for political intrigue and deception did the rest. He wondered if Sapphira would be offended by this trick, to hide her sacred duty as if she was ashamed of it. He leaned back on his chair and waited for the response.
    Last edited by Thrannix; 03-20-2014 at 03:21 AM.

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    The priest leaned forward slightly before answering. "Indeed we would... if I had any qualms about pretending to be something other than a priest, which I don't if it benefits the mission. I can pass quite convincingly as a merchant of wine, foods and luxury items, to give you an example."

    A merchant of wine, food and luxury items... and a role he’s played before. How curious that profession and those delicacies was the example of choice. It had not been Sapphira’s intention to add to the undercurrent within the room, but none the less here they were. She returned the confessor’s smile politely as she watched him appraisingly. That would imply familiarity with such indulgences, as a merchant should be expected to be a connoisseur of their own product. Sapphira mentally filed that interesting revelation of the confessor’s away to consider further at a more appropriate time.

    He paused for a second, the smile gone from his face and asked respectfully. "Forgive me if I sound brash, but would you have a problem with this sort of impersonation? The tattoo certainly is a problem. But as Abdur here could tell you there are many places in the Imperium where women have to cover their faces, I would add some facial paint just for insurance though."

    “There is nothing to forgive, Father Belannor. You were merely speaking to the point, and I should have extended you that courtesy instead of being indirect. For that you have my apologies.” Sapphira contritely responded to the confessor. Her polite smile faded as she answered his question. “Although I can assure you, I’ll do whatever is necessary on my part for the success of this mission.”
    Last edited by PaintSerf; 03-20-2014 at 06:23 PM. Reason: Were. There was supposed to be a were.

  8. #28
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    Abdur nods. "This is good. If, perhaps, any of you need stealth training, or guidance, I can instruct you in the ways of the Tallarn Desert raiders. I warn you, being unseen is far more difficult than it looks. It's more than just 'hiding', as most people think. Blending in with a crowd, moving silently, and leaving no trace you were ever there. I do not think stealth was rated highly in the skills you were Father, Sister. I mean no offense, though. I merely point out that, in my experience, those of the Ecclesiarchy make more of an attempt to go the extra kilometer to 'put on a show', as it were, meaning no offense. Perhaps a merchant in a frontier world would work, but it might not. Mayhap a missionary would suit you better? It would allow you to fit what you are more easily into your role. The Interrogator did say that there are many. Who would notice two more? Or, sister, you could simply be a doctor. We are taught that, sometimes, being unseen is impossible, and it is better to 'look like you belong there', as it usually arouses less suspicion. The harder you try to conceal your true identity, the easier it is for you to 'slip up', as it were." He look around. "I do not mean to ramble or speak out of turn." He returns to his silent breathing.

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    "I do not mean to ramble or speak out of turn." He returns to his silent breathing.


    "I understand your argument Abdur, and I agree that stealth is clearly not one of my strengths. I will look forward to some stealth classes, though I'm afraid I won't be the most brilliant student." Solvan said smiling again. "But given that the planet has been in a religious war for ten years, added to the absence of recent data, I think it’s safe to assume that the acceptance of missionaries in non-loyal territories has only deteriorated until proven otherwise." He rested his chin on the palm of his right hand while the left played with the golden bishop's ring. "On the other hand, money in the figure of a merchant appeals to human greed, which is a flaw that is impervious to creed. Don't worry, It is not the first time I need to use subterfuges of this nature, I'll manage."

    ---

    After the discussion was done he addressed everyone around. "Before we leave I wish you all to know that I am available at all times should you have any concerns, doubts or spiritual needs." He realized that the trust needed for such counseling would take more than a few days, but the first stone had been laid. Solvan joined his hands in prayer and said as the meeting came to an end. "Dear Emperor grant us the strength to overcome the trials ahead. For only through You can true victory be achieved."

    As the party shuffled out of the conference room he approached the grey clad sister. "Excuse me sister Sapphira, I just wanted to add that it is an honor to be working beside a Sororita. May Him on Earth watch over you." He said before leaving to perform the next service at the chapel.
    Last edited by Thrannix; 03-20-2014 at 01:31 PM.

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    After the discussion was done he addressed everyone around. "Before we leave I wish you all to know that I am available at all times should you have any concerns, doubts or spiritual needs." He realized that the trust needed for such counseling would take more than a few days, but the first stone had been laid. Solvan joined his hands in prayer and said as the meeting came to an end. "Dear Emperor grant us the strength to overcome the trials ahead. For only through You can true victory be achieved."

    "Imperator vult." Machairi murmured, signing the aquila across her chest and then following father Solvan to the chapel, as she had promised.

    "So," Vincent growled as Marc and Kelly began to gather their papers, his good eye following the interrogator and her picked agents out of the room. "How long before we end up as dead as that poor bastard Shere?"

    + + + + + +

    Machairi had estimated three weeks to reach the breaching point in Hercynia's inner system, but the navigator of their borrowed sprint trader managed it in two and a half. The inquisition team proceeded to the surface in a snub-nosed lander, leaving the trader in orbit with a skeleton crew of servitors and serfs - most of whom genuinely believed they were working for an up-and-coming rogue trader out of Spartax. It was impressive the variety of strings that lord Sidonis and his organisation could pull.

    The weather above the western continent was grey and overcast, and a heavy rain began to splatter down on the lander's hull as they dipped below the cloud layer. The lander circled to kill velocity as it made a leisurely final approach, giving the agents inside a few brief glimpses of the city they were descending towards. Akkan was the only city in the western Enclave with a starport, and it certainly looked like a city under siege. The high rockrete walls were studded with fully-manned las batteries, and were scored black with missile impacts despite the hydra interceptors which revolved slowly atop every bastion. The ground for nearly a kilometer around was bare, muddy earth with razorwire and dragons' teeth blocking all the roads. Beyond the exclusion zone were poorly-defined fence lines crammed with haphazard collections of tents and rusted iron shacks. Pallid figures went to and fro along the waterlogged tracks between tents, bent double against the rain. Inside the forbidding perimeter of the city walls, Akkan was a starkly regimented grid of blocky prefabs, with PDF soldiers in long grey raincoats standing at every street corner. Several manned a checkpoint outside the starport, and as the team watched they flagged down a ground car carrying three pale women, and aggressively ushered them out with the muzzles of their lasguns. Pedestrians funnelled along winding streets, though here and there an ashen-skinned figure simply lay slumped against a wall. When a pair of PDF soldiers saw one, they encouraged him to move with kicks of their iron-capped boots.

    Blast shields swung up around the lander as it made a vertical descent onto one of the starport pads, eventually closing overhead and cutting off the steady drum of the rain. Steam rose from rockrete kissed by the lander's retro rockets as the team made their way down into the starport. The starport was small, and relatively empty, but it was surprisingly well equipped. It had its own med-lab and machine temple, and a golden statue of the Emperor dominated the entrance hall, its gilded hands resting on the sword of judgement. The hallway between the quarantine bio-scanners and the identity checkpoint was lined on either side with marble busts of Imperial saints, and the security scanners at the checkpoint were deftly crafted into the eye-sockets of double headed eagles - an unsubtle metaphor of Imperial vigilance carved in exquisite blue marble. A possible reason for the opulent decor became obvious as they reached the lounge area beyond the checkpoint - a cluster of rogue traders and their attendants sat talking over dataslates and portable hololiths while servo skulls drifted to and fro, long metal callipers clamped around drinks trays. Many of the attendants were openly armed, though the rogue traders themselves seemed unconcerned. A woman whose face was concealed behind a smooth silver mask was pointing at a hololith, while a man with elaborately jewelled clasps restraining his long hair sat smoking with a second man in a dark blue suit, pinstriped with metallic thread that shimmered in the light. The strangest was a painfully thin man with his skin dyed pale lilac.

    Marcus Black felt slightly out of place. Not because of the high-class surroundings - he had recently stood inside a planetary governor's palace - but because he was clad in black carapace armour. Usually cast as the face of the team, he now could have passed as a ship's provost or bodyguard. The armour suit had an auspex suite in the vambrace that he was still getting used to using, although the autogun in his arms sat more comfortably. It was a compact, bullpup design of the kind that was equally at home in a starship's corridors as in the streets of an urban warzone, and its pattern stamp was the one of Decker hive on his own home planet of Solomon. Marc was still deciding what he really thought of interrogator Alia Machairi, but he had to admit that the weapon choice had been a nice touch. Still, it felt odd to be carrying it so openly. On Solomon, personal firearms had been legal purely because it was impossible to halt the underhive gun trade. Here in the Enclave, it seemed that people considered them almost mandatory.

    While Marc forewent his standard professional look, his sister Kelly maintained it with a dark green day dress and business jacket. Vincent, who couldn't look non-threatening even in casual wear, had embraced the image and donned his off-white carapace with its high gorget. Lia stood next to Remus. Marc had been discharged of his duty of looking after the psyker - after seeing her easy rapport with Remus, and reasoning that Marc was better freed up for his primary role as investigator, Machairi had reassigned the Carbon stormtrooper as Lia's handler. Marc hadn't failed to notice the slightly too-controlled look on the interrogator's face as she revoked Schafer's original decision. The antipathy between the two interrogators obviously ran just as deep as Schafer's more blunt comments had suggested.

    Marc had to admit, that of all their team, interrogator Machairi fitted the garb of a rogue trader the best. Clad in an elaborate purple gown with a golden shawl, her pleated hair twisted into a coil at the back of her head, she commanded instant respect with her long oval face and imperiously arched eyebrows.

    "Lady Machairi, I presume." a steward dressed in Imperial grey beamed as he crossed the reception area towards them. He spoke faster and with a thicker accent than the vox tapes that the team had been learning from, but was still just about understandable. "Welcome to the Enclave, and to the planet Hercynia."

    "A pleasure to set foot on this new and worthy addition to the glorious Imperium of Man." Machairi answered, inclining her head. She deliberately injected an upper-class Spartax accent into the words, a more carefully enunciated version of the low gothic that interrogator Schafer spoke.

    "Will you be moving straight on to your destination, or staying a while with your colleagues?" The steward swept his arm towards the other rogue traders conversing in the lounge area. "I can bring you a wine list."

    "That would be perfect, thank you." Machairi said with a smile.

    Following the arc of the steward's hand, Marc swept his eyes over the rogue traders, then the PDF and their attendant gun-servitors standing quietly near each exit, and finally back at his fellow agents.

    "Vince?" he asked softly. Vincent was staring at the rogue trader with the pale lilac skin, quietly but relentlessly. Unfortunately, Marc was not the only one who had noticed.

    "Someone you know?" interrogator Machairi asked, deliberately focusing her attention on the fine frescoes that dominated the ceiling as she asked the question.

    Vincent started slightly, and then hesitated as if deciding whether to answer or not. Finally, he said: "That purple bastard over there is Ottik Emmanuel Klimment. I served on his ship for a while before I washed up on Solomon."

    "Did you part on good terms?"

    Vincent grunted. "Not particularly, but he always responds well when he scents money."

    "Hmmm." Machairi said, dropping her eyes from the ceiling to regard Vincent, and then motioning towards Kally, Lia and father Solvan. "Go and talk to him. Couch it in terms of business opportunities, but the information we want is the situation on the ground - what exactly has been going on down here; who the major players in this war are. Also ask if he's heard anything about Harlock. Rogue traders tend to keep an eye on what their competitors are doing."

    Vincent muttered something in his native Delphic, which might have been an acknowledgement or a curse, but he stepped away towards the seated rogue traders without argument.

    "Sebastian, Sister Sapphira," Machairi went on, flicking her eyes towards the med lab with its red medicae helix above the archway, "That might be a place to start looking for records on Old Man Schafer, whether he was injured or just being innoculated against local diseases. Secutor Vizkop? Now seems like a good time to pray."

    She raised her eyebrows towards the small machine temple, currently empty of other tech priests. If Vizkop could commune with his brothers across the planet he could assess what assets the mechanicus had available. If he could do that, he could assess the military capabilities of the Imperial settlers - and perhaps the natives as well. If anyone would have taken an interest in the local technology level, it was the adeptus mechanicus.

    "Security's tight," Kelly murmured quietly as Vizkop and the others peeled away from the group. "But there does seem to be something missing around here."

    "Aye." Marc whispered back. "Hundreds of PDF and local cops...but no arbites."

    + + + + + +

    Strange when viewed from a distance, rogue trader Klimment was almost macabre up close. His limbs were stick-thin beneath a flowing silken robe, and his fingers were almost twice as long as a baseline human's. The quiet whirring as he tapped them on the table revealed them to be augmetics. A nest of steel-jacketed data cables studded his bald, lilac head and hung down his back.

    "Are my eyes malfunctioning?" he exclaimed in a strangely metallic voice, blinking sparkling silver bionics at the approaching agents, "Or am I being haunted by an unwelcome ghost? Is that Vincent Nyl?"

    The freakishly tall rogue trader rose to his feet, as did a black-skinned man with a permanent toothy smile.

    "Vincent Nyl?" the grinning bodyguard asked, resting his hands on the brace of autopistols at his waist. "Your mother call you that?"

    "You don't want to know what my mother called me." Vincent growled at them in stilted Obrantu. "But it's not me you want to talk to. I guard this guy's ass now." He jerked his head at father Solvan. "And this is Solvan Belannor, chief business prospector for Lady Machairi, heir to this that and the other of Spartax. I know how you think so you won't be interested in all that, but what you will be interested in is that he and his advisors here have a lot of Thrones to invest."

    "Really?" Klimment said, turning his whirring augmetic eyes onto the others accompanying Vincent.

    + + + + + +

    Machairi chose a set of sofas near the rain-streaked windows, sitting down and crossing her legs as the steward returned with a projector that showed the wine list as a rotating hololith.

    "If you don't mind me saying so, my lady." the steward said as he gestured towards the sofas, inviting the other remaining members of Machairi's entourage to sit. "You have a very distinctive accent. Another offworlder with a similar cadence passed through here not long ago. Perhaps you'll find a friend."

    "What a coincidence." Machairi smiled, cocking an eyebrow. "Do you know where he was staying?"

    "I haven't the foggiest." the steward shrugged, and pulled out a dataslate and stylus as Machairi picked out one of the more expensive wines on the list. "Excellent choice, ma'am. I must say, we are glad to see traders of your calibre visiting our world. The war has driven a good deal of prospective clients away."

    "Are the business opportunities bad?" Machairi inquired.

    "Not at all. Well, Uru's an unholy mess, of course. The Ghosts won't stop causing trouble."

    Machairi tilted her head slightly. "Ghosts?"

    "Oh, my apologies ma'am. The indigens. Presumably by some quirk of the original settlers, almost all of the natives on this western continent are albino. It's fortunate that they're easy to identify, because they're the most belligerent and unreasonable people you'll ever have the misfortune to meet. We smash the Uru axis, and they go right on murdering and raping each other as well as any Imperials they come across. No doubt you saw the refugee camps outside the city walls. There's more refugees limping into the Enclave every day, but even they can't be trusted. Their camps are just swarming with armed infiltrators."

    "Oh." Machairi said, putting a hand over her mouth in a delicate expression of shock. She looked at her agents, inviting them to speak up.
    Last edited by Azazeal849; 03-20-2014 at 10:12 PM.
    Spoiler: My RP links 

    PM me for novelised versions of any of my RPs, or ones that I have participated in. Set by the awesome Karma.


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