Suffer The Little Children [Dark Heresy] - IC

[LCP]

(OOC thread here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=143134))


Chapter I
Ignorance Is A Virtue

The hold of the Arvus lighter was cramped and dingy, the tooth-rattling whine of the craft’s engines and the heavy drumming of rain against its battered hull making conversation near-impossible. Strapped into their seats, the five passengers regarded each other circumspectly through the gloom.

The hatch to the cockpit banged open – leaning through, the co-pilot gestured expressively for the passengers to put on their headphones. One by one, they complied, the thick ear-pads muffling the racket of the battered aircraft as the man heaved the hatch shut once more. There was a crackle of static, and the flat, metallic voice of the pilot greeted them from their headsets. He sounded bored.

“Making our final approach to Hive Sibellus, cliff-side. We should have landfall within ten minutes.” The lighter lurched as it hit a pocket of turbulence. “Weather conditions continue unfavourable – bear with us, gentlemen. In the mean-time, Inquisitor Al-Subaai has transmitted some in-flight entertainment for you.”

There was a loud electronic hum as the pict-caster on the forward wall of the hold came online – white noise drifted across its screen for a few seconds, before clearing to reveal the image of a dark-skinned man with a short beard and a shaved head – cranial implants creased his bare scalp, running down beneath the black monastic habit that cloaked his glossy carapace armour.

“Greetings, Acolytes,” came the Inquisitor’s voice. “I apologise for the short notice: you are no doubt wondering why I have brought you here. I am regrettably unable to attend to this matter myself: I am engaged in investigations of my own in the Lucid Palace.”

“Two days ago, a shuttle entered Hive Sibellus airspace: its authorisation cleared, and so it was admitted to the hive. This incident would have gone unnoticed if today we had not received a delayed astropathic transmission from the Navy Frigate Light of Vengeance, warning that any craft bearing those same authorisation codes was to be impounded, and its crew arrested. The shuttle belonged to the heretic Megaera Merrick – she escaped the Light of Vengeance’s custody in the Quaddis system, and has clearly made her way to Scintilla.”

The Inquisitor scowled, his image flickering.

“Merrick is a dealer in darkness – she trades in nascent psykers, stealing them from under the noses of the Black Ships and selling them to those who would use the powers of the Warp for their own ends. She is wanted on counts of treason, possession of forbidden technology, consorting with Xenos and heretics – and resisting arrest.” There was real rancour in the Inquisitor’s voice at those last words.

“Your mission is to retrieve Merrick – preferably alive, but dead will be acceptable – by any means you deem appropriate. She is known to be armed and dangerous, and accompanied by at least two similarly armed associates. You have been selected for the skills that will allow you to bring her to justice. However, there is a complication.”

The screen buzzed, and the Inquisitor’s face disappeared – instead, a 2D schematic of Hive Sibellus took its place. One sector on the seaward side flashed, and expanded to fill the screen.

“Merrick’s shuttle entered the hive at Port Tabernos, in Sector 963. Sector 963 and the adjoining sectors are the territory of an emergent sect known as the Star Children. They are pending investigation to be accredited as an official branch of the Cult Imperialis.”

“In ten years, the Children have turned Sector 963 from a den of scum and villainy into a productive shuttle-port and manufactorium. Their success has been so dramatic that I have had an Interrogator in Sector 963 for some time now, observing the Children for any sign of unusual activity.” The screen crackled, and the Inquisitor’s face re-appeared. “When I was informed of Merrick’s arrival in the sector, I immediately attempted to contact him, to no avail. He has, apparently, vanished off the face of the Hive.”

“Your orders, then, are twofold – to locate Interrogator Phobos, and with his assistance, to capture or kill Megaera Merrick. The Interrogator should be able to provide you with all the intelligence you require on Sector 963 – you are to defer to any orders he gives you.”

“One last thing – Merrick is no fool. Her presence on Scintilla so soon after her escape implies she is on the trail of a prize worth the risk – in all probability, a high-grade psyker. We have had no reports of any such activity from Sector 963 or those nearby, but Merrick is known to employ detection methods based on Xenos technology, which may be more sensitive than our own. If you should discover such an individual, it is your duty to the Inquisition and to the God-Emperor to preserve them from Merrick, and bring them in for immediate removal to the Black Ships – or, should they fall into the traitor’s hands, to bring them the Emperor’s absolution.”

“Transport will be waiting for you at Port Tabernos to take you to Phobos’ last known place of residence. The Emperor protects.”

There was a resurgent crackle of static, and the screen shut off, the after-image of Al-Subaai’s face fading slowly from their retinas.

“Coming in for landing now,” came the pilot’s voice again. “Brace yourselves, back there.”

The passengers felt a lurch in the pit of their stomachs as the lighter dropped, engines protesting – the little craft shook as its landing-gear grazed the ground, skipping once in the buffeting wind before settling more firmly onto the landing-pad. The whine of the turbines slowly decreasing in pitch, the engines shut off – the hydraulic bolts in the rear of the hold fired, dropping the lighter’s access ramp with a metallic bang and letting in the elements in a rude shock of rain and wind.

Unbuckling themselves, the passengers staggered out onto the landing pad – above them, the metallic heights of Hive Sibellus soared, an impossible mountain of stone and steel that vanished into the swollen clouds. Stretching out beneath them, black granite cliffs rose sheer out of the gunmetal-grey sea, vast waves crashing against the crags – metal gantries clung to the cliff-face in an intricate spider’s-web, framing the black mouths of tunnels that led back into the depths of the Sibellus under-hive.

Port Tabernos protruded from under the umbrella of the lower hive’s steel skin, landing-pads and heli-ports standing proud of the cliff-edge in a forest of metal struts. Thanking their pilot, the acolytes hurried towards the shelter of the hive proper, the driving rain making the guide-lights of the landing pad behind them seem to swim and glitter like a swarm of fireflies. True to the Inquisitor’s word, a black-painted car was waiting for them, standing out starkly against the wind-blasted ferrocrete frontages of the hab-blocks abutting the port.

Their driver was a quiet man, with a bald head and close-set eyes. Admitting them to his vehicle in polite silence, he took off into the depths of the sector without a word, his eyes fixed firmly on the road the whole time. Despite its stylish exterior, the car was old – its engine rattled and roared, once again stymieing any attempt among the acolytes to talk among themselves without having to shout.

At last, they found themselves pulling up outside a weathered old hab-block, the glow-globes on the street outside casting long shadows in the lower-hive gloom. The paint on its wooden door was cracked, the sea air that breathed in from the port seeming to scour and corrode everything in this part of the hive – leaning out of the window of the car, the driver held out a key, speaking for the first time in their journey.

“This is the place I was told to take you. They said to give you this,” he said, dropping it into the hand of the nearest acolyte. His duty done, the car’s engine coughed back into life – the vehicle roared away, turning a corner and vanishing from view.

For the first time since they had boarded the lander, quiet descended. It was just them, and the waiting door.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Red clenched his hand about the item the driver handed him and took a moment to breathe in the smell and tastes of Sector 963.
Another hive. Another Emperor-blasted Hive.
The trooper stood with a wary stance, blue eyes constantly flickering around like candle-flames in the wind. It was quieter than he was used to, at least. Less people, too. Only four others. Maybe the water in here wasn't recycled through the systems of millions of others first. Maybe the air wasn't recycled farts.
Maybe. This was an Inquisitor's residence before, right?

Red was wearing a half-hearted black-and-gray pseudo-camouflage pattern on his uniform. He was from a hive unit, after all, and the best you could hope for as camouflage in a Hive was it being too dark to see you, anyway.
He glanced at the item in his glove, revealing it openly enough for his companions to get a good look at it.

[senrath]

Too many buildings, too many people. How he longed for the harsh wilderness of his home. But he had left that behind, along with the last few remnants of his past. He was an acolyte, now, and he had a job to do.

Phrez grunted slightly as he made sure his gear was situated properly, weapons ready to be drawn at a moment's notice. Deciding it was dark enough out, he carefully removed his sunglasses, and stuffed them into his backpack. Glancing at Red's hand, he tried to make out the object that was being held.

"What is it?" He inquired, his already gruff voice distorted slightly by the respirator he wore over his face.

[Saldre]

The youngest member of the group was the third one to exit the vehicle. Having taken the time to go back to the Trunk and recover a rather large staff of some sort, which he proceeded to clip over his shoulder using an equipment harness.

His black body-glove armor melded with the darkness, but his pale skin struck out. His eyes, concealed behind a slim photo-visor, give but a passing glance to his surrounding, focusing instead on the remainder of the squad.

He remains stoic: saying nothing, he turns his attention to the keys in Red's hand then to the door to which they belong to.

[Thanatos 51-50]

OOCly: I missed the fact that it was a key. >.>
"Key." Red replied simply, immediately tossing them in an easy, underhand arc to his fellow guardsmen.
"Still don't trust the residence. Some people in the Hives can bypass security, just like everywhere else."
The hiver then took a moment to ready his lasgun and stacked up on the hinge side of the door.
"Whenever you're ready."

[senrath]

Phrenz easily caught the key, and nodded. Holding the key in his left hand, he drew his axe with his right. No sense going into an unknown situation unarmed. Not if you wanted to live, anyway.

Fitting the key into the lock, Phrenz glanced around to make sure the others were ready. When he was sure they were, he unlocked the door, and gently pushed it open.

If the door is stuck, Phrenz will attempt to kick it down. Rolling Strength, just in case it's needed.
[roll0]: S is 49

[Etcetera]

Jericus studied the rest of his group with interest. Slightly concerned at the threat of combat this early into their venture onto the planet, he pulled out his lascarbine and made ready for combat.

He remained silent, staring at the door with a bizarre interst.

[LCP]

The inside of the hab was almost pitch-black – Phrenz didn’t seem to mind, stepping over the threshold with axe held ready. Following him, one of the others felt for a light-switch – there was a click, and a few weak ceiling-lamps flickered half-heartedly into life.

They stood in a narrow entrance-hall, a vacant coat-hook the only object adorning its otherwise bare walls. Three square openings led into adjoining rooms – a pokey kitchen, a similarly cramped bedroom, and the largest of the three, what looked like some kind of study. From the thin layer of dust on the floor, it seemed no-one had been here for at least a week.

Kitchen
The kitchen is basic, but clean and tidy, and contains all the necessity amenities – opening the refrigeration unit reveals some of the food within is spoiling. The cupboards are full of dry foodstuffs and mass-produced crockery. In one corner, there are a few packets of cheap recaf, and a percolator – behind them is a bottle of amasec, of a rather good vintage. The inside of the oven is still dirty from whatever it was last used for.

Bedroom
The bedroom contains a narrow bed and a single wardrobe: the Interrogator seems to have rather Spartan tastes. There are some clothes of reasonably high quality in the wardrobe, and a dressing gown and slippers hanging against the back of the door: there are no shoes, however.

Study
The study is dominated by a large desk – a tall stack of papers that was originally on one corner has slipped sideways across its surface, covering it in a mass of parchment. A few of the articles have fallen to the floor around it – picking one up, you can see they are leaflets and handbills proselytising for the Star Children. Some of them bear annotations in red ink, although the writer’s handwriting is something of a scrawl.

Apart from the desk, there is a comfy chair in one corner, and a cheap, old-fashioned vid-screen in the other, its control resting beside it on its pressboard stand: it has a slot that takes data-slates. Its power is still on – a small green light indicates that the data-slate slot is currently occupied. Finally, there is a sturdy-looking metal safe in the wall behind the desk: it is controlled by a key-pad.

OOC: A Literacy test can decipher the unclear handwriting of the annotations on the Star Children’s literature. With a successful Security test, Jericus can interface with the safe & override its locking mechanism: alternatively, a Difficult Strength test with an appropriate tool (i.e. Phrenz’s great hammer) will bust it open. The Trade test can only be made once; the Strength test can be repeated indefinitely, but will make a lot of noise.

OOC: Read whatever your character looks at. If you want more information on anything, just ask.

[Destro_Yersul]

The final member of the small group was an unlikely looking one. He towered over the others, all 6'9" of him, shipboard life and tall parents having allowed him to keep growing well beyond the average. A shipboard Provost's uniform with the ship insignia patch torn off clung loosely to his frame, a slight bulging around the torso indicating some sort of armour padding worn underneath it. He remained silent, head down, checking and rechecking the double barreled shotgun held in his hands. His only other weapons were a small holstered pistol and a battered sword. For all his spindly height, though, he looked as if he had the muscle to use that sword.

Hieronymus finally looked up just as the door clicked open. Looks deserted. He declared before going to take a look in the kitchen. Definitely deserted, he added a moment later. Some of the food in here has gone off. While he was talking, he took the bottle of amasec off the counter, as if to declare that he now laid claim to it.

After all, he doubted the original owner had any use for it anymore.

[senrath]

Phrenz kept his axe at the ready as he entered the study. After making sure no one was lying in ambush, he hooked said axe onto his belt to get it out of the way. Stooping, he picked up one of the discarded papers and regarded it for a moment before discarding it once more.

Noticing the vid-screen, Phrenz made his way over to it, and hit the button to initiate playback.

[Saldre]

No doubt the last to enter, Olympus shuts the door and leans against it.

He ponders the Provost's opinion for a few moments. Then steps away from the entrance and enters the study. There being little he can do at this particular time, he finds a corner to wait for the more Tech-capable members of his squad to handle the machinery in here, while keeping an eye on the Vid-screen.

[LCP]

In the Study

The vid-screen sputtered into life – the image of a man’s face resolved itself on the screen, lit against a backdrop of clean stonework. The high dome of his head was bald and smooth, a trimmed moustache and short, pointed beard framing his mouth. Black, expressive eyebrows rested above the man’s dark eyes – there was something curiously compelling about his gaze. The recording had clearly been stopped mid-play.

“- We need no saints, no high confessors to tell us this. We are all the children of the Great Father – one family. Can it be surprising that He has closed his eyes to us, to man’s inhumanity to man – when we have robbed and slain our own brothers?”

“He is waiting to return to us, to a time when we can nourish and restore His Imperium to a state fit for His presence. Only then will His Children have earned their place at His table. It is our task to bring about His dominion.”

The man smiled.

“It is better to die for the Emperor than live for yourself. How much better, then, to bring a new life into the world to serve its Father? The human body is the greatest sacrament to Him – go forth then, and multiply, that the Family of Man may grow to command the stars once more.”

“The love of the Father is the measure of His Children.”

There was a click, and the recording reached its end – with a fuzzy crackle, the screen went dark.

[Etcetera]

When the recording burst to life again, Jericus ran through into the room. He caught most of the recording.

Jericus ignored the visored man, and set about attempting to locate a time stamp or chronomark on the recording to give some indication of when it was played and recorded.

Tech use, right?
[roll0]
Well. Bad roll.

[LCP]

Ejecting the recording's cartridge from the machine, Jericus could find no indication of its age - it had the appearance, however, of something manufactured for mass distribution, a serial number stamped on its casing. On its other side, there was a yellowed label: it read "Calling to the Stars: The Doctrine of the Great Father."

[Etcetera]

Jericus placed the dataslate back in the vid-screen, and pressed the play button, with the intent to watch the whole recording from the beginning.

[LCP]

The screen flickered again, and the man’s face reappeared, lit and framed in exactly the same way it had been before.

“Hello,” he said, addressing the camera. “My name is Alexei Lysenko, and I am here to tell you about the temple of the Star Children.” He smiled a beatific smile.

“You may have heard many things about us – our works in the Sector, our creed and our members. To better spread our message, we have distributed this recording free of charge across Sector 963. We hope you will heed our word – for every man and woman on Scintilla has their part to play in our vision.”

He launched into a list of the sect’s works – apparently they operated an infirmary, an orphanage, and a hospice.

“Some people have expressed worry about our approach to our followers’ children. Let me assure you, these fears are groundless.”

The picture changed to an image of a large room – its walls were clean and white, its floor carpeted and littered with various toys. A multitude of small infants were laughing and playing within.

“The children of those who choose to accept the doctrine of the Great Father are raised together – the better to understand the bonds of family that connect us all, the all-encompassing Family of Man. But they are not separated from their parents – indeed, the love of parenthood is one of the purest expressions of our faith.”

The video cut to a woman nursing her child, a look of radiant motherly love on her face.

“We do not seek to undermine your families – we see their strength, we honour it, and we wish to extend it to combat the ills of our society.” The man’s face reappeared. “When I arrived in this sector, I saw for myself the moral degradation of Sibellus Hive. Crime was rampant, and that crime was based on gang warfare – gangs formed around ties of blood and childhood friendship. Since we have begun preaching the Great Father’s word, gang violence has plummeted – because our followers are all tied by those same bonds.”

From that point, he segued smoothly into the statements of faith that he had been paused in the middle of when they first played the recording back: what preceded what they had already heard did little to clarify it, seeming like a rather strange re-interpretation of the Imperial Creed. The Emperor was clearly identified as the Great Father, but Lysenko seemed to prefer to use the latter name at every possible instance. At every turn, there was constant reference to family – the over-arching Family of Man, which, when all men were truly brothers, would call to the stars for the Great Father’s physical return.

Playing back to its end, the recording clicked off once more.

[senrath]

Phrenz snorted, then turned away from the vid-screen. "Just another crazy cult. Violence is a good thing. Weeds out the weak and useless."

With that, he moved to the safe and began to fiddle with it. "Hey, Tech boy. Think you can get this open? Or should I give it a go?"

[Thanatos 51-50]

Red, with his lasgun still shouldered and at the ready, made a quick sweep of every room, beind double sure to check his corners.
As soon as he was satisfied that the hab was, indeed, clear, the lasgun returned to its resting place across his chest.
The Hiver then makes his way back into the bedroom, and drops his pack, bow, and arrows on the bed, swinging his lasgun to a more comfortable shoulder-carry afterwards.
The first thing he did was check all spaces within easy reach of someone asleep on the bed for a weapon, moving any he finds to the centre of the bed with the rest of his gear.
Then underneath the bed for anything remotely interesting (Or a good pair of boots), which he again pulls out into plain sight before lastly rummaging through the closet for anything that might catch his eyes, paying special attention to any decent clothing that would fit him.

[LCP]

Red's search under around the bed yielded nothing: examining the wardrobe, the clothes within seemed of a better make than he would otherwise be able to afford - although their previous owner had been a little taller than him. Shirts, trousers, one set of understated but smart formal wear - no sign of a coat or boots, however.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Setting the formalwear aside, the Guardsmen rummages through the rest of the bedroom.
Assuming nothing is found, Red moves to the Study.
"Well, at least we have a base of operations whilst we're here." He says semi-brightly.
"Dibs on the bed."

[Saldre]

The youth maintains his stoic facade throughout the entirety of the recording. Though his smile remains unwavering, he subconsciously drums his fingers on his staff.

When the video finally ends, he speaks for the first time. His voice is jovial and his tone polite, reinforcing his good humor.

"Very wise mister...." He says to the feral guardsman, pausing a moment to get his name. "There is, after all, no bond greater then the one between the truly devout and the Emperor." He nods politely to the man then, turning to the rest of the group he continues.

"If he stopped the recorder midway... I'd say he was interrupted." He taps two fingers over his forehead.

"Could it have been someone at door? Someone he recognized perhaps, sent to bring him a message?" He asks, then slinks back against the wall, seemingly rather comfortable.

His eyes drift from the group, settling his gaze on the black screen that moments ago displayed Alexei Lysenko's face, etching the latter into his memory.

[Destro_Yersul]

The Provost finishes looking around the kitchen and joins the others in the study, still clutching the bottle of amasec. Find anything important? He asks the tech priest before going to take a look at the papers. This handwriting is terrible... He squints at them, trying to work out a few of the letters.

OOC: Literacy roll [roll0] vs 39

[Thanatos 51-50]

"Just a bed and some mighty fine rags." Red admits to the provost. "His boots and coat were gone, and there were no weapons in the room. Theorise he was pulled away - possibly whilst reviewing this vid, as you just said," he nods to the youngest member if the group. "Whomever came calling was likely not explicitly hostile, even giving our mark time to get ready, though not much was probably needed. From there - likely scenario is an ambush.
Anybody know if theres some way we can find out who came calling on our 'friend' recently?"

[LCP]

He squints at them, trying to work out a few of the letters.

Heironymous could not decipher the Interrogator's scrawl - however, the words "Great Father" in the printed literature had been circled several times. One line that appeared as the closing statement in several of the pamphlets had been underlined:

"Multiply, for the Voice of the Father is waiting to be born."

[Etcetera]

Jericus made his way over to the safe.
"We could assume that when the interrogator left he was wearing different clothes to his usual ones. Cult robes, perhaps?"

Trade:Technomat!
[roll0] aiming for under 30.

[LCP]

The keypad bleeped three times - there was a harsh, electronic buzz, and the narrow input-screen went blank, the metal door remaining locked. The locking mechanism was clearly more advanced than the safe's exterior implied.

[Destro_Yersul]

This might be a bit of a leap, but they call the Emperor 'the Father,' right? Here they say that the Voice of the Father is waiting to be born. You think they're expecting some sort of divine birth? An Emperor's Prophet, or something? If they are, it's no wonder they're being investigated.

[senrath]

"It's possible." As Phrenz spoke, he grabbed the large handle that was protruding from his backpack, pulling out his Great Hammer. Hefting it with both hands, he brought it crashing down onto the safe.

[roll0] vs 49 Strength. Difficult test, so roll needs to be 39 or lower.

[Etcetera]

"It's nice to know the safe is safe enough to stop people breaking into it. The inquisition obviously spends proper money on keeping its things safe."
Jericus turned around just in time to see a hammer smash down into the safe.
"Watch out, you might break the safe".

Jericus turned to see if he could make more sense of the scribbled notes. And succeed on a skill check.
[roll0]
Apparently not.

[LCP]

There was a sharp metallic snap from within the safe – the door swung open, its corner crumpled and buckled by the hammer’s impact.

Inside, there was a sheaf of neatly-stacked papers – written in the same hand as the annotations on the leaflets, but more neatly – and a small, ornate metal box, as might contain a ring or some other gift. Curiously, it had been repeatedly wound round with duct tape, holding the lid shut.

Examining the leaflets, Jericus could make little more sense of them than the Provost – the Interrogator’s notes were written in some kind of idiosyncratic shorthand. It would take much more time and effort than he could spare to decipher their full meaning.

Papers in the Safe

The papers seem to be some rather more formal notes on the Star Children, interspersed with some more general information relating to Sector 963. There are a lot of them, but if you look through them, you can recognise:


A timeline of the sect’s arrival and expansion, seemingly composed by the Interrogator himself.
Biographical backgrounds of Alexei Lysenko and other members of the sect.
Copies of the official documents for the Star Children’s holdings in the sector, including details of purchase and floor plans.
A reasonably up-to-date register of births, deaths and marriages in the sector.

[senrath]

Replacing his hammer, Phrenz ignored the papers, instead choosing to pull out the small box. Turning it over in his hands, he examined it carefully.

"Think we should open this?"

I had to type this post up twice. The first time I did it, I forgot that Phrenz can't read. Silly me.

[Etcetera]

Jericus, irritated by the success of brute force over finesse snatched the papers from the illiterate and started to read them, noting down anything particularly important on his dataslate.

[Saldre]

Unfortunately, Olympus is still unable to assist. He remains leaning against the wall, more and more so focusing on the (now dark) Vid-screen, as if mulling over something.

He snaps out of his daze momentarily, looking over the small box in Phrenz's hand.

"You might as well: I am curious as to what's inside."

[senrath]

With that, Phrenz began to work on opening the box, tearing off the tape.

"I really hope this isn't something explosive."

[LCP]

Ripping the tape from the box, Phrenz realised there was a small catch holding it shut – turning it to ‘open’, he flipped the lid.

There was a blur of movement, something small and spiny shooting out of the box like a bullet and slamming into the guardsman’s chest. Shouting in alarm, he staggered back, dropping the box to the ground – the thing was a thin worm, less than a handbreadth across, but covered with black chitinous hooks and spines. Concentric circles of sharp teeth filled its gaping mouth, its hooked appendages scrabbling for purchase in its victim's clothes - it gave a bestial screech as Phrenz flailed at it, skittering round onto his back.

The gnashing teeth drove into the man's flak armour, failing to break the skin - releasing the grip of its jaws, it began to scuttle all over its prey, searching hungrily for a weak spot.

[Etcetera]

Jericus recoils in surprise, dropping papers and fumbling for his staff.
Common Lore (Tech) To see if I have any idea about it
Intel 30 +10% Bonus cos of being smart + 10 Cos of Electrografts
Yes, I know mechanical daemon-worms aren't exactly common knowledge, but it's worth trying.
[roll0]
Well damn.

[senrath]

Roaring in fury, Phrenz made a grab at the worm-like thing that was attempting to eat him.

Grappling the worm, it may use its reaction to attempt an agility test. If successful, I fail to grapple it.
[roll0] vs 42. Apply any penalties as needed.

[Etcetera]

Jericus readied his staff and stood ready to render assistance if Phrenz was unable to deal with the creature himself. Trusting that the savage would (eventually) be able to do so, he moved to outside the doorway to the room.
Yes, I'm not going to hit him. In the last game of Dark Heresy I played (The demo scenario at Games Day) I accidentally almost lethally shot two of my compatriots engaged in combat with a plaguebearer. I got it in the end, but the two melee combatants were having a hard time damaging it.
EDIT: Ok, since having read Senrath's last edit, I am instead going to try to beat it to death with my staff. Yay, combat!

Standard attack, since I pulled out my staff this turn
Called shot at Mr. W, and with -20 to a WS of 25 I need a five or under to hit. With my luck, that just isn't going to happen.

[Etcetera]

Doublepostelicious!
[roll0]
And, on the of chance that I hit,
[roll1]
Booyeah. One higher and I would have hit Phrenz.

[LCP]

Evading Phrenz's clutching fingers, the worm scrambled up over the man's shoulder, its barbed tail wrapping around its neck as its fanged maw loomed in front of his unprotected eyes...

A blur of metal flashed inches from Phrenz's nose - the creature burst as Jericus' staff slammed into it, spraying stinking yellow ichor across the guardsman's face. Sliding from around his neck like a burst water-balloon, the thing's corpse dropped to the ground with an unpleasant squish. Its semi-liquid innards leaking onto the floorboards, all that remained was its ruptured, glistening hide and the black, thorn-like claws that studded its length.

[Saldre]

Rather impressed with the Tech-priest's perfect hit, Olympus claps.

"Congratulations, Looks like you got it."

He moves over towards its remains, leaning down to see if anything in particular is left after a hit like that.

"I wonder where* he could have found something like this... it doesn't seem like it would make for a very nice pet..."

[senrath]

Phrenz casually wiped some of the ichor from his face and respirator as he knelt to pick the box back up, intent on studying the interior.

"Well, that would explain why the box was sealed. Nice hit, by the way."

[Etcetera]

Seemingly oblivious to the remarks of the others, Jericus begins picking up the dropped papers.

[Saldre]

"I hope were not planning on waiting until morning to move out." Olympus sighs.

"There doesn't seem to be much to do over here..." He says, turning to the tech-priest. "Or did you find anything worthwhile in those papers?"

[Thanatos 51-50]

Red, who had stumbled a step backwards and had drawn his laspistol before trying to take an angle on the worm that wouldn't hit Phrenz on a missed shot, breathed a sigh of relief and holstered his weapon.
"That was mildly unexpected. You alright, Trooper?" he asked his comrade-in-arms as his fellows rifled through the contents of the safe.

[senrath]

"Yeah, I'm alright. The thing didn't even scratch my armor." Phrenz said, as he discarded the box once more.

"So, where to next?"

[Destro_Yersul]

Hieronymus hadn't even had time to react to the thing's appearance. He blinks at its corpse in mild surprise. I think we should start looking for the Interrogator. I've got pictures and a description. If we can find him, he might be able to help us look for Merrick.

[Saldre]

"Do you suppose there's a link then, between Merrick and the Star-children?" He asks, not to anyone in peculiar, while waiting for the Tech-priest's take on the papers.

[senrath]

"It doesn't matter. Our orders are to locate Interrogator Phobos first, and we know he was keeping tabs on the Star Children." As he spoke, Phrenz removed his respirator so he could clean the ichor off of it more easily.

[Etcetera]

"Right. The cult turns up, and starts to convert drones scared by the gang wars on their doorstep. They open up an orphanage, and gain popularity as good guys. Soon no-one is attending the Ecclesiarchy chapel, and the only gangs remaining in the area seem to wipe each other out. There's no-one left to get in their way, and they file an application to become an official sect.
Jericus shuffles the papers, settling on another one seemingly no different from the rest.
"They now have a number of beneficiary houses - hospices, chapels and the like, all with the concept of family featuring heavily in their names. They also have a number of commercial holdings managed by a non-member of the cult."
Jericus stops and looks up again, absent-mindedly brushing worm-ichor off his robes. He stares at Phrenz for a few seconds, then stuffs the papers in a pocket.
I would suggest we clean up, and then subtly ask around for information on the sect. We're all fairly noticeable at the moment, and it wouldn't do us any good to blow what little...
Jericus taps on a wall.l
..cover we have. Still, we ought to fuly check out the apparent first. I'd hope that any interrogator worth his salt would conceal anything particularly important."

[Thanatos 51-50]

"A link between Merrick and the Star children? What would Merrick want with them?" Red asked incredulously, sitting on top of the safe.
"The mark goes after /psykers/, remember? The reason we need to Interrogator is for intel on the sector, considering he's been here longer than us.
What we don't know is where Intel ran off to."

[Saldre]

Olympus sighs and goes back into his corner.

"I wonder" He says as he sits down "Why they would leave a non-member of the cult in charge of their finances. That strikes me as rather peculiar." Then, looking down on the floor, he continues:

"Our orders were to take care of Merrik first, if mister Phobos is... incapacitated... or dead... it should not keep us from our primary objective, don't you all agree?" He says, then faces them, smiling.

[Destro_Yersul]

"I just wish we knew where the Interrogator has gone to. We know what he was doing here, though. Maybe we should start asking around? As for Merrick, I think the shuttle port is our best bet. Start there, see if anyone knows where she's headed."

[Saldre]

"I am afraid I wouldn't know my way around a shuttle port: I also think she would be inconspicuous, i doubt we would find anybody who would know anything. But then again, you have the right idea. I suggest we split up."

He says to the group before turning to the Provost.

"We can kill two birds with one stone that way. We can head to the Port's custom office, we'd get a lead on Marrik and investigate "The Star-Children" at the same time."

He stands and moves towards him, extending a hand.

"I apologize, we were never properly introduced. I am Olympus, Mister..."

He smiles, waiting for a reply.

[Thanatos 51-50]

"Getting on Merrick's trail seems like a good idea, but if Phobos is in trouble, we can't let that trail go cold. Since the Star Children are operating rather openly and applying for official status, so it couldn't hurt too much to just basically march straight into their Temple." Red suggests with a shrug.
When he hears Olympus getting on with the introductions with the provost, he quickly interjects, "I'm Red, by the way, Designated Marksmen, formerly of the Gytogan 345th Regiment, currently serving for the Holy Inquisition."

[senrath]

"I'm Phrenz, formerly of the Fenris 37th. If you need something to go squish, point me at it. I'm also not very good at investigation or any really intelligent work, so I'll just tag along with someone as muscle."

[Etcetera]

"I am of the Adeptus Mechanicus: Flange, Jericus. I fix things, mostly."
Jericus is still absorbed in the papers.
"Might it be a good idea to inquire as to the Sect through less recorded channels? It may not do us well to have our request filed officially if the sect has any involvement in the port."

[Destro_Yersul]

The Provost briefly grips the proffered hand in his own. Bosc. Hieronymus Bosc. In case you hadn't guessed yet, I was a Provost in the Imperial Navy. Though that should have been obvious enough from his uniform. I know my way around spaceports well enough. And with the uniform, I think I count as inconspicuous. Unless anyone has some really good objections, I'll lead that group.

Though the missing ship insignia might cause some questions

[Saldre]

"That's fine with me, we might as well get going then. Feel free to take the Initiative, I am afraid I am might give out the wrong impression If i start talking to people..." Olympus says, and moves to the door, opening it and exiting into the street.

[LCP]

Jericus
Heading coreward into the industrial tangle of the manufactoria, Jericus made his way onto one of the free carrier-platforms that traversed the arterial routes, the huddled mass of standing workers that packed the open-topped vehicle keeping a respectful distance from the Mechanicus Adept. Most of them had meticulously shaved heads, like the driver who had taken them to Phobos’ residence.

At the crux of the two manufactory districts, the Central Administratum Bureau stabbed up into the cavernous metal ceiling of the hive sector, a great cylinder of steel that, Jericus knew, would continue up through several of the sectors above. Angular buttresses supported its thick walls, umbilical passageways passing between the Bureau and the surrounding buildings at upper-storey levels in an intricate web of connections – where it rose above the level of the rest of the sector, a huge brass Aquila adorned its curved face, the metal eagle weathered and streaked with corrosion from the ocean winds that blew in from the mouth of the shuttle-port.

Passing through the open gates into the Bureau’s atrium, Jericus found himself suddenly immersed in dusty silence – the occasional whoosh of a message cylinder in the pneumatic tubes that wound around the interior walls and the muted clacking of scribe-servitors’ fingers on keypads the only sounds to disturb the stillness. Administratum adepts glided to and fro, carrying teetering stacks of parchment or examining flickering screens: at Jericus’ request for the Sector records, he was ushered wordlessly into an octagonal lift-shaft, a hiss of hydraulics heralding the sudden ascent of the platform he was standing on as meaningless code-symbols blinked at him from a display on its side.

Stepping out on the floor of the Bureau it brought him to, Jericus found himself at the back of a rather long queue, a red line painted on the floor telling them where to stand. The man at the front stood looking up before a tall dais, holding his hat in both hands before him – at the top of the dais, a vulture-like Adept peered down at him through a multitude of focussing lenses. An auto-scribe mounted beside him was copying down everything that was said on a spooling roll of parchment, the scratching of its quill providing a disheartening accompaniment to the supplicant’s words as its blank child’s face stared expressionlessly at its own work.

The hunched Adept was in the midst of speaking:

“Regarding your question, the Bureau, sir, may have possibly recommended that some public claim against the insolvent estate of a firm or copartnership to which your person may have belonged, should be enforced. The question may have been, in the course of official business, referred to the Bureau for its consideration. The Bureau may have either originated, or confirmed, a Minute making that recommendation.”
“...So, it is bringing the case, then.”
'The Bureau,” sneered the Adept, “is not responsible for any gentleman's assumptions.”
“Then... how may I find out for sure?'
“I must refer you,” returned the Adept, ringing the bell, “to the Bureau itself for a formal answer to that inquiry.”
“Excuse my mentioning –“
“The Bureau is accessible to the public, if the public approaches it according to the official forms; if the public does not approach it according to the official forms, the public has itself to blame.”

Two robed scribes ushered the man away, looking even more confused than before. Consigning himself to wait, Jericus watched the queue inch forwards, finally finding himself before the dais himself.

“And what is your application to the Bureau, Electro-Priest?” said the Adept, craning over his podium to peer down at Jericus.
“I was looking to access the public records for Sector 963.”
The man scowled. “You are in the wrong queue, sir. How can we assist you if you are not in the right queue?”
He rang his bell.
"Adept Jabal, please take this person to the blue line."

Shunted between two more lines, Jericus finally found himself forcefully seated at a battered wooden desk, a sheaf of forms placed in front of him. When he had filled them out in triplicate and returned them to the correct Adept, he was taken up two more storeys, and admitted into a dark, cylindrical chamber – metal cabinets rose up into the shadows all around him, a key to the intricate filing system taking up three square feet on the wall beside the door.

Idly pulling open the nearest drawer, he had to force it shut as the tightly-packed papers within tried to escape. He looked round for assistance, but the Adept who had escorted him here had noiselessly vanished into the gloom.

OOC: Make an Intelligence Test to navigate the terrors of filing.

[hr]

Olympus, Heironymous & Phrenz – Port Tabernos

Returning the shuttle-port, the three Acolytes wrapped their arms around themselves – the wind was still blowing in off the ocean, carrying freezing particles of moisture with it. Somewhere off to their seaward side, a lander’s engines roared, struggling against the buffeting wind.

The Customs Office was a low, ferrocrete building, built to withstand the weather that funnelled in through the cavern-mouth of the port – around it, rusty hangars cluttered the open space between the Acolytes and the landing-pads, shuttle-sheds of all shapes and sizes festooning the sector deck like barnacles. Some were clearly private property, while others loudly advertised their commercial availability: a couple of grey-painted hangars with a black aquila stamp housed the craft of the port authorities, standing apart from the others. Men in heavy coats and high-vis jackets bustled to and fro – many of them had shaven scalps, in the same fashion as the driver who had taken them to Phobos’ apartment.

OOC: Searching out sightings of Merrick (and any other info you care to specify) among the port workers will require Inquiry tests. If you want to enquire at the Customs Office, have a list of questions.

[hr]

Red – The Temple of the Great Father

Parting from the others at the back of Port Tabernos, Red headed along one of the broad tangential avenues towards the other side of the Seaward Quadrant. Here, the characteristic antiquities of Hive Sibellus began to show themselves among the prefabricated ferrocrete hab-blocks that seemed to dominate the sector – more modern buildings rose out of the ruins of far more ancient structures, the roads winding round crumbled statues whose faces and names had long since been eroded away.

The Temple of the Great Father, then, was a stark anomaly amidst these faded glories – new and unblemished, it was built into the hive-wall itself, sturdy stone walls boxing in a small corner of the metal cavern-roof that enclosed the sector. The architecture was smooth and sharp, quite unlike the gothic finery of your usual Ecclesiarchy affairs – two long, indigo banners hung to either side of the large doors, a large circular window that was halfway between a Ministorum rose window and a porthole dominating the temple’s upper face. Its stained plasti-glass panes depicted a babe in a crib, one hand reaching up towards a semi-circle of stars that hovered over it.

Inside, it was cool and dark – low ambient lighting illuminated rows of pews, a pulpit that bore the same image of the child in the crib standing centre stage on a raised platform at the far end of the nave. The metal walls were hung with more banners and tapestries, all looking rather new – many doors led away into side-rooms and passages, breaking the hall’s symmetry with a jumble of entries and exits that gave the impression that the temple extended quite a bit further than it might seem from the outside.

At present, the temple was nearly empty – a single man in white robes was sweeping the aisles, his shaven head gleaming in the dim light from the window. He looked up at the Guardsman’s entry, seemingly surprised to see a newcomer on the premises.

“H – hello!” he said, tremulously. “Can I help you?” He paused. “My name’s Simm. What’s yours?”

[Destro_Yersul]

Hieronymus takes stock of the port quickly, noting the various different private hangers. They might need to get a look in one of those later. "Olympus, Phrenz, check the office. Try to get some answers out of them. I'm going to ask around amongst the workers."

With that he waves to one of the men in the high-vis vests, walking over quickly. "Excuse me! A friend of mine mentioned she'd be coming through here..."

[Thanatos 51-50]

Red gave a quick smile, as, after reaching across his torso with his left hand to secure the lasgun's strap, extended his right hand.
"People call me Red." he replied easily. "I happened to be looking around the Hive - 'm from a similar one, m'self -, and I noticed this building, so I thought I'd come in and have a look-see."
At this point, he pauses, waiting for Simm to either take his hand or no. The guardsmen will drop his hand after a moment if the white-robed one makes no motion to shake.
"Anyway - mind if I ask a little about this place and your place in it?"
Charm test? Against half Fellowship, right? [roll0] (Fellowship is 29, so half is 14, apply any modifiers you see fit.

[LCP]

Red

”Gladly,” said Simm, taking the proffered hand.

“This is the Temple of the Great Father. Father Lysenko gathered the funds to build it two years ago – there was just a warren of old ruins here before. It’s a place of worship for all the Star Children of the sector – you should see it on prayer-day, so busy! Father Lysenko says over eighty percent of the population are lay-brothers now.”
The man spoke with a naive sincerity – almost child-like.
“Me, I just sweep the floors.”
A sudden glimmer came into his eyes.
“Are you here to learn more about the Great Father? Father Lysenko says we should always be looking for people willing to hear the Word.”

[hr]

Heironymous

Sightings of Merrick proved frustratingly elusive – none of the workers going to and fro on the landing-docks had seen anyone matching her description, most of them shrugging off the Provost’s enquiries with indifference. To them, a day’s work was the inward and outward flow of faceless shuttlecraft, the human passengers being almost irrelevant details.

Beginning to work his way through the hangars instead, Heironymous met with little better fortune – every manager and janitor he asked had seen no sign of the woman. Port Tabernos, it transpired, was deceptively large – seeing the multitude of hangars stretching away to either side, he realised that, despite everything, it would actually be relatively easy to lose a small shuttle-craft in a place like this.

After six hours of searching, he had found nothing – the last hangar awaited him, tucked into a dark corner of the port. Rather ramshackle, with out-buildings of corrugated iron, it advertised itself as a commercial space: the rusty sign over the entrance read:


Simeon Hayle’s Quality Shuttle Berths

No questions asked.

Stepping inside, he found himself in a dingy, cluttered office, a cheap plywood desk facing him. A bell jingled as the door closed behind him – there was a sudden clatter from an adjoining room, and a lean, greasy-haired man appeared, clambering into the chair behind the desk with a rapid, spidery movement.

“Hello, hello!” he said, with an oleaginous grin. “What can I do for you, sir? Looking to make a booking? Best rates in the port, though my rivals will deny it!”
“I was wondering if a friend of mine had left her craft here,” said Heironymous. “She said she’d be coming through this way.” Rattling off Megaera’s description, he watched the man’s face – it remained carefully immobile, fixed in the same eager grin.

“Ah sir, you didn’t read the sign,” he said, chuckling. “No questions asked, no questions answered. Privacy is all part of the service, paid for with the berth... if you get my drift, sir.”

OOC: You are now ahead of the others in the timeline.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Red smiled somewhat vacuously and nodded.
"Sure!" he said, moving to sit down on the nearest chair/pew "Tell me about the Great Father."

[Saldre]

Poor Olympus seems surprised at the Provost's request

"M-me?" He asks, look around the bustling port.

"Fine" He sighs loudly, and moves about. Moments later, he spots the custom's office and walks in.

"Good...hmm... evening..." He says, making his way to the front-desk, or at least trying too.

[LCP]

Red

”It’s Father Lysenko you should talk to,” said Simm, hesitantly. “I... just sweep the floors. Father Lysenko has the Words. But you should hear them! I can take you to him.”

[hr]

Olympus & Phrenz

The Customs Office was more like a bunker than a civilian building – stooping under the low door, Olympus and Phrenz found themselves in front of an imposing black desk, a line of plastic chairs jammed into one corner. No-one else seemed to be waiting – the clerk at the desk looked up at them, an ocular implant giving a quiet mechanical whine as its green lens turned to focus on the new arrivals.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” he said, his chilly tone of voice implying that he thought it unlikely.

[Thanatos 51-50]

"Take me to Fathe Lysenko, then."
Red replies amiably.

[Saldre]

Olympus smiles politely, walking over to the front-desk.

"Y-yes, you see: I was sent to recover a list of landing authorization's code for my employer. It's protocol to verify and validate the authenticity and legitimacy of wares before we actually purchase them, you see. I am looking for the day before yesterday's list: so two days ago."

[LCP]

Red


Seeming quite excited, Simm laid down his broom, leading the way to a wooden door in the side of the great hall – from there, a new-looking spiral staircase led downwards, its narrow stairwell showing traces of reclaimed Sibellian architecture.

Passing through another door and along a lamp-lit corridor, they came before a plain, unassuming door – Simm knocked, waiting nervously for a reply.

The door opened – a stooped figure looked up at them. Shaven-headed like Simm, the man before them looked nothing like the man from the vid-recording – beady eyes regarded Red unintelligently from beneath a thick, bony brow. Like Simm, he wore white robes – bulky, amorphous garments of coarse wool that looked singularly out of place on his bent, thick-limbed frame.

“A man here to see Father Lysenko, Mischling.”

The man grunted and stepped aside – stepping over the threshold, Red found himself in a roomy study. The furnishings were simple, but of good quality – doors led off to rooms on either side, giving the impression of considerable space. Most impressively, a triple-glazed porthole pierced the opposite wall – the muted light it cast was dappled with rain, showing that the study must be right up against the wall of the hive.

One of the doors opened – the man who stood before him was instantly recognisable as the character from Interrogator Phobos’ recording, the same piercing eyes regarding Red with a sudden expression of interest. He was shorter than he had appeared in the video – dressed in white like the others, he wore more practical clothes than Simm and Mischling’s almost monastic robes, his simple, neatly-tailored suit making him seem almost like a factory overseer.

“Who’s this, Simm?”
“He’s called Red, sir. Said he wanted to hear more about the Father.”
“Ah. Well done, Simm.”
Simm beamed, and left. Stepping forwards, Lysenko smiled, shaking Red’s hand.
“A Guardsman, I see. It gladdens me to see you. Please, have a seat.”
Taking his own chair, he sat down behind his desk.
“So, you want to learn more about our little church?” he asked. “Everyone is welcome in the brotherhood of the Star Children. What do you wish to know?”


[hr]

Olympus & Phrenz


The clerk frowned.

“I’ve never heard from your ‘employer’ before. And a good thing too. The registry of landings is Administratum data. It is not available to the general public.”

The last two words dripped with disdain.

[Thanatos 51-50]

"Father Lysenko." The Guardsmen says with a polite nod, taking mental note of the burly one outside the room. Probably an incognito bodyguard of sorts.
"I have not heard of the Great Father before, and when I expressed interest in hearing about him, Simm lead me to see you.
So, I guess my first question would be who is the Great Father? And how did you manage to get the impressive sum of eighty percent of this sector to come here on prayer-days?"

[senrath]

-Ignore this-

[Saldre]

"I... I am rather sorry: it's my first day on the job you see, i am rather anxious not to screw things up. If i get fired, why it would be terrible for everyone involved." He sighs loudly.

"I work for Vandelay Industries (They export-Import). Mister Vandelay doesn't take too kindly to delays like this, he was so sure he'd get proper service... Probably enough to have us come back, as regular customers, with proper funding.".

"If we go back empty handed, mister Vandelay will probably fire us. Then we'll have nothing better to do then to wait outside of this office. Probably until your shift ends." He says, though still smiling, his tone changes: cold and ruthless, Olympus motions to the hulking Phrenz behind him.

[LCP]

Red

Lysenko smiled again, steepling his fingers.
“The Great Father is... our name for the Emperor, Mr ‘Red’. We see mankind as one family – the Emperor is our father.” He paused. “We believe he is awaiting the time when these bonds of blood are acknowledged to return to us, to lead us out of the childhood of our species and back into His sight.”

“As for our popularity in the sector – I don’t believe there’s anything surprising about it. We preach what the Ministorum is afraid to – the Emperor’s love for his children, as well as his hatred for those who oppose us. The Word of the Great Father gives people worth. It is what these people had been waiting for, to realise their true potential.”
He spread his hands.
“Ten years ago, this was a grim place. We Children have turned that around, with words and faith alone – the faith that it is man’s kindness to man, not his victories over his enemies, that is the greatest measure of virtue. The people of Sector 963 have seen the path out from under the shadow of violence and inhumanity, and had the courage to seize it.”

[hr]

Olympus & Phrenz

“If Mr Vandelay thinks his men can threaten the servants of the Administratum, he is sorely mistaken,” bit back the man behind the desk. “The registry documents are accessible only on the authority of the Adeptus Terra.”

He met Olympus’ stare without flinching, his bionic eye giving him an eerie calm.

“Your brute doesn’t scare me. We deal with smugglers and worse here on a daily basis. I suggest you leave, before I call a security detail.”

[senrath]

"Then allow me to set the record straight. We are part of the Inquisition, and we need that information to perform our duty. My friend's misguided attempt to intimidate you was part of a desire not to draw attention to ourselves. Anyway, if you need to, you can contact someone to confirm our identities. We'll wait." Phrenz said, his voice calm and level, doing nothing to betray the fact that he was laughing on the inside.

[LCP]

Olympus & Phrenz

The man's expression changed a little - he still looked very sceptical.

"Is that so." He glanced at the door behind him, then back to the pair. "Well, unless you have documentation to that effect, I will need to confirm your authority. What are your names?"

[Saldre]

Olympus sighs and shrinks, though life on dusk had been difficult, he had never actually been confronted to the horrors of bureaucracy: a situation that a quick sweep of his scythe could not resolve.

"Sorry" He mumbles, almost to himself, as he slinks back behind Phrenz, letting the latter take the lead. He avoids the clerk's stare, as to resist the urge to unsheathe his weapon.

[senrath]

"Phrenz. No last name. And this is Olympus..." Phrenz trailed off, to let Olympus say his own last name.

[Saldre]

"Ora..." He mumbles, rather quietly.

[LCP]

Phrenz & Olympus

“Wait here,” said the clerk, pointing to the plastic chairs. Rising from his seat, he vanished through the door behind him, leaving them on their own.

After a wait that seemed to stretch on for days, the man returned – the scuffed chrome chronometer on the wall showed it had only been two hours. He had a curled roll of thin, shiny paper in his hand, its edges punched with square perforations by the printing-engine, and looked at the two feral worlders with a little more respect than he had before.

“Your authority has been confirmed. Here is the registry list you requested, for the full twenty-six hours of that day.”

He raised his remaining eyebrow.

“Will there be anything else?”

[Saldre]

"Could you point us out to the hangar where this ship has landed, please?" Olympus asks, handing him a slip of paper with the codes for Merrick's ship printed on it.

[LCP]

Olympus & Phrenz

Scanning the code, the clerk sat back in his chair, the screen set into his desk coming online with a faint green flicker - his fingers rattled on the keyboard, great columns of numbers and letters scrolling past. He stopped the procession at a particular place, isolating a specific row - his implant whirred as it focussed on the tiny characters.

"That vessel was transferred into one of the private commercial hangars in Segment 5," said the clerk, slowly. "Civilian transport, no goods to declare - not searched." He looked back at Olympus and Phrenz. "It came in on landing-pad 53, but I'm afraid we do not keep records of traffic in and out of the commercial berths."

[Saldre]

"I assume we would need some kind of authorization to perform a search? Some sort of routine check up that would allow us to enter while remaining inconspicuous, should we run into anybody guarding the doors?" Olympus asks.

[LCP]

Olympus & Phrenz

The clerk blinked.

"You're with the Inquisition. What more authorisation do you need?"

He looked down at the screen.

"I could arrange for a search team as cover if you wish, but it would not be... inconspicuous. There are more than a dozen hangars in Segment 5 - it could not be explained as a spot check."

[Saldre]

"We are after a wanted felon you see, announcing that we are with the inquisition would hinder our progress. They have no intention of cooperation, and we would like to search the hanger for clues covertly, without rousing suspicions. Granted, I don't suspect we will find the person whom we are looking for: simply a few goons left behind to watch over the ship. They might have even opted to abandon it, as it has been black-listed, has it not? Then we would find no one there. Don't call in a search just yet: We will go take a look ourselves first, if we need anymore help we will return. Thank you for your help" He says, bowing his head politely and turning to the door.

[senrath]

Phrenz simply nodded his head, then headed out of the office.

[Destro_Yersul]

"I think I take your meaning." Hieronymus says. "Though I regret I do not currently have any money on me. That's why I'm looking for my friend. She owes me." He grins at (presumably) Mr. Hayle. "Anyways, if you see her, could you leave me a message with the port customs office? My name's Hieronymus Bosc."

[LCP]

Heironymous

"That's a pity," said Hayle, grinning. "Customs Office, you say? Maybe I will... if I see someone like that, that is."

[Saldre]

"Well, Let's get going then..." Olympus says to Phrenz.

"Also, Mister Phrenz, let's not mention this little incident to anyone else, hmm? I'd rather it stayed between the both of us..." He smiles, attempting to sway Phrenz into keeping this embarrassing moment to himself.

"On the bright side, it seems that the man is loyal to the Emperor: I don't think we have risked much revealing our identities to him" He concludes.

Heading over to segment five, they make their way to Landing pad 53.

"Hmmm, now how do we proceed from here?" He asks Phrenz, as he keeps an out for a Harbormaster, or an employee that can point them in the private commercial hangar's direction.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Red pursed his lips for a moment, putting words to thoughts.
"I've seen a lot of people die to those same enemies, Mr. Lysenko," he begins, "I had a buddy once, for example - nicest guy you'll ever know. Due to some supply SNAFU or another, I wasn't able to actually get food in my belly. This friend of mine was kind enough to share his rations with me. A simple gesture, surely, but deeply appreciated by me. I eventually got the mess sorted out and was able to stop cutting into somebody else's rations, yeah, but this guy helped me through it. Two days after the whole mess was sorted out, my friend took a las bolt through the neck fighting the Great Enemy. He was standing at my shoulder."
Red paused again, letting his words settle. "The point here being this: being good to your fellow man is all well and good, but you'll end up a corpse anyway when Man's enemies come knocking. If the people of 963 believe that kindness to one's fellows is more important than defeating our enemies, then I can't help but think the entire sector has gone soft."

[LCP]

Red


Lysenko smiled, his beatific composure unruffled.
“We are not pacifists, Mr Red. The sacrifice of those brothers who give their lives in the defence of the Family of Man cannot be diminished. Indeed, I believe the Scintillan 807th will soon be the first Imperial regiment to count members of our fold among their illustrious ranks.”

“Hive Sibellus, however, is not a warzone – at least, where crime and the inhumanities of greed are kept at bay. As we foster hatred for the enemies of mankind, so we must love one another – or else waste the Father’s bounty in strife and fratricide. As the guardsman’s armour is contempt, so the civilian’s must be brotherhood with his fellow man.”

[hr]

Olympus & Phrenz

Landing Pad 53 stood at the very edge of the docks, nestling in the corner of Port Tabernos’ gaping maw. Rusted gantries held up the reinforced rockcrete circle, its pitted surface blackened by the marks of countless thrusters.

Servitors and workers thronged the broad concourse that ran along the back of the landing-pads, going about their onerous duties despite the driving rain that blew in on the wind – beyond them, the hangars stood in uneven rows, forming more disorderly, compact clusters closer to the edge of the port. The ones towards the centre were painted matt-grey, spray-stencilled numbers as tall as Phrenz hanging over their metal doors – on their outside edge, a far more ramshackle collection of shuttle-sheds sprouted from the rockcrete deck, some bearing signs showing they were open for hire, others looking decidedly private. All told, there were at least seventeen hangars visible.

OOC: Advance by another hour – it’s a long walk from the centre of Port Tabernos to the northern edge where you are now.

[Saldre]

"I am running out of ideas really quickly here, mister Phrenz. Its like looking for a needle in a Haystack! We don't even know what type of ship she had!" He says quietly to the man besides him.

Moving a hand to his ear, he activates his com-link.

"Mister Jericus, were at the hangar: were looking at about seventeen hangars, one of them has Merrick's ship. Do you know what were looking for exactly? Did they give you a description of the shuttle?" He asks the man drowning in paperwork somewhere else.

Once the tech-priest replies, he nods to Phrenz.

"I suggest we split up: You handle the right side, I will handle the left. Who-ever finds it first will call the other." He says to the man, before going on his way, attempting to locate which hangar the ship is currently docked in.

[OOC: Assuming The Tech-priest replies with some information, we'll split up and search for it (at least in the open and accessible private hangars) to increase our chances. If we don't find it in any of the open ones, it would at least have narrowed our search down. Here's a d100 in-case i need it for anything. [roll0]]

[Destro_Yersul]

"Of course. If you see her. That's all I can ask." Though he really wishes he had some way to loosten the fellow's tongue, Hieronymus is dirt poor right now. Maybe one of the others would have some money, though. "Hope to hear from you soon." He adds as he leaves the shed.

Now to see about finding the others...

OOC: I don't have much of an idea of what to do next, so unless something happens, assume Hieronymus wanders around looking for the others until time syncs back up.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Red nods approvingly at Father Lysenko's Rhetoric.
"This all sound very well and good. Tell me, have you filed to be considered an official branch of the Imperial Cult, yet?" Red does everything he can to put a tone of honest desire in his voice. "And if, so, have you spoken to an Inquisitor? That's what happens when you apply, right? You get investigated?
Additionally, I'd be very interested in attending a service or two. When is your next one?"

[LCP]

Red

"An Inquisitor? I would hope not, unless we had transgressed against the Emperor's will. Our request has been filed, and will hopefully be approved in due course - I believe an ecclesiarch of the Ministorum will be visiting us soon to witness the value of our faith."

He nodded.

"There will be a service the day after tomorrow. I look forward to seeing you again, Mr Red."

[hr]

Heironymus, Olympus & Phrenz

The search of the hangars was long and difficult - only the public ones and those commercial berths that were still empty stood open, the port-workers confirming the identity of various battered shuttles that were clearly not the craft of a psyker-smuggler. Every private hangar that was occupied was locked against intrusion.

After several hours of fruitless searching, the two feral worlders reconvened, none the wiser for their endeavours. From a distance, they saw Heironymous walking towards them...

[Thanatos 51-50]

Red inquires after the exact time of the service, and then thanks Father Lysenko for his time.
"You've been helpful, sorry for taking up so much of your time. I'll let you get back to whatever you're doing."
With that, Red took his leave of the Temple of the Great Father, and, assuming no hindrances, bids a friendly adieu to Simm and commences wandering the streets of the Sector, listening carefully for any conversations which reference the Great Father or the Star Children.
He finds himself wandering in the general direction of their little base of operations.

[Saldre]

Olympus sighs loudly.

"It seems we can't do anything right. I hope the rest of the team won't be cross with us: we ended up with nothing after all. I wonder what they were able to find, should we return and report?" He asks the other members with him before heading out and returning to the base as well.

[Destro_Yersul]

We might not have nothing. I got a bit of a lead. Not much, but I'd like to follow it if I can. Hieronymus says to Olympus as they go along back to base. Seems there's a fellow here who includes privacy in the cost of admission to his hangers.

[Saldre]

"the problem is, the way things are going, we wont be able to scare anyone into helping us without dropping the entire hammer on them. We had to give out our credentials to this clerk, and i'd rather not have to do that again." Olympus replies.

[senrath]

"Olympus, that was a clerk of the Imperium. We shouldn't have to go to such extremes when dealing with someone from the private sector." Phrenz said, as he followed a bit behind the other two. "And it's not like we have anything better to do."

[Saldre]

"We could give it a shot then, but I will let you do the talking this time!" Olympus says with a smile.

"Where is this man's office?" He asks the provost.

[Destro_Yersul]

"It's way in the back, and talking isn't exactly what I had in mind. He won't give us what we want, we need to find another way to get it. In this case, that'll probably mean breaking in. I don't like it, but sometimes it needs to be done."

[LCP]

OOC: Assuming you're following Heironymous' lead, as it seems uncontroversial - I'm going out for the night, so I have to be postin' this now for time efficiency. If anyone objects, just say so & we'll edit.

EDIT: And now I'm not :smallannoyed:. This is posted now, though, so I'll leave it up.

[hr]

Heironymous, Olympus & Phrenz

Returning to Hayle’s hangar, Heironymous led the other two around away from the office’s entry, making a circuit of the structure. The rust-streaked walls were tall and sheer, the broad hangar doors themselves sealed with a fist-sized padlock and a length of thick, steel chain. To one side of the hangar, there was a smaller, man-sized entrance – a cheap-looking pict-recorder clung to the wall above it, angled down to see anyone passing in or out of the thin metal door. It too was locked, but with a standard pin-and-tumbler affair – far less secure or durable than the hangar doors’ lock.

[hr]

Red

Red made his way back to Phobos’ apartment without incident – the others all seemed still to be out, the place as empty and silent as a tomb.

[senrath]

"So, should I smash the door in, or is someone gonna try and pick the lock first?"

I forgot to mention it before, but Phrenz's armor is the standard, boring dark gray, with some streaks and splotches of dried blood here and there.

[Destro_Yersul]

"First thing's first." Hieronymus skirts the edges of the pict recorder's probable field of view, drawing his sword as he goes. He reaches up through the bundle of cables with the weapon and tugs hard, hopefully dislodging them enough to shut the recorder down. Once that's done, he turns back. "I can't pick the lock, so unless anyone has any better ideas, the door needs to get knocked down. That'll make a lot of noise though, so let's hear some alternatives if you got 'em."

[Thanatos 51-50]

Finding himself all alone in the quarters and with no way to contact the rest of his party in order to render assistance, Red busies himself about the following tasks:

Locating a convenient power supply which can be used to recharge the power packs for las weapons
Setting up some appreciable form of home defense and/or fortification
Looking everywhere for any sort of weapon or item the Interrogator will likely not miss that can be sacrificed for "Find the Interrogator" funds.


In that order.

[LCP]

Heironymous, Phrenz & Olympus

The cables sparked as the Provost's sword sheared them through, the green light on the pict-recorder's front winking out.

[hr]

Red

Giving the apartment a slightly more leisurely looking-over than before, Red quickly located a power-port in the study - unplugging the desk-lamp currently occupying it, he saw it had the standard-pattern interface that would allow him to refuel his charge-packs.

There were only two ways in or out of the apartment - the front door, and a fire escape at the back, where the corridor turned through ninety degrees towards the pokey bedroom. The study had a single, small window facing out onto the street (too small for a man to use to enter or escape), while the other rooms were lit only by cheap glow-globes on the ceiling.

OOC: How 'fortified' are we talking here? Presumably you still want to let the others get in and out easily?

A thorough going through of all the drawers and cabinets revealed no weaponry left behind, excepting a few high-calibre solid ammunition bullets rattling about in one of the desk drawers.

[Saldre]

"I could climb on top of the warehouse and see if there's a way inside from there: an open window or something." Olympus suggests, before pulling out his climbing gear and getting to work.

[OOC: Should they agree, Olympus will throw the grapnel on top of the warehouse to secure his harness, attach himself and climb up: attempting to find either an open window, or a glass one: all while making sure to duck and lay low as to not be spotted]

Climbing: [roll0] - Most probably a success.
Search: [roll1] Vs 36 and the Visors
Move silently: [roll2]Vs 40

[LCP]

Olympus, Heironymus & Phrenz

Pulling himself up the dangling cord with an ease born of years of practice, Olympus found himself on a shallowly-sloping corrugated iron roof. Tentatively rising into a crouch, he advanced slowly, making sure not to lose his boots' grip on the smooth metal - any footstep on the roof made it clatter and rumble like a busy scrap-yard. He cursed under his breath: anyone in the actual hangar below him would have to be deaf not to notice something was moving about on the roof.

There were no windows - the hangar had been built as a shuttle-shed alone, and a cheap one at that. The only object that stood out from the sloped, rusting metal of the roof was a ventilation chimney - square and made from flimsy, machined steel, its opening was covered by a solid-looking metal grille, fastened down with four thick screws.

[Thanatos 51-50]

First order of business, Red quickly closes any sort of drapery or blinds which would allow anybody in the street to see inside the the apartment and then tries to use his (mono) bayonet to cut a small, circular hole in the glass, just slightly larger than the muzzle of his lasgun (using the weapon itself to measure)
Assuming that endevaour is successful, he will then use whatever supplies are on hand to make a quickly-improvised sniper sling with which to stabilize the rifle.
Again, assuming that endeavour is successful, he will then re-arrange furniture near the doors so that they can be toppled over and used as a quick barricade in case such things were needed, and re-arranges the remaining furniture so to set up fire lines and maximize cover for defenders, while minimizing potential cover for attackers.

[Destro_Yersul]

"Damn." Hieronymus winces at the very loud banging the roof is making. "Alright, go ahead and knock the door in. I don't think a deaf grox could have missed hearing that."

[Thanatos 51-50]

Red takes a moment to look over the fruits of his labours and feels a small sting of satisfaction that he made the place slightly more defensibly.
Lost for much else to do, the Guardsmen makes himself a mug of recaf and sets up in his little Sniper's nest, watching the street intently.
This would place Red in a sitting position near the window, likely as able as possible to look through the window without drawing back the blinds/curtains/drapes. The lasgun, while not in his hands, will be secured in the sling and at the ready. This would be to reduce arm fatigue. His laspistol and bayonet would both be removed from his belt and within easy reach - likely right next to the mug of recaf.
during this time, Red will be focusing the lion's share attention to observing the streets and noting the patterns of coming and going pedestrians. He will also be keeping an eye out for intruders.
If anything he sees doesn't mesh with how he KNOWS a Hive would run, it would immediately get his full attention and he would get himself ready to shoot it. Anybody approaching the residence gets the same treatment.

[senrath]

Drawing out his hammer, Phrenz took a deep breath, then swung with all his might at the door.

[roll0] vs 59 to bust down the door. And I'll roll that a couple of times, just in case the first one fails.
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]
Turns out, I only needed to roll it once.

[LCP]

Heironymous & Phrenz

With a pealing crash, the door was smashed off its hinges, its buckled remains slamming backwards to rattle against the floor of the hangar.

Pushing it out of the way, Phrenz stepped cautiously over the threshold – the inside of the hangar was gloomy, lit only by faint strip-lighting suspended on naked metal beams that criss-crossed the roof space, tangled with the hanging, rectangular tubing of the ventilation.

For the most part, the hangar was bare, a few fuel-barrels and the odd tool scattered in one corner – its floor was hard, pitted rockcrete, painted with yellow safety lines around the hulking form of the craft that squatted in its centre.

Painted rust-red, the vessel was clearly void-capable, its squared-off nose sooty and blackened from its last re-entry. To Heironymous’ practised eye, it was clear that this was no standard model – the engines were significantly bulkier than most normal civilian craft, matching the distended belly of its cabin. A battered gang-plank led up to a sealed pressure-door on one side of the shuttle’s main body, while a large armoured hatch occupied the lowest section of the craft’s underside. Another, smaller hatch occupied a rather unusual position, just beneath the slant of the vessel’s prow.

Across the hangar from them was a door to the office, its bottom just visible between the shuttle’s hydraulic landing-gear – someone had clearly been alerted by the sound of the back door being smashed in, footsteps quickly approaching...


[hr]

Olympus

From his position up on the roof, Olympus heard a metallic crash from below. Phrenz had clearly gone in through the door.

[hr]

Red

Watching the street, Red saw nothing out of the ordinary – the people of Sector 963 passed back and forth, unaware of the guardsman’s gaze. He couldn’t help the predominance of shaved heads, as Simm’s had been – most of the people who passed his window were hairless, even the women. They seemed an industrious, quiet lot.

Settling down with his mug of recaf, the guardsman settled into his watch...

[Saldre]

Olympus climbs back down: now that the front-doors were open, there was no point to the subterfuge.

[roll0]

He catches up to the duo, and...

I don't think he'd make it down there in time before the footsteps come around... so that will be that!

[Destro_Yersul]

"Everyone back out the door. We'll jump him when he comes out to check on the noise." Born and raised in the cramped passages of a starship, Hieronymus is well used to the advantage surprise brings with it. He flattens himself against the wall just outside the door, sliding his sword back into his belt and pulling the shotgun from its harness. A quick check verified that both barrels were loaded.

"Just in case..." He mutters, half to himself, and snaps the breach closed again, holding the gun level at the doorway.

[senrath]

Nodding, Phrenz backed out of the door, hammer still in hand.

[Saldre]

Olympus follows Hieronymus's lead, unraveling the top of his scyth as he reading himself for battle.

[LCP]

Olympus, Heironymus & Phrenz

Ducking back out of doorway, the three Acolytes heard the door from the office open.

"Hello?" called a voice - Heironymus recognised it as Mr Hayle's. "Someone here?"

He began to walk around the shuttle - the footsteps stopped as he saw the buckled remains of the back door lying on the hangar floor.

"I know you're in here," he called, a little more nervously than before. "Come out, before I call the enforcers."

Very slowly, he began to approach the door.

[Destro_Yersul]

Hieronymus holds up one hand, palm and fingers held flat, to motion to the others to wait until Mr. Hayle is close enough to surprise. He didn't want to talk where he could be heard. He'd also really prefer to avoid killing the guy if possible. Which is why, when he shows his face near the door, he'll be knocking Hieronymus will be knocking the guy over the head with his shotgun's butt instead of shooting him.

OOC: Assuming that means a WS test. and might count as a called shot. Well, here goes... [roll0] WS is 38, possibly counts as 43 doe to my one trait. He should be unaware, so +30, and -20 if it's a called shot.

[Saldre]

Olympus, having waited for the Provost before making his move, refrains from attacking, as ordered.

[LCP]

Olympus, Phrenz & Heironymous

As the footsteps came too close, Heironymous sprang from his hiding-place, the butt of his shotgun cracking into Simeon's forehead - with a howl of pain, the man staggered back, clutching his skull.

"Please!" he screamed, cowering away from the Provost - he was doubled over from the blow, and had not yet seen Heironymous' face. "Please, don't hurt me! I'll do anything! God-Emperor, please..."

Heironymous Only
Seriously, Heironymous Only. Other players get out.
If I find someone else has been reading these, it's gonna start raining anvils around that particular PC.
Pathetic. He's practically soiling himself.

We don't need this mewling ape, Heironymous. A jumped-up shopkeeper. He knows nothing. Paint the floor with his brains.

[senrath]

"We're looking for information. Who owns that ship?" Phrenz gestured towards the ship as he spoke, not particularly caring if Simeon was looking.

[LCP]

Heironymous, Olympus & Phrenz

"I don't know! I don't take names!" whimpered the man, still cowering away as he clutched his skull. "Some off-world woman, and a couple of grunts with her. Looked like mercs. Please, don't hurt me!"

[senrath]

Phrenz grinned behind his respirator. Looks like this lead had paid off. "This woman, what did she look like? And did she say when she was going to return?"

[Saldre]

"Oh my" Olympus says as he walks towards the man. "In five seconds here, we have gotten closer to finding our friend than we have after hours at the custom's office. I wonder if she left behind the keys..."

[LCP]

Heironymous, Olympus & Phrenz

"Um - ah, red hair," stammered the man, "sharp face, a few old scars. She didn't say when she was coming back, just put down a week's charges up front, said I could keep it all if they left early."

Taking a faltering step back, he uncurled a little as further violence failed to materialise - looking up at his interrogators, he caught sight of Heironymous.

"Hey, it's you! What's this for? I've done nothing wrong!"

[Saldre]

Right or wrong are for the Emperor to decide, these things are beyond us." Olympus answers Instead of the Provost.
Turning to Phrenz, he asks:

"Are we going to setup an ambush for here and wait here for a week? If she has realized that her ship has been blacklisted, she may very well not return. Assuming its her were talking about, and not someone who looks like her. We could try forcing our way inside right away, and see if we can get any leads."

[LCP]

Heironymous, Olympus & Phrenz

"You can't do that!" said Hayle, recovering a semblance of a spine in a sudden surge of panic. "I mean - her friends looked like trouble, what am I going to say if they find someone's broken into their ship?" He looked between the three of them in desperation. "Who are you, anyway. This is against the law. I could call the Enforcers!"

[hr]

Jericus


Still in the midst of his labours in the raw data of the Administratum files, Jericus wearily plodded back to the terminal at which he had been working, shifting the growing piles of dusty parchment that had accumulated there out of the way to place another sheaf of papers down on the desk. Following the authorisation codes he had found, he brought up the sector’s traffic logs for Port Tabernos, a vast list of names and dates in tiny, green characters spouting up onto the flickering blackness of the screen in front of him. A primitive locator engine blinked at him from the corner – after a few failed attempts to master its archaic input requirements, he got it to work, picking out names from the morass.

MEGAERA_MERRICK

No matches.

MERRICK

No matches.

MERIC*[permute]

4731 matches. Please narrow your search.

ALEXEI_LYSENKO

The screen flashed, then went black. Blinking in surprise, the tech-priest watched as a small box appeared in the place of the landings list.

Information Restricted. Lectoprioritas 050 or higher required to access. Please identify.

Lectoprioritas ratings were Cult Mechanicus encryption. Jericus has a Lectoprioritas rating of his own – 720, far too low to access this information. 050 signified a high-ranking member of the Cult, a Magos or better.

The box began to blink at him.

Please identify.


[hr]

Red


After an uneventful couple of hours of observation, Red looked up as an unusual figure appeared on the street outside – a man in ragged overalls was wandering down the street in the opposite direction to the general flow of people, wearing a crudely-constructed sandwich-board. Unlike the vast majority of the passers-by, he had a full head of dirty, matted hair, his wild beard in a similar state – he moved haltingly, wobbling through the crowd as if he wasn’t sure it was really there.

Periodically, he stopped to shout something – Red couldn’t make out what he was saying through the glass of the window. As he turned for a moment, the guardsman managed to pick up what was scrawled on the sandwich-board:

The Watchers Are Waiting

[Thanatos 51-50]

Red immediately snaps to attention and takes aim for a second on the poor sot's head, taking in the entire scene.
After suddenly deciding that shooting this man for no reason would be bad form, the Guardsmen holsters his laspistol and pours a fresh cup of recaf, taking both with him out into the street.
The immediate air he wants to display is a Guardsmen on a recaf break.

What he's really doing, however, is wandering closer to the doomspeaker so he can listen to the man's ramblings.

[Saldre]

"We are the law here, good sir." Olympus says. "You'd best comply with the Will of the Emperor by waiting quietly until we are finished talking. We wouldn't want you to do something stupid... and lose your head..." He continues, as he runs a gloved hand across the blade of the scythe.

[LCP]

Heironymous, Olympus & Phrenz

Hayle gulped.

“Yes sir,” he murmured, in a voice strangled by fear.

[hr]

Red

Sandwich-board man had taken up position in the centre of the street – a motor vehicle sounded its horn as he stumbled into its path, the lonely figure staggering back out of its path.

“Listen to me!” he shouted, holding up his arms. “You must listen! They don’t want you to, but you must!”

The passers-by continued to ignore him.

“I’m not meant to be here! The Watchers tried to take me away! They’re afraid of me! Listen to me!”

He tried to shake a passing man by the shoulders – rolling his eye, the worker shrugged him off, continuing on his way.

“They’re children! Don’t you see? The children are children!”

Another vehicle gave him a blast of its horn as he stumbled back into the road. He shook a fist furiously in its wake as it rumbled past.

“Why are they hiding them? He’s coming! Can’t you understand! This is a punishment! We have sinned against the God-Emperor! The sins of the children will be visited upon the fathers!"

"Death awaits you! You have made a covenant with death, and with the ravenous void you are in agreement! You're all going to die! Don't you realise? Can't you see! You’re all going to die! DIE!”

With a plaintive wail, he began to wander off along the street, the same disjointed refrains still spilling from his cracked lips...

[Thanatos 51-50]

With the stride and cadence of an experienced Hiver, Red moves briskly through the crowd, sliding in between the thronging masses of Humanity to reach the rambler, and taps the man on the shoulder.
Whether or not the man turns to look, Red will motion off-handedly to the sanctuary and inform Sandwich board that "We need to talk. Privately. I want to know what you know."

[LCP]

Red

Turning, the doomsayer stared at Red with vacant eyes.

“They all want to know! Wouldn’t they like to know! But they know that I know! That’s why they’re afraid!”

He seized Red by the shoulders, white spittle flecking the corners of his mouth.

“There is a curse upon this sector! They have turned from the Emperor’s Light, and their false idols will consume them! He is coming! His hour comes round at last, slouching towards Scintilla to be born!”

He leaned in close, his odorous breath gusting in Red’s face.

“They will make slaves of men’s minds. There will be no more free will – only their will! We're all going to die!”

[Thanatos 51-50]

Red uses his free hand to grip the man by the shoulder, tight.
"Whatever it is. You need to tell me. Now. I can stop it. My friends can stop it. But we need to know." as Red speaks, he steadily increases pressure to the point on top of the shoulder, attempting to subtly guide the lunatic back to his safe haven.

[Saldre]

"Were going to need a laz-cutter to get trough that shuttle-door. Got anything like that around these parts, I doubt you would have something like that around these parts now would you..?" He asks the cowering man.

[LCP]

Red

The sandwich-board prophet pulled away, alarm in his eyes.

“No – I have to tell the people! They have to listen!” He narrowed his eyes at Red, extending a grimy finger. “You’re with them! They want to take me away, but I won’t let them! I won’t be silenced!”

His voice had risen to a shout again – several of the passers-by were slowing to watch as they passed.

[hr]

Olympus, Heironymous & Phrenz

”Nothing like that,” said Hayle, trying not to make eye contact. “This is just a shuttle-shed, mister.”

[Saldre]

"Where's the nearest repair shop then?" - He continues with his interrogation.

[LCP]

Heironymous, Olympus & Phrenz

"Pilate's, down on block 32C," said Simeon. "Please, don't do it, sir. They'll have my guts for a scarf if someone cuts up their ship..."

[Saldre]

"Don't worry about it, we haven't decided if were doing it yet or not. Regardless, You should not worry about them anymore. You can enjoy your earnings, your responsibility in this matter is absolved. Odds are the woman WILL lose her head when she comes back, but not because she's surprised about her ship." He says, grinning.

"Phrenz, were going to need thrones if we want to rent one those things... Hmmm..." Turning back to the man. "On second thought, Your ill-gotten gain are about to be confiscated by the Inquisition. I suggest you hand over the woman's payment."

[roll0] for any necessary roll, intimidate or something else.

[LCP]

Heironymous, Olympus & Phrenz

"The Inquisition?"

If it was possible, Mr Hayle went even whiter.

"Yes - I - I'll go get them - can I go?" he asked, pointing tentatively towards the office door.

[Saldre]

"I will go with you." Olympus says, moving towards him.

[LCP]

Heironymous, Olympus & Phrenz

Cowering in the assassin's shadow, Hayle made his way back into the cluttered office - opening a safe-box in the wall, he pulled out a bundle of promissory notes, clearly Administratum mint.

"That's everything she gave me, I swear."

[Thanatos 51-50]

Red narrowed his eyes at the prophet, and dropped his free hand to his pistol grip.
"You dare accuse me of Hersey?" he growled as he loosened the safety catch on the holster. "If I wanted you silenced, you would have gotten a las bolt between the eyes the moment you walked on to this street." He continues, slowly de-escalating the amount of threat in his voice and relaxing his hand from the 'ready-to-kill' position. "I want you to live and tell the people, but the first of all people you must tell from here on out is me."
By this point, he has calmed down enough to not be assuming a stance any more threatening than the one he walked up here with.

[LCP]

Red

"You are a confident man. Too confident? The Watchers are always watching. Deceivers, all! They deceived us, down into the dark places. Death in the darkness."

He pointed a trembling finger at Red's chest.

"Prove your faith!"

[Saldre]

"Well, this should help." He says, walking back towards Phrenz. "Heironymus, you stay here with Phrenz. I will go rent out the Laz-cutter and return, I should be back soon."

Then, he continues on outside and heads to the repair shop at the address mentioned by the man.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Red looks around the street to gauge those passing by, and then reaches out with a finger and draws a quick I with three crossbars in the air, shielding as much of it as he can from the street.

[LCP]

Olympus

Leaving the Hangar, it did not take Olympus long to locate the repair-shop: the owner was a little wary about letting the las-cutter out of his premises, but the assassin's 'confiscated' funds soon changed his mind.

Tools in hand, he headed back towards Hayle's establishment.

OOC: Hayle gave you 200 thrones. Hiring the las-cutter costs you 40, of which 20 are a deposit that you can reclaim on returning it.

[hr]

Red

The street prophet's eyes widened.

"The Emperor's hand is near!" he said. Turning to the street at large, he raised his voice in a joyous shout: "Repent! For he will smite the wicked, and cast them into the fiery pit! The reckoning of the God-Emperor is at hand!"

Turning back to Red, he clasped the guardsman's hand in his own dirty paws.

"Lead, and I will follow!" he whispered, hoarsely.

[Saldre]

"Now were getting somewhere: Let's get started!" He says as he places the Laz Cutter by the shuttle door and activates it, when finished he will proceed to do the same to the two hatches.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Red escorts the street-preacher to the safe haven, and pulls up a seat and a fresh mug of recaf for the man.
Sitting down at his Sniper-Nest, Red scans the street again.
"Talk to me," he says, simply, turning again to face to prophet.
"Tell me what's happening."

[LCP]

Red

“The children! They came, they came with honeyed words and silver tongues, but there were those of us who knew better. Deacon Klovis knew better! The Watchers saw our faith, they drew us down into the dark places and scattered our flock to the shadows. The people turned their back on Redemption!”

“I have seen what they scheme! The God-Emperor whispers it to me in my sleep. They would infect the Blessed Ministorum with their taint, they would serve up all of Sibellus to their masters! They wait only for their prophet, the arch-heretic who will rise to lead them! He will make slaves of men’s minds!”

Spittle flew from the man’s mouth, his staring eyes seeming not to see the cooling mug of recaf Red had left him with.

“The true creed of the Emperor is written in the blood of martyrs! It is sealed in the fires of salvation! That is the creed of the Redemption! They subvert the spirit of man, they quench the righteous fires of hate! That is not the God-Emperor’s word, it is the design of their masters! The Watchers! Always, watching!”

[Saldre]

Olympus waits for the laser to start cutting by itself.

"Hmmm... this thing isn't doing its job... for some reason..." He says, scratching his head. He leans down to examine it, realize he has no idea what he exactly expected it to do.

"Maybe we need to ask politely?" He turns to Phrenz, perplexed.

"You! Get this thing to work! Open up those hatches." He says to the hangar's owner.

[LCP]

Heironymous, Olympus & Phrenz

"I've never used one of those things in my life!" whined Hayle. "You brought it!"

[Saldre]

Olympus sighs.

"Well, it can't be helped! I guess if I push this button here maybe it will..." He says, pressing a red button.

[LCP]

Olympus, Heironymous & Phrenz

CLUNK.

A row of green runes lit up along the scarred read-out screen on the top of the las-cutter. Standing up, Olympus examined them with a raised eyebrow, holding the implement rather too casually to be safe.

Still nothing happened. Turning the tool from side to side, the assassin found a metal cover on the tool’s side that had seemingly unlocked when he pressed the button – opening it, he found a hefty knife switch underneath. There were yellow and black stripes around it, and an exclamation mark in a little triangle, and another little triangle with a black line ending on what looked like a tiny, burning man... but he assumed they were probably just decoration. He pulled the switch.

With a high-pitched crackle, a beam of red light blazed from the las-cutter’s business end, slicing into the metal of the hull about two feet above and to the left of the pressure doors. White-hot, molten metal spat from the point of contact – as the assassin stepped back in alarm, the beam wobbled round in a wide figure-of-eight, carving a ten-centimetre-deep track of glowing steel behind it.

Getting a grip on the humming las-cutter, Olympus heaved it round to point at the door before it melted straight through the hull. His handiwork was not particularly precise or steady, but after a minute or two, the doors’ seal had been entirely cut through, the hydraulic locks that held them together severed into two pieces. Stepping back from the still-glowing doors, he shut the las-cutter off, climbing down the gangplank to go to work on the other hatches.

While the pressure doors opened into the darkness of the shuttle’s cabin, the hatch in its belly seemed to lead to a small cargo hold - again, with the shuttle powered down, the interior was too dark to see anything but a couple of vaguely oblong shapes from outside.

Moving round to the front, he turned the cutter on the smaller hatch under the nose – it fell open almost immediately as the powerful beam melted through its locking-mechanism. There was a metallic rattle, and the assassin found himself staring down the gaping muzzle of a heavy bolter, the open hatch having allowed it to fall freely into its firing position. This was not an access hatch – this was a concealed turret.

[Saldre]

"Well that's that. It wasn't too hard, but let's hope there's nothing else over in the ship." He says, and turns to the enter the shuttle.

"lets see what we can find in here!"

[senrath]

"Good luck." Phrenz called, still gripping his hammer. He decided to remain outside the ship, to make sure that Hayle didn't do anything stupid.

[LCP]

Olympus (and anyone else who enters the shuttle)

Climbing the gangplank, Olympus pulled the broken pressure-doors apart – stepping inside, he hesitated for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the darkness inside the shuttle.

He stood in a narrow corridor, five compact metal lockers built into the opposite wall – to his right, the corridor opened into what looked like a crew compartment, the shadowed outlines of bunks built into its sides. On his left, towards the front of the craft, a metal door presumably lead to the cockpit – a large wheel seemed to operate the lock.

[hr]

Jericus

The terminal began to beep.

PLEASE IDENTIFY.

[Saldre]

"Check the hatch while I look around here!" He says to Phrenz. "Looks like its (Relatively) Safe!"

Then, he makes his way towards the lockers and tries top open them.

[LCP]

On the Shuttle

The lockers opened without difficulty: three of them were empty, while two of them held compact autoguns, hanging by their straps from hooks inside. One of the lockers also contained a pack of clips that looked like they fitted the weapons.

[Saldre]

"I guess they came prepared..." He says, then heads towards the cockpit door.

[senrath]

Shrugging, Phrenz headed over to the shuttle, intent on climbing into the cargo hold and having a look around.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Red reaches over and punched the play button on the dataslate in the vidscreen (We left it there, right).
"These Children?" he asked, pointing at Father Lysenko as he went through his speech, quite ready to halt the playback of the dataslate in case the prophet went into a screaming rage.
"You know who their masters are?"

[LCP]

Shuttle – Cockpit

The cockpit was surprisingly spacious for what it was – three swivelling leather chairs were bolted into the deck in a forward-pointing ‘V’, surrounded by a wall of curving instrumentation panels. A twin-handled steering column rose from the mass of dials and switches in front of the central chair, while a hefty-looking joystick was built into the arm of the one on the right, articulated, steel-sheathed cables running from beneath its base into the control desk.

In one section of the controls, a device that looked singularly out of place seemed to have been plugged in – where the rest of the controls were flush with the metal, it seemed to have been added on, sitting in a deep slot about the size of Olympus’ chest, the centre of a nest of power cables. Never much of a tech-head to begin with, Olympus had never seen an instrument like it: a mass of folding, forked antennae had been unfolded from a compartment in its upper half, while its lower half was occupied by a small, circular screen. A pale blue line circled the screen at regular intervals – it would leave a small, glowing trace whenever it passed the point about thirty degrees from the vertical, a dot that would fade and re-appear as the circling line passed over it again.

[hr]

Shuttle – Cargo Hold

Heaving himself into the cargo hold, Phrenz had no difficulty seeing through the gloom – aside from a set of folding steps leading down from a hatch in the ceiling, there were only two objects in the dark, claustrophobic space. Oblong plasteel boxes about the size of a coffin, they were bolted securely down to the floor, each one nestled in a cradle of umbilical leads and power supplies that docked into a crater-field of ports on their sides.

[hr]

Red

”Yes! Yes, he brought the taint to Sibellus. Sinner! Heretic!”

The man was getting more worked up.

“The Watchers control him. But he is not the one they are waiting for! No! He is their slave! They are all slaves! The Watchers are their masters, the Watchers that hide their faces from the light. They fear the Emperor’s judgement!”

[Thanatos 51-50]

Red looked intently at the madman.
"Who are the Watchers?"

[Saldre]

"Don't Touch Anything Olympus. Oh boy, you have gotten way over your head now... But I wonder what would that button do if I... No! Time to call someone who would know what's going on around here..."

Olympus contacts the Tech-priest, requesting his assistance, then describing the strange glowing device that seems out of place to him after briefing him on what they have found thus far.

"Well you know... its blue... and there's this line... it goes round and round... and then this dot blinks... but the line keeps on going... in circles... and its glowing..."

[LCP]

Red

”The Watchers! They’re the ones behind it all! Always watching me, waiting to catch me on my own. I stay in the Emperor’s light. I stay away from the dark places.”

He looked around the apartment as if he was a little uncomfortable being inside.

“Lysenko brought them with him. His masters – the Watchers are his masters – but his masters sent the Watchers. The God-Emperor told me so.”

[Destro_Yersul]

Hieronymus shakes his head as though trying to clear it. "Sorry," He says to Mr. Hayle. "You should've just told me what you knew." Then he goes up to look in the shuttle. Finding the lockers, he decides to police one of the compact autoguns just so he'll have something with a little more range. He takes a couple clips of ammo as well, and moves towards the cockpit.

LCP Only
Seriously, LCP only. "No, not this time. He doesn't need to die."

[senrath]

Phrenz took one last look around the cargo hold to see if he had missed anything, before contacting Hieronymus with his communicator. "Hey, can you come into the cargo hold? There's something that I want you to take a look at."

[LCP]

Olympus Only

As he stood in the cockpit, Olympus began to notice a change on the strange device's screen - as the blue line swept round, a new, very faint dot was developing in its wake. Right next to the centre-point around which the line revolved, it seemed to point back to him...

[hr]

Jericus

Jericus inputted his identifier - the screen flickered and went black. After a second or so, a new message appeared.

You are not recognised as having access to this data.

Please remain in your seat. An Adept of the Bureau will be with you shortly. Do not attempt to further interfere with this terminal. Do not attempt to contact a legal representative.

Innocence Proves Nothing.

[hr]

Heironymous Only

No peeking.Weak. I suppose that shouldn't surprise me.

You do know you've left him alone out there? He's probably selling you out to the local law enforcement as I speak.

[Etcetera]

Jericus looks for any areas in which to conceal himself near the cogitator, or any side doors or cupboards.

Edit: Just read OOC thread.

Jericus leaves the Bureau. Immediately. And makes his way to the shuttle. Quickly and inconspicuously.

[LCP]

Jericus

Leaving the maze-like offices of the Administratum, Jericus saw a couple of cowled adepts hurry past him in the direction he had just come - they did not seem to notice him, and he managed to make his way out of the building without further incident. Stepping onto one of the public transit-crawlers, he made his way to the shuttle port.

OOC: Feel free to rejoin the others whenever you feel appropriate.

[Etcetera]

Jericus, following Olympus' instructions, makes his way to the star port. He locates the manger containing the parked shuttle, and pokes his head in.

"You'll never believe what I've found."

He then pushes past into the cockpit and examines the "blue thing."

Let's see if I can actually pass a skill check.

Common Lore [Tech] Aiming for a 40 or lower... [roll0]

Hmm. My last three failures were round numbers. How odd.
7 is the number of Nurgle!

[LCP]

Jericus

The object was certainly no ordinary device: its formidable array of antennae included designs that Jericus had never seen before, and of whose purpose he was unclear. The materials of one or two of them also seemed odd – the tech-priest had the sneaking suspicion that he was looking at an act of techno-heresy, or worse, cannibalised xenotech.

The screen in the centre, however, was clearly a standard-pattern scanner read-out, calibrated to a five-kilometre scale. What it was scanning for, he didn’t know, but it showed one clear reading around a kilometre to coreward of the ship, and another, very faint one right on top of the scanner.

To understand more about its purpose, he would have to take the machine apart.

[Saldre]

"See: I told you it glowed, and blinked. Either way, we didn't have much luck here: maybe back in the shuttle?" Olympus says as he heads out to join Phrenz.

Remembering something, he stops and turns to face Jericus again.

"You said you had found something?"

[Etcetera]

Jercius ignored Olympus, too involved in his work to notice what was going on around him.

He attempted to determine a basic location for the blips on the scanner.

[LCP]

Jericus

The scanner's scale was too large to put a precise location on the faint signal on top of the scanning hub - at a guess, it was probably coming from somewhere inside the ship. The strong reading, meanwhile, was somewhere in the near wing of the Seaward Quadrant.

[Etcetera]

Jericus attempts to disassemble the scanner and determine it's use.
Tech Use [roll0]
Nope, still a fail. And another multiple of ten.
It would seem all Jericus is good at is bludgeoning daemon-things.

[LCP]

Jericus & Olympus

Pulling a screwdriver from the recessed of his robes, Jericus began to disassemble the machine – the interior was a bird’s-nest of wires, four adulterated cogitator-boards boxing in a strange, cylindrical component. Inside, a sliver of a smooth, ivory-like substance was suspended by strands of copper wire that seemed to lead back to the antennae, the terminal of several arcane-looking sensor devices opening onto the inside of the suspensor cavity. Like a compass-needle, the sliver had oriented itself in the direction of the strong signal Jericus had seen on the screen, seeming to twitch and shiver occasionally, but keeping its bearing. He had never seen anything like it.

Checking back, he realised his disassembling the scanner had somehow disconnected the screen: the display was now dark. Looking back at the tangle of wires, he began to realise what a monumental task a repair might be.

[Saldre]

"It's not glowing anymore..." Olympus sighs.

"But this isn't a time for puzzles: your going to have to tell us what you found out, before the Interrogator bites a bullet."

[Etcetera]

Jericus hands the dataslate with his accumulated findings to Olympus, and starts studying the sliver more intently.

[LCP]

Jericus

The sliver appeared to be made of some kind of hard, polished, semi-organic substrate: Jericus did not recognise it as any Mechanicus-logged engineering material. It had been suspended in such a way that it was free to move in the horizontal plane - the sensors surrounding it seemed to be logging its movements and tremors.

[Etcetera]

Jericus prods the sliver with a nearby object.
"Now, what do we have here..."

[LCP]

Jericus & Olympus

Easily deflected, the sliver oscillated for a couple of seconds before slowly damping down to return to its original bearing.

[Saldre]

"Shiny, I guess." Olympus says, giving it a glance, before focusing on the Data Slate he acquired. He presses a few buttons on it in the hopes of getting to display Jericus's findings.

"How about we take it with us?"

[LCP]

Olympus

In response to Olympus' seemingly random button-pushes, a menu appeared, and stuttered between various pages of raw data - a green-bordered box opened in one corner, in which a double-headed aquila symbol appeared. A small, square speech bubble emerged from one beak.

Greetings. You appear not to understand the operation of this data-slate. Do you require assistance?


Open Controls Menu.
Power Down Dataslate.

Thought for the day: Be Strong In Your Ignorance.

[Etcetera]

Jericus picks up the sliver gingerly (NOT with his fingers) and places it in his vial of consecrated machine oil...

[LCP]

Olympus & Jericus

The sliver showed no adverse reaction, dropping into the vial with a quiet plink.

[Etcetera]

OOC: Damn, that's even worse. If it has no visible effect that probably means it'll just straight control us, none of this silly "corruption" business.

Jericus stowed the vial in a pocket and turned to Olympus.
"So, what do you make of the data?"

[Saldre]

"Aww" Olympus sighs. "You could have just told me what you had discovered, instead of bothering with this thing. I could never work them: they don't seem to respond."

He then moves over to look over Jericus's shoulder.

"So we are taking it with us... not the question is: where too? Let's head back to the base: I think it's time to reconvene."|

[Etcetera]

"Don't seem to respond..." mutter Jericus irritably.
He then looked up, and launched into a long description of his findings. Between unnecessary descriptions of filing "they're using a Kirthin-Alpha filing system, terribly outdated" and comments on the furnishings of the administratum building "the walls were a horrible shade of beige" , he said something a little more important. "At around the same time that births increased at an abnormal rate, there was a small spike in maternal mortalities, and this bears investigating..." At this point Jericus begins berating the sector on it's methods of cadaver reprocessing "soylent's far more efficient", finishing with "... but they'll have incinerated the bodies, so there's not much hope in finding and remains which hadn't rotted or been eaten."

Edit: Reposted birth records for convenience.
http://i263.photobucket.com/albums/ii139/elephantperson/birth_records.jpg

[Thanatos 51-50]

Red smiles his most charming smile (Which, to be fair, isn't very, but is probably more than the madman's) and clasps a hand on his rambling friend's shoulder.
"Thank you. I shall include this information in reports to my fellows. Rest assured, they are also with the Inquisition and will stand with me when the time comes to purge these Heretics. You are free to go if you wish. I ask only that you tell nobody of my presence here or the presence of my comrades. We need to work in secret, whenever possible. This will allow us to strike at the Great Enemy from an angle he had not ever considered. You may come here at any time to seek shelter, food, and rest.
If there is no other pertinent information, I urge you to be safe. The Emperor Protects."
The Guardsmen flashes the Sign of the Aquila as he speaks the last sentence.
"Oh, and my name is Red."

[LCP]

Red

"Red, like Redemption," said the man, clasping Red's hands again in his own grubby paws. "God-Emperor bless you! I will ask him! But I must stay in the light"

Rising shakily to his feet, he stumbled outside again as if he was glad to be outdoors, resuming his wailing and wandering off down the street.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Red let loose a long breath when the man left the room.
He turned around to peer out his nest's window again, and resumed watch-standing duties, patting the body of his lasgun affectionately.
"Redemption, I like it, what do you think?" he said aloud to the weapon, some corner of his soul wishing he could understand the machine-spirits better.
He'd have to talk with Jericus about naming the rifle, if there was a ceremony or anything. Angering the Spirit would be a bad thing, of course. He'd never had a lasgun jam on him before, and would rather not do so by giving the rifle a name it didn't like.

And duties resumed.
To prevent fatigue, Red will be taking a break every half-hour, and perform normal maintenance on his laspistol, lasgun and bow during the first said break.

[Etcetera]

Jericus made the sign of the cogwheel as he left the room, muttering something about "technically illiterate low-browed knuckle-draggers".

He then makes his way to the nearest street vendor, to buy a pastry.

[Destro_Yersul]

"Alright, I'm coming." Hieronymus slings the autogun over his shoulder and goes to find the cargo hold and, therefore, Phrenz as well. He doesn't seem to be having any trouble navigating in the cramped confines of the shuttle. "What've you got for me?"

LCP Only
He's probably too scared to do much more than gibber quietly, as you so aptly pointed out a moment ago. Besides which, how do you sell out the Inquisition to the local law?

[Saldre]

"I wonder if I said something to offend him" Olympus thinks to himself, before pushing the thought away and focusing on his mission.

He follows Hieronymus to the hatch.

[senrath]

"You ever seen anything like these before? I'm completely out of my element here." Phrenz said, gesturing at the coffin-like objects.

[LCP]

Cargo Hold

His eyes adjusting slowly to the gloom of the hold, Heironymous examined the strange sarcophagi – he had no idea what they were, but the cradles of cables and tubes that surrounded them clearly linked into the shuttle’s own internal systems, probably drawing power directly from its main drive.

Thinking back to his ship-board experience, he thought they rather resembled the life-support systems he had seen in some of the officers’ saviour-pods – capsules designed to keep their inhabitants deep-frozen but alive when the feeble power of the pod’s engine ran down, to await the remote chance of rescue by some passing vessel if the pod had to be used in the open void.

Heironymous Only
You think he believes you? I wouldn’t believe you. A whelp like you, apprenticed to an Inquisitor. You’re far better cut out to be some gutter-born shuttle-jacker, Heironymous.

Look at this thing. This Merrick wench knows how to live. Go where you want, take what you desire, away from your stupid, hidebound duties. You should switch sides, you know. Help her escape. Al-Subaai wouldn’t know a thing until you were long gone.


[hr]

Jericus

Finding a dirty nook-in-the-wall convenience shop a block or so down from the hangar, Jericus bought a hot pastry, the vendor seemingly surprised to serve a member of the Adeptus Mechanicus at his humble stall.

It was only as he began to tuck in that he realised the others seemed not to have followed...

[Etcetera]

Jericus asks the street seller, in between bites of ... food, if he knows of any apothecaries or similar in the area.

[LCP]

Jericus

"Apoth'caries?" The man scratched the stubble of his chin - quite unkempt in contrast to his neatly shaved scalp. "Not in the Port, sir. All this is shuttle-pads and those who serve 'em. You'd have to head coreward for that sorta thing."

[Etcetera]

Jericus curses, checks his wrist-chronometer and turns to find the port Mechanicus Office.

[LCP]

Jericus

Port Tabernos’ Mechanicus presence was restricted to a small machine-tabernacle abutting the bunker-like structure of the Customs Office – the cogwheel-and-skull of the Machine God over its narrow door was heavily verdigrised and corroded, blasted free of its initial coat of pigment by the constant salt wind.

Recognising Jericus, the security scanner at the door admitted him: the shrine’s interior was simultaneously cramped and exceedingly spare, the metal grille-work of the floor and the prefabricated steel walls bare of any human touches. Heavy ventilation-tubes ran through the walls, burying themselves in vein-like clusters beneath the metal decking – a harsh strip-light hung from the high ceiling, illuminating the level on which Jericus stood and an octagonal ring of gantries that formed something halfway to a second floor. At their centre-point, an icon of the Omnissiah was built into a recess in the wall, the perimeter of the shrine around it barnacled with dials, sensor read-outs and comm-screens.

As he stepped over the threshold, the low hum of a dozen grav-suspensors became audible – from various corners of the chamber, servo-skulls rose up, examining him with telescoping optical lenses and flickering low-power lasers from a score of different angles. Orbiting Jericus briefly like a score of tiny, grotesque moons, they broke away, rising up into the shadows of the ceiling – there were ringing, metallic footsteps on the steel staircase behind him, and he looked round to see an adept in the red robes of the Mechanicus descending to meet him. Most of his face hidden behind a bulky, circular voice-implant and rebreather, the tech-priest’s back was studded with mechandendrite ports, several bulky manipulator arms currently hanging inert over his broad, augmented shoulders.

“Enginseer Horst, at your service, brother,” he said, his voice a grating monotone. “How can I be of assistance?”

[Etcetera]

Commencing with polite conversation asking as to the condition of the port's systems, as is only proper, Jericus questions the Enginseer (respectively) if he had noticed anything untoward with the shuttle, and the hangar that it was in.

[Destro_Yersul]

Sorry. Hieronymus shakes his head. They look a bit like the deep-freeze life support systems used by officers sometimes, but there's no way I can be sure.

The Provost then takes one more look around the cargo hold and turns to exit. Let me know if you find anything else, he says over his shoulder as he climbs back through the hatch.

LCP Only:
You'd like that, wouldn't you? Off by myself, away from the others, with nobody to turn to but you when they come for me. Not happening.

I'll go check on the prisoner, though, if that's what it will take to shut you up.

[LCP]

Jericus

"Simeon Hayle's?" asked the Enginseer. There was a whirr of cogitator implants from somewhere in the back of his cowl. "Recalled. Hangar E-74. That location has had no dealings with the shrine for..." - another whirr - "two hundred and fourteen hours, sixteen minutes and... eight seconds. The last contact was a standard-pattern Solomon Lander with an engine malfunction. The Litany of Smooth Function was recited and the throttle seal replaced. No further incident was recorded. I have not seen Mr Hayle since then, or any new craft that has come into his hangar."

[hr]

Heironymous Only

Do what you will, Heironymous. You're clearly set on being dull. I don't know why that surprises me any more. The voice sounded bored. Just as long as you know that I'm cheering for her. It relieves the tedium of being trapped inside this thick skull of yours.

[Saldre]

"So back to the house?" Olympus asks the guardsman and the provost.

[Destro_Yersul]

Hieronymus nods. "There's not much more we can learn here. Still, unless Merrick manages to acquire a new shuttle, we've stranded her here." Can't go into space with a broken hatch, after all.

LCP Only:
You would. I can't imagine you cheering for the side of righteousness, for some reason.

[LCP]

Heironymous, Phrenz & Olympus

Leaving the shuttle, the trio found Hayle still cowering outside - leaving him to his ravaged hangar, they headed back towards Phobos' hab. The journey was uneventful, the three of them passing through the front door to find Red firmly ensconced at the window beside it, watching the street with a casual regard while seemingly ready to put a lasbolt through the head of the next innocent civilian whose face he took exception to.

[Saldre]

"Goood evening there, Mister Red." Olympus nods to him as they walk in. "I see you have kept yourself quite busy: you wouldn't believe what we found." He continues, then throws himself on the closest couch he can find.

"We got a good lead on Merrick, but no luck on the Investigator. Regardless, I think Mister Jericus will be able to explain it better then me..." Olympus seems to trail off, as if realizing something.

"Where in the world IS Mister Jerricus?"

[Etcetera]

Jericus politely enquires if he could have access to any pict-recordings or vidlogs of the hangar of occupants.

[LCP]

Jericus

"If Mr Hayle keeps any vid-logs, they would be in Mr Hayle's possession," said the Enginseer, a little tetchily. "We are not a surveillance station, brother."

[Etcetera]

Hmmphrmnthmnth. Should have known.

Jericus makes his excuses and leaves, looking for a bin.

[LCP]

Jericus

There was a large, green-painted waste receptacle along the back wall of the Customs Office.

[Etcetera]

Jericus dug around in the bin slightly, looking for a bottle or similar sealable container.

[LCP]

Jericus

A plastic bottle was swiftly procured.

[Etcetera]

Jericus swiftly transfers the needle to the bottle from the vial, under his robes, and mutters a quick prayer to the machine god for putting something in the oil. He then makes his way back to the hangar, humming in binary.

[LCP]

Jericus

The hangar was much as he had left it - the others had gone, but the door they had smashed in to effect their entry was still gaping open. Mr Hayle seemed to have retreated into the hangar's office - the muffled sound of his voice through the front door was audible in some kind of heated telephonic exchange - by the sounds of things, with his insurers, whose policy apparently did not cover "acts of the God-Emperor's Inquisition".

[Etcetera]

Jericus wanders into Mr Hayle's office, bottle in hand.
"You wouldn't happen to know what THIS is, would you?"

OOC: Any moment now I expect another inquisitor to turn up and execute us for invading his ship and threatening his agents or something.

[LCP]

Jericus

Caught mid-conversation, Hayle gave a guilty start.

"God-Emperor, they're back," he muttered, half to himself. "I'm going to have to call you back."

Putting down the receiver, he turned to look at the bottle in the tech-priest's hand.

"No, can't say I have. Jus' looks like a scrap of bone to me," he said, warily. "If you took it off the lady's ship, I told your friends, I just rent out the space. I've got no business poking around in customers' craft."

[Destro_Yersul]

"Where in the world IS Mister Jericus?"

Hieronymus looks back out onto the street and blinks. I haven't seen him for a while, actually. Do you think he's still back at the port?

[Saldre]

"Maybe: I supposed he went back to play with that machine. Oh well, we might as well plan for our next move ahead of him then. Where too now?" He asks the group.

[Destro_Yersul]

"I'm not sure. I think one of you said something about some sort of scanner, earlier? Maybe we should look into that."

OOC: apologies if no one did, but he was there and he probably would have got a look at it if I hadn't been on vacation. Figured this would be fine.

[Saldre]

"That's true: we did find that squiggly line screen."- He says, before turning towards their map of the sector.

"If we were here..." He points to the Hangar's general location. "Then we'd need to go there to see what it was about." He continues, sliding his finger across until it hits the Infirmary.

"We might as well meet up mister Jericus there: if he's still in the Hangar, he'll get there before we do." He finishes before contacting Jericus and telling him the plan.

"Yes..... you remember the line... and the dots... well they were going that way you know... so I figured... maybe we should go there too?"

[Etcetera]

Jericus pivots on the spot, red robes billowing around him as he leaves the hangar.
"We will be back."
He then shoots Mr Hayle a glare and stalks out.

Jericus makes his way absent-mindedly back to the apartment. He opens the door and walks in, flopping down a a nearby chair.

[Saldre]

"Speak of the... Hummm..." Olympus trails off.

"Now that were all here, we can discuss a plan: these star-children are quite creepy, but what have we found out about them? We were able to trace Merrick's shuttle, and we found that... light... thing... inside: but Mister Jerricus will be able to explain much better then me. There's still that wormy thing in the box... I wonder if that's related... all in all, we have a lead: the infirmary seems our best shot for now." Olympus says, as he lays out the information they had uncovered.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Red swiveled away from his post and spoke up.
"I went to the temple and spoke with Lysenko." he offered, "And he was certainly most helpful in seeking information about the Star Children, but I'm pretty sure all I got was the speech everyone else would get. The big thing he hit on that grabbed my attention was this: The Children believe that the greatest virtue is not the destruction of Man's enemies, but rather, Man's charity towards Man, and that the Emperor - or Great Father, as they prefer to call Him, will return to his Children - Mankind after we realize this. I was also invited to sit in on their next prayer service. I may be able to get more information from that.
Oh, and the Imperial Guard is slated to raise a Regiment here soon, consisting almost entirely of Star Children. This could be... pretty bad."
He paused for a bit and scanned the street.
"I also spoke to a really shifty, kind of mad-seeming guy. Said that the Children were under the control of their 'Masters', alternatively, he calls them "Watchers," There's also something about them hiding their eyes from the Light and the Emperor's Judgment. He describes the Children as a Taint, brought to Sibellus by Father Lysenko."

The riflemen sighs and lets his shoulders droop. "One one hand, you guys should be glad you're getting that conversation second hand, on the other, I'm not smart enough to puzzle out what he said and make better sense of it for you."

[senrath]

"Wait, they want a Regiment of the Imperial Guard to be made up of their members? And yet they don't feel that destroying Man's enemies is the greatest thing they can do? I think I'm inclined to believe this crazy guy you found." Phrenz said, setting down his pack to rest for a bit.

[Thanatos 51-50]

"Wait, they want a Regiment of the Imperial Guard to be made up of their members? And yet they don't feel that destroying Man's enemies is the greatest thing they can do? I think I'm inclined to believe this crazy guy you found." Phrenz said, setting down his pack to rest for a bit.

"They're not pacifists, apparently, it's just that Humanity towards Humanity is the greater virtue" Red's face goes dark. "They won't last a month before the Great Enemy. They'll probably turn Traitor, too."

[Etcetera]

"Odd things have been happening to children and mothers here. Birth rates have shot up. Also, the Administratum may be hunting for me."
Jericus stood up and placed his dataslate in the vid-screen, ready to present his findings.

[Destro_Yersul]

I'm inclined to believe they're up to no good. Especially if whatever Merrick's scanner was focused on is in the infirmary. Do you think they're harbouring psykers? It doesn't seem like a huge leap to Hieronymus. Merrick's trade is in psykers, after all.

[LCP]

The vid-screen crackled into life again under the tech-priest's fingers, taking a moment to adapt to the unfamiliar format of the data-slate before beginning to display its contents.

OOC:
Jericus' (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=8003130&postcount=104)
findings (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=8006857&postcount=109)
here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=8071232&postcount=190)

[Saldre]

"Only one way to find out: let's get going: we can have Jericus go in to inspect some thing or other inside, while we sneak in from behind. We might not even need any subterfuge." Olympus suggests, as he makes for the door.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Red quickly unstraps and secures his rifle over his shoulder, gathers his bayonet and laspistol and follows the Assassin.

[senrath]

Shrugging, Phrenz snatched up his backpack and followed the other two.

[LCP]

Making their way through the busy streets of the Sector, the Acolytes found a public transit crawler, the rattling vehicle delivering them to the chiral side of the Seaward Sector in a few minutes. Disembarking, Red recognised the district in which he had found the Temple earlier – the Temple itself would only be a couple of streets to seaward.

The broad arterial avenue they found themselves on, however, was dominated by the smooth ferrocrete facade of the Infirmary – clearly a recent construction, a ramp led up to a large pair of plexiglass double doors, its windows rather unusually high and small. The centre of the facade was dominated by a vividly-painted mural, showing a child reaching up towards a semicircle of stars.

[hr]

(EDIT: Completely forgot Olympus' sneaky suggestion, moved things on too far. This is what I get for posting when I should be sleeping - sorry. Edited to remove)

[Saldre]

"So I am guess the Tech-priest and Provost go in the front, while I see what's trough the back door? You want to join me, or walk up the front with the other two?" He asks phrenz and the guardsman.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Red checks down the streets and is already take a wide, circular approach towards the back door.
He flashes a quick, friendly grin at Olympus and his fellow Trooper.
"Let's do this!"

[Saldre]

Olympus follows Red in an attempt to go around the building and get to the backdoor.

[Destro_Yersul]

"Front it is. Jericus?" Hieronymus glances over at the tech priest to make sure he's following, and then sets a good pace for the front door of the infirmary. If it's unlocked, he'll simply push it open and step inside.

[LCP]

The Front Door Approach (Heironymous & whoever goes with him)

Pushing open the double doors, Heironymous found himself in a brightly-lit atrium – the floor, the walls and the ceiling all seemed to be made of white ceramic tiles, polished to a spotless gleam. To his right, rows of plastic chairs held what must have been patients, waiting patiently to be seen – a young woman in a clean, white uniform sat behind a curved, white desk. The Acolytes were the only people in the room whose heads were not immaculately shaved.

“Hello, sir!” The receptionist gave a bright, white smile – one that wavered a little as she noticed the weapons Heironymous was carrying.

“...can I help you?”

[hr]

The Back Way (Red, Olympus and whoever goes with them)

The alleys down the side of the hospital were narrow and deep, ventilation ports dumping stale-smelling gusts of steam into the air above their heads. Like all hospitals, the Infirmary was a sprawling structure – it did not take them long to locate a side door, marked “FIRE EXIT”. It did not look like it was alarmed.

[Saldre]

"Well, that was easier then I thought it was going to be." He says as he reaches for the door and turns the handle.

"I wonder if that's a good thing"

The thought crosses his mind as he opens the door, and if nothing in peculiar stops him, he enters quietly.

[roll0] for a Move silently! ... Oh god... is that a fumble, or just a plain old failure? if its a fumble, I will use a fate-point so as not wake up the neighborhood when I step on the infirmary's pet cat.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Red quickly halts Olympus, draws his bayonet and runs the blunt end in the seam between the door and the frame, stopping immediately if he finds a wire or anything else resembling an alarm sensor.
Assuming no such sensor is detected, Red will Fix his Bayonet and stack up on the hinge side of the door, lasgun ready. Upon the Assassin's entrance, the guardsmen will the sweep the room and holster weapon if no hostiles are sighted.
On detection of a sensor, Red will inform his group that the door is, in fact, alarmed.

[LCP]

Red, Olympus & (Phrenz?)

The metal door swung outwards without difficulty – inside, an unpainted pre-fab corridor led away into the interior, lit by a procession of strip-lights in the fibreboard ceiling. Sweeping back and forth with his lasgun, Red saw no sign of movement.

This was clearly part of the substructure that the patients would not see – maintenance rooms, or storage, or some such reason for the general lack of decoration. About twenty feet down, the corridor went through a ninety-degree turn – before then, there were three doors, two on the left, one on the right. They bore the numbers 12, 13 and 14.

[Saldre]

"That's rather Ominous: three doors, (probably) three of us. Let's each open one: I wonder what's behind mine" He says as he heads towards #13.

Before opening it, he leans his head on the door and presses his ear against it to see if he can make out anything from the other side.

[roll0] Perception! .... You can't possibly be serious....

[LCP]

Olympus

There was no sound of movement on the other side of the door - only the steady hum of some kind of machinery.

[Saldre]

"Peculiar, isn't it? I wonder what's making that." He says, reaching for the handle. He turns it then opens the door, taking a look inside.

[LCP]

Olympus

The inside of room was lined with steel refrigeration units - undoubtedly the source of the humming. Aside from a ventilation duct in the ceiling, there was nothing else in the room - clearly this was some kind of storage room for food or medical supplies.

[Saldre]

"Just in case..."

Olympus reaches for one of the handles on the units and opens it: checking the contents for anything out of the ordinary. Body-parts, perhaps?

[LCP]

Olympus

Opening the refrigerator, Olympus blinked.

Inside, hanging from clean, white plastic racks by their tails, were rows upon rows of dead, frozen rats...

[Saldre]

"That's odd... and probably not very healthy..."

He pockets one of the rats then shuts the door, moving back towards his allies in the Hallway.

"You'll never guess what I found... but the odds are looking pretty good that there's something strange going on here..."