Imperator Non Inridetur

[qechua]

"Here's hoping"

Akadia turned back towards the ragtag crew, a small shiver making it's way down her body despite the large coat.

"So, we have a plan. It isn't ideal, but given the circumstances, it's the best we're getting. We need you three"

she said, looking in the direction of the three Arbites

"to head back to the Arbites station, and brief whatever superiors you have to about this situation. We can't let them know where the threat is coming from, so you can't mention CED-7, and I'd advise against telling people who we are. Everything else is fair game, I'd advise you take credit for it as well. We'll only raise suspicion if fingers start pointing at us, and it should do your careers good as well. Get the Arbites ready to protect the civilians. Hopefully, this'll be a big false alarm, but you deserve to be ready if things go wrong. Meanwhile, you"

changing her view to look at Anna

"stay here and finish with your duties as if everything were normal. We don't want to tip our hand that we know about these not-so-dead individuals. You may be needed by the arbites for validating their story. Finally, you, "

turning at last to the large, feral hulk in the room

"you seem like you can both handle yourself and help us, so I'd like you to accompany us over to CED-7. I don't know what your intentions are, or to what end you are here, but you've been on our side up until now, and since you'll probably head over there anyway, we may as well work together. Any questions?"

[Vexing]

Spoiler: Mortuarium

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"As you command. It'll take a bit to get the laborers calmed down and prepared, but I'm sure Yosuun is up to the task. Convincing them we aren't going to conduct a raid may be harder." Henai, Key, and Kal salute (perhaps more ceremony than strictly warranted at the time) and make for the exit at double-time. Obedient servants of the Imperium, they're pleased to finally have a concrete plan of action. Anna, of course, manages to raise an objection: "Would you rather I not come with you? What will happen to me if I'm left here, if this is such a vast movement?" Eyes wide but rather drained by all the shocks in the past few minutes, she can't muster the energy to look truly horrified. "I can assist you, if none of you are medically trained?", she murmurs, scraping about for some way to escape waiting like a grox for an uncertain slaughter.

Spoiler: CED-7

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The crippled pile of flesh shudders, that damnable green eye seeming to bulge unnaturally in the socket with the movement. Perhaps it was. "I have always been called to do something great. I am destined; I have cheated certain death and evade every snare left by the unfaithful to catch at my heel. If I had only been wiser, when I first came to this place..." A little prompting soon rouses him from his tortured musing, albeit with a few more disapproving looks.

"I gathered my brothers and sisters in faith, whether priest or scribe, to this place so that we might better leverage our power. Here, they are far from corrupting influences, and can tend to the souls of our crusaders directly. We contact them first; slowly, they build support, or gather the information we require. When their usefulness is done, or compromised, I send my brethren to sweep them here." Shattered teeth momentarily reveal themselves as Hastus takes a struggling breath. "As for how...I am destined. My last mortal project proved divinely inspired, if begun for the wrong purposes. The Emperor's guiding hands are always at work."

"The Nephyis orchids on Iocanthos are similar to the Ghostfire flowers, enough that I foolishly believed I could solve the trouble of Ghostfire cultivation without having to use the rare flowers themselves. It was foolish, and I was prideful, but Master of Mankind showed me my task. Weeks before I suffered revelation, I discovered that the orchids can be rendered into a powerful soporific agent--so powerful that it slows the heart to the barest crawl. I tested on rats and found them able to survive, suspended between life and death, to wake with no ill effects. When I first established contact with Adept Serghar," a large man seated nearby nods in recognition, "he immediately grasped the holiness of my mission and entreated Anna to begin placing flowers with the spaced corpses in memory of me. A necessary deception. The first blooms were taken from the growing vats I had once toiled for faithless masters by brave souls, but soon we depended entirely upon the Mortuarium's supply. One orchid provides more of the necessary compound than can be easily used, but the Emperor rewards the cautious planner with courageous execution."

"The rest of my kindred without the chamber are laborers from outlying stations, sailors impressed by our devotion, and those whom the Goltos can spare. The Combine's local representative has been swayed by our righteousness and will assist us in taking the station with her men and two trading voidcraft, to free it from the yoke of the Adeptus Mechanicus. These will be our soldiers and brothers once we have purified the station."

"Irix...the Magos encouraged my projects always. How cruel fate is that he must be executed with all his brotherhood here. He is a good man, but too steeped in the dead thoughts of his Martian masters and their heretical dogma. I have always suspected--and it is true! The red priests worship the Omnissiah as the Emperor's equal! Deluded or no, they must be wiped from these stations for both their ill treatment of His servants and for their blasphemous, idolatrous conduct. As for these plants, I know of no strange variety. The Magos creates food to sustain the stations, though his spiritual failings have made him lax in his duty."

"When I was merely mortal and unaware of my greater role, I indulged in my passions too deeply." The clawing hand twisted to gesture to himself, voice breaking in mixed rapture and anguish over his mistakes. "For these the Emperor smashed my body but left my mind intact. The tunnel I used to slip from my sleeping quarters and fetch Anna for our trysts, as with Fenria and Praetia. My affections could not be confined, and I soiled my body with idleness and sin. The servitors would not stop me so long as I bore my accessor, now lost, nor any with me; they are simple vat models. I chose their storing place as my exit so that any noise or activity could be blamed on forgetful machine spirits."

"As to how I have accomplished all my works? How our chosen evade servitors and the watchful eye of the Mechanicus?" The faint dribble of bloody fluid from his eye and under the welter of flesh where his other would be signal his weeping, overcome with the throes of some great emotion. "The Emperor has chosen me. He speaks to me directly; he guides me and I will never fail. I survived the spacing and woke to the living through his forgiveness; I remained hidden and strong enough to escape the stations through his mercy; I orchestrate this holy rebellion through his wrath. Our faith in him is such that our loyalty alone banishes the servitors, and the paths and hours he whispers to me are watched by no man. I know the joy of Saint Drusus, to be embraced by divinity! How else could all this have been achieved?"

"He did not tell me of your coming, but you must have felt his call all the same. Your presence is yet more proof of our right!" All of this was sifted out of an eternity of thrashing, coughing, groaning and burbling; the bodily warping and grotesque injuries caused by his near-spacing have left him physically destroyed. Between the phlegm and spittle, however, the words of a firebrand sear into the candlelit air. It no longer seems unlikely that one man has organized a revolt as he finishes his explanation-turned-speech to murmured prayer, praise from his assistants and fellow adepts.

How, indeed? Is Hastus vel Doren a madman or an embodied saint?

[LeSwordfish]

"The Combine's local representative has been swayed by our righteousness and will assist us in taking the station with her men and two trading voidcraft, to free it from the yoke of the Adeptus Mechanicus."

That, Annie made a note of. Asking would be suspicious, but it sounded like something the arbites would need to know.

"The Magos creates food to sustain the stations, though his spiritual failings have made him lax in his duty."

"Spiritual failings, lax in his duty." Annie repeated, thoughtfully. "Can you go over that? Lax 'ow? These spiritual failings any different than the worship thing?"

"For these the Emperor smashed my body but left my mind intact...I soiled my body with idleness and sin."

"That's how you ended up like this?" Annie said, with a vague gesture in the direction of Hastus as a whole. "How'd this... smashing... happen?"

---

As Hastus ended his speech, Annie found herself checking the weights of her pistols. They were still there, comforting and heavy. What she had to say next, Hastus wasn't going to like, and she only really knew one way to deal with that. Her eyes flicked from one to other of Hastus's retainers, eying them up carefully.

OOC

Spoiler

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Alright, so as well as the answers to Annie's follow-up questions, I've got some OOC questions. Annie is basically making a combat plan here.

• Exactly how many adepts are in this room?
• You mentioned that Serghar was a big man- what about the others? Reedy, weedy, muscled? Do any look like fighters?
• Are any of them- or Hastus - armed or armoured (That Annie can see).
• Hastus was within handshake distance- has he moved away?

Ideally, a sketch map or something would be great, but I get if you don't want to do all of that. Here's a roll, in case you need it, probably related to Perception 34: (1d100)[58]

[qechua]

Akadia tipped her head slightly and gave a gentle nod to the departing Arbites, a small sign of respect she'd been taught for when dealing with militaries and bodyguards. Straightening up again, she turned answered the young priest.

"If you want to come with us, you can, but bear in mind that it'll most likely be more dangerous over there than here. We can't guarantee your safety, and by coming with us you'll probably be find yourself tarred with whatever brush is reserved for us, better or worse. I've given my recommendation, but this is your decision, and I won't make it for you. Think very carefully about what you want to do."

Another small shiver tried to rack Akadia's spine, hidden under her coat. The cold had done a good job numbing the facial injury, but was beginning to make her breathing slightly painful. She couldn't wait to actually get moving again, if only away from this room.

[runestone]

Gaius calls out to the arbitrators as they leave. "If you hear anyone say 'It's been nine years since I've docked at Port Suffering', you'll know they came from us. If you hear nothing from us within the next cycle, assume that we have died in the service of Terra and act accordingly. The Emperor protects."

Then he turns to Anna. "Sister Trager, you can do the Emperor's work here, or you can join us if you feel called to do so. Spend a moment in prayer and reflection, and let the Emperor guide your path."

Spoiler: OoC

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I know it's a pretty bad idea to reuse a code phrase like that. But Gaius is inexperienced and not particularly bright, so I'm pretty sure that's the best he would be able to come up with.

[Vexing]

Spoiler: Mortuarium/Platform Secundus

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"You honour me. I only hope that my service to you will be repayment for your friend's death. I promised to aid him and he fell; on Iocanthos, my debt would pass to his clansmen or his warband, and I will serve the Inquisition faithfully." The next few minutes for Anna are quickly spent in preparation, as she gathers up the essentials for her duties. A medikit, a gruesome array of operating tools, many syringes and accompanying bottles, and finally a gleaming diagnosticator are carefully slotted into a traveling satchel before she stands ready. Only the briefest of prayers are uttered as she appeals to the Emperor to guide her steps, and those of his most loyal servants (she mentions Gaius and Akadia by name). As the group makes for the door, the gentle wheeze of the servo-skull grows louder as it labors through the air in pursuit of Novice Trager, settling only a few inches behind her right shoulder as she walks.

Pale and still somewhat shaky, she finds composure enough to be embarrassed about the attendant familiar. "I apologize. The thing is eccentric, but helpful. He certainly wouldn't be loud enough to give us away, should you need silence." An errant fluctuation in the skull's grav-impeller gives the impression of its nodding in assent, bobbing in air jauntily as it rights itself.

Exiting the Mortuarium's chill seems to breathe new life into Anna, and the substantially warmer atmosphere of the stations oozes and enfolds the Cell as the great rockcrete doors slide shut behind them. The sentinel servitor by its shrine watches impassively, unmoving and uncaring as the foursome wander out into the warren of Platform Secundus.

Spoiler: CED-7

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"His failings were those engendered to him by his order. The Magos' interest is beyond the knit fabric of the Imperium and its servants; he cares not for the health and morale of our labor so long as it is done, and his studies proceed uninterrupted. Quiet and meticulous. A brilliant man, misguided and lost. Would that our cause did not require his destruction." Hastus sputters something that might be a sigh, if one were kind. "So it...is."

When Annie poses the question of his miraculous survival, however, the talkative invalid goes relatively quiet for a long time before shuddering back to animation. "I...I recall speaking to the workers one day, so long ago. Irix bade me leave the workshop and walk to reinvigorate my faculties. I was overcome with the Emperor's fury and stoked that fire in the underlings. Rising as one, the crowd left their tasks and demanded better food and wages of the Skiitari enforcers that arrived." His lips curl, brow contorting in pained recollection. "An adept was to arrive to discuss the matter with us...and...and...then all was roaring and wind and darkness. I remember laborer and Adeptus alike being torn from the ground by the force before losing myself. I woke in an unused passage of warped steel plates--I had been saved by the divine intervention of the Emperor Himself! My body was shattered and my heart weak, but He spoke to me in those feeble hours. I followed His word, crawled the ways He ordered me, and found myself in the care of Adept Serghar at the Mortuarium. He and I arranged for my transport away, once I discovered I was," he sputters, "dead. Dead I remained useful, and the Emperor began to instruct me in his plan..."

The rest continues in much the same vein as before, flowery words eking their way past tortured lips and bent teeth to reiterate Hastus' divinely mandated role. Nothing important enough to draw Annie's attention for long from her task. Counting Serghar, there are five other adepts in the room. None look to be fighters in even the broadest of senses; even Serghar is non-threatening, large in frame by birth rather than any sort of regimen or combat training. A group of scribes, tally-keepers and administrators, these. The closest of them is eight meters or more from Hastus and his pile of rags, and all sit cross-legged in their various places.

To the ganger's eyes, none of them seem armed. And Hastus is within arms reach, perhaps unable to move far under his own volition without causing undue strain.

[LeSwordfish]

Annie took a deep breath. This wasn't going to be a fun conversation to have, and she checked her weapons again before speaking.

"I want you to call off the revolution. Fer a few days, at least."

"If you go to war now, you'll be slaughtered. The emperor will protect you as best he can... but what happened to the people with you when you got crunched? The skitarri have mechanical hounds, they have bloody great shotguns, they have armour an' bionics an' plasma weapons. You're on a spaceship. They've got control of everything around you. If they want to blast you right out into space, they just get to. You have faith, and fury, an' you made guns... but if you go on your crusade now, every single one of you will die. Idealistic kids like Lars, great tough bastards like Fenria... them that don't get killed straight up will be skinned alive and rolled in chems. You cannot win this."

"But I can. You give me the time I need to find out whats going on here, an' I can end this in the emperor's name without any true servant having to die. You wanted the emperor to give you somethin' to take out the mechanicus here... reckon that's me. An' my friends."

"You're gonna have to do what I say. And get the others to do that too. An if I can't solve this afore it comes to fightin... you'll see me on the front lines."

OOC

Spoiler

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You better believe i'm making a Charm test. (1d100)[35] vs 41

Fate re-roll (1d100)[57]

[qechua]

The comparative warmth of the 'outside' quickly permeated around Akadia, quickly dispelling the chills that had set in. She took a moment to breathe the more comfortable air, before turning to more important matters.

"First things first, we need transport. If CED-7 is abandoned, there won't be any shuttle flight. Unless anyone has a better idea, I'd say we ask Jerrid for a ride. We can have him stick around as an exit strategy as well. Gaius, can you do the honours?"

[runestone]

Gaius attempts to suppress a shudder when Akadia mentions the ship; he had almost forgotten about the unnatural emptiness surrounding them out here. Eventually, he nods and taps his micro bead "Captain Swoln? This is Gaius Eckman. We have a pressing need for transportation from Platform Trifectus. Please bring your ship to the docks quickly but discretely. The Emperor protects."

[Vexing]

Spoiler: Platform Secundus, Shuttle Bay

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The faint crackle of an open line echoes in Gaius' ear for several painful seconds before the faint reply comes in It wheedles and keens like the cry of a mosquito...or perhaps an over-burdened water pipe. "Tarnly here. I'll tell Captain Swoln--you're coming in pretty faint. Where are you lot to be taken aboard?" Doubtless one of the dissolute crewmen attending the jittery butterball of a captain; without beating around the bush, she quickly ascertains the Cell's location ("Seck-oon-dis? Worth a try. There in a split hour, quiet") and closes the line.

The minutes tick by slowly as the four make their way to the Secundus shuttle docks. Though the platform is quiet and the lumens low for the station's night cycle, it's difficult not to imagine lurking Skiitari and mobs of cultists waiting to swoop in. But when the group finally reaches the docking bay, those fears resolve into a startling sight: a red-robed figure stands to the left of the main pressure hatch, mechadendrites picking gently at an aged console jutting from the wall. Even from across the chamber the irregular clanking and wheezing of the adept can be heard; its profile is hunched by what must be primitive implants or inferior augmetics, and faint spots of coolant dot the floor nearby. Aside from a trio of maintenance servitors performing loading duties near the entrance to the hab-blocks, it's only the Tech-Priest and the cell.

Spoiler: OOC

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Gaius will certainly recognize the priest as the same from Weyland's Gate; his peculiar posture and rusted appendages give him away. Much less intimidating without a Skiitari squad to accompany him.

Spoiler: CED-7

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The outcry from the adepts is immediate and deafening, the fragile silence shattered under their protests. More than a few rise from their places and gesticulate furiously, incensed:

"Unthinkable!"

"Freedom cannot be delayed!"

Nothing meaningful emerges from the impassioned zealotry (and choice invective), but the situation is salvaged by Hastus' untimely coughing fit. By the time the shuddering mass manages to begin breathing again, quiet once more reigns. His own response can be barely detected in the aftermath of all the argument. "Your conviction...is compelling. I expect nothing less from the Emperor's...Left Hand. But your reasoning is flawed."

"How would you do this service, for us? I have forged an army for the Emperor at his direct instruction; how will you and yours change what hundreds of injustices and scores of deaths would not?" There doesn't seem to be any malice in his voice, and that alone calms his attendants. "The longer we delay, the more suffering continues to spread."

[LeSwordfish]

"How many are going to suffer an' die in this rebellion?" Annie asked quietly. "Three days, Prophet. That's all i'm asking for. Even if your revolution goes all shiny, folks'll die. Good emperor-fearin men an' women. How many more'll die fighting than'll suffer for three days more? What sufferin's happenin' now that'll justify your followers bleeding to death as the mechanicus step over their bodies? An' that's if you win, an' I aint even sure you'll win. I'm a metallican, right, i know me guns... those ones out there'll kill their owners s'much's their targets."

[runestone]

Gaius slows down when he recognizes the tech priest. "That's him! That's the treasonous cogger from the square! He's the one who defied the imperial authority and threatened to open fire on the arbitrators." His face darkens as he tries to figure out what the tech priest could be doing here. "The Emperor will punish him for his sins; it's his fault that so many people died today."

Spoiler: Mechanics

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Awareness target 30 (perception 40, fatigued) (1d100)[77]

[qechua]

"Assuming you're right, he will face his judgement, but not now. We confront him and we risk loosing our window, maybe even our lives. Much as I don't want to let him walk, he can wait, CED-7 can't."

[runestone]

"Don't worry, I wasn't planning on pushing him out an airlock here and now. I just don't trust him, and I would much rather that he didn't see us leave, but that probably can't be helped."

[Vexing]

Spoiler: Platform Secundus, Shuttle Bay

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As Gaius and Akadia (with Trager and her servo-skull in tow) approach the door, nothing seems to be out of the ordinary to their suspicious eyes; even when their footsteps begin to ring across the worn deck-plating, the Tech-Priest continues its picking and prodding at the console with single-minded focus. It's only when they draw within a few metres that the hunchback acknowledges their presence, the grasping pincers of its mechadendrites stilling their hunt-and-peck over the console keypad.

A scratchy, rusty, ratcheting sound, and then: "There will be no more shuttles until the morning cycle. Move along." More coolant leaks from under its shadowed hood, staining the red of the Priesthood. Trager looks fearfully to the two of you for confirmation or instruction.

Spoiler: CED-7

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"What we lack in firepower will be made up for by faith and flesh. The God-Emperor is proof against the fire of the las and the bite of the bullet", Hastus burbles. The statement, however, may have been more for the benefit of the surrounding adepts. "...Your authority is the Throne's. We will wait--for now--for you and your fellows to do His work." Another pause stretches into a long silence as the ruin of Hastus' body shifts underneath the bedding, breathing painfully laboured. "Know this: when I hear the Emperor call for action, I will act. He speaks to me. I cannot delay if His voice should sound in my ear or stir me from my dreams."

An ugly cough cuts his warning short, and one of the attendant adepts carefully approaches with a fairly sophisticated looking medical hypo. He roots about under the bedding before applying it, and Hastus pained quivering stills somewhat as the man withdraws. "Do you...require anything in our power to give?", the broken prophet mumbles.

[runestone]

Gaius sneers at the monstrosity "I'll wait here till morning rather than take orders from you, traitor. You slipped away earlier, but no one escapes Imperial retribution forever: The Adeptus Arbites are sending a ship, and I'm sure they will be very interested in questioning you when they arrive."

Spoiler: OoC

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I'm guessing this calls for a roll. Not sure which one, though: (1d100)[54] (Fel 39, fatigued, probably untrained)

If it wasn't clear, Gaius is trying to scare him away so they can embark in privacy. I'm hoping that the fact that a strange ship is about to dock will lend credibility to the story.

[Vexing]

Spoiler: Platform Secundus, Shuttle Bay

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"Pe-culiar", the 'monstrosity' responds, voice hitching as a spurt of coolant slaps wetly against the floor. "I maintained the order of the stations, priestling. Your accusation is illogical, ill-formed." Turning his squat body to face the trio with some effort, the Tech-Priest breathes heavily through rusted lung-replacements as he awaits the response. In the distance, at the far side of the shuttle bay, the faint thumping and scraping of servitors moving heavy loads goes suspiciously quiet...

Even as Trager pulls closer to the two Acolytes out of fear, the microbead in Gaius' ear crackles at a low volume: "Comin' in low and slow. A minute at most; we picked up access codes from an Arbite comm. How many passengers we expectin'?"

Spoiler: OOC

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Gaius notes that as the Priest has turned, he's made a point to shift slightly out of the way of your group. The presence of an unfamiliar shuttle craft seems to have made the scrap-Priest incredibly nervous, if the increasing noise of artificial air intakes and the resurgence of coolant leaks are any sign.