Suffer The Little Children [Dark Heresy] - IC

[LCP]

Jericus

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

[Etcetera]

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

[LCP]

Jericus & Olympus

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

[Saldre]

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

"How about we take it with us?"

[LCP]

Olympus

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

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

• Open Controls Menu.
• Power Down Dataslate.

Thought for the day: Be Strong In Your Ignorance.

[Etcetera]

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

[LCP]

Olympus & Jericus

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

[Etcetera]

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

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

[Saldre]

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

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

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

[Etcetera]

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

Edit: Reposted birth records for convenience.

[Thanatos 51-50]

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

[LCP]

Red

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

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

[Thanatos 51-50]

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

And duties resumed.

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

[Etcetera]

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

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

[Destro_Yersul]

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

LCP Only

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

[Saldre]

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

He follows Hieronymus to the hatch.

[senrath]

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

[LCP]

Cargo Hold

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

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

Heironymous Only

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

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

[hr]

Jericus

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

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

[Etcetera]

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

[LCP]

Jericus

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

[Etcetera]

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

[LCP]

Jericus

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

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

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

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

[Etcetera]

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

[Destro_Yersul]

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

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

LCP Only:

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

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

[LCP]

Jericus

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

[hr]

Heironymous Only

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

[Saldre]

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

[Destro_Yersul]

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

LCP Only:

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

[LCP]

Heironymous, Phrenz & Olympus

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

[Saldre]

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

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

"Where in the world IS Mister Jerricus?"

[Etcetera]

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