[DH1e] The Damocles Contingency (RPG IC)

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal:

 

Valkyrie turned he attention to Restal. "And you, bladesman? Which path does your courage dare?"

 

 

"My path is already set Sister, I remove problems. The Governess needs to be informed of the facts and her place in the status quo!"

[A.T.]

Falk

 

Three choices... perhaps only two, a double stage door of such importance would likely use different encodings for the inner and outer key to prevent exactly the kind of security breach that was made here.

 

Upper spire access raises countless red flags but why here, far too public for any normal skulduggery and far too mundane for a great house... unless perhaps a point of escape rather than one of entry.

 

And finally the storehouse, such a thing could be a front for any concealed structure of access point and given their recent concealed discoveries could not be discounted. Falk expanded the display around the doors hoping for some pattern to emerge around those areas hidden from view, some idea of where they would lead, and any reports of detentions or disturbances in the last few days.

 

With luck the others were already in place to investigate but Falk was beginning to have severe misgivings as to the security of their comms.

[Mazer Rackham]

Station Argus:

 

The arrest reports are standard enough, several for loitering with intent, drunk and disorderly, one moral crime of minor recidivism (defacing a statue with a false beard). Otherwise, it is the bread and butter work of street Judges.

 

Further schematics or what lies behind the doors remains frustratingly hidden behind denied access. The security features and ID Card readers however, do have footnotes of fabrication and security level. This is standard practice for the rating of the construction and replacement. Many such locks are recommended by the Arbites themselves.

 

Two of them are Mortis-Thule grade, a high security scanner and ID augur.

 

The third is an Ultima-Thule. The toughest electronic security possible in one package, requiring DNA, voice and other access nodes fitted by contract agreement. The particulars of whatever else the lock contains will be a mystery. This is the lock on the storeroom door.

 

The Vesitbule:

 

"Very well then, since we have agreement - let us go up together, and touch the spire."

 

Valkyrie makes the sign of the Aquila, but holds her palm steady over the door release. "I saw you disembark with a young woman, she looked upset and a little dishevelled."

 

The silver bob stills as her eyes settle on you all in turn.

 

"Anything we should know?" She stresses the word.

 

Be advised that any report other than the complete truth will require an Opposed Deceive Test. That includes any "cunning linguistics". Lying to some chump in the sump is one thing - Valkyrie is another.

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal:

 

Kerr Restal makes a full report of the activity inside the Lift Carriage and emphasises that Reynard showed his electoo.

 

"Her name is Una Weslock. Ex-333rd. The Half-damned, a Carriage Guard. She has been sworn to secrecy. She would make a good recruit, if it is allowed"

[A.T.]

Falk

 

No apparent connection to the mechanicus or Canthus, an Ecclesiarchy controlled warehouse based on the movements of the frateris or at least it was at some point.

 

Falk cleared and locked his search behind the highest security code he possessed and re-set the cartograph to the location of one of the recent upper hive disturbances before securing it with a lesser code, removing the datacrystal he then wiped the warrant-slate and replaced its data with idents and transgressions from the same event. It should be sufficient to evade any bored curiosity by the judges stationed here and the warrant-slate would serve as excuse enough to be wandering the upper levels of the hive if challenged.

 

Now matters became more dangerous. Falk finished his kaff and checked his chrono hoping that Bardas had made good progress on his 'cage' before connecting to the wider Arbites data nexus. Secure credentials used for his past investigations but traceable to him if any part of the higher Arbites security had been compromised, he was now perhaps on borrowed time but it was the only he might discover any word left by the Praefector Absolom or access the arrest records for the assassins at the station.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Reynard didn't speak as Restal answered. When Valkyrie turned to look at him, he shrugged.

 

"It wasn't an ideal solution to show the Spyrers or the girl, but my time to come up with something better was… limited. It was also preferable to being dropped down a five-mile shaft in a plasteel coffin."

 

 

Spoiler

OOC: I didn't realise we hadn't included what happened in the lift in our report...

 

Edited December 8, 2022 by Lysimachus

[Mazer Rackham]

@Lysimachus: I'll reply here for speed and consistency: I just assumed you boys would omit it to cover everyone's backside. Since you didn't explicitly poke me one way or the other, (apols if I missed it) I thought it would add a small amount of tension you could flex with narratively. I'll hang fire for Nicios before moving you on, whilst I try and keep Falk moving.

[Lord_Ikka]

Nicios

 

"The spyrers are murder and drug-hopped up noble spawn. They may not even remember us after the end of their hunt but warding them off was the more discreet option. Since they had the ability to drop the elevator, words were the only real form of leverage we had."

 

Nicios looked at Restal. "The guard could be of use, if needed. I don't believe she will talk anytime soon, but watching her may be required to make sure that no unnecessary information leaks." 

 

"Or we could just kill her and remove the potential threat. Either way, it won't affect our next move directly."

[Mazer Rackham]

Thank you, Players.

 

Right. With everything in the works I am going to push everyone into Day 3, Hour 6. This is roughly a ten-hour time jump, and will include the completion of the Faraday Cage (as per offscreen, and undisclosed rolls) and the petition by Valkyrie for an audience with the Governor/Senior Assembly, as both will take a lot of time. Given the waiting time, and the availability of foodstuffs, all Players will count as having rested and eaten for this 24 Hour period.

 

Players entering the Assembly Chambers will require:

• Either to have a change, or clean of, their clothes. Such services are available from Common to Best this high up in the Hive.
• You will require a Petitioner's Mantle, at 50 Thrones each. You may forego this, but if you do, you will not be allowed to speak or to ask questions to anyone other than the party (or have them relayed). The Mantles can be bought from the cloakroom in the Lower Assembly, where you wait for your audience.
• Valkyrie counts as "Vested", which means she does not require a mantle, as she hails from one of the Imperial Institutions. You can of course exert your Inquisition Authority to save money, but realise this means exposing who you are to the Assembly of Nobles.

Plan accordingly in the OOC, let me know where you want to go/do, plus any questions, and I will then prepare a narrative advance.

 

Please avoid posting here for now.

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

The Lower House:

 

The great halls of the lower house ring with the footsteps of hurrying courtiers, ministers, and mandarins of bureaucracy. Footmen and security forces step lazily from one office to another, escorting officials clutching armfuls of scrolls wrapped ribbons of scarlet and mauve. Benches of metal filigree, and ancient, oiled wood line the walls and meet back to back in the middle of vaulted transepts, the ceilings forming an odd patchwork of paintings, frescoes and remembrances by such artists as Dagio the Visionary, and the later disgraced Compte De Covattre, who scandalised an entire family of nobles by simultaneously marrying four generations of debutantes, and whose bones are said to be scattered across every planet in the Damocles Gulf for his moral crimes.

 

A Lord Justice, his augmetic legs piston-striding across the black and white chequered floor, leads a procession of the legislative assembly. He flicks a glance at you all from the corner of his eye, nose jerking higher into the air in his dismissal of your base existence, his seventeen servants of varying ages carrying his thick, fur-lined cloak of authority, no doubt upon which he sits whilst giving his ordinances. A servitor hovers close by, toiling to stay aloft as it handles his mighty and voluminous wig.

 

Squads of Arbites march smartly, putting the rest of this officious rabble to shame. Perhaps they draw your thoughts to Falk, but he is no stormtrooper like these. Black carapace armour is oiled and gleams dully, boots are a mirror shine, shock weapons and shotguns are polished - but all of this is used. These men are no pretty parade dollies. They bring the law to light or dark, and do it with conviction.

 

Similarly, Naval Armsmen cluster about their officers. Whip-thin men and women in tall collars and frock coats dripping with gold lace and gleaming medals. Such fighting men contrast against large Ecclesiarchs, waddling through fugs of incense spread by cherubim and seraphs equipped with hymnal-spouting censers.

 

The wait gets on your nerves, as it is meant to. At the end of the long hall, a clock with a face made from cut together alabaster slabs, reports the time, the yard long hands thunking round with interminable sloth. Vendors rent cushions, vassals of the Spire provide the precious Mantes of Audience, which give those with the coin or status a voice in this most hallowed of halls. Gaggles of Noviatiates of the Hospitaller meander around, giving water and minor medical assistance to those waiting. No-one seems to be still - except you, trapped in the molasses of Imperial Bureaucracy.

 

No beggars or hawkers ply their skills, the cold, echoing hall is filled with people, but completely devoid of humanity.

[Mazer Rackham]

The Machine Shop:

 

The humble machine shop has been transformed into a miniature forge, as between Vardas and Xerxia, the construction of the great effort continues. The groundwork carefully laid, cables and conduits thicken the floor and droop from carrier pylons as the power of the hive flows through the veins of this strange metal beast. An arcane device, a creation and jealously guarded edifice of the Mechanicum, is knit together as flesh. Welding torch, plasma cutter and sparking sawblades trim and shape the latticework which holds the reflective plating, polished and rivetted to the cage.

 

There has been a ceaseless stream of deliveries, the raw materials required to finally prove Bardas' ambition, layered in two dome-shaped frames, a tent of steel and electricity, with a small gated door to complete the circuit. Yet even if the works and pocket can only stretch so far, there has been pleasing technical accomplishment, broken only by mandated rest and refuelling periods as per Mechanicum diktat for such a laborious endeavour.

 

The whole machine shop smells of burnt metal and singed plastek, harrowed solder and the buzzing foul language of smashed thumbs.

 

The Faraday Cage is ready.

[Trokair]

Bardas

 

The hour marker chimed in the background, making the passage of time that none paid any attention to. The majority had returned to their regular duties as the labour intensive part of the construction was finished.

 

Errantor Xerxia stepped out of the left storage room where the cage had been installed; the final sanctification ritual was thus nearly complete. There had been some discussion as to which storage room to convert, the Ordinator had favoured one to the right of the main workspace, as it would be easier to use in concert with the main hall in the future, but unfortunately while relocating the stored boxes, parts and assorted items it was found that vermin had burrowed their way in and made a nest by the rear wall. The critters where quickly fried by welding torches, but to be on the safe side the room was now marinating in pesticide gas.

 

Instead the left store room would have to do. He had helped move the contents out and into a corner of the main room during one of the blessing rituals Xerxia performed that he could not assist with, the crates had been surprisingly heavy, the shop had been storing quite some material wealth in there, fearing lean times or just natural hoarding of useful and rare metals, ceramic and oils. All things considered Bardas preferred this room, as the layout and corner meant that the workbench inside the cage would not be immediately visible from the door, giving just that little extra privacy for the second task.

 

“To minimise the risk of contamination please lock the store room door behind me, once I have investigated and cleansed the skull I will knock to be let out. If after three hours I have not knocked assume that I have failed and the scrapcode was subversive or corrosive, only an unaugmented individual should be sent to investigate, and armed only with purely mechanical analogue weapon.”

 

Once inside the store room, the door clicking shut behind him, Bardas uttered a final pray for guidance as he inspected the tools on the workbench and the battery to power them, there could be no external connection within the cage. Satisfied that all was in order Bardas closed the cage door, in so doing activating the secondary protective measures.

 

Glancing at the analogue clock one of the workers had found he saw that he had 2 hours and 57 minutes before his knock was expected. No time to waste, there was a lot of work to do. Installing the skull inside the smaller cage, closing the access panel and placing it on the table Bardas used a rubber coated ceramic rod akin to a data slate stylus, but completely devoid of tech to carefully feed it trough the small cage mesh and depress the servo-skulls activation rune.   

[Mazer Rackham]

The Cage:

 

The small servo-mechanical assistant lifts on gravitic motors, righting itself. It slowly pans about the environment, laser mapping unit testing the proximity of the cage around it. It emits a small blurt of frustration as it discovers it cannot flit away as it should wish, and turns to face it's gaoler, with accusing augmetic eyes. Data transfer occurs, but as you detect the carrier wave, it mostly dissipates into the capture device of the cage.

 

The servo-skull hovers, bobbing slightly as the inverters bounce it up and down in the ebb and flow of repulsion. It watches you, fixated.

[Trokair]

Bardas

 

For a few seconds Bardas just watches, so far it was behaving normally, but the flock had certainly been odd previously, so something lurked below the cranium.

 

First he would try to extract information the slow, but safer way, no cables plucking in directly until he know more.

Speaking out loud.

 

+Servo Skull Command: Status Report Update – Format Report Morse Cant+

 

He was not sure if the skull had a functioning vox emitter, but by requesting the report in such a simple format he hoped no worm or virus could be passed along.

 

Spoiler

Tech Use Test

Int: 39 +10 (Tech Use +10)=49

D100: 25, Pass 2 DoS

 

Edited December 10, 2022 by Trokair

[Mazer Rackham]

The Cage:

 

The skull acknowledges the command, and repeats a stuttering series of blurts and bloops in the cant requested. It is a very basic report at it transposes into your inboard receiver. Where Morse cant fails, it is supplemented by Binharic.
 

Spoiler

+Order/Primus-act/<cmd>sweep_ident.Target.0145.+

+Patmatch-img.<Report/string>arbites.01.cmd.+

+Over-ride/<re-route>update_Firmware.v.762.+

+Changelog.origin<unknown>.+

 

The skull finishes and whirs around, looking for the exit. Finding none, it offers a little hum, which in a human would be a sigh.

 

[Trokair]

Ever cautious Bardas recorded the information on grey beige recycled paper with ink, he was surprised to find the stack in the sore room, given the prevalence of data slates, but it would do nicely. Once done he cleared the memory cache of his gift of the recent information, double scrubbing it. Then he continued, question, answer, record, cleanse, repeat.

 

+Access Target.0145. identification markers, output biometrics.+

 

This would hopefully shed some light, not to see how long the skulls had been diverted from their original tasks.

 

+Time stamp request: Firmware.v.762, time stamp request: previous updates, quantity 5+

+Recount Previous Order, quantity 5+

[Mazer Rackham]

The Cage:

 

+Compliance.+

The skull projects not only the image it appears to store, but the height, complexion, identifying marks - and tellingly, the jewellry stamped into the left ear.

It is Reynard, with a backup file, containing variations on his appearance, although these are degraded. 

 

Another file remains only as fragments, a photo-fit, artifact riddled image of eyes, the top of a nose and the lips. They remind of you of a face you know, but can't quite remember, although they could almost belong to Reynard.

At your other commands, the skull goes into full exload.

Spoiler

>>cmd.line_1:changelog.762:cd/

-Init/sweep:profile.031>G-013m_01.exe

-run>comms.relay//override//

-run>rollback.cfg

>cmd.line_2:changelog.761:cd/

-Init/sweep:profile.031>wanted_persons_incident#1092(ArbitesCode213).bat

>>cmd.line_3:changelog.760:cd/

-Init//maintdem_tunnel.0303.netcode_unit.14/15/92/45>exec.info.bat

>>cmd.line_4:changelog.759:cd/

-Init//maintdem_tunnel.199.netcode_unit.66/190/23>exec.info.bat

>>cmd.line_5:changelog.758:cd/

-Com-band:exload.himem/del/rem.

-Rollback>error.

-Maint-drv/utd.opsys>cmd.64.exe//

The skull patiently awaits your next interrogative.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Reynard looked around the hall. In spite of the circumstances, he was momentarily amused by the pomp and ceremony. He usually enjoyed places like these. They were good places to scout for potential marks. This time he wasn't thinking about swindling or thievery, though, just how to survive.

 

The long mantles might make for a decent disguise? But if he needed to speak out, he was sure he would be identified anyway. So what would be the point of spending the Thrones…? He also didn't like the idea of presenting himself as a 'petitioner'. The Inquisition would always deal with the nobility from a position of at least equal authority - not insisting on standing above them, perhaps, but certainly never subservient?

 

He shifted his shoulders nervously. At least his garb was looking presentable. He'd had them thoroughly cleaned before they entered the hall and now his coat, hat and other clothes looked as good as new.

 

He wondered how long they would have to wait. Probably it depended on the complexity of what the other, prior supplicants were seeking. Surely, nothing brought to Aldario's personal attention would be a simple matter? Again Reynard looked around the countless occupants of the hall.

 

Hmm. That was an interesting thought. The two armed groups within the hall were neither one subject to the Governor's rulership. The naval troops were visitors, unlikely to be involved in whatever was happening on Damocles. The Arbitrators were the avowed servants of the Imperium, not this world. In fact, their primary duty was watching the Governor herself for signs of disloyalty. Perhaps the Acolytes should speak to the commanders of these units? Forewarn them of the potential for conflict, and avail themselves of the support the soldiers might offer? Just in case things went… sideways… with Aldario.

 

He quietly said as much to Valkyrie and the others.

 

Edited December 11, 2022 by Lysimachus

[A.T.]

Falk

 

His work here was done, preparations now for the rest. As with all watch stations this place contained an ample supply of polish, grooming and scouring equipment equally suitable for humans, uniforms, and the watch building itself. The flak cloak would be simple enough to clean with spray-amasec and flame but he questioned whether he had time to raise his boots to an acceptable level of shine for the upper hive. Kaff and polish, he would at least smell that part.

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal:

 

Prior to entering the Hall of the Lower House, Kerr Restal had cleaned his bodysuit, flak trench-coat and boots. He'd earlier cleaned his weaponry in the lift car.

 

The party of the Courier had then moved into the Hall amidst the madding crowd. His senses assailed by potential targets, vectors, extraction points and the mind-numbing boredom of inaction.

 

He hadn't bothered to obtain a Petitioners Mantle, he was content to observe and wait for the Mark to arrive.

 

He watched the Arbites and the Naval Armsmen.

 

He waited for His Voice.

[Mazer Rackham]

The Lower House:

 

Whilst Reynard discusses his ideas with the agent-clade, a large man with a giant gilded piston replacing his left arm, steps forth from a large alcove. He wears a heavy grey robe, thick with ermine-fur and golden amulets. On the end of the piston arm is a giant, velvet capped, pad of rich scarlet leather. The burly individual marches with an odd cadence, almost clockwork, his augmetic eyes fixated on the giant clock.

 

As the huge hand marries the hour, the figure bellows in a oddly human voice, but it resounds throughout the lower hall with a dense rumble.

 

"Hear ye! Hear ye! The session is over!"

 

A curtain partially covering a giant golden disc is withdrawn with a purple rope, and the crier steps up to it, his piston arm bouncing back and forth thricely. Pleasant, but chest-cavity shuddering bongs fill the space, drowning any kind of small talk, or pointed chit-chat. As the tones die, the great doors open at the end of the hall and a whole cavalcade of petitioners erupt, some nobles, others high-precedent trading houses pushing their own agendas.

 

A female crier, somewhat slighter, but adorned with a three-foot tall powdered, grey-white wig, and attended by pages and heralds follows them out. Across her shoulder is an ebonised mace, although ceremonial, it is fairly sturdy and would do well as a headed quarterstaff. Indeed, one flange is dented at an angle, showing it may have been employed against a thick noble skull.

 

"The private Petitioner's Party of Prioress-Emissary Constanza Emilia D'Arque von Meridia!"

 

She shouts it again, searching the halls for her quarry with a formidable frown of her artificed eyebrows until they settle on Valkyrie.

 

The Machine Shop:

 

Falk enters the busy works, greeted briefly by the Ordinator and Adept Xerxia, the first who rubs his chin theatrically, and smiles like a man who associates simple requests with words like 'it'll cost you', and the latter, a respectful nod of her augmetic head.

 

Beyond the door to the Cage Falk can hear the buzzing and bleeping of the Machine Cant, and the frustrated whirring of a servo skull tryying to fly free as it bumps and clangs against whatever basket it has woven. After a few moments more, Bardas emerges, rubbing his hands on a rag.

 

This is just to bring you lads back together. Obviously, we'll assume you have reported the 'essentials' to each other. Anything else you reveal is up to you as per. If you don't want to interact with anything else down here, I can move you upstairs to the destination of your choice.

 

[Trokair]

Bardas - in the Faraday Cage

As he noted down the Skulls report Bardas mulled over the facts. The explosion incident was most likely the one outside the lab, assuming it was not just a coincident, and that would be a dangerous assumption to make.

 

Did this mean that whichever party used the skull only became aware of events then, as the older instructions appeared benign, or that they only risked using the skulls then out of desperation? Considering he had caught onto their erratic behaviour so would any other party or parties involved. Questions to ponder.

 

The data feed into the Arbite’s system suggested that this was secular authority that was looking for them, the Governor perhaps, and not the presumed Mechanicus Magos. For its agent had been more subtle, well the one that had come after him, not the one the others had encountered on the way to lab.

 

He tried a few more queries and recorded the skulls output, but nothing drew his attention as being other than normal skull operations. Once he felt that he could learn no more Bardas stepped back to consider his next course of action. Did he really need to go down that path.

 

Glancing at the clock he saw that he still had a smidgen over two hours until those outside would check in, assuming they kept to his advice. Instructing the skull to cleanse its system and power down, he could take a few minutes to meditate and pray for guidance, not for knowledge of function, though that would help, but for his soul.

 

Having checked that the skull was dormant Bardas opened the cage, and manually opened up the skull to access its mechanical components. There was a lot in here that he was unfamiliar with, but the base cognitor and memory components he could identify and remove.

 

Next he took out Magos Krupp’s memory stack and carefully connected the interface wires as best he could to the skull. This was an unorthodox interface, but the Magos had some information, he had sensed it last time, but had not been able to make sense of it at the time. Perhaps what was left of the Magos could.

 

Once the skull, data stack and battery where all inside the little cage, and it securely shut, Bardas rechecked the other cage as well. This might verge on heretek, Bardas could not be sure from his knowledge of scripture, the deeper mysteries where not one he had ever been initiated into, but it troubled him deeply. Necessity was not a moral guide.

 

Satisfied that he was as secure as he could be Bardas turned the skull back on. Watching it rise fractionally as its grav-motor engaged once more he took a breath to calm himself, here goes nothing.

 

Pulling up his sleeve to display the inquisitorial electoo Bardas spoke, not knowing how much of the Magos was in the stack and now in the skull, whether there was a mind to which he needed to bear his an explanation, or just data and automated processes.

 

+Know this, Magos Krupp, that all of this was out of intense necessity, and I condemn the wrong you have suffered as a result, and will no doubt pay the price for my small part when I face the Omnissiah’s judgment, most likely within the next two solar days. My authority, as you see, comes from a more direct route to the Omnissiah then the overlapping and convoluted cascading obligations and oaths of fealty that radiate out from Mars and the Fabricator General.+

 

+There is something corrupt in the high echelon of our faith here on Damocles, I do not know if it is power, the influence of the Arch-Heretek Kelbor-Hal or his disciples or some other cause, but there is something dangerously wrong. If you have any information that shed some light in these dark days then I ask you share it from one faithful pilgrim to another.+   

 

 

Tech Use Test

Int 39 + 10 (Tech-Use + 10) = 49

D100: 58 Fail – Fate point reroll – If I had succeed the first time I tried to get information out of the wounded Magos none of this would have been necessary.  

D100: 43 Pass – I’ll take it.

Edited January 14, 2023 by Trokair

[Mazer Rackham]

The Cage:

 

For long moments your Heretechnical barbarism freezes the little servant, now magos, begins to stream broken strings of cant.

 

Spoiler

0 9 7 9 8 3 2 0 1 2 3 2 2 7 3 6 4 9 0 3-m.bat/exe

//Beware/-err..prevent//normal-behaviour!$s$ '!Quota"

cd/c: backup.bat

?Query: 02332/Bardas-interrogative? -pullreq_Affirm

?Violation-shrine/pictcap"Rockhead"/notfound.

 

Error-primary_loop_sequence:subvert/err@quash-security.loop//

...Bar-das_unit_ally/escape!

// I SEE YOU.

....END OF LINE.

...personality_matrix:ERASE.

 

The skull bobs around, but lacks direction or normal instinct and appears to be bumping the cage at random, without using any telemetry sytems.

Edited January 9, 2023 by Mazer Rackham

[Trokair]

Bardas

 

Bardas swiftly recorded the output on paper, he would have to think on it later, for whatever information the Magos may have held was either corrupted, subverted or wilfully malignant.

 

Whispering a prayer for the Magos Krupp,  Bardas picking up the welding torch that he had positioned within reach he fed it into the smaller cage, fired it up and slagged the skull. With the first past he cut the data stack and battery link to the skull, so that he could push them aside for potential retrieval. Then he set to work on the skull, applying heat systematically until it was a carbonised melted heap, no organic or electrical component should survive this. By now the smaller cage was dangerously hot and beginning to deform from the heat.

 

Using a pair of tongs to widen a whole enough he tried to retrieve the stack. It was likely that it was now empty and worthless, but he would make the effort.

 

Spoiler

Agility Test I presume to see if he can retrive the stack from the half melted cage.

AG: 36

D100: 41 Fail 0 DoF

 

Evidently retrieving the stack would not be possible, no matter what Bardas tried he could not get it out. Maybe if he had been willing to risk the skull escaping he was not willing to risk that the devoid appearance had been an act, there as too much at stake, too much wrong. He had to torch it to be on the safe side. Well if the stack was lost in the molten wreckage might as well do the job properly.

 

More heat from the welding torch bathed the remnants of the little cage until even the carbonised skull remains disintegrated in the molten white hot slag.

 

Stepping back Bardas became aware of the foulness in the air from the burned organics, there had been no ventilation shaft in the room for a reason, but it would have been welcome now.

 

With his possessions safely stowed once more he let himself out of the other faraday cage, and headed for the door. A cloth that lay to hand quickly fouled as he cleaned the worst of the settling smog from himself. He knocked to be let out, and one of the workers complied wearily, he probably had stood guard there the entire time.

 

Once outside the door he called out to the Ordinator and Adept Xerxia.

 

+I am afraid there was something foul in the skull, I had to render it down to molten slag. It will take many hours for the remains to cool enough to be properly disposed, I suggest this door remains closed until then. If you can, isolate your systems that house your noble machine spirits and guard against external influences.+

Edited January 14, 2023 by Trokair

[Mazer Rackham]

The Workshop:

 

Xerxia's mechanical face oscillates.

 

"We will harden our defence algorythms, Tech-Sentinel."

 

This is where Falk enters, looking sharp.