41K RPG : Into the Eye.

[Pcm979]

"Wonderfully!" Enthused the little droid, floating ahead of the Iron Man. "At 08:00 hours Ophilian standard, the microchips embedded in their heads will compel them to suicide. If that fails, the mass drivers are standing by in the asteroid belt. I also have some swampland in Florida to sell you."

Florida had not existed for some millenia, but Byron was an extremely odd one.

[The Necrontyr Messenger]

“They built over Florida you know,â€Â

[Pcm979]

"My records get a little fuzzy after the late 27th century." Byron explained, hovering in front of a door. "But I'm reliably informed there are alligator-equivelants on Prassius Minor. Nice little spot, before the Tyranids hit it. Not so picturesque anymore." He tapped on the door with a tiny manipulator, and it swung open slowly. Pater stood within, inspecting a recent delivery; A large, coffin-sized container, standing upright and connected to a series of cogitator banks. He looked up.

"Show him in, Byron. I am sure you remember Magos Xyng." He addessed the Iron Man, as Gyllia connected a mess of cables to the device.

[The Necrontyr Messenger]

“Magos,â€Â

[Pcm979]

Gyllia nodded. Obviously fifty years had hardened her somewhat to the miracles of high technology. "Likewise, as long as do not threaten to throw me from a building this time." She smiled slightly; The last 'he' had seen her, her face had been a mess of augmetics. Now she looked almost normal.

"You may indeed ask." Pater said to the Iron Man. "However, I have always preferred actions to words." He gestured to Gyllia, who tapped something into one of the cogitators. The box unfurled, a complex array of scanners and mechadendrites extending around the Inquisitor and beginning a scan.

"What brings you here, Man of Iron?" Pater inquired, unfazed by the lights playing across his face.

[The Necrontyr Messenger]

“The windows here are of insufficient size for defenestrating you, so I shall have to make do without that today,â€Â

[Pcm979]

"Our lives often are." Pater noted as a mechadendrite fixed onto his faceplate and pulled it free with a sucking noise, revealing his skull and empty eye socket. A scanner played about that, too, and slid his faceplate back on, the long optical interface spike sliding into his socket like a sword into a sheath.

"Tell me," he said as a vice clamped around his neck and plunged a needle into his spinal cord, "why was this message so important as to require you to deliver it?"

[The Necrontyr Messenger]

“Quite true,â€Â

[Pcm979]

"Indeed." Pater replied, filing away the fact that the Men of Iron now had effective control of the facility. Dangerous, Lena.

Another Mechadendrite snapped his mechanical hand off and plunged a long spike into the socket there, clamping down on the plug and twisting.

"I expect you shall have many opportunities to kill before our time here is up. The last time we were on the same planet, the subsector burned."

[The Necrontyr Messenger]

"I should hope so," the Iron Man said simply, and watched the Inquisitor continue interfacing himself with the object. He stepped over to look at the cogitator over Gyllia's shoulder.

[Pcm979]

Unfortunately for the Iron Man, the Cogitator had no screen or keyboard, instead interfacing via mechadendrite. Nonetheless, it would be obvious to the being that the machine was custom-built, and of a quality and pattern long lost to the Imperium. As if the other signs were not enough, this was proof that Novum had embraced the Adraxian technology wholeheartedly.

With an abrupt grinding noise, the machine refolded into it's compact form. Pater rolled his neck with a distinct popping sound and flexed his mechanical arm, seeming satisfied.

"Thank you for the notice. If you were instructed to, you may inform the Saint that I will be at the War Room shortly." Pater said formally. "Emperor be with you, whether you believe in Him or not."

[The Necrontyr Messenger]

"Done," the machine said confidently, and departed the room to speak with the next Inquisitor on his list, one Prius Rastini, who was assigned next door...

[Cynical Cat]

"Doubts?" said Jolan. "About serving the God-Emperor? Not since the Black Ships. About which path to take? No. Acquire data, analyze it in context, make a decision. I have been fighting a shadow war against a senior inquisitor for decades and its finally over and I am so very tired of fighting against members of my order. And here, among those with whom I share the direst of secrets, there is no comradery. We are the Emperor's servants. We do his will. It should be our concern. Now I have to be worried about what Pater and what he will read into my actions. Another dance of shadows. Maybe Vonrilyental should have summoned Maladar in my place." He paused. "Forget the last. I know why he didn't."

[Josh]

"I do not have cameraderie," he said simply. "You know that. What I can promise you is dedication to the mission at hand. If the matter between you and Pater needs correction, it will be corrected."

He was silent for a moment. "You are a gregarious man at heart, Jolan. You have been made into an instrument of the Emperor, and you have served well. But the isolation does not suit you. Find the solution to this before you break."

[Cynical Cat]

"Hah, friends I still have. Killing other inquisitors does not suite me, but I have done it. I'm just tired of doing it. I would like my next batch of enemies not to be sworn servants of the Emperor that have strayed. A transfer back into Malleus may suit me better, but there is still work to be done. The Emperor has not rested in ten thousand years. I think I should be able to manage a few more."

[Josh]

He let the rejection of his advice roll away. Gix was his own man, blind as he may be to his essential failing. It would break him, sooner or later, his heart would give out.

"Tell me of this war you've been having," he said. Whatever human needs Gix had, he would have to seek his relief elsewhere for those.

[Cynical Cat]

"It's over with and done. Inquisitors doing more damage than good in pursuit of distorted goals with excessive methods. They even used the minions of chaos as agents and were used by them as well. The last of them is gone, with the exception of the PsyKing. He I will take great pleasure in burning down, body and soul."

[Josh]

"If I should happen to be in the vicinity when you locate him..." he said, leaving it unfinished but entirely obvious.

Another unsettled bit of business in need of closing.

[Cynical Cat]

"When I catch up with him, I'm going to hit him with the biggest possible hammer I can get. If that includes Prius Ristani, so be it. At least I sent his master screaming to the warp."

[Josh]

His lips quirked in a small smile, as he bowed in acceptance of the compliment. "Now, is this more in line with the cameraderie you seek? Are you reassured of our common cause?"

[Cynical Cat]

"My concerns are purely with Pater's evident distrust. We're going to be working together and having him spending a lot of his energy watching me instead of the enemy isn't productive. Especially if he starts making any of my people jumpy."

[Josh]

He disliked having to repeat himself. But for the third time: "I will resolve this matter," he said.

[Cynical Cat]

"I trust you will. I did hear you the first time. Well, I'll be off." He turned to leave.

[Josh]

And just as he turned, the door buzzed, as Marvin politely signaled his arrival.

[Bratty]

A solo mission.

The other Inquisitors more than likely had moved on to other things after the jarring of the flight. She had gotten off with Prius, and not returned. Was she dead? Did she flee at the sight of the unknown attacking? Did she get distracted with the shiney objects of technology magicks? Was she captured by the unseen enemy who rocked the Saint's ship?

None of these.

Once the danger was handled, she received the order for solo mission. So she dissapeared into the strange atmosphere of this world.

She had creeped up to the fortress with its high buttresses, huge walls, and daunting presence. She had to admit to herself that these aliens get a bit grandiouse in their designs. It is like they announce their presence and taunt others to seek their destruction. Others like her...

No one. Deserted. Not a single person moved in or out of the place. After she was sure of that fact, without a doubt in her mind, she activated the vox. Click, click, clack. Clack, Click. She tapped out the signal. "No one 'home'. Im going in."