"LIRA. She's rather dangerous, so we're shutting her down before we go any further with our investigation. Two more switches to flip, so to speak. Appreciate the ride, though." Hieronymus wasn't about to give Rhodes more than he needed to.
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"LIRA. She's rather dangerous, so we're shutting her down before we go any further with our investigation. Two more switches to flip, so to speak. Appreciate the ride, though." Hieronymus wasn't about to give Rhodes more than he needed to.
"Switches?" enquired Rhodes' daughter. "What kind of switches?"
"Same sort our friend threw here." Hieronymus pointed at the switch Jericus had used to make all the lights come back on. "We're in a bit of a hurry though, and I suspect there will be owls or other things incoming very shortly. We ought to get moving."
Red blanched upon looking at Jessel's slapdash modifications to the lectern. He was hesitant to trust his life to such a radically changed machine, especially when it wasn't a modification wrought by a Mechanicus.
"Well, Mister Jessel, if you always leave a trail like this when messing around with technology, I think I can see why our friend with the plasma gun was intent on shooting you. They like things orderly, y'know. Is this thing still even safe?"
The last question was directed at Jericus. There was no way he was stepping on such a lectern without the Electro-priests's okay.
Jericus strode, bristling with pride and contempt in equal measure, to inspect the obviously heretical modifications that incompetent heretek despoiler Jessel had made.
"So... Where did you study the works of the Holy Omnissiah, Brother?"
Common Lore (Tech) 55 to identify the modifications
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Common Lore (Mechanicus) 35 to identify any potential mechanicus "off-shoots" where Jessel may have learnt his trade.
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I knew it couldn't last.
"The Galen Conservatory," said Jessel, quickly. The man's voice had an annoyingly nasal quality. "On Ferrocene."
Jericus had not even heard of the planet, let alone the school. Stooping to examine the modifications, he saw that they were not complicated: the link to the central Library transmitter and receiver had simply been cut, the connections looped back upon themselves. If LIRA transmitted an override instruction, it would simply feed straight back to her.
Jericus turned to Red and grudging gave his endorsement of the the modifications.
"It's an unholy lash-up, quite literally, but it'll do the job until we can consecrate something properly."
"Good. Which direction are you heading, Mr. Rhodes?" Hieronymus moved carefully over to the grav lecturn, tapping the rune that he remembered powered the device up. "I'd like to get moving."
Fishing in his pocket, Rhodes produced a small, gilt-cased compass on a chain.
"North-east, I believe," he said, calmly. Looking round, he nodded to the sergeant. "Summerson, take the helm, would you? And tell the men to gather up our things." He glanced up at the gantries overhead. "I think we may have overstayed our welcome."
Following the nobleman's eyes, the Acolytes saw an increasing number of owls gathering on the upper railings, perfectly illuminated now by the restored lighting. Jericus remembered from somewhere that the collective noun for a group of owls was a 'parliament', but right now 'army' was seeming more appropriate...
"Mister Bosc." Red said tersely as Heironymus stepped up to the lectern's controls. "One member of this party is Mechanicus. A second is a skilled pilot. You are neither and will immediately step away from the controls."
"These things aren't hard to fly." Hieronymus shrugged and let Summerson take the controls as Rhodes had requested. "Hope you're not heading too far North-East, Mr. Rhodes. We need to go East. I'd rather the library servitors were left to their own devices rather than stuck under LIRA's control when we move on her."
Mindful of the owls, he tried not to speak too loudly.
Red glared directly at the provost and gripped his own right arm in a meaningful manner, suggesting that the difficulty (or lack thereof) in piloting the vehicle was the last of his concerns.
"So, Segreant," Red added awkwardly, "I assume you served before signing up with Rhodes here? Mind if I ask who with?"
“Got a way to shut down the servitors, have you?” asked Rhodes, seeming intrigued. “Hm. Could be very useful.” He absent-mindedly patted Heironymous on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, old boy, we’re not going far.”
Stepping up onto the grav-lectern, he made way for the others: Summerson’s men boarded, slinging heavy packs that the nobleman’s retinue had apparently been carrying with them over their shoulders. The red-uniformed men formed something of a screen between the Rhodeses and their new-found common-born company as the Acolytes boarded, although they tried to be discreet about it: they looked rather uncomfortable as Katyra stepped aboard the crowded lectern, although they clearly had no idea why.
“Yyyyyep,” said Summerson, not taking his eyes off the controls. Seeming to feel that nothing more need to be said, he began to power up their conveyance, the lectern sparking alarmingly and rising a foot or so off the ground as its repulsors activated…Quote:
"So, Sergeant," Red added awkwardly, "I assume you served before signing up with Rhodes here? Mind if I ask who with?"
"That's what we think too." Hieronymus adjusted his position on the lectern to be as far from Katyra as possible. "What is it you need to do, anyways?"
"Why does anyone come to a library?" replied Rhodes, as the grav-lectern started smoothly forwards. "To find a book."
"And so you needed to know the location of a specific book, then?" The provost wondered how much he could get out of Rhodes. The man would probably avoid saying anything directly incriminating, but they'd be with him and he didn't know who they were. They could always remember the location and look up what was kept there later.
"And so you came all the way to this specific vault? That's odd. How did you get the authorization code?" Red asked, trying to lead Rhodes to incriminating Jessel on his own, rather than going off the late Bromhead's information.
Since Rhodes was supposedly looking into his personal lineage, he might let slip some sort of connection with Genestealers, as well. The best lies, after all, had a hint of truth to them.
"One might ask the same question of you, Mr Red. The starship Byzantium - one can't exactly see why that would be proscribed, now."
Rhodes looked sideways at Red.
"As I said, it's family business. Confidential. You understand."
"Command sent word ahead." Red responded easily. "Byzantium records were accessed, making the vault of interest." The soldier surpressed a smug grin. Didn't even have to lie.
"Really?" said Rhodes, with a genuine air of curiosity. "Well, that is interesting."
If he had any more to say, he wasn't saying it. Gliding out through the gates of the manual control chamber, the grav-lectern passed silently into the next great canyon of bookshelves - lit up once more, although the characteristic gloom of the Vault remained in the long shadows cast by the shelving.
"You never know why some records might be proscribed. Things happen to ships sometimes, and people never hear of them again. But they keep everything here. All the records, all the work of all the writers in the sector." Hieronymus didn't bother suppressing his own grim smile. "I can't imagine what the administratum will think when they hear about all the books our good friend with the plasma gun shot up."
“Quite so,” murmured Rhodes. His attention seemed to have wandered from the Acolytes’ words: his eyes were scanning the shelves, occasionally flicking back to the data-slate in his hands.
After five minutes or so of the grav-lectern’s silent glide, the nobleman held up a hand to Summerson – the sergeant brought their transport to a smooth stop, looking round at his employer for further orders.
“Up, please,” said Rhodes, looking down at the slate. “Third level.”
The sergeant pressed a button, and the lectern began to rise. Coming smoothly to a halt next to the third-level balcony around the shelf on their right, it hovered obediently in place: there were some sounds of sparking from the base of the adulterated control column, which quickly gave place to silence and a smell of hot metal.
Bending down, Jessel inspected his handiwork.
“Ha!” he said, a reedy, snorting laugh. “Transmitter’s melted.” He looked up at the shelves, where high above, owls were already watching them. “Stupid thing doesn’t understand it’s not connected up any more.”
“Good work,” said Rhodes, quietly. Stepping off the floating platform onto the balcony, he unslung his great gun, motioning for his retinue to follow. “Sergeant, if you could dispose of our unwanted company.”
With a rather unpleasant grin, Summerson nodded to his men: raising their lasguns to their shoulders, they took aim and fired, three owls toppling from their perches in smoking bundles of feathers.
“We won’t be gone long,” said Rhodes, consulting his data-slate one more time before turning to the Acolytes. “I don’t suppose you fellows would mind guarding the lectern for us while we search?”
"Be my pleasure." Heironymus scanned the shelves for more owls, wearing an unpleasant grin of his own. His shotgun wouldn't do much at the longer ranges, but the others were good shots, and he could always give that 'borrowed' lasgun a go if all else failed.
He'd really need to figure out how to use that thing sooner or later.
"If we could borrow a rifleman or two, We'd be more than happy to stay behind." Red commented easily. He still didn't trust Rhodes and his retinue enough to let them wander on their own. "If you need the gunman, I'm more than happy to exchange one of my soldiers, myself included. After all, the whole point in working together is to actually work together, no?" He continued as a way of covering his tracks.
Regardless of Rhodes or Summerson's reply, the Guytogan stepped off the floating platform. There was no way he was going to trust the machine to hold this high up for an extended time.
Rhodes gave a closed-mouthed smile.
"Kind of you to offer, but this is private business. Rivals back on Cantus who might try to get you to spill the beans, don't you know." He patted Red on the shoulder. "Wouldn't want to put you in that position, old boy. The sergeant and his men will come with me to keep guard for owls, and you just wait here with the transport, eh? Then we'll be more than happy to help you sort out these... technical problems."
Closing his eyes once more, Ignace sent his senses question outwards.
Spoiler[roll0] vs 33 Psyniscience
Ignace Only
SpoilerAround him, the cold shadows of the other Acolytes and Rhodes' men were empty and dark - his senses feeling their way outwards, they seized upon a single spark that flickered amidst the blunts.
Rhodes' daughter glowed like a holo-pict in his second sight. A psyker - perhaps not as powerful as himself, but no mean wyrdling either...
Perhaps sensing Red's apprehension about the floating platform, Hieronymus took the controls long enough to set it down on the walkway the party had disembarked to. Stepping off once it was down, he nodded to Rhodes. "Find what you need, Mr. Rhodes. But I would appreciate an estimate of how long you expect to be, so we know when to come looking for you."
Tapping Red on the shoulder, Ignace leaned in to whisper to the man. "The girl is a Psyker. Make of that what you will."
“Not too long, dear fellow, not too long!” called back Rhodes, turning to head into the shelves with his daughter and Jessel in tow. “This will all be done very shortly, I’m sure.”
Muttering something to his men, Summerson took the pack from one of them, opening it and looking inside: removing something small from the interior, he tossed the rucksack back to the Acolytes.
“Here, look after this!” he called back, before turning on his heel and running after his master, his men following...