Shortly, the three Acolytes are at the spaceport. Moth's shuttle is a standard Imperial civilian class from the Albion, and with a blast of it's landing jets it settles onto the tarmac of the spaceport. the shuttle lands at the side of the spaceport in a discrete part where it can't be easilly observed, and with a hiss of hydraulics the ramp drops to allow Moth in her power armor to step from it. She smiles pleasantly to the assembled Acolytes. "Well, as near as I can tell so far, you've done quite well," she says. "What has happened since Havelock reported?"
Spike bows politely to the Inquisitor, then looks to Havelock to reply.
"The conspiracy is broken," Havelock answers. "However we still have a xenos issue. It would appear that the two were unrelated."
Moth folds her arms. "Indeed? Walk with me, then, we'll find a place that we shan't be evesdropped upon."
Havelock inclines his head, and gestures for her to precede.
As is her wont, Cat is quiet and simply moves in the wake of the other Acolytes and the Inquisitor after bowing to Moth respectfully.
Moth has been here before apparently, and leads them to the roof of a nearby hangar, with all approaches visible and far from anyone; the sound of the nearby ventilators almost drowns out any ablity to hear her beyond a few feet. Plus, it offers a nice commanding view of the spaceport field and the massive hive. "So," she says, "The conspiracy is broken, and we seem to still be dealing with a xenos threat. Elaborate?"
Cat is silent, not having witnessed the switching-off of the Commissar.
Spike glances around with his usual wary alertness as he listens to Moth and Havelock talking.
"The Commissar attached to the headquarters staff of the PDF was a nascent pskyer. And has made... an escape through the Warp. I do not know if he had assistance from the Ruinous Powers, or if he was merely a shell for somewhat Other, but..." He shakes his head, "He is gone. Colonel Braddock is cleared of heresy-- he was victimised, not complicit. I can say nothing about his fitness for command but I cannot recommend his execution. I believe the Commissar merely set him up. Political malice. They were capitalizing upon the xenos threat... but the xenos threat came in the form of a heavily augmetically modified Untouchable. I cannot fathom a nascent psyker colluding with the Empty."
Moth's brow furrows, as she takes this in, nodding. "In what way did the Commissar escape? How do you mean augmentically modified?"
Spike gives Havelock an inquiring glance -- does he want a description from someone who saw?
"His consciousness simply departed via the Warp. Spike witnessed it personally-- I perceived the entity, be it Other or corrupted soul, escaping via the Immaterium." He nods toward the assassin.
Spike says, "Inquisitor Moth, I was keeping an eye on the two men, although more on Jenghiz. It occurred to me he wasn't afraid at all about your incipient arrival, which said to me he must have some escape plan prepared." He hesitates, then continues with faint disgust, "It... apparently could sense my presence behind the one-way glass. It was trying to strike up a conversation. Then, when the Arbiters entered it stood up, tensed and sort of... gurgled and spasmed... and then something, um..." he struggles for words, "It was... like something disgusting swirling around the body, like -- like dirty oil, just for a second -- and then it was gone and the body collapsed." He glances over to the Inquisitor, adding, "That's all I saw."
Moth grimaces, and nods. "I see. it sounds from what you told me that Jenghiz did indeed escape into the Warp, which is sheer suicide or madness for anyone who does not have some sort of daemonic patron to assist them and 'shelter' them, such as it is. Thank you, Spike. It does appear the commissar was some sort of Chaos sorcerer or rogue psyker seduced by Chaos. He is heretofore Excommunicate Traitoris, and if you ever encounter him again, you should feel free to kill him or at least impede his plans and actions to the best of your abilities."
Spike nods in relief, "Thank you, Inquisitor." He had not enjoyed being spoken to by something that could apparently read his mind like that.
"As to the other question," Havelock says, "The xenos threat which the Commissar was exploiting to his own ends... I don't know. An Untouchable that we subsequently eliminated. Inside the corpse were a number of unknown augmetics, trans-skeletal implants... that contained some sort of teleportation beacon. The augmetics escaped. The corpse did not."
Spike adds quietly, "We have some of its things... including some bracelets of the type used to infect the villagers and some metal pieces we weren't able to identify."
Cat finally speaks up, "He had among his effects a data slate containing a number so profoundly large that I was unable to even guess it's use."
She nods. "What was done with the corpse?" SHe looks to Spike, and considers, then says, "Give me the bracelets, and show me the metal pieces." And to Cat, "See what you can do about getting time on a logic engine or cogitator to assist you in analyzing that number."
"Burned," Havelock answers.
Spike nods and pulls out the data slate and the bits of decorated metal strips. He also gingerly pulls the ring with the bracelets, offering the entire collection to the Inquisitor.
Cat experiences something embarrassingly close to excitement the concept. Rather than speak and possibly show this shortcoming, she merely inclines her head in acquiescence.
Moth nods in satisfaction as Havelock's answer, and carefully accepts the bracelets, putting them into a sealed container that she makes disappear under her greatcoat. The metal strips she takes, looking at them curiously, then turning them over and studying the geometric hieroglyphics. She scowls. "Necron. This could possibly change things for the worse. Do you know why the Pariah was here?"
"Spreading a plague of some sort. But the pattern seemed... random."
Spike glances at Havelock again, unsure what to say.
Moth nods a little, and taps the data slate. "Is this the data slate with the number on it?"
Spike shakes his head, "No, Inquisitor -- that's the one I found on the Pariah, with the metal slips."
"That one contains an itinerary of some sort," Havelock says.
Cat produces the other slate from her robes, almost reluctant to hand it over, "This would be it, Inquisitor."
Moth nods. "Good, then. Backtrack his itinerary and see what there is to see. Cat, hold on to that, and examine the number when you can. Normally Necrons arrive on a planet in force, attack, and harvest. We need to find out why they didn't do that here. Emperor save Vaxanide if it turns out to be a tombworld."
"A tomb world, Inquisitor?" Havelock frowns.
Cat nods and tucks the slate away again. Were she not a Tech-Priest, she might have allowed herself a sigh of relief.
Spike hesitates, then tucks the data slate away in a pouch again. He doesn't ask for the alien thingies.
Moth nods. "A tombworld is a world where the Necron sleep in great numbers. After the war millions of years ago between them and the Eldar, they retreated into a deep slumber, awaiting the day when they might rise again to harvest and feed their dark gods." She gestures to encompass the hive. "Usually a tomb world has been scoured of life already, and Vaxanide had it's own indigenous life forms when it was first colonized... but you can't be too sure, and we can't take that risk. You must search for signs of Necron habitation here, and if any are found, hopefully a scouring by the Deathwatch will be all that is required. Otherwise, an Exterminatus with cyclonic torpedoes will be needed. I hate Exterminatus."
Havelock looks over his shoulder at the hive wall sloping up and away. "Inquisitor, will the Exterminatus even work if they're all machina?"
"Hopefully with cyclonic torpedoes. Just virus bombing won't do much but keep them from awakening and harvesting and thus growing stronger. Torpedoes will tear the planet apart. It would be good to evacuate the planet beforehand but that's well over a billion people, and an evacuation is something the necrons would be sure to notice. We'd get as many as we could off, but we'd have to be alert and monitoring the Necron sites.
Spike shudders slightly at that thought.
"Very well then. We'll leave to check the itinerary sites at once."
Moth nods, and after a moment hands the metallic strips to Spike. "You may need those. It's possible that they may be keys of some kind that Janus acquired here on Vaxanide.
"Acquired... here," Havelock says. "Then there would have to be structures... structures to which they correspond."
Spike nods and silently accepts the metal strips, although he can't prevent a small grimace crossing his face as he tucks them back into his belt pouch. Still, he comforts himself with the thought that if they were somehow heretical or something, the Inspector would most likely have destroyed them -- not handed them to him.
Moth nods soberly. "Which may or may not be evidence of this being a tombworld."
Havelock nods. "Should we be contacting the Ordo Xenos, Inquisitor?"
"Leave that to me. I will inform them, but the Deathwatch is spread thin; if we need to call them in, we will need something more solid to go on. At this point, all we know is that Janus was an infiltrator of some kind with a variant of the an animus speculum."
That spins Havelock around to look at her, "But the Culexus..."
Spike's mouth forms the words "animus speculum," and he glances at Havelock... he has a lot to ask about later!
Havelock says, very quietly, "How could something like that have escaped the Office?"
Moth holds up a finger. "They are neither the originators of the animus speculum nor the only ones who have technology that can change the way a pariah affects the material world around him. Making a pariah seem normal so as to not be lynched by the peopel around him? Only a speculum can do that. As for how it escaped notice of them, I don't know, except that this is something new and troubling."
Havelock scrubs his face with his gloved hands. "We'll go at once."
Moth nods. "Very well, then. I have plans for your next mission, but I will bring up the details when you complete this one. In the meantime, check Janus's itinerary. See if there is anything at those locations which might suggest Necron presence. Moreover, see if there is any evidence of the mutations, this 'false plague' of undeath that you uncovered...."
But as she speaks, the three Acolytes can see, behind her, in the sky, a shadow forming, coalescing, forming a small black blotch in the sky, just about opposite the sun itself. The blotch slowly resolves itself into a perfect disk, approximately the size of the sun itself....
Havelock raises his head, and steps back, bumping against the side of the lander. "Inquisitor... that..." He drops his voice to a whisper, "The Tyrant Star...!"
Spike gapes -- then points, "Uh... Inquisitor?" His voices is shaky, "That, uh... right, what he said?"
Moth almost looks surprised, and glances over her shoulder before turning fully around and examining the Black Star, hands on hips, for several long moments.
Spike takes a deep breath, reassured by the Inquisitor's calm demeanor, and carefully glances around again. He has no desire for some of the chaos to be someone taking potshots at he or his companions.
Cat keeps her hands folded into her robes and her face as neutral as she can.
"Throne," Havelock murmurs. "This is serious."
Moth finally glances at her acolytes over her shoulder. "Well, then," she says grimly. "This makes things interesting, doesn't it?"
Spike nods silently within his cowl, deeply disturbed. To him it makes things fucking scary, but he's not going to say that to his superior.
Havelock is even more jaded than most, but... he knows when he is out of his depth. "Perhaps now is a good time to call for the Deathwatch after all," he murmurs.
Cat nods once, hands clenching into fists as she feels something akin to fear tickling at the base of her spine.
Moth adds, "And the entire Tyrian Cabal. And I think it best I go to Lord Vaxanide and tell him that his world is under martial law. It's an Ork's fart that their PDF commander is incompetent and out of commission, but there's no helping that. They'll have to make do. The Arbiters will be of some help, of course. In the meantime, your trip across Janus's itinerary just became more important. See what's happening and do what you can to bring order to instability while you're out there."
"At once," he says. "We'll arrange for aerial transport. Time is of the essence."
Spike nods, shaky feeling but determined, at the order. He follows the psyker hastily.
Moth nods and says, "Go to it, then."
Havelock nods and strides back to the port office.
Cat closes her eyes and finds her thoughts moving toward a prayer that this will end with all of them alive.
Moth sends the group out to follow back along Janus's path while she deals with the chaos brought about by the appearance of the Tyrant Star. This is not a slow process, taking at least a day's worth of travel -- Janus apparently made quite the circuit. Fortunately, the first several towns and provinces are clean of any mutation or plague of undeath....
The village is called Spaaksboro, and is pretty much a subsistence village that serves as a waypoint for various convoys carrying cryo-packed fish to the hive from the opposite coasts. They aren't exactly welcoming of people, as is obvious when the gunjeep comes trundling up to the village. Like Morgansburg there is a fortlike wood wall within which most of the villagers live, and an infrequently-used hostel that sits just outside the walls.
The gunjeep trundles up to the gate of the village. The three Acolytes get a distinctly 'unwelcome' vibe from the villagers they see; apparently families have been here for centuries with very little interaction with other communities, and there is a disturbing similarity amongst the members of this cultural isolate. As the gunjeep pulls in there's quite a lot of neutral and not-quite-hostile stares that the group gets. They don't get a lot of visitors in these-here parts.
Spike raises a mental eyebrow, and casually makes sure the stubber is loaded and ready. He's glad he's not the one to talk to these Throne-forsaken creeps. He'd be inclined to just yell at them to shape up or something.
"Ignore them," Havelock murmurs. "Straight on to the largest building." Cat steers the gunjeep just as Havelock instructs, either ignoring or not interpreting the looks properly.
The villagers move out of the way of the gunjeep as it approaches the largest building in the village. Out in front o it, on what could properly be called a porch, are seated five old people who, again, share enough physical similarities that they must share blood sometime in the past two to three hundred years. And they all look older, worn, and grizzled. They wait patiently for the new arrivals to stop their vehicle and announce themselves.
Spike keeps his focus on the other villagers, glancing around for any possible snipers.
"We're looking for the headman," Havelock says, flatly.
The middle figure barks out simply and succinctly, "I'm the 'eadman."
"Has a mendicant friar been through here of late, chief?"
Spike also scans for wooden bracelets, now he's thinking about it.
The Tech-Priest sits, hands on the steering controls of the gunjeep, impassive and patient.
The headman asks back almost immediately, "Who's askin'?"
"The Imperium is asking," Havelock answers.
Spike sees the usual assortment of villagers off to the sides, armed with flintlocks just in case these new arrivals have malfeasence on their minds. No wooden bracelets in sight, though.
"Th' Imperium normally doesn't ask much, Adeptus. What brings the Imperium 'ere?"
"That depends on whether you've seen that friar or not."
"Mayhap, mayhap. We don't get a lot of visitors 'ere."
"Time is of the essence, headman, have you seen him?"
The headman takes the opportunity to spit out the rind of whatever it was that he'd been eating when the Acolytes arrived. "'Bout a year ago. Holy diver from th' hive came by, preachin' th' word of th' Godman."
Havelock checks the itinerary.
Spike looks dubious within the cowl -- a *year* ago?! That's a bit remote for what they're searching for, surely?
Considering that this is one o the first stops that Janus made, that seems to fit with the timetable of the itinerary. He seems to have spent a month or two in each village before moving on.
"I see," Havelock frowns. "You had any troubles with sickness since?"
The temperature seems to drop several degrees, and the person to the right of the headman says, a touch shrilly, "We decent folk, no need for you hive-ways! We tithe, give prayer to Godman! You go away now!"
Spike murmurs dryly, "Take that as a yes then."
"We're on a mission from God," Havelock answers, flat. "The God-Emperor. We want to know what this friar told you about God, come to that."
The headman does nothing to stop the other person from complaining. "Didn't tell us anything against book of th' Godman. Visited, watched pray and tithe, asked how harvest was, how health was." She spits; it's probably not rind. "More than hivers do for us! Pay tithe, never see them."
Havelock is growing used to what he assumes is merely the natural operating mode of the Inquisition. "Did he leave anything behind? Trinkets? Little bracelets?"
Spike rests his chin on his fist, keeping an eye on the villagers and smiling faintly at Havelock's patience with the obstreperous village elders.
The man -- at least he looks like a man -- screeches, "Why? Want more tithing? Tithing this season not enough? Hivers want more?"
Cat adds, "Strips of metal or information about numbers." She says in the inflectionless monotone of her mechanical voice, "Because he was a heretic."
Calmly, Havelock says, "He may have left plague in your midst. We are here to make certain he has not."
At that, the headman puts his hand on the screeching man's arm a moment before he launches into another screed. "That's serious charges, Adeptus," the headman says. "What kind of plague?"
"Denying rest to the dead," the psyker answers.
The elders grow silent. After a few moments, the headman turns and says something to one of the other elders in the local rapid-fire dialect. The man argues for a moment before the headman says something sharply, and turns back to the group.
Spike and Havelock catch enough of what the headman exchanges with the villager to pick out the meaning in the pidgen Low Gothic they're speaking: 'Take them to the doctor's hut. Let them see Lousef.' 'Are you sure Yiel? They might--' 'Do it!'
"Ciel will take you to the doctor's house," the headman says simply.
"We'll go," Havelock says, equitably.
The villager, Ciel, nods, a little unsure, and gestures for the acolytes to follow him. He doesn't wait, ambling slowly down the path to a whitewashed building.
"Go on," Havelock says to Cat, "We'll follow."
Cat turns the jeep to follow Ciel, moving slowly. She still doesn't quite trust these rural people. They don't have enough machines.
The rurals are unanimously silent as Ciel leads them to the whitewashed shed, where he waits patiently beside he door. The door is a bit too small to allow the gunjeep through.
Havelock debarks with a grunt, "You first," he nods to the local.
Spike scowls, then hops lightly down from the cupola, his rifle slung over his shoulder. He pulls the door open as far as it will go.
Cat makes sure the gunjeep can't be started without her there and follows the other two.
Spike rests the rifle at ready, tailgating the other two as backup.
Inside the doctor's house -- it's really little more than a shed, with a few medical diagrams on the walls -- there is a single, curtained-off area, beyond which seems to be a bed of some kind. Ciel enters, gesturing for quiet from the acolytes. (At least, it looks like him asking them to be quiet.)
Havelock waits, expectant. He nods the guide toward the curtain.
Ciel draws the curtain back, and reveals the bed beyond.
Whatever is lying on the bed has been wrapped in damp sheets to prevent too many bedsores, and to prevent chafing from the multiple jury-rigged but very solid restraints. Only the face of the sleeping or otherwise quiescent creature can be seen, and it's skin has a bluish tint and extended, fanglike rending teeth. There is a distinctly unwholesome scent up close. It is most certainly similar if not identical to the other undead that plagued Morgansburg.
Spike phews! at the scent, although he's not looked at it -- his focus is on Ciel.
Havelock asks, "Is this the only one? Don't lie. I'll *know* if you lie."
Ciel hesitates then manages to get out. "Is... only... one.... yes." Spike eyes the villager warily, wondering why he's practically stuttering.
"That doesn't sound like a committed answer," Havelock frowns. "Equivocation is wasting my time and therefore the same as lying, citizen."
Ciel looks scared at that -- either the threat or the large words. "Not... not speak words... well!" he says, panicky.
Spike murmurs quietly to Havelock, "Don't think he can speak the language well, Savant?"
Havelock lays his hand on the pommel of his sword. "Stop. Take a deep breath, and think about your answer. We'll wait."
Ciel nods, taking a slow breath. "Is only one. Appeared almost year ago. Was Lousef, words-man."
Spike looks puzzled, "What's a words-man?" He checks visually for a wooden bracelet on the undead man.
Havelock asks, quiet, "Where's the doctor who's been seeing to him?"
Ciel looks blankly at Spike for a moment and says, "Uhm... writes letters... writes numbers... lots of paper. Pens. Keeps notes for future...." It sounds like an adept or scribe. To Havelock he says, "Doctor gone. Gone months ago."
The wrist of the creature does indeed have a wooden bracelet.
Spike nods towards the body, "Look. Got the bracelet."
"Gone where," Havelock asks.
Ciel is looking a bit agitated as he tries to find the right words. "Gone. Not here. Not know where."
Spike murmurs quietly, "Gone to the hive? Gone looking for a cure? Someplace else?"
Ciel shakes his head. "Don't know!"
"We've seen everything we need to see," Havelock says. "Let's go see the headman once more."
Spike glances at Havelock, tilting his head towards the thing, "What about... that?"
"We're getting to that."
Spike nods and heads silently out, glancing around warily before he scrambles quickly up into the cupola.
After returning to the headman, it is revealed -- haltingy and only a touch reluctantly -- that (a) the faux-friar Wilhelm Janus was there a year ago, (b) not long after he left, the town scribe became the thing that they found in the doctor's hut, (c) not long after that the doctor went missing and hasn't been seen since, and (d) one of the village hunters killed something like that creature a month or two later at the mouth of a nearby cave, six months ago. Since there was no recurrence, it was believed that was that. Lousef disturbingly doesn't seem to eat and has been going into longer and longer states of torpor.
Getting all of this out of the headman, including making sure that the Acolytes know what it is that he's saying, takes the better part of an hour.
Spike sighs, nearly draped over the stubber with boredom by the time they're done. While he's grateful Havelock has the patience to deal with this, he would *so* love to just blow the hut up and be done with it!
"Very good," Havelock says, at length. "Kill the scribe and burn that hut to the ground." He is no longer in any mood to mince words.
Spike brightens immediately at that, leaning over to check, "Was that to me, guv?"
"To them," Havelock says with a placating gesture over his shoulder. "But do me a favor and swing the stubber 'round. I'd like them to see my... resolve."
Spike looks a bit disappointed within the cowl, but does as Havelock asks. He wonders a bit hopefully if anyone's going to try anything, as he aims.
There is silence for a moment. The shrill man starts to say, "Hiver come, want kill us now?!--" before the headman clamps a hand over that one's mouth. "I'm needing a reason to do that, adeptus. Lousef is the town scribe, and was well-- uh...." He trails off as he sees the stubber pointing at them.
"Lousef is going to die of mutation-- might I remind you that harboring the mutant is a capital heresy-- and when he dies, he is going to rise again and kill all of you in your sleep."
Havelock adds, almost as an afterthought, "Or I can execute all of you now as heretics."
Spike grins, his teeth gleaming within the cowl, and waits. He'd rather blow up the mutation, but if these folks are going to be difficult...?
THe shrill man hisses, and murmurs something that could be 'Questioners." The headman blanches. "All... all right. Just leave us in peace when you're done, adeptus, we don' wan't any more trouble."
"Do as we ask, then," Havelock says, blandly, "And we'll be on our way."
Spike murmurs quietly, "Now would be good."
The headman snaps something to Ciel again, which basicaly boils down to, 'Get all the kerosene you have and douse the hut and maybe these guys won't kill us all."
Spike glances around, making sure the villagers keep a respectful distance from the gunjeep.
Within the span of fifteen minutes, a large amount of kerosene has been gathered and the hut doused with it and set alight. From within can be heard the bestial screams of the undead creature as it perishes in the purifying flames, making several of the villagers weep.
Havelock waits exactly as long as it takes to see that the hut is completely unsalvageable. And at that moment says, "One of you is going to lead us to that cave."
Spike wonders a bit bemusedly why they didn't just quickly kill the thing first, but shrugs -- not his decision.
There are a lot of exchanged looks, before the headman orders the hunter who killed the second undead to lead the acolytes back to the cave. Looking reluctant, and dubious that he'll come back alive, the woman -- Isla -- nods and hefts her flintlock carbine. "Ai. The cave's a mile from the village. Do you want to ride, drive, or walk?" She sounds, fortunately, a bit more conversant in the more familiar dialects of Low Gothic than the rest of the village.
"Get on the fender," Havelock says. "Cat, drive. Don't dislodge the hunter, if you please."
Isla says wryly, "Thanks," and perches herself on the fender, holding on tightly.
Spike continues to casually cover the villagers as they leave.
Cat almost sounds offended, "Of course she will not be dislodged." After a moment, she concedes, "If the terrain is not horrendous." She starts the gunjeep back up, murmuring a prayer to the machine-spirit that has seen them in such good stead, and turns it to drive out of the village.
Departing out of the village, the Acolytes are unhindered. A few hundred yards out of the gate, Ilsa says, "Sorry they gave you a hard time back there. They're far off the beaten track, and not used to visitors, let alone Arbiters."
Spike grins and leans over the cupola to curiously ask, "Are you also not from around here?"
"It's our job," Havelock says, even. "We're meant to deal with hard times."
Isla grins up to Spike. "Neh, but I'm a trapper. Been as far as the hive, which is more than I can say for the rest of them. I know a 'Perial when I see one. Don't tell me this little mutation is what brought you all the way out here?
Spike's grin broadens slightly as they're confused with Arbiters, and he cheerfully replies, "Ask the Savant!"
"The carrier is what brought us here. The mutation is an unfortunate symptom, that's all," Havelock answers.
"Carrier? So it really is a plague? Emperor's liver, that's not good. Did it spread a lot?"
"Enough," Havelock says. "It's spread enough."
Spike rests his arms on the stubber, his gaze taking in the horizon, "Not here, fortunately."
Ilsa makes a quiet sound as if accepting that this is pretty much the extent of the information she'll be getting. "The caves up this hill about half a mile, then east along the ridge. Cosp of trees blocks the view of it. I tracked the thing to it's mouth when I killed it."
"Get us as close as you can, Cat."
Spike swings the stubber around to cover the cave mouth, although he keeps glancing around warily.
Spike glances down again, "Hey, Ilsa! Have you been out this way since you hunted down the undead mutation?"
The gunjeep pulls up to the cosp of trees that Ilsa indicated. It's a little chilly in this part of the world, and Isla adjusts her icedog pelt cloak. She nods to Spike. "Coupla times, yeah. Animals seem to avoid the cave. Never noticed any tracks up to it before, so I've never come up here much anyway."
Spike mutters under his breath. Tracking undead mutations into a dark cave isn't his idea of a good time -- he wishes he had a nice, powerful flamer or something.
"Let's make this quick," Havelock says. Having already established that he can't sense the mutants remotely, he simply draws his sword. "You needn't accompany us," he says to the hunter.
Spike says, "Wish we'd brought some kerosene."
"Promethium," Havelock says, "If I'd my way. Let's go."
Spike nods, hopping out of the cupola and landing lightly. He flicks on the laser sight, then puts himself on Havelock's side opposite his sword hand. "Cat, you got some kind of hand torch?"
Havelock takes his from his belt.
Spike nods at that, satisfied -- he needs both hands for his rifle.
Ilsa hefts her flintlock and making sure it's loaded and primed -- just in case. "Thanks, but I'd rather help make sure that if there is some sort of plague it's not going to harm the village any more than it has." She leads the group accross the stony, chill ground towards the copse.
"As you will," Havelock says.
Cat silently holds up her glow lamp and pulls her las pistol with her dominant hand.
The copse of trees is thick; the gunjeep wouldn't go through it at all. But shortly they give way to the low, wide opening of the cave set in the rocky side of the hill. The cave mouth is about six feet high and the group has to duck a little to make it through. Nearby the opening is a really unwholesome-looking tangle of bones and decayed flesh. Fortunately, it's mortified long ago and there is no scent left.
Spike pushes back his hood before he sets off with the others. He's short and doesn't have to duck at all to enter the cave mouth, so he keeps his rifle up and ready while the others slide in. He murmurs dryly, "Think we found our boy."
Ilsa nods. "That's him. Not much prettier to look at when he was still moving.
"One of them," Havelock answers. "We'll search. If the complex is extensive in the slightest we'll have the PDF collapse it."
Spike snorts in quiet amusement at the trapper, then nods to Havelock, "Right." He starts sliding cautiously forward again, giving the dessicated corpse a wide berth.
The far end of the cave disappears into darkness beyond the light of Cat's glowlamp. There's a significant echo and the sound of dripping water, but no other sound.
There are a few small tributary passages, but the main one reaches down and into the hiltop for about a quarter mile, when it opens up into a small, roughly circular chamber. It smells old and musty here.
Havelock raises the glow-lamp.
Spike looks around warily, rifle still at the ready. The red dot of his laser sight glides smoothly around the room as he does so.
The chamber is in rough shape dome-like but doesn't look artificial. In fact if anything it looks rather... anticlimactic.
"Spread out," Havelock says. "Search."
Spike frowns puzzledly -- he can feel something... vibrating? In his pocket? He murmurs softly, "Havelock, wait. Cover me a moment, please?" then checks that pocket to see what's going on.
Havelock frowns, bringing his sword to a low guard.
Spike searches about his person, and finds that the two metallic strips that Moth gave to him to hold on to, the ones with hieroglyphs and dots on them, are vibrating slightly.
Spike raises an eyebrow, then murmurs, "Priest Cat, come look, please?" as he holds them out to her.
Spike shifts his attention back to sighting down the rifle, holding it in one hand and holding the metal strips out to Cat in the other.
The vibration makes Cat wrinkle her brows and look around, saying, "Something nearby is causing the vibration. They are resonating to the frequency of something close." She glances at the assassin, "Where were you standing when it started?"
Spike grins as he replies, "Haven't moved, Tech-Priest. Just held out my hand to you."
Havelock watches a moment, then nods Cat toward the middle of the room. "See if it changes as you move."
Cat takes the strips and holds her hand out, palm-up, with the metal on her palm. She walks slowly toward the center of the chamber, concentrating on the vibration.
Spike goes back to keeping a wary eye on their surroundings, and the rifle at ready.
As Cat moves towards the center of the room, the small strips vibrate a bit more noticably. And as he reaches the center of the room, there is a 'click' somewhere... and the walls and floor in front of Cat fall smoothly away.
Spike whirls lightly to face the new opening, surprise plain on his face but the rifle still steady.
"And here's the fresh hell," Havelock says.
Cat stops, head tilted as she says, "This is a fascinating locking mechanism."
The stone walls -- obviously faux, now -- are moving away surprisingly smoothly, and why is evident shortly: they are on articulated arms which draw back the pieces of the cavern 'interior' facade (is that even the right word for a fake cave interior?) and draw away. What they see is a vast, vast cavern suffused with a dim blue light that is taking some time to get used to. It sounds loud, though, and looks huge. Parts of it appear partially regular.
The Acolytes stand upon a platform, from which descends a broad ramp that twists and turns and winds it's way down to the cavern floor -- it must be at least two hundred feet down.
Spike murmurs, "Guess the data slate wasn't where the strips went...?!" He adds bemusedly, "What the frikkin' Throne *is* this place?!"
"Xenos tech," Havelock reminds Cat, "Before you grow too enamored of it. Let's see what we have here. If this is a... tomb, as Moth described it, we need to get out and get to her at once, and call for the Deathwatch."
Spike shivers slightly at Havelock's words, then nods and steps cautiously and silently forward a bit to glance out at the huge cave, to see if there's anything within it.
The Tech-Priest nods, "Fascination is not always healthy." She looks to Havelock, "Do we leave it unexplored?"
"We need confirmation," Havelock says. "Then we can go."
Spike says, "Er... what does confirmation look like, though?"
"I'll tell you when we see it."
Spike nods, then glances around for the trapper.
Ilsa stands behind the group, staring dumbfounded at the sight.
As their eyes grow accustomed to the dimmer light, the cavern is strangely beautiful in it's own way. A few glittering trickles of water flow down along some stalagmites, causing pillars of glittering light. A faint mist flows along the floor of the cavern, suggesting shapes down below. Everything seems oddly peaceful and calm considering what this probably is.
Increasingly, the group's eyesight is good enough that they can just barely make out a large shape in the center of the cavern.
"There," Havelock says.
Spike looks down cautiously, "What is it, Savant?"
"We need to find out."
Spike nods again, murmuring, "I'll take point. Shall we send Ilsa outside? Cat, can you cover the rear?"
Ilsa swallows. "Y-yeah... I can wait outside. This is... yeah, this is... out of my league."
"You're in danger, hunter," Havelock says. "Go outside. Wait fifteen minutes. If you don't hear from us-- leave for the hive at once. Tell the Adeptus Arbites where we've gone. Go directly to Captain Armand."
Ilsa nods, and backs out of the chamber, before turning and making her way out of the cave.
Cat nods and steps back, the strips of metal still in her hand. The strips are no longer vibrating.
Spike nods at that -- good idea -- then starts taking silent, careful steps down the rampway so he's a little ahead of the others.
Slowly, as they descend the ramp, the formations below take on solidity. Most are simple shapes -- rings, disks, cubes, obelisks. And the center object starts to take on shape: a zigguraut of some kind, flat-topped and wider than it's deep, with one of the longer sides facing them.
"I hear... crawling. Like insect legs," Havelock murmurs. "I'm sure... I'm sure it's not my othersense. It's real."
Cat goes very still and says, as quietly as she can and still be heard, "There is something moving down there. Several somethings. And they sound... metallic." There's a note of puzzlement in her voice.
Spike goes still, unsure whether to continue or escape while they still can. He glances over his shoulder at Havelock behind him.
"We have to keep going," Havelock says, grimly. "We can't take suspicion before the Deathwatch."
Spike swallows, then squares his shoulders and continues.
Cat squares her shoulders and says, "Visual confirmation only and then we leave, savant."
"I did say that was the plan. Let's keep going."
Spike wonders nervously what they're going to see -- but doesn't let that slow his careful, silent steps. He continues.
The descent down into the formations continues. This close, the objects are clearly machinery of some sort, but definitely not Imperial. They have very clean lines, some dust-covered gold hieroglyphs, and no other markings or indicators. And they all appear to be of the same dark, impervious metal that the metal strips are made of. Some of the cylindrical ones drop into pits, reaching down towards the planet's mantle. Other structures simply sit there. It seems almost like no two structures are the same, though on second look there appears to be much repetition of basic shapes. The place is utterly silent, however. Except for the small insect-like sounds.
Havelock frowns at the hieroglyphs. "Nothing I can discern. It's not occult. Do you have pict-capture capability, Tech-Priest?"
Spike is looking around *very* attentively for the source of the disturbing skittering noises.
"Alright then," Havelock says. "Get as many copies as you can by hand. We'll guard you."
Spike nods at Havelock's words and crouches near the edge of the rampway, watching alertly.
Moving just a few feet closer, Cat pulls out her data slate and sketches down as many of the hieroglyphs as she can in as short a time as possible. She tries to sketch a few of the machines as well.
It's as Spike is crouched there, keeping watch... that he hears a tiny metal-on-stone sound. Right close by to the side.
Spike glances around swiftly, one hand going under his poncho for a knife as he does so.
The metallic thing that is peering at him over the edge of a boulder with green, curious eyes makes no sound, instead choosing to watch Spike silently. In shape it appears to be some sort of metallic scarab, though clearly artificial, and definnitely one without human aesthetics.
Havelock frowns. "That, Spike, is confirmation. We're leaving. NOW."
Spike goes absolutely still, whispering, "Should I try... a knife maybe?"
"We're leaving," Havelock repeats himself.
The scarab moves very slowly as it crawls towards Spike, it's pincers making a distinct scissors-like sound as they open and close.
That's when Cat notices one that seems to be watching her copy the hieroglyphs.
Cat pauses and says, "Visual confirmation. Time to retreat?"
Spike nods, rising and backing away carefully, keeping his eyes on it. "Fine with me!" He moves as quickly as he can and still remain between the thing and his companions. He'll even bump against them to hurry if he must.
"Am I talking to myself?" Havelock waves them both sharply up the ramp, "GO!"
Cat is moving and tucking her data-slate away at the same time.
As they back up the ramp posthaste, another scarab becomes visible at the bottom of the ramp. The one that was approaching Spike doesn't go any further, instead watching them move upwards. Then another appears. Then with the subsonic thrum of an anti-grav suspensor, something decidedly larger rises up over the large building, turning slowly with pinpricks of green light that seem most definitely to be eyes that watch the Acolytes' retreat.
Spike's eyes widen -- then he yells, "RUN!"
"Throne," Havelock says, then draws his sword up vertically, holding his palm against the flat; "Keep going, I'm right behind you!"
Spike gives Havelock an incredulous glance -- then simply turns and runs up the rampway, urging Cat ahead of him. If nothing else they can get the gunjeep fired up.
Spike prays internally to the Emperor that the mechanical bug things haven't already found Cat's vehicle -- he doesn't doubt they could make short work of it.
Cat needs no urging to take off for the gunjeep. She does, however, have to keep reminding herself those things are not of the Machine God. No matter how fascinating they are.
Havelock draws in the Warp, focusing the limitless potential of the Immaterium and yoking it to something more direct and formidable than mere form-- he forms it into raw kinetic *force* and hurls it down the ramp at the glowing eyes behind.
And then he turns and runs like the Warmaster Horus himself was down there.
The scarabs are struck by the bolt of kinetic force and are scattered easily. The bigger thing begins to move towards the ramp, descending and dropping tentacles down to the scattered and damaged scarabs. But Havelock has little doubt that the green eyes of the spyder are now watching him with malicious intent.
Ilsa is at the gunjeep, and is already standing and looking concerned when Cat crashes out of the copse like Chaos is behind her.
Spike is already yelling as they reach the cave mouth, "Ilsa, into the cupola!"
The trapper responds immediately, scrambling into the cupola of the gunjeep.
Spike hauls himself up without hesitating into the cupola as well, immediately swinging the stubber around to cover the cave mouth. "Down, girl -- don't get in my way!" He signs the Aquila, then murmurs, "Come *on*, Havelock!"
Havelock has his sword sheathed (mainly to prevent him from killing himself getting into the jeep) by the time he achieves the cave mouth. "I'll drive," he shouts, "For the Throne's sake get the PDF online, Tech-Priest, tell them there's a xenos incursion imminent! By the Emperor," Havelock swears, "She was right-- the Necron are here!"
Spike pulls his hood up so he won't lose all his darkness vision, then remains still and crouched over the stubber, staring and waiting for green eyes.
Cat nearly skids as she pulls up to a stop and climbs into the driver's side of the gunjeep, starting it and already getting it turned around for the village. If Havelock isn't out in two minutes, she's leaving.
Incursion? Havelock thinks, as he clambers into the vehicle, how can it be an incursion? They were already here. Waiting... for what? For one of their own? For Janus?
The Tech-Priest scrambles over the center of the gunjeep into the other side, already keying up the vox-caster.
No matter, Havelock thinks, if none of us live to get the word out; he throws the vehicle into gear with the most cursory of apologetics to the machine-spirit, and puts the proverbial Malleus down.
Ilsa blinks, looking at Havelock even as she gets out of the direct line of fire of the stubber. "The what?"
The response is almost immediate to Cat's call; it's Moth on the line. "The Deathwatch is dropping at your position from the strike cruiser Mercurius in orbit. ETA three minutes. Watch your heads."
"All praise to the Emperor and his Angels of Death," Havelock murmurs. "Watch the sky, I don't want a pod landing on us."
Spike mutters, "Throne cover us!" at that news, then checks to make sure the trapper is huddled down.
"You're going for a ride, trapper," Havelock calls to Ilsa. "Sorry, but no time to waste. I promise, you want to be as far from here as possible anyway."
Spike nods once grimly, still worriedly staring back at the cave.
"How did the Deathwatch get here so quickly, I wonder," Havelock muses aloud. "Mayhap our matron pulled strings."
Spike says, "Emperor's blood, I hope so!"
"She was right to trust her instinct if so," Havelock nods. For a heathen, he and the machine-spirit seem to have a working detente going. The jeep fairly roars toward Vaxanhive. He checks his chrono. "Ah! Look up!"
As the gunjeep thunders accross the landscape, streaks of fire appear in the sky, resolving into massive drop-pods that disappear over the edge of the hill. Their landing cannot be seen but they really can be felt, shaking the land as they impact. The fact that there isn't any immediate gunfire to be heard is either a good thing or a very bad thing.
Spike starts to relax slightly after the first minute of bouncy travel with no pursuing mechanical bugs. At Havelock's comment he just crouches down more in the cupola, not wanting to be jostled out of it. He sighs after that, relaxing a bit more. He calls down to Cat, "Hey, did you vox them that they'd need to open the cave door inside maybe?"
"If they're awakening," Havelock says, "Chances are they're not going to just hole up once more... would that they did. I'd rather look the fool than deal with these... things."
The Acolytes make their way back to Vaxanhive, a trip that takes the rest of the day, and the sun is just setting, the Tyrant Star still a black blight hanging in the sky, a hole poked in the glorious orange-hue sunset. Ilsa remained with the group until they got to the hive, and went with the Arbiters to answer questions relating to the incident. Things are starting to move very fast, it seems.
Reporting to Moth in the lower Upperhive, on a balcony that overlooks the spaceport far below, they find Moth in conversation with a man who stands easily eight feet tall, within hulking black power armor. Not only is the man tall, he's large, proportioned to his size and appearing like nothing less than a titan. The ornate heraldry on his armor marks him clearly as an Adeptus Astartes, a space marine, and looking upon them it is almost believable that they are related by blood and genetics to the Emperor himself.
Spike looks up in unmitigated awe at the titan, from his much slighter height, and stays *very* politely out of the way!
"Inquisitor Moth," Havelock begins, then jerks suddenly; engrammatic programming recognizes the Marine and suddenly jolts him to parade attention, executing a razor-perfect salute, "Sir!"
Spike blinks startledly at Havelock... then casually keeps the psyker between himself and the extraordinary man.
The psyker falls out to a sort of wobbly parade rest then, as the conditioned reflex releases him. He winces internally. He was not aware he was programmed to do that.
Spike waits until the attention of the Inquisitor and the titan are elsewhere, then whispers to Havelock, "You okay?"
"Engram reflex," Havelock says, wincing at the pain in his shoulders, "Programmed. I didn't know. I'll... be able to catch it next time." He pauses, then adds, "He can hear you. Don't bother whispering. It's just disrespectful."
Spike flinches sheepishly, muttering, "Sorry," and hushes.
Moth and the spacemarine look immediately to Havelock. Moth smiles; the titan is impassive. "Havelock, and Cat and Spike, excellent. You did good in reporting that installation. The Deathwatch is investigating it now." She indicates the titan. "This is Brother-Captain Artemis Goodwin." He simply nods. "He is in charge of the Deathwatch companies here on Vaxanide. So... it's Necron, isn't it?"
Trying to salvage his dignity, Havelock nods to his Inquisitor, having made his somewhat unexpected courtesy to the Space Marine. Crossly, he thinks, I was going to salute him anyway.
Spike nods with careful correctness.
Havelock nods, "Inquisitor. As you said... a tomb. There is a strong likelihood there are others on the itinerary as well; the creatures that Janus' victims became seemed drawn to the site. It seems likely he was creating... emissaries of some sort."
Spike grimaces faintly, looking away from the two authority figures. He feels a little sorry for the soon-to-be-former city of Vaxanide and its outlying villages.
Havelock gives up on Guard-style correctness and rubs the shoulder that the engram reflex has strained. He adds, "The Tech-Priest has copies of some of the glyphic writing as well. We didn't dare tarry longer."
Spike wishes a little wistfully he could get one of those amazing blasters, but sized for him... then hastily looks down, feeling a touch guilty within the hood for such an irreverent thought.
Moth nods, folding her arms. "I and the Deathwatch agree that it's too early to initiate an Exterminatus upon Vaxanide. I am having Guard units and local constabulary conduct searches elsewhere for Necron installations. I do not think we'll find any more; most of the Necron facilities I have heard of are either small, isolated outposts, or... well, the entire planet, to be blunt.
"If that's the case, Inquisitor... might these stops on the itinerary be merely entrances to a larger complex?"
Spike glances up and murmurs carefully, "Some of the artifacts did seem to go down through the cave floor, er... as if they were headed for the planet's interior, Inquisitor?"
Havelock nods. "Their architecture is... cyclopean to say the least. But the Astartes will know for certain shortly, I'm sure."
Spike nods and goes silent again, simply watching cautiously.
Moth hmms, "Possible, Havelock. If that is the case, this is certainly atypical of their installatons. But then again, this is the first notice we've had of Necron activity in Calixis, so who can tell?" She then nods to Spike. "Geothermal taps. Very common in tombs, providing power to the tomb spyders and scarabs and the stasis units. Which I truly hope we are not dealing with here."
Artemis grunts. "Hope is wasted, Inquisitor," he rumbles, though it sounds like his normal talking voice. "Faith in the Emperor is more appropriate. Killteam Delta-Seven is investigating the facility your Acolytes found; they will report shortly as to what they find there." He nods in agreement with Havelock's comment.
"If I may, Inquisitor?" Havelock asks.
Moth arches a brow to Havelock, indicating for him to go on.
Havelock turns to Artemis, "Brother-Captain, how were you able to arrive so quickly on site? The response was almost immediate. Not, I should say, that I'm complaining, of course."
Artemis gives a tight half-smile, as if humoring Havelock. "Indeed. My units were on the fringes of Calixis when our astropath received Inquisitor Moth's request for support. We immediately made a jump to warp. THe route was fortuitous and we made it extremely quickly." He shrugs. "Faster than our navigators expected, but that is a matter for them. We were beginning to disembark when Moth received your report, and asked us to reroute a strike cruiser in support. From there it was a routine drop operation."
"Praise to the Throne," Havelock says, exhaling deeply and nodding. "A stroke of fortune."
Spike nods silently, listening.
Moth says, "It was. I have questions for the marines' navigators -- with Artemis's permission," she adds, not quite too hastily when Artemis glances at her, "but that can wait until we can assess the extent of the Necron presence on Vaxanide is."
Havelock nods. "And your orders, Inquisitor?"
Artemis interrupts. "A moment, Inquisitor," he says, touching the vox-bead in his ear. After listening for a moment, he touches controls on the wrist of his armor. "You will all wish to hear this," he says succinctly. "Delta-Seven is making their report.
Spike draws in his breath silently, then straightens a bit, listening even more carefully.
Havelock turns to watch the marine. Pray the Emperor, it is a short battle.
"--elta-Seven reporting.... Investigating the facility now. Not standard Necron. Usually there are stasis-coffins for the warriors here, but nothing on auspex...." THere are a few murmured commands from the killteam leader to his troops, and every so often the dakka! of a boltgun in the distant background. Then, "Brother-Captain, elements of the company have engaged scarabs and spyders, but no warriors yet. No casualties. We have reached the main, central structure. Once again, no stasis-coffins, no -- wait... we found an entrance into the central structure. Seven-four, Seven-eight, pattern Gilgamesh, go. We are sweeping the central structure...."
Spike is very still as he listens, unaware he's holding his breath.
Havelock rubs his eyes, feeling suddenly extremely tired. When did they sleep last? He prays only that they were overcautious.
Many long moments pass. Finally, the squad leader says, "Area secured, Brother-Captain. We found... something within the central structure -- the Ordo Xenos can make something of it, I'm sure -- but the area is secured. Or at least as secured as it can be.
"Whatever this place is, it definitely is not a tomb like we know them. The tomb on Canavalise VII had thousands of stasis-coffins. This... doesn't even have a single one."
Artemis frowns. "Very well, Brother-Captain. Maintain contact with the Mercurius at all times. Emperor protect." He receives an acknowledgement, and shuts off the vox, looking curiously at Inquisitor and Acolytes. "Curiouser and curioser. I do not like aliens who do not act reliably."
"If there are spyders," Havelock offers, cautiously, "Must there not be... something for them to service?"
Spike mouths in silent confusion, ...as secured as it can be?! but is careful not to make a sound.
Artemis nods slowly. "Aye, and that is what is troubling. This is not how the Necrons operate their tomb worlds."
"What if..." Havelock frowns. "What if it isn't a tomb-world *yet?* What if these are merely... the construction units?"
Spike says, "If they're... building something, they'd want to hide it from us, yes?" He frowns, rubbing the back of one hand nervously across his eyes, then looks up and asks bluntly, "Don't the little bugs usually *swarm* intruders? Why did they let us get away? Is this a... a Trojan Horse?"
"To be fair, they *did* hide it from us. We were only able to gain entry with the... keys that Janus possessed," Havelock points out. Or what passes a Necron for keys. I'm afraid this is the extent of my knowledge on this, Inquisitor." He thinks but does not add, as far as I know.
Spike says, "Well, yes, sorry -- I meant, um, why they didn't just swarm us and kill us, you know?"
Moth and Artemis exchange looks, then Moth says, "There are... things about the Necrons that would make that unlikely... but it is troubling nonetheless. The seed of a tomb world. This could be either an ideal opportunity to learn more about the Necron or, more likely, a trap waiting to blow up in our faces." She nods to Spike. "Usually scarabs indeed swarm intruders. I cannot imagine why they would not immediately attack you."
Spike takes a deep breath, then adds nervously, "They... stared at us, Inquisitor -- just stared!" He glances at Havelock, "And moved very slowly too, don't you think?"
Spike thinks about it, then nods, "I confess, I'm assuming based on hearing they swarm people. If they always moved that slowly then why wouldn't their victims simply outrun them?"
Moth considers, as Artemis says, "Scarabs will not swarm unless in great numbers. Perhaps that one tomb spyder you saw was the only one there, and it had likewise few scarabs with which to operate. But... even then, you were but three, and not soldiers at that. Either they did not see you as a threat or they did not wish to make you react in a way that would cause damage to what they were tending."
"I'm afraid I don't know what's fast nor slow to a Necron," Havelock admits. At a loss for how to proceed from here, Havelock asks again, "Your orders, Inquisitor?"
Spike glances nervously at Havelock again, fairly sure the mental blast could be considered damage -- but then simply looks at the Inquisitor again at the psyker's query.
For his part, Havelock suspects at most, he inconveienced the spyder slightly while it tended to the scarabs-- but that was the intention.
Moth says, slowly, "I think it's time to give each of you time to advance your training. The situation here is stable for the moment, and you may no get this chance again in the coming... Emperor's spleen, you might not get this chance in the coming years.
"Cat needs to follow up on the data she retrieved from Janus." Spike can see Artemis furrow his brow and mouth the words 'She?' and glance at the Tech-Priest. "She can do that best at the Chalice Panoptican.
"For you, Spike, I think it might be best for you to obtain new weapons. I will forward you some funds to take care of that. I think Havelock can direct you to a suitable weapons supplier.
Spike beams in relief.
"And you, Havelock. I have been told that the Templa Calixia is requesting your presence."
Havelock's brows draw together. "The... Templars Calix. I..." He trails off a moment, then shakes his head. "Yes. Yes. Of course, Inquisitor. I will prepare to depart for Scintilla Secundus at once."
Spike tilts his head curiously, regarding the psyker, then murmurs, "Can you direct me to a weapons supplier first, please?"
Still laboring under some kind of half-remembrance, Havelock answers at once, "Cadence." He pauses, then says, "Cadence Arms and Incunabula. Gunmetal City."
Artemis is watching with an ever-so-slightly arched brow.
Spike nods slowly, unsure whether that's a person's name or a rambling thought from the psyker, but at the clarification he politely replies, "Thank you."
Artemis considers, then grunts a bit and looks to Spike, "Well. May you find a weapon worthy of a legacy, Acolyte."
Spike blinks and straightens at being spoken to by the titan, "Yessir! Thank you, sir!"
Artemis nods to Spike, and says to Havelock. "And, psyker... many of my bretheren do not trust your ilk, but the Templars are a noble calling. I wish you luck and fortune."
Havelock pauses to say, "Brother-Captain. Thank you. Forgive me, I... just had the strangest sense of deja vu. Perhaps the Emperor agrees with you."