Rogue Trader: Profitable Ventures [IC]

[Gunther]

Chapter One: The Hammer Falls

The Hammer of Dominion was an ancient vessel, its pristine form having a long and winding history, much like those that now dwelt within its confines. It was a vessel that had seen much time pass through both the Imperium and the Empyrean, its former status as part of a Space Hulk lending it not only a veritable mystique, but also a certain degree of terror for the uneducated within its holds.

But it was these same uneducated folk that the ship consumed. Not in the way of plasma conduits or isotropic fuel cells, but rather as a sort of spiritual fuel. The serfs and other slave-laborers that were impressed so often upon the starship had strange ways of meeting their ends, between suddenly being impaled by loose catwalks to even an accidental leak of toxic chemicals upon the laborer sleeping quarters. Nothing that was worth even mentioning, really, beyond the fact that the vessel tended to burn through weakling crew members, leaving only a hardened core of seasoned crewmen. No deck was safe from the trials of the ship, and even its leaders- the enigmatic Lady Captain included- found themselves frequently tested. Even if not by the vessel, these select individuals- the elite leaders of every critical function, from the Enginarium to the Navis systems, were put in a myriad of different situations. For better or for worse...they were the crew.

And currently, this motley assortment had been gathered on the bridge of the Hammer. The bridge was as majestic a sign of the vessel's history and the wealth of its captain as any seen before, the entire chamber doubling as both a trophy room and a place to command from. Elegant sculptures, carved by mad or alien hands- perhaps both- hung suspended from fine chains in some exotic parody of chandeliers. Lumen globes held aloft by suspensor fields danced gaily around the central dais that served as the Captain's seat. They formed some exotic constellation, or a series of alien constellations from some unknown realm on the Frontier. Either way, the bridge was well illuminated, as were the murals that ran along the domed ceiling, depicting scenes that either had never happened, or were misrepresented in some vital way. Unrecognizable figures with golden halos did battle with both man and alien, the entire blend of art confusing to stare at for prolonged periods but undeniably beautiful.

Regardless of all this, the subject of the day was not the ship itself, but rather the body it now hovered before. As the last of the psychic waves receded from the Hammer, the planet below became visible. It was, apparently, an Imperial world. A former outpost of the Imperium that had served as both a resupply post and, in some distant past, a stating post. It was only fitting that the old outpost, having been left to drift above the planet unattended, would now be a key object of curiosity in these interesting times for the planet below.

The interest in it was twofold, as far as the crew could ascertain- first off, it had once been part of a nexus of ancient astropathic relays, making it a potent place of psychic phenomena in regards to the events of the planet below. The idea that it may have been a lynch pin had been proposed by the psychic choir aboard the Hammer, the cadre of petty subordinate psykers- sycophantic wretches to the last- attempting to assure the Astropath they called master that, were he to revisit the station's psychic echoes from within that chamber, he might be able to discern some secret.

The other reason was the void elevatus attached to the outpost. From what the auspex was reporting, there were a number of phenomena going on in the upper layer of the planet's atmosphere, the least of which included electromagnetic storms. Storms that had no effect upon the well-warded relic that was the void elevatus.

On the subject of phenomena, one such phenomena in particular had drawn the group of wealth-seeking rogues here. The planet below, in conjunction with the high-atmosphere complications, had been encountering increasing amounts of tectonic division. Though hardly a constant fragmentation, the planet was undergoing numerous earthquakes and subduction events. Mountains rose and fell, whilst massive canyons opened where cities once sat. These shifts in the landscape had, alongside creating millions of lives lost, revealed what appeared to be Xenos ruins along the planet's surface. No definitive race could be attributed to the ruins, but word had been quick to get about the circles of xenophiles and xenophobes alike. The Hammer of Dominion, it seemed, had been graced with being the first vessel to arrive.

Or, at least, the only vessel still to be in the system around this planetoid. With a bustle of activity, the crew awaited orders, the entire ship awash in activity now that they had come within range of their prize. Be it investigation, conquest, or simply looting what they could- the Rogue Traders had arrived.

And they would not be the last.

[Last1]

Jorinde Izen tugged uncomfortably at the sleeve of her robe, wishing in her own mind at least, that she had been able to save some of her old clothing. The clothes she wore now were fine enough in their azure-on rose gold, but they didn’t quite fit rightly on her, much like the whole situation. Still, she had something to prove now - that she could be a useful member of the Lady Anastasia’s crew, if she couldn’t do that…

Best not to think of it. She had her means, but they would be costly.

With a sigh, she ran her mind over what needed to happen now. The most obvious place to start was the station, but she doubted she would be the one to use her talents to dig up any useful information in that place. Artho would be the one to pry loose the those glimmers of the past that should cling to such a place.

She debated whether or not to have the men prepare a shuttle to take them across. On one hand it could be seen as setting on the Trader’s authority. On the other, it could be seen as acting with initative. Initative was good.

“Please start preparing a shuttle to take us across to the state,” she said, speaking into a vox set.

She began to hesitantly make her way over to the Astropath. She didn’t have anything against them in the theoretical, but on a practical level he worried her, “I’ll began making arrangement for us to cross over to the station. I’m assuming you’re going to need to go. If you could please Vox me the complete set of people who are going to head over I would appreciate it. If you’ll excuse me, I must make sure the men stay on task.”

edited to remove people who won't show up for a while.

[Greystone]

Lady Captain Anastasia Novia sat back in her throne of a Captain's chair and studied the planet below. She was an awe-inspiring sight. Many of the crew had followed her through the worst the warp could spit at them. She certainly looked like a Rogue trader. She wore rich clothing of silks and velvets. Over that was an ornate black and gold breastplate. Her long dark red hair was always immaculate, and one look from her purple eyes demanded respect.

"Does this world have a name?"

One of the choir looked up "It did once milady- but it has been lost"

"Well, that is unacceptable" she allowed her mouth to curve in a smile "Send out a message- this planet will be called Damascus's Rest.*

"Yes milady"

The Rogue Trader looked at her veteran crew "So crew, suggestions?"

* The name of her deceased father

[Last1]

"It seems obvious that we must began our investigation at the orbiting station, and perhaps destory it behind us so that other may not similarly benifit from it's clues."

"Ill make the nessessary arangements, no need to trouble yourselves for something like this."

[Bowerbird]

The for-lack-of-a-better-word "Tactical Officer" pipes up, "Didn't we name the last unnamed planet Damascus' Rest? Didn't we end up blowing it up? Then there was the Damascus' Rest before that that got invaded by Xenos.. Just sayin' I think there's a pattern here.. Anyways, I vote fer the space station. Ruins may be worth something but there could be useful gear in the station." he turns and looks at the planet and station in the screen, his hands behind his back. "We gettin' any life-signs from the station or is it derelict?"

[Talkkno]

Artho empty eye sockets quibbled, as he mused the information, silent as his comrades chattered, he rarely spoke. He wore the tradtional grey robes of astropath, simple and lacked any gradnouer of his comrades dress, holding tightly to the bones of obsure Saints of all manner of deeds arcoss the Calxis Sector tied tightly with string, as he said gauntly, nodding to Vedrix's suggestion.

"I fear the shaking may make our journey planet-bound treacherous to say the least of it. The space station may prove to have clues to the previous inhabitants story of this cursed planet..."

[Gunther]

One of several vox servitors relayed the Sensechal's message to the lower decks, the distant whine of engines heralding the confirmation of the flight deck's chief, "As you command and the Emperor wills, m'lady! Shuttle and escorts will be ready in ten!"

The servitor in question gave a small whir as the feed cut, the cogitator built into its chest venting a small puff of steam as various cogs and mem-shards worked in conjunction to log the brief conversation and store it for later reference, should the Lady Izen or any other ranked staff wish to view the communication logs.

As Lady Novia declared the name of the planet, the bridge was filled with a brief flurry of traffic. Cogitator banks hummed as the new name was entered, the crew giving small nods of approval to one another at their captain's such wisdom. Granted, if she had wanted to call the planet "I Have A Giant Ego And Nobody Can Stop Me", they probably would have done the exact same thing. Veteran though they were, the crew never missed out on a chance to get in their captain's good graces.

At one of several auspex stations, the serf employed there turned to the Lord Militant. "I, err, checking now sire!" He spoke, his voice cracking slightly at the inquiry of a man of such high stature...and rank. A distant whine greeted the reply, the various arrays scattered about the ship focusing upon the outpost.

It took several moments before the serf dared speak up again, wary of his words as, "The auspexes report hull breaches in several areas of the station, as well as multiple life signs. Beginning many pardons, your lordship, but the arrays cannot determine if they are friend or foe. They do, however, register a core leak within the station. It is of no great intensity, but it is leaking into the void through one of several hull breaches."

[Bowerbird]

Vedrix turns to the man reporting to him, "I take it then that all the atmosphere hasn't vented out the breaches. We should go in assumin' their hostile, station been derelict this long anyone human left has likely long gone primitive, and probably savage. Silly question, the hull breaches, they blown in or out?"

[Greystone]

Anastasia glanced at Vedrix, grinning "I called the first Novia's Grace, ironically. I was going to call the next one Damascus's Rest- but" she waved her hand innanely.

She nodded at the status report "Very well. Continue to analyze both the planet and the station as we get ready." she turns to her crew "Prepare the void suits. We're either picking up some new crew- or putting them down"

[Last1]

Jorinde gustured for one of the Vox servitors to fallow her as she made her way to the sations where the void suits were kept. She always felt mildly embressed changing in front of others, which was nonsensical concidering what she had been like just a few years before, but there you have it.

"Have some of the maintanence crew ready to come along on a second trip over after we have either established the station is safe, or made it so. The station will have had specalized defenses against the Empyrean, ones we could either use ourselves, or sell as goods elsewhere."

"Also, this kind of station may have specalized servitors that are not generally for sale to anyone - see if we have anything that can disable servitors without destroying them and load those a selection of those onto the shuttle. If we can bring that kind of good off the ship, we will have started made a good profit before we ever land on the planet."

"Go, take my words to the Deck Master. I will speek with the secondary shuttle team on what exactly they will look for once I'm down there myself."

[Gunther]

The serf buckles under the Lord Militant's gaze, gluing himself to the cogitator console. The ship's reactor gives a faint thunder as the auspex continues to scan the outpost, "It appears that the breaches are from both within and without, Lord Militant." He eventually declares, keeping his eyes bowed from the well-armed crewman. "Atmospheric integrity appears compromised only on the outer levels, sire. The machine spirits of the auspices are rebellious, my apologies."

As Anastasia made her declaration, the armsmen upon the bridge reacted positively. The vox servitors not following after Lady Izen began the long series of coded relays across the ship, broadcasts being sent that the ship had not only successfully emerged from the Empyrean, but also that- within the next hour- the vessel was likely to be engaged in any number of operations. From boarding, to ship-to-station, all the way to retrieval if all hell broke loose during the upcoming mission. As for the armsmen themselves, those along the entrance to the bridge- a massive corridor of gilded metal and precious displays- quickly began to hustle about. Arming caskets were brought up and pried open, a pair of armsmen returning up one of the crew elevatus platforms with an autocannon in tow. Such a bulky weapon was not normally fit for usage on a starship, but it was easily capable of ripping almost anything to tatters.

For the Lady and her consorts, however, void suits were made readily available. Private arming chambers were readily made available for them, runners- crewmen with the dedicated task of scurrying from one place to the next with valuable goods- supplying each arming chamber with whatever personal effects, including void suits, that the individuals might require. With the dispatch of the vox servitors by the Lady Izen, the intensity of traffic increased. All manner of elevatus came into use, the maze of corridors throughout the vessel serving now as a true example of the more seasoned nature of the crew. False corridors and dead ends were avoided entirely, each man knowing his task as the ship slowly began to divert power.

Down below, the gunnery crews were doubtlessly racking in fresh power cells and shells. Teams of Tech-Wrights scouring the forgotten bowels of the ship for spare parts that might come into use, as well as potential structural weaknesses in need of reinforcement. Taskmasters lashed their charges into a working frenzy, the shuttles being prepared with maximum efficiency. Even now, fuel umbilicals were spraying pressurized fuel into capacious tanks, the entire ship bristling with activity now that a mission had been decided upon.

[Talkkno]

Artho gestures his hand with with warning as he speaks.

"It is very likely the specialized defenses again the warp are nonoperative, there could be warp taint."

[Last1]

Jorinde her void suits helmet held in one hand finished talking to the scavenger crew, the men experenced with many similar operations they had done for the Lady Captain Anastasia Novia in the past. She went over the proceedure for boarding hostile vessel's in her mind as she stripped herself in and waited for the other to join her. It would not be seemly to make Captain Novia wait.

[Bowerbird]

The Arch-Militant turns to the serf who'd been addressing him so far. "I gotta get ready for the boardin'. Stay on the vox, any information you can give me will be invaluable. While I walk, them breaches, are they from weapons fire? Age? What? Info, son, can't make decisions without knowing the facts." he gives him a small wave as he exits the bridge and heads towards the airlocks, where he can don the void seals for his carapace, stopping by his armoury to grab boarding weaponry. Shotgun, check. Storm-Bolter, check. Amulet, check. Pistol, check. Leave the Long-Las behind, not likely to need snipin' in the close confines of a space station.

[Gauntlet]

Urim pushes through the bridge doors as Artho speaks. Sheathing his chainsword (always best to go armed when completing a warp jump), he rolls his eyes. Not another wretched warptouched place, is it? Don't tell me we've ended up in another hellhole this time." Walking over to pick up a suit, he nods with respect at Lord-Captain Novia. "The crew are mostly all right. Warp jumps are never popular, but we're fine for now. I gave them the usual 'Emperor Protects' speech and came when I could."
Urim grabs a void suit with a grin at the runner. "I hope you brought old Forgiveness up, I''m no- ah, there we are. Excellent."

[Gunther]

The Bridge
As part of the group prepared themselves and began to move towards the shuttle bay, the crewmen still on the bridge heeded the Navigator's warning. Gestures of warding were made to the distant image of the outpost, one or two of the bridge hands making quick prayers to either the Omnissiah or Emperor- whichever deity they held in higher regard for protection against the warp.

"Auspices show no obvious warp taint..." The crewman replied, "Though the interference is great, liege."

As Vedrix left to arm himself and suit up appropriately, he saw Jorinde leaving. The void suits aboard the vessel were fairly standardized- having been made on the same Forge World that the ship had been commissioned from. Built as a one-piece gray jumpsuit, each suit was designed with a rebreather, maglock boots, microbead, and grapnel. Each of them was fairly costly, but they also were- perhaps- the best protection from the void that money could buy for a crewman.

Jorinde's suit was of the same make, but- holding the helmet in her hand- she was unable to fully appreciate that fact. Rather, as she left for the shuttle bay, she was more able to appreciate the wide radius of room the crew gave her. As one of the Captain's consorts, and an invaluable member of the ship's higher echelons, the crowds upon the elevatus made good effort to give her all the room she would need to feel comfortable.

All the while that the Lady Izen was moving towards the shuttle bay, Arch-Militant Vedrix could hear the serf in question speaking to him on the microbead, whilst the man himself- bent before the console and under Lady Novia's radiating presence of authority- spoke aloud to his captain, "The station's life signs are...radiating, sire. Auspex is still indefinite, but there appears to be life signs scattered throughout the decks surrounding the reactor, as well as...in the compromised sections? Ladies and lords, there seems to be life in the voided sections. I am recalibrating, sires, but either I- or the machine spirit- are baffled..."

The Shuttle Bay
As this announcement was made, Lady Izen arrived in the shuttle bay. It was a sizable structure, built inside of the frigate as part of the standard template. However, rather than as an extra munitions dump- as most modern Navy captains used a Tempest strike frigate's fighter hold- the bay was put towards its original purpose. Even now, crews worked to bring some of the craft stored deep within the cargo hold out and quickly being retrofitted on the ground floor. Teams of tech-priests, Enginseers, and menials alike worked to get an entire squadron of Lightning strike craft ready. The transport for the operation, Lady Anastasia's personal Valkyrie, was a beauty of a craft.

Equipped with a long-barreled and twin-linked autocannon on its nose, as well as four Hellstrike missiles under each wing, it bristled with danger and alien beauty as it sat upon the catapult platform. A full squad of armsmen stood in an honor guard formation to either side of the deployed ramp, void suits on and flak armor fully donned. Bearing lasguns with underslung shotguns and grenade launchers, they were not the most inspiring of infantry available, but they were all ex-Guard and seasoned enough to protect their charges against any violence.

The pilot and his co-pilot were already in the cockpit, going over the last of the pre-flight checkups as they waited for the rest of the group to arrive. The interior for the passengers was not the most luxurious of settings, with a series of fold-out crash seats and safety harnesses to prevent broken necks during dogfights at high velocities or emergency landings. Arms lockers with extra ammunition, medical supplies, and even emergency supplies like rations and firearms were lashed down underfoot. It was a sturdy transport, capable of handling a variety of situations whilst remaining fit for modification.

[Greystone]

Anastasia had extracted herself from the bridge, with the standing order to 'save her if things go ploin shaped' to the crew. She made her way first to her personal quarters, then to the shuttle bay.

Her void suit was a little different, and was a relic from her heritage. It appeared to be an ornate suit of sealed armor, more than a void suit, but it was airtight, and had slots for a grapnel, and her weapons.

She smiled as she saw her Valkyrie get ready for flight. She turned her personal vox on to contact her most trusted crewman "Get down here. We have a schedule to keep" she switched over to a one on one channel with Jorinde "Make sure at least two other craft with troops and cogboys are right behind us, to secure the station"

[Last1]

"Yes, Lady Captain!"

Unstraped herself, and made her way over to the deck crews.

"Lady Captain Anastasia Novia has declared that two more ships should be prepted for lanch, crewed with our cogboys and troops to seize control of the station behind us. They should also..."

Jorinde spent several minites going over the Lady Anastaisa's orders with the crew, and what would be expected of them, before heading back to the shuttle. She attached the Void Helmet of her suit as she waited for the other trusted companions of the Lady Captain to join them, and began muttering prayers.

[Talkkno]

Artho also dones his void suit as well accompanying the Lady-Captian, as he recites a prayer to the Emperor.

"O most High and Holy Emperor, I see Your light and feel Your presence, Keep me safe from the void and vacuum."

[Bowerbird]

Vedrix turns up at the shuttle, adjusting his void suit, "Sorry I'm late ladies, who else are we waitin' for?" he adjusts his Storm-Bolter which is on a shoulder strap, and gives his shotgun a final check over while he waits.

[Last1]

"Urim is the only one left, though we shouldn't dally, for the station should have detected us at this point, and whatever is now about given greater time to prepare its welcome."

"Lady Captain, may I suggest we let him follow us on the next transport?"

[Greystone]

Anastasia nods "Very well" she steps on the Valkyrie "Let him follow. I'm sure the light of the Emperor will follow him"

[Bowerbird]

Vedrix grins, "Let's kick some ****!"

[Gunther]

With the preparations in their last stages, the deck crew began to rush away. Those not equipped with void gear retreated behind bulkheads and under airtight trap doors, the entire deck seeming to empty as the first flight prepared to take off. The ex-Guard soldiers rushed inside, strapping themselves in as the rear ramp folded upwards. Through armored portholes along either side of the craft, the passengers watched as the escorts took off first. Five Lightning fighters were catapulted forward, the mag-lev catapult giving them the equivalent of an extended afterburner.

It was impressive to watch, as each of the fighter craft- piloted by a two-man crew- was hooked up. The Valkyrie itself was also attended to, a pair of massive clamps locking down as- on squad-level vox- the sergeant with the honor guard quickly went over the procedure for void combat with his men. With a jarring thud, the Valkyrie was pulled onto the launch ramp, loudhailers wailing all the while. With a final bleep, the doors to the shuttle bay began to open. Very little atmosphere rushed out at this point, not that they had much time to appreciate that fact. With a high-pitched whine, every person within the Valkyrie was pressed against their crash seats as the boarding crew launched. Doubtlessly, there would be more being launched right in their wake, but for now the stars and immense emptiness of the void welcomed the people within. It was nothing they had not seen before, but it was different from within the cramped interior of a boarding craft.

The trip itself was uneventful as they closed in on the outpost over the course of half an hour, over the course of which the frequent vox communiques revealed nothing. Life was still aboard the outpost, there was still a reactor leak, albeit contained to the core area, and- as they closed in towards the station- it still appeared that power was running throughout the system.

Primarily because, on approach, several floodlights darted towards the Valkyrie and its escorts. Littered across the outer hull of the outpost, the automated response- intended to track incoming craft and alert any potential smugglers that an inspection would be forthcoming- consisted of a handful of floodlights that had survived whatever catastrophe struck the station. Hull breaches scattered throughout the outpost's drab gray exterior were littered with loose cargo and even a handful of frozen corpses, the Valkyrie's own peripheral lights tracing over them for some sign of life.

Perception check to notice anything awry as this scene plays out

With a hiss of static, the broadband vox channel comes to life. One of the pilots focuses his floodlight onto a fortified bulwark jutting from the outpost, its ceramite blast plating having deployed over most of the windows, even though holes had been rent throughout the entirety of it.

"Attention u-u-u-unidentified vessel, you a-are in Imperial space. Lockdown is i-in effect. Cease approach a-and divert...to..."

The floodlights begin to flicker over the vessel, like lamp packs on their last dregs. The lights scattered throughout the station dim slightly, several of sections going completely dark and remaining so. The vox band goes entirely dead as one of the kilometer-long vox towers collapsed like a tree, falling towards the station in an agonizingly slow movement. White hot plasma arced into the void where its base had been, spreading out in a surreal corona of fire. Something was still here on this outpost.

And it didn't seem too talkative.

[Last1]

Jorinde cursed to herself as she watched the tower colapse. This would be bad.

[roll0] Perception 45

[Gunther]

The honor guard, seeing what just happened, have a similar reaction. A few unbuckle themselves to check over the supplies, the low gravity of the Valkyrie's interior causing them to have a small hop in their steps. Lasguns were removed from weapon caskets, spare cells floating from one trooper to another as they performed last-minute preparations. The fall of the vox tower had sobered them up, two of the Lightning escorts breaking off to perform a fly-over of the collapse site.

The communications officer aboard the Hammer chirped in at this point, the clipped tones of the woman implying the image of someone who wore her blonde hair in a bun, and likely had a perfectly pressed and starched suit on at all times.

"Hammer to Captain, Hammer to Captain, we are- ... -power output from the outpost. Outpost armaments- ... -to be inoperative. We are remaining on station pending further orders. Second wave is estimated at half an hour behind due to launch platform malfunctions. Emergency launch available if necessary."

Jorinde notices that the flickering floodlights actually have some sort of pattern to them. Flicker, flicker, flicker, pause, flicker, flicker, flicker, pause. Either there was some sort of foul entity attempting to lure them in, or there were actually survivors...or simply just some warp-spirit attempting to vex them, drawing them into a cold tomb for naught.

However, as the Lady Izen continues to survey, she also notices that several of the hull breaches are particularly large. More than enough for an entire team to rappel or jump into...or out of.

[Last1]

"Who or what ever is opereating the spotlights is doing so in a pattern - three flashes, then a pause, then it repeats."

She frowned, the unstapped herself and headed over to one of the widows to get a better look, "It sounds like some kind of binary code, like the old SOS code of Old Terra. And with out it was cut off - there may be two factions about that station, and one of them may be tring to tell us something, something the other does not wish us to hear."

[Talkkno]

"In any case, perhaps we should land a team first to secure a landing zone." Artho replies somewhat muttered voice.

[Last1]

"Yes, of course."

She looked around the cabin, and asked the gereral assemblge of people there, "Did we find anything that was suitible for disabling Servitors without destroying them?"

[Greystone]

Anastasia shrugs "Servitors are the last of our problems." Sheadjusts her suit slightly, getting the weaponry in easier reach "We'll secure hmmm" she moved over to an auspex and studied it for a moment "Put us down here"

With a jab, she pointed out an large hole near the center "That should be near a command center, and far away from the reactor leaks."

[Bowerbird]

The Arch-Militant grins at the men scrambling for their weaponry and ammunition, cradling his fully loaded weaponry in his arms. He looks interestedly out the porthole at the layout of the ship.

Ok, seems I came late to the party for the awareness check, but here it is anyways:
Awareness: [roll0] vs 39
If that fails I'll go by what the captain says and try and think of something it could be in terms of Imperium military.
Common Lore (War) [roll1] vs 50
Secret Tongue (Military) [roll2] vs 50
Forbidden Lore (Pirates) [roll3] vs 50
Secret Tongue (Rogue Trader) [roll4] vs 50
Common Lore (War) [roll5] vs 50

Also, I will confirm the strategic decision of where we're putting down with:
Scholastic Lore (Tactica Imperialis): [roll6] vs 50

Now, none of that might work, fair enough, but at least he's trying :P

[Gunther]

The sergeant commanding the honor guard looked over the men assembled, then to the various weapon caskets strapped in the overhead cargo space. He turned back to Jorinde, "We brought a haywire rifle as anti-cybernetica support, Lady Izen, but we haven't been, err, favored greatly by the Lady Captain's windfalls." He paused for a moment before continuing, raising his arms in appeasement, "Not that I would dare accuse the Lady Novia of penny-pinching! There are standards of armament to be upheld on any good, Emperor-fearing vessel..."

He nodded to the trooper sitting across from him, the Valkyrie beginning to slow as it approached the breach. Below, along the undercarriage of the Valkyrie, there was a not-so-subtle hiss of air being released into the compartment. Evidently, the pet assassin of the Lady Novia- practically an Eversor in his own right- had been released from his sealed cask.

At the same time, the dropship swung over the large hole in the station's hull. Vector-thrust engines swiveled upwards as the pilots deployed the landing struts, maglock strips causing the Valkyrie to give a sharp jerk as it descended. The airlock to the side of the vessel gave a sharp sucking sound as it pressurized, the honor guard hitting the emergency releases on their crash harnesses. Lasguns were readied, and one of the troopers hefted a large, tubular rifle- the aforementioned Haywire rifle- from an overhead rack.

Each one wore a standard void suit, as well as one of them carrying a portable vox caster. It wasn't much for void communications, but it allowed a direct relay through the Valkyrie back to the Hammer of Dominion. A ship that, at that moment, was visible on approach to the station with its armored prow facing straight towards them.

For Vedrix, his massive storm bolter in hand, the station below brought forth a myriad of information. Some of which he questioned, but most of which he was certain on. The outpost was a standard Imperial design, equipped with heavy lance batteries and a myriad of shuttle bays and docking ports. In addition to this, outposts such as this- especially those that see usage as an astropathic nexus- often contain massive, comprehensive vaults. Vaults stacked with the various coded communiques, as well as ancient weapons and supplies for fleets passing through the area. In addition to this, the void elevatus- a key element of this station- was certainly a relic in and of itself. With direct access to the planet below, the Arch-Militant could also recall that most such outposts had a citadel-fortress situated directly below them to prevent an insurgent force from seizing or infiltrating the outpost above.

The breach in question seemed fairly accurate as far as the Tactica Imperialis was concerned. It was a small hole, perhaps a dozen meters in diameter, leading into one of the many corridors of the outpost. The corpses and loose materials drifting around it indicated breached atmosphere, which likely meant zero-gravity combat. That would call for watching all angles at once, but with the maglock boots, the entire group could keep together without too much fuss about vectors and attack angles. The only real concern that might arise would be accessing the portions of the station that hadn't vented their atmosphere, and had instead been sealed off with thick bulkheads. Meltagel would be good at this point, but restoring power- and gravity- would be an instrumental boon.

At that point, the shuttle finally set down, the clamps locking down as the Valkyrie settled in a section of flag hull about a quarter kilometer away from the breach in question. Nestled in a field of void shield projectors, floodlights, and long-deactivated or destroyed power conduits and docking towers, it was like landing in a small forest of metal and fine cable.

[Gauntlet]

The vox crackles for second, before Urim's voice becomes audible. "..ent off without me, you fools, I might as well see what I can get done back here. Since it seems you're getting a decent eyeful of the inside of that place now, is there anything you want me to pick up before thfzz.....ten minutes.. pick up some gear if you want?"

[Last1]

Hefting her hellgun, Jorinde made her way to the ramp, wanting to get off the shuttle as quickly as possible. They were comitted now, and soon the occupants would come and great them - and she did not trust their good will.

"Come," she said, looking at the rabble about her, "For the glory of the God-Emperor and our lady captain, let us make haste to secure the station."

[Guardsman]

Octus awoke from his eternal sleep in stasis, the assassin finding himself opening his eyes...only to feel sudden sickness in the mans stomach. It always happened when he awoke since the rebirth from stasis sleep causes serious nausea. Stumbling from Octus's stasis coffin he rested his hand against a wall and kept himself stable for the moment as his senses began to regulate towards being normal. Taking his weapons from his coffin he attached them to the harness belt on his hip and attached the harness belt on his torso to his very deadly sword.

The Assassin looked to the woman who bought him since most of the information had been painfully implanted in his brain by hereteks under employment from the seller. Through the muffled sound of the respirator of his void-suit came the deep but exhausted question of "Mission objective and priority?".

He had been asleep for quite some time dreaming of beautiful grasslands and places of peace beyond the reality of war that was the Imperium. His dreams were filled with things that comforted him because comfort was in short supply during these times.

[Bowerbird]

Vedrix stands, hefting his Ironclaw, letting the Storm-Bolter hang from it's shoulder harness. "Alright men, lock & load." He moves to the exit ramp, standing at the front of the crowd, hand unconsciously hovering over the medallion he wears at his neck.

[Gunther]

The Hammer of Dominion

As Urim spoke into the vox on his end, the crew recoiled from the apparent irritation of their liege. The armsmen, as per their status as the ship's defenders, didn't show too much obvious concern for the man. It was likely that, as far as they were concerned, so long as neither the Arch-Militant nor the Lady Captain took a sudden dislike of them, they were relatively immune to the wrath of others. Then again, it was also possible that they had more concern for the outpost and the planet below it.

As the vox transmission ceased, one of the various tech-priests onboard the vessel approached Urim, his body almost completely engulfed in cybernetics. Not a single piece of flesh was visible on the red-robed adept, from the whirring augmentics of his legs to the shaped bronze and cybernetic lenses of his facial grotesque.

"Ecclesiarch, the secondary shuttle is currently being loaded, and there is sufficient room left for your personage. However, the lack of a member command crew aboard the Hammer will cause command to be relinquished to an adept of sufficient status. Is this acceptable?" He asked almost rhetorically.

The Outpost
As Jorinde and Vedrix departed, they quickly stormed into the airless realm of the station's exterior. The ramp, swiftly lowered by hissing servos, slammed to the metal decking with only a powerful vibration to notify the station of its presence. With the honor guard at their flank, the two of them swiftly went on the move, advancing to the breach.

Moving in standard formation, every vector was covered by shining lamp-packs. Cones of light flashed over every surface, the light of the local planet's sun providing eerily little illumination amongst the massive potentia towers, debilitated vox masts, power cables, and coolant pumps. It was much akin to trekking through a jungle, except it was a jungle that had been ravaged by some unknown force. Loose piping drifted lazily through the void, power cables severed by unseen blades and left to arc electricity to any nearby conductors, and one or two of the massive coolant pumps had ruptured white-hot plasma into the air. The crew were careful in advancing, and it was likely this care that caused one of the soldiers to let out a cry of alarm.

Equipped with the squad's auspex unit, he waved the sensor at one of the branching corridors of the maze-like outside of the station. "Atmospheric pocket detected!" He declared, pointing down there. Half a dozen lamp-packs focused on the corridor in question, revealing a yellow-and-black striped entrance. The breach in the hull was still about a hundred meters away, and this seemed to present a direct entrance to a portion of the station still retaining atmosphere.

The doorway appeared to be an old maintenance entrance, the heavy bulkhead having an ancient cogitator attached to it, albeit unpowered. Heavy welding lines ran along the edges of the doorway, indicating even further effort of someone- or a group of people- to try and seal down the station. "Door thickness is two meters, solid steel." The man on the auspex reported, his heavy maglock boots thundering as he approached the doorway. "Thin enough for melta gel, but barely. I'd assume the atmosphere on the inside is breathable, but I can't get a solid enough fix with all this interference going on. My apologies, m'lady."

[Last1]

"If we use the Meltagel, the breathability of the air will quickly become irrelivent."

She looked thoughful, then looked up the ramp at their captain, "It's your call, Milady. I'm hesitant to vent the air and kill off those who may be able to anwser our questions, but it would be time-consuming to find another way in - if we can at all."

[Last1]

"Alright men, breach the doors. We have air enough - whatever remains in there can learn to breath void."

[Gauntlet]

Urim shrugs. "I'm sure our vice-captain can handle the Hammer better than I can anyway. I'll head out there." He stretches, slings his flamer and chainsword over his back and heads off to the shuttle bay with a nod to the new command.

[Gunther]

The Station
The troopers, having seemingly waited for their captain's command, act quickly with the next best thing. Small containers of sealed melta gel, each one capable of burning a hole clean through a starship's hull when activated, were liberally applied around the edges of the sealed door. Each time the tech-wright attached to the squad called "Clear!", a stream of white-hot fire burned a hole into the thick hatchway plating. The blinding intensity of the subatomic fire eventually subsided after the third rushed application, a meter-by-half-meter hole being burned clean through. Metal gave way as bubbles of air rushed outwards around the chunk of disembodied metal. Atmospheric alarms could be heard inside as the hole in the bulkhead continued to vent.

Lasguns raised, the squad of Guardsmen rushed inside, taking with them the Lady Captain and her consorts. Lady Izen herself felt a protective hand cover her head as she was ducked under the molten bulkhead, the last of the guardsmen slipping through as- with a sharp whine- a localized stasis field popper over the breach.

A stasis field that, in reality, should not have existed in the first place, let alone have enough power in the station. Obviously something was afoot, for the stasis field projectors- now visible with half a dozen lamp packs focused on them- seemed devoid of the fine layer of dust and grime coating the rest of the station's interior. Atmospheric alarms cut off as stability was restored, the entire hallway ahead sporadically illuminated by halogen lights and discarded lamp packs. The reason for this was quite evident: Something violent had torn through these halls. Metal plating had ripped from the ceiling randomly, umbilical cables of every size and purpose left to dangle freely a few feet over the heads of the men.

There were two bulkhead doors visible to either side, each of which left unpowered and inactive, large burn streaks randomly scattered around each doorway. At the end of the corridor, it took a sharp right. Something of tremendous force had ripped clean through the corridor, however, causing a meter-wide hole in the opposite wall at the corridor's turn. Pipes, still hissing steam and various mechanical fluids, had been sheared almost in half. Loose cables laid like dormant snakes across the floor, and they doubtlessly would have been hissing electricity had this section not been abandoned.

As it were, the cables were now leaking a bluish-crimson fluid in several locations, coating the floor in a thin layer. It was slightly slippery, but the smell was a bigger concern- the sharp scent of vinegar filled the air, as well as the distinct smell of ozone.

The Shuttle Bay
Urim, departing for the shuttle bay, arrives to find the whole deck in an uproar. Crewmen rushed to and fro as they attempted to get the second wave of shuttles, this time carrying the tech-wrights and reclaimators aboard the Hammer's technology-rich crew. Indentured serfs, equipped with explosive collars, hurried to carry massive, sealed crates aboard. Teams of welders, cutters, and more "Second-wave" personnel rushed aboard cargo lighters and other shuttlecraft.

By the time Urim reached the working floor, they were already loading atmospheric stasis fields aboard one of the larger ships. The tech-priest from before, doubtlessly having utilized one of a myriad of maintenance hallways, could be seen commanding the loading effort with the aid of a loudhailer. Men screamed, sweat, and died all throughout the process. One of the shuttles, carrying a small number of inert servo-skulls for rapid reconnaissance, waited for Urim. The pilot of the craft, dressed in a lightweight void suit with a minimum of protection, gestured towards Urim as a tech-priest ran amongst the rows of devices, offering last benedictions to the machine spirits within.

[Last1]

Jorinde looked at the stasis field with concern, then at the armsmen around her. "That's a bit convenant - If you would, perpare explosives to disable those. Prisoners would be nice, but if they're keeping the air in here, someone NEEDS it. Don't blow it without an order from me, our Master at Arms, or the Lady Captain - but get it set up so we can at a moments notice."

Izen marched toward the hole torn in through the corrder, trying to get a better look.

[Bowerbird]

Vedrix looks around at the internal damage to the station, "Huh, I don't like the looks o' this.." he mutters, "Careful fellas, whatever did this could still be on board, or it's descendants.. Don't stray too far." the former to the boarding team, the latter to the Lady. "Hope it's not bloody 'nids again.." he mutters to himself as he hefts his shotgun.

[Gunther]

Two of the ten-man team stand back, one of them working with some det cord and tube charges on the emitters. Directly placing them on the little nodes would assure an almost instant death- rather, by placing them a few decimeters away, the explosives would do just the right degree of damage to lower the stasis field and vent the atmosphere within.

Peeking around the corridor, Lady Izen saw that the hole in the hull had been made by what looked like a large explosion. Metal debris had peppered the ceiling and the walls, as well as signature slagging marks along the rim of the metal. The hole was also quite deep- it actually pierced through three levels of decking, each level on the hole having a faint smattering of lamp packs or cannibalized lights powered by batteries. There were no zip-lines down the hole, though a crude ladder had once been set up- its metal rungs having since fallen off (Or been ripped off). The two metal poles that balanced it lay almost directly at Izen's feet, against the rim of the small chasm. It had all the signs of a makeshift habitation job, especially since- as she peeked down the hole- her foot made something crinkle.

A discarded nutrient pack, the plastek package punctured with a tiny straw. It was a simple foodstuff- usually stored in emergency ration kits. However, as the Lady Izen looked at the package, Vedrix realized something from his training and experience- nutrient packs like this could only last a man a few days at most, if that, in lieu of actual food. Contrary to the name, the foul-tasting things had little actual nutritional value beyond serving as semi-solid gruel.

Down below, a faint flicker of movement was visible, footsteps clamoring along the bottom floor of the hole. Someone could be seen running across the scattered lamp-packs and lumen lanterns, the hint of carapace visible before the entity was vanished. In his wake, there was a wretched wailing sound, of the sort one might expect from the daemons of the abyss. Thankfully, those with such terrifying experience could tell that it was not- in fact- the sound any daemon made.

Though it was close. Damned close.

[Last1]

"Frak," Jorinde muttered under her breath, "I don't like the sound of that at all."

She raised her voice to talk to everone else pressent, "We're going to have to go down there and capture or kill whatever we find. Even if we can get the doors open, we can't risk leaving something like that at our back."

She looked at the remains of the ladder, and tried to figure out if it would be practical to use it as a climbing pole, or if it would be better to find some robe and try and repel down. She didn't fancy the idea of being tied to something when whatever was down there attacked, but falling sounded no better.

[Gunther]

The men checked their lasguns appropriately, the one man with the long Haywire rifle popping open the chamber to check a shell was loaded. The two men working on rigging the tube charges nodded to Lady Izen, their weapons close at hand.

"It'll take at least three minutes to get these tube charges set. If I rush it can go faster, but using 'em will be a bit iffy if the machine spirit in the detonator gets cranky."

The two left-over beams seemed usable as drop poles, but if someone were to accidentally slip or let go, then it'd be a messy tumble down a dozen or so meters.

Zip-lines provided a more steady option, but they'd need either something to anchor the rope to or someone to hold each rope as they descended either one-by-one or in pairs. Granted, if they were quick enough, most of them might reach the ground floor before anything went awry.

[Last1]

"You know your job," Ladu Izen said, nodding to the techs working on the tube charges.

"Going down in pairs by zip-stip seems the best option. Lets just make sure that the first down are capible of holding their ground until reinforced," she looked to Vedrix, then asked, "Unless you object."

[Gunther]

The Tactica Imperialis didn't provide much aid in regards to a rapid descent, the rare verse that could be recalled mainly pertaining to the fact that those with the steadiest and swiftest aim should descend first, followed by those best able to aid in regards to what form of confrontation was expected. The means of descent should be steadfast and unassailable, or barring that guarded well. As with most things said in the precious tome of military tactics, it was left mostly up to interpretation.

However, as two of the more muscular guards prepared the ziplines, the wailing increased in volume. The noise was constant now, a banshee howl conjoined by the sound of a chain weapon. The men said nothing, but one or two of them made signs of warding. Even with the void suits filtering the air, the stench of death was becoming more and more evident, conjoined by the reek of blood.

[Greystone]

"What the Devil is that" Anastasia murmered from the rear of the party. It appeared as though she had been lost in thought for several minutes now.

She walked near the edge and peered down, past the two guardsmen, and she pulled her plasma pistol. "Alright, good hunting gentlemen"

[Last1]

Jorinde hefted her hellgun, and grabbed one zipline as one of the ship milita finished securing it. She looked back over the men and raised her voice, "For our dignity, for our commrands, for our ship, for our Captain, and for the Golden Throne, we will seize this station!"

I must hold the ground I land on, at least until the next man can follow me down. I am only a passible shot, but it must be enough for now.

She gustured forward, calling the men to follow her down, then stepped off the edge of the platform, holding tight to the zip strip. "TO FEAR IS TO STEAL! HOLD FAST!"

[Gunther]

Agility checks for everyone that zip-lines down. In addition, Perception for once you're at the bottom. Just edit the rolls in if you can- if not, I guess it'll be a short post or something. I'll edit in the results here.

[Last1]

Feeling intensy unlucky for some reason, the Lady Izen held on to the zip line for all she was worth.

Agility 35 [roll0]
Perception 45 [roll1]

[Gunther]

With a sharp crackle of energy, Lady Izen was the first to descend. The zip-line screamed as she descended downward, the men above letting out a shout of warning as- with the abruptness of a flak cannon explosion- a cloud of semi-real shadow burst into life over the lip of the hole. The Lady Izen, landing below, seemed to be surrounded in pure darkness. The halogen lights below vanished as she was temporarily consumed in complete shadow, the psychic energies swirling throughout the entire corridor itching at the minds of those present. Shouts of alarm were raised, but quickly fell as the strange warp of reality ended.

Down below, at the bottom of the hole, was another corridor much like the first. However, in lieu of a seemingly abandoned area, signs of habitation- and fortification- were present. The chemical lights had been set up every handful of meters, with emptied ammunition crates being scattered here and there for cover. Sweeping about with her weapon, a handful of hull rats skittered away from a half-eaten corpse. Dressed in a since-decimated void suit, the man had obviously spent his last moments fighting, a combat shotgun clutched in his hands and his finger wrapped about the trigger.

Yet what wasn't obvious was the cause of death- something Lady Izen picked up on immediately. The man had apparently died from trauma, the blood staining the cracked facemask of his suit indicating something that had- quite literally- pulped his insides and caused them to spray across the inside of the protective mask. Something with great power had caused that, and most likely not of this world.

Flicking her lamp-pack along, Lady Izen finished her sweep, her gun finally resting as she saw two ways to advance. Along the corridor at her flank, where the fortifications had been scattered, were a number of spent shell casings. From the fact that some were still smoking whilst others were cold and dead indicated recent fighting- or if not recent, then certainly repeated. The opposite corridor showed more obvious signs of damage, but- as one of the Adeptus Mechanicus symbols along the wall indicated- was likely a direct route to the Enginarium of the station. Unfortunately, it was this path that was also the source of the next high-pitched wail. Far into the unlit gloom, the Lady Izen could almost swear there were shapes looming there, watching her, waiting for her to turn her back so that they might feast upon her very flesh.

Of course, such thoughts were nonsense, especially when the lamp-pack revealed them to simply be more corpses, each one infested with writhing void maggots and hull rats.

[Bowerbird]

"Damn eager *****!" the Arch-Militant growls, flicking the switch on his amulet and grabbing his own zip-line, "Don't you men let the Captain go down by herself," he says to the men as he jumps down after the Lady Izen.

Agility: [roll0]
Awareness: [roll1]

[Greystone]

Anastasia raised an eyebrow, and followed her Arch Militant "Fear no darkness, men of the Imperium."

Agility [roll0]
Awareness [roll1]

[Last1]

Jorinde shuttered a bit at that darkness, her very life feeling drain, then shook her head. She held her hellgun at the ready as the others made there way down.

"He," she gustured at the dead man in a void suit, "was probably killed by something impressive strong - and I belive we need to know what."

"Lady Captain Anastasia, I suggested we go and meet the survivers," she said, guesturing at the fortification, "if that is what they are. They are at the least obviously intelligent - and that means they can be questioned."

[Gunther]

As the other two descended after the Lady Izen, the Captain herself gave an easy flourish as she made a perfect landing to the approval of the straining men above. The storm bolter wielded by their military commander had actually required two men to hold onto the rope, such was the combined weight of man, weapon, ammunition, and armor.

Regardless, as the soldiers moved down one-by-one, there was a heavy clanging sound down the body-laden corridor opposite of the fortifications. One of the vent grilles slammed down with such force as to draw a snap-shot from a descending soldier. The bolt went wide, but that mattered little. With a hum, a lone servo-skull emerged from the tiny atmospheric vent, a mag-lev plate attached underneath the ivory skull crammed with precious electronics and cybernetica. A lone red eye focused on the party as the spinal column attached to the skull dragged behind it like a tail, slowly wagging back and forth as it hovered a few centimeters off the deck.

[Greystone]

Lady Anastasia was nodding towards Lady Izen when the Servo Skull popped out. She whipped her plasma pistol up, but restrained herself from firing. "This is Lady Captain Anastasia Novia of the Hammer of Dominion" she introduced herself to the skull.

[Last1]

Jorinde kept her hellgun out - now, while attention was focused on the servo-skull, would be the best time to attack. Of course, that didn't make the skull any less dangerous. But it might be a scout for one side or the other in whatever conflict was going on in the station, it might be rogue, it might be a bomb.

No way to tell. Better for the Lady Anastasia to take responciblity of it.

[Gunther]

The skull looked at her, hovering gently in the air. No loud-hailer was evident on it, but the voice projected outward at the group was quite clear. It had the monotone voice of a tech-priest to it. As the servo-skull spoke, a tiny dark green coil could be seen winding and unwinding underneath the chin of the wire-crammed drone, adding a scratchy quality to the audio.

"Lady Captain Novia, assumed captain of the starship present in-system. High probability of presence due to tectonic disturbances below. Origin of disturbances: Withheld. Probability of offering assistance: Reasonable. Attention, Lady Captain Anastasia Novia, you are currently within an active field of combat. Live fire has been authorized in suppression of rogue station elements. Assistance to the Omnissiah is...rewarded. Defiance to the Omnissiah is...punished. Comprehension status?" It inquired.

It took a moment for the possibility of a threat to sink in, by which time the last of the men were rappelling down, having anchored the zip-lines to the broken piping on the upper deck. Those down below kept their lasguns ready, covering both ends of the approach.

[Bowerbird]

Vedrix deactivates his personal shielding with a flick as he takes in the situation, checking his bolter as he stands upright, "Not sure I trust the thing, Cap'n, but it might be worth checking out." he whispers to the Lady Captain.

[Greystone]

At the mention of the Omnissiah, Anastasia pauses, then she recovers " What assistence do you require?"

[Talkkno]

Standing someways back from the others, mostly silent as he projected his senses into the Sea of Souls..........


Psyniscience
[roll0]

[Gunther]

The servo-skull paused as the Lady Anastasia spoke, the screeching starting up again. This time, however, it seemed much closer, and on the very same level that they were. Whatever was roaming this station had finally caught their scent, or heard the shot, or something to that effect.

"Transport. Escape. Station compromised." The cybernetic skull spoke hurriedly now, the coil winding back and forth with such velocity that it sounded like someone hacking at a violin with a steel hawser. "Docking bays compromised. Choir compromised. Enginarium on terminus-grade lockdown. Access to primary cogitator arrays mandatory to override. Genetoria on terminus-grade lockdown. Access to station command throne mandatory. Cogitator array access cables severed. Remote machine spirit override impossible. Rebel elements still present. Probability of unaided success: Below optimal percentile."

[Last1]

The Lady Jorinde Izen looked at the servo-skull. "So what you're saying is that you would like to leave, but leaving requires us to gain access to the primary cogitator arrays, then the station command throne. These two things cannot be done remotely either."

She turned to the Lady Anastasia, "While we need to see the Primary Cogitator, and probably the Choir, for our own work we don't need the command throne. If these abandoned remenents want us to spill our blood for them, they do need to give you a suitable compensaion."

[Greystone]

A small grin begins to curl around the Captain's mouth "Indeed Lady Izen, that sounds about" she stares pointedly at the Servo Skull with elucidating anything more.

[Gunther]

The Warp
Casting himself adrift, the psyker felt the eddies and flows of the Empyrean. Emptying his mortal coil with only a thin, silvery cord of psychic energy to link him back to his body, he felt the polychromatic power of the warp rush around him. It was an experience no uninitiated mortal could describe- feelings without name flashing before his disembodied eyes. Anger, passion, love, hate, lust, and all other feelings became a gestalt that served as the background to this infinite and insanity-inducing realm. Only an awakened mind such as his could ever dare comprehend it, and even he had only tasted but the faintest echoes of it.

Peering out at the world below and the station left above it, he could taste the feelings of the planet. The entire world seethed with psychic energy, the power of its tectonic movements, the appearance of the alien ruins, and the chaos and pandemonium of everyday life making it a beacon of light that was practically blinding. Though by no means as bright as the Astronomican, it was almost mind-searingly bright with emotion and chaos. The Empyrean seemed to coalesce about the world in swirling whirlpools of-

There, in the background, he could sense them. Warp predators. The wolves of the void, the formless predators that ate the souls of the enlightened such as himself. They fed upon the emotions they were very well made up of, and a mortal being- if the option was ever presented- made for a feast. To dwell within the Empyrean too long, to watch the currents of time and possibility, was to invite these very predators. Thankfully, they were only now just starting upon his mental trail. There was still time to investigate the Empyrean a bit further.

The servo-skull remained adrift as the entity on the other end appeared to contemplate. With the implied demands, there was a pause followed by a low-power hiss of energy. The coil attached to the machine began to build up in energy, the wheel scraping across the metal plate with higher pitch and tempo.

"The Omnissiah rewards those faithful to it. The Omnissiah punishes those that defy it. I am...Octavio. Ladies Izen and Captain Anastasia Novia, the Omnissiah's rewards are bountiful. Knowledge...is power. Guard it wisely. Allies of the Omnissiah wield power. Probability of survival without the Omnissiah's grace: Estimated at near-absolute impossibility."

The winding plate gave a sharp click, the banshee howl starting once more as the coil unwound. This time, however, it was conjoined by the sound of rending metal. It was an unpleasant sound to hear, like a tin can being crumpled by a particularly large bottom-hive ganger wielding a crowbar in his off hand. The honor guard snuggled their rifles against their shoulders as the wail drew itself out, the servo-skull remaining stationary as an atmospheric alarm sounded in the distance...only to abruptly silence.

[Bowerbird]

Vedrix looks warily at the servo-skull, "I'm not sure I trust this guy, boss, but it doesn't sound like we have much choice." He looks around at the honour guard, "Stay alert, boys and girls." he adds with a grin, "We may be busy soon."

[Last1]

Lady Izen looked at the servo-skull, then back at her captain. "We probably should cooperate," at least for now, "we could probably get by without their help if we must, but it may prove useful. And we can allways use mor tech-priests."

[Talkkno]

Athos awakens from his trance from the warp, shaking his head at what he witnessed, as if just waken from slumber, only now fully aware of his surroundings.

"And they may prove to reveal the source of the disturbences below us. He added absent mindly, as he whispered into the mind of Anastasia.

Telepathy
"It is almost certainly the source of the chaos below us is related to the warp, it is as if there was a warp storm boiling underneath us, tearing the planet apart...I was unable to investigate further, for Warp predators prey nearby, my lady. I caution we tread carefully, but if you wish to for me to investigate further, I will do it, but I must note the risks in such a chaotic maelstrom within the warp."

[Gauntlet]

Urim takes to his seat, keeping an eye on the station.
Let's do a pass round before we move in. Get a closer scan with a few of the auspexes, see if we can't pick anything up at a closer range."

[Gunther]

The Hammer of Dominion

As Urim boarded the vessel, the various Reclaimators and servitors paid him little heed. Though considerably larger compared to the Captain's Valkyrie, the bulky lander darted through the void with almost impunity. The launch rail process was actually barely noticed- doubtlessly the techpriests having attached some sort of dampeners to the larger craft in the interest of the security of cargo. Cargo that now pressed against the body of the straggling bridge crewman.

As near as he could tell, the servo-skulls onboard were entirely inert. That did not stop the rack carrying said skulls, mounted on rollers, from swinging dangerously like a giant skull-adorned rocking horse. The tech-priests onboard wore no obvious void suits, though- with such heavily augmented bodies- it was doubtful that they even needed such protection from the void. For the Ecclesiarch, the simple rebreather and the void-sealed outfit attached was enough protection.

As the shuttle went on approach, the onboard auspex gave a few hums and haws, the machine spirit obviously belligerent toward such a foul, interference-laden place. With a hiss of static, the pilot of the shuttle- a servitor- spoke to him through his suit's commbead.

"Interference...too great. Error. Automated flight plan recommended. Deployment of servo-skulls will commence according to standard dispersion pattern. Warning, Ecclesiarch Urim: Void seals will breach in several minutes. Rapid decompression without suitable protection may result in agonizing death."

Through the porthole, Urim could see the crew descending through a massive breach in the station's hull, the Captain's Valkyrie remaining on-station with its landing struts deployed.

The Station
The servo-skull, seeing the division between the crew, bobbed up and down with magnetic grace. Then, with a low squeal of the striking disc attached to it, it elevated slightly.

"Assistance-slash-termination will be provided pending acceptance."

At the word 'termination', the honor guard quickly picked up their stature, a half-dozen lasguns pointing down the halls as one of the troopers- at a tap from the sergeant- began to pace down the hall towards the fortifications away from the floating emissary.

The man went on a full-out jog, maglock boots clanging, for perhaps a dozen meters towards the fortifications before the sound of rending metal could be heard. There was a scream as the man threw himself backwards, the sudden explosion of metal bursting outwards causing the audio dampeners in their suits to kick in.

"Provided."

Similar rending sounds, albeit delayed, could be heard from behind the servo-skull as the first entity came into clear vision. Illuminated in hellish green light by the halogen units scattered around the fortifications, it was immediately obvious that the entity was- in fact- a machine. A vastly armored servitor, one with every square inch of flesh seemingly either replaced by metal or covered by it. In lieu of arms, massive, lean lines of cables and metal- ending in wickedly curved blades- were implanted. Six evenly spaced and omni-directional spikes jutted from the bronze faceplate, smoke hissing from the fighting machine's head.

And a fighting machine it certainly was! The blades jutting from each arm varied in size, but it was clear from the electricity running about the edge of each of them that they were mono-edged weapons. Whatever other qualities they had weren't immediately obvious, but the lone machine had the appearance of a feral predator to it. Was this what the crew had fortified themselves against, rather than a daemon?

From the sounds of tearing metal, it was obvious that this wasn't the only one of its kind. At least, the only one of its kind capable of ripping through station plating.

[Bowerbird]

Vedrix raises a hand, "Hold fire! Nobody shoot til I give you the say so or until these things attack! Cap'n, I think the little fella wants us to help, or else, best agree with it for now." he says, as he lowers his hand to his stormbolter.

[Gunther]

Intelligence to identify the strange servitors

The honor guard held their fire as the strange machines looked over the group. The man in close proximity to the machine scrabbled backwards on all fours, looking at the massive machine as it simply stood there, waiting expectantly. At Vedrix's command, the sergeant of the Ex-Guard troopers tapped the man with the Haywire rifle on the shoulder. The tubular gun jutted past Vedrix's shoulder, aiming right for the servitor down range.

"I doubt that thing can take a shaped round to the torso, m'lord." The squad leader replied, the rifleman keeping his aim steady as the muzzle of the gun was unwavering. "Give the order and I assure you, the abomination will fall."

The servo skull gave a sharp clicking sound at the bravado, the voice chirping in again, "Ancient. Machinery. Probability of successful annihilation of unit with current combat factors: Low. Suggest cooperation in the interest of mutual survival. You, with the heavy weapon." It said, a thin red dot appearing on Vedrix's chest from a tiny eye-mounted unit in the servo skull.

"What is your...identification?"

[Bowerbird]

Intelligence: [roll0]

Vedrix seems somewhat taken aback by the skull addressing him directly, "Hm? Orthesian Vedrix, Milit'ry specialist." he says, with a casual mock salute.

[Last1]

[roll0]

A vicious glare graced Jorinde face as she look at the Servitor. She itched to do SOMETHING about it - but she force her probably suicidal urges down. She would have to be patent.

Her time would come, and she put a private tally in her mental grudge book. These fools would pay for threatening her.

[Gunther]

As Izen contemplated her grudge, the Haywire rifle remained unmoving, presenting a very real and immediate option for fixing her itch to settle things with the servo-skull. Though she wasn't too familiar with such weapons, she knew a nasty one when she saw one.

The floating skull looked over the "Military Specialist" with augmentic eyes before speaking again, "Acceptable."

With a heavy clang, two sections of wall behind the floating drone collapsed. Focusing upon the machines, the two adepts drew an exact blank, but their powers of perception led them to deduce a few things. One of which was the fact that the machine actually had no visible flesh- an irregularity that was conjoined by the overabundance of wires and seemingly no feeding tubes for the organic parts. That implied either a high level of advancement or...

"They will escort you to whichever objective you deem primary." It stated, "It will be a matter of...interest to see your...assessment."

[LCP]

There was a loud clang as a deck-plate by Urim’s feet jumped free of the floor, a skeletal metallic arm thrusting up in its place. Intricate mechanical fingers flexing, it caught hold of the side of the hatch, hoisting a red-robed figure up onto the deck of the shuttle with inhuman strength.

“Afternoon, Ecclesiarch!” came the Explorator’s voice, surprisingly chipper behind his ventilator mask. “If it is afternoon. I always lose track. Bit of a coincidence, you choosing this shuttle.” He slapped the deck-plate with his bionic hand, the augmetic making the metal floor ring. “Been making a few modifications. These really are beautiful machines.”

He stopped in mid-flow as he caught sight of the station growing in their view-field.
“Now that is interesting,” he breathed to himself. Pushing himself to his feet, he scrambled forwards, tapping the co-pilot on the shoulder.
“Excuse me,” the Explorator said, politely. “Would you mind letting me have a look at those controls? Need to configure the probes.” He looked right at the pilot. “We do have probes, don’t we?”

[Last1]

Men of iron... the Lady Jorinde Izen thought with a mental hush, half awe, half horror. No, they couldn't be... even this station is staffed by utter heretech, they wouldn't blatently display such forbidden lore... It would be most embaressing to be wrong about such a thing, still...

She felt a sudden, almost physical need to own the thing in front of her - mankind had, for a time, been much more then it was now, and such forbidden lore was supposedly key to the might he once held. A key that turned on man, betrayed him... but what if man could once again make such horrors it's servent?

It wasn't the time to think such thoughts, and with effert she dismissed what the ignorent would judge heretical lines of thought. They had a job to do.

"If we're cooperating, we should start with the Staion Command Throne. It should have access to controls for the whole station, which might make latter parts of assuming control of the station easier."

[Gauntlet]

"Afternoon, Explorator. I'm sure you know what you're doing.. I assume you know what you're doing." Urim grins at the tech-priest's back. We've just done one pass over with the auspices, but the skulls are still around if we want to check more thoroughly. The first scan didn't pick anything up, which I always take as a definite sign of there being something ridiculously dangerous in there."

[Gunther]

The Shuttle of...Dominion?

The co-pilot of the shuttle, also a servitor, quickly drew back at the Explorator's request. Cogs clicked as its entire torso folded back, hard plugs along the dashboard of the bulky voidcraft presenting themselves for easy interface. It was a simple enough task to accomplish, and as the tech-priest did so, he could feel the rush of information flowing through his mind.

Though it was by no means a MIU unit, the systems aboard the shuttle for direct interface made it exceedingly easy to process what was going on. The cogitator arrays below hissed and whined as the servo-skulls, some twenty in total, waited for commands. They were perhaps the best probes one could hope for- lightly armed scouts with an excessively high acceleration capacity, small size, and a myriad of auspexes and other sensoria attached to a dedicated commbead. All he needed to do was give the order, and the racks would be emptied of their contents, the servo-skulls launching like rockets to the station's surface to probe and scout of their own volition- or his own, if he had a specific area to scan or search for.

The Station

The servo-skull drifted its gaze to the smattering of abandoned fortifications ahead. "The Command Throne...is located zero point three kilometers from this location. Data on possible defenses is non-current. Likelihood of fortification by rogue elements: Ninety six percent. Likelihood of primary entrances being barricaded: Eighty seven percent. Warning: Power is still routed towards the Command Throne. As such, most major systems and processes are still active, including defensive turrets in powered sections of the station, in addition to Lockdown status."

Looking down to the corridor, one of the strange servitors bounded over the fortifications, giving an electronic wail as it clamored into the black abyss, only the occasional chemical lamp providing illumination. The end of the corridor split off in two directions, going left or right respectively. Someone had marked the way to the left corridor with the internal fluids of a chemical lamp pack. The corridor to the right, however, had been sealed with a heavy station bulkhead.

Either way could be a lure to a trap- the bulkhead inviting them to go through the effort of creating a tiny entrance into a big trap, or the marked path leading them to any number of booby traps or killzones.

Then again, what could possibly be any riskier than sticking around a talking servo-skull?

[LCP]

Mechanical fingers flicking over the controls, Asclepius cross-checked, calibrated, programmed - pulling the hefty release switch, he dropped the probes into the void with a businesslike briskness.

"Half of them looking for lifesigns," he said, "half of them examining the superstructure." Asclepius turned back to the Ecclesiarch. "Best not to tax these things with overly complicated instructions."

Heading over to his void suit, he began to pull it on. "Time to join the lady captain, I think." The Explorator looked across at the pilot. "Take us in?"

[Last1]

Lady Izen looked at the captain, waiting to see if she had a preference, then shrugged. She didn't think the tech-priests were going to turn on them until AFTER they had done what was asked, and probably would help up to that point. She started after the strang servitor.

If she was wrong... Well, other people would regret her wrath. For a breif span of time, at least.

[Gunther]

The Shuttle

The servitor-drone piloting the shuttle gave an affirmative click as its half-organic half-mechanical brain sent its flimsy augmentic limbs spasming. Copper fingers danced along the cogitator keys as the entire shuttle sharply turned downward, the acceleration dragging on the men slightly backwards as the servo-skulls activated. Both racks lit up as empty sockets suddenly burst with shining lights, the racks descending into the bulky transport's lower hold and the drop chutes within. Hydraulics hissed as the score of machines screamed through the void, the drones visible as ivory spots as they drifted along the surface of the station.

Information came back swiftly. A score of different data feeds came to life before Asclepius, with Urim watching the different scenes as they were displayed along the data-slates mounted where each servo-skull had once resided.

From such close proximity to the probes, the interference from the station had a minimum effect on the information they collected- grainy picts of devastated corridors. One probe showed a cathedral to the Emperor, secreted away not too far from the Captain's position- which was detected by one of the thermal sensors of another probe. It was a massive affair, one easily capable of seating several thousand for a single sermon. With loudhailers strategically placed along the massive statues of the various Primarchs of the Emperor, it was the first site- and only one- to actually have living life in it.

All that the probe saw of the inhabitants was the emaciated form of a man in full carapace armor, the autogun in his hands the only thing the drone saw before a three-round burst of gunfire caused it to detonate. Checking his readings, the man must have had some form of thermal masking- the only heat source present was from his expert shooting. The image slowly faded on the data slate as the heat-source of the gunfire brought the attention of more servo-skull sensoria.

Ones that detected six additional heat sources closing in on the shrine, ones with a low enough signature as to only be...

Mechanical. Whoever it was that had just blown up his drone, they were going to have company soon.

With a quiet beep, the shuttle finally activated its retro-engines, the hull vibrating as the servitor-pilot paused its actions. From so close, the massive energy output of a stasis field could be detected near a breach in the station's surface. One of the probes, when diverted, revealed that the hole was where a maintenance hatchway to one of the corridors that- according to what could be discerned by the expanding schemata that the drones were creating- provided access to several elevatii.

[LCP]

“Looks like someone’s still alive in there,” said Asclepius, hands flicking over the controls. “Maybe not for long.”

Examining and absorbing the schemata being generated by the probes with inhuman speed, the Explorator began to fiddle with the dials of the shuttle’s controls, pulling a slim cylindrical tool from within his robes and running it over the communicator array. The screens flashed and buzzed, lights flickering in the hold as the Tech-Priest did his best to boost the power of the craft’s rudimentary transmitter.

“I think the lady captain would probably want to see this,” he said, deftly flicking the combi-tool back inside his robes. “Can’t have them wandering around the place blind. Omnissiah damn this interference.”

Tech-use test against 61 (-20 for interference, +10 for combi-tool): [roll0]

"And... sent!" he said, pushing himself back from the console with a triumphant movement. The screens crackled and flickered as the data they had just received began to beam itself down into the station below. "With any luck, they see what we see. Let's hope it does them some good, eh?"

Lowering the helmet of his void-suit into place, he returned to his seat, strapping himself in for landing. "I presume you know where the others went, eh, Urim?" crackled the tech-priest's voice over the comm-link. "Let's follow them in."

[Gunther]

The Shuttle: I hope you brought your spare britches.

As the transmission was sent, there was a sudden crackle across the cogitator array. Across the data slates along the rack, the image shifted slightly, distorting ever-so-faintly as the shuttle continued to decelerate downward. The sound of a building static charge was conjoined by what the Explorator recognized as the collision warning klaxon.

"++Error. Error.++"

The smooth, monotone voice sent up more warning alarms to Asclepius than the actual sirens and wailers going off. As he fastened his void helmet on, a brief glance to the servitors up front yielded sudden alarm. The other tech-priests onboard, the Reclaimators, were currently plugged into the cogitator banks of the shuttle, soaking in the information directly from the servo-skulls.

With the transmission of the feed, one by one the adepts were reacting. The first to show signs of something awry simply collapsed, as though a marionette that had his strings sliced. The second sign of something going awry was the pilot servitors.

The co-pilot servitor, the one in charge of maintaining the various electronica onboard, began to jerk rapidly. Its mechanical arms, rather than gracefully dancing over the keys the controlled the shuttle's subsystems, now began to pound at them. Brass buttons dented, crystal panels cracked, and all-too-suddenly Asclepius and Urim realized- in unison- what it was.

Both of them had seen the likes of this before. Urim in his travels and experiences with things most foul, and Asclepius from his massive internal archives of ailments and system plagues.

A data daemon had infiltrated the ship's cogitators, and even now was racing to overtake the shuttle. The most immediate option was to purge the shuttle's systems from the cogitator array, but as that thought occurred, the pilot servitor seemed to strangle the control stick of the shuttle, the entire vehicle lurching sideways. Doubtlessly, the creature had somehow used the transmission to find its way aboard. But how? Transmission required two elements, both a receiver and a-

Irrelevant thoughts wouldn't help here anyways. As the data slates for the servo-skulls drifted to static one-by-one, the view ports showed the shuttle accelerating past the captain's Valkyrie, heading towards a distant armored tower that was likely some sort of axillary command bridge for a portion of the station.

The Station
Down below, on the surface of the station, the vox officer of the honor guard gave a start. "Fresh information, captain!" He alerted over the microbead, "I'm getting a live feed from the probes deployed by the second shuttle. They're mapping the station even as I receive and...Emperor preserve us! It's a bloodbath, m'lady."

The vox officer put the hefty unit down onto the ground, twisting it to show the group of officers the images on the small screen. Corridor after corridor of broken, twisted metal and bloody corpses was visible. On one screen, a cafeteria was a wasted battleground filled with void-suited workers and decimated servitor remains. Elsewhere, a rolling pict-slide showed...them? Yes, the group of intrepid explorers were visible as some unseen observer watched them, before rounding the corner ahead. Around the corner to the left, a bulkhead was visible through some unseen drone's eyes, the plaque over the bulkhead marked as "Void Storage".

Evidently, the fortifications led to some manner of storage area. Sensible, from a tactical standpoint- plenty of supplies to keep oneself sustained for a long period of time, plus plenty of cargo crates to use for improvised cover.

[Gauntlet]

Urim's hand went straight to his incinerator as the infection began to take hold. Glancing at the view from the window, and at the confined space in which he stood, he lowered his hand again and checked his void suit. "I hope you can do something about this frakking insanity, Explorator. I'm not going to take any chances though, not after last time.
Urim activates his rebreather and reaches over to the shuttle's hatch with his left hand. With his right, he lifts Forgiveness off the floor.

"Ready to vent on your call."