[DH1e] The Damocles Contingency (RPG IC)

[A.T.]

Falk:

 

Pausing once more Falk pulled his old inactive comm-bead of his pocket, showing the removed power-cell "deactivated of course, but..." dropping it to the ground he crushed it under his heel. "There are no eyes in the mag lift, no stops to make."

 

He glanced towards the rearmost guard and motioned him to advance.

[Mazer Rackham]

The Arcade:

 

Satisfied, Kraevus nods to Huk, and the group moves to hurry on along with Falk. Along the arcade, a young man in a cleric robe, with a leather satchel around his shoulders emerges from the travel company doors. His bag carries a row of tools in loops, proving him to be one of the clerks. He hurriedly looks around the Arcade, before settling on the Secundus' party. His face lights up in recognition, and he begins walking briskly towards the group.

[A.T.]

Falk:

 

Nudging Yannic with eyes on the clerk, loud enough for Kraevus to hear "keep moving to the maglift, no guns, i'll deal with this".

 

Stepping away towards the clerk he held his palm low shielded from the view of the others and the crowd at large as best he could, the symbol of the inquisition flickering into visibility as he reached for the satchel with his other hand and fixed the clerk in his glare, quietly, "obey in silence, return to your post and spreak of this to no-one. Imperator vult."

[Mazer Rackham]

The Arcade:

 

The boy blanches, his lessons forming his will into complete obedience. He nods, almost imperceptibly, and scurries away.

 

He does not look back.

 

"For Throne's sake, the longer we tarry, the more chance my enemies have" Kraevus announces.

 

At that moment, the magrail lift stops, and the doors open to an empty carriage.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:
 

Spoiler

Perception Test:
Per28 +10?(Awareness+10) +10?(Heightened Sense) -10(Difficult) = 38?, Roll: 62, Fail (or terrible fail, if those bonuses weren't included!)

 

Opposed Wp Test: Wp25, Roll: 20, Pass!
OOC: Very glad of that Pass, I had my suspicions about what this place was about already, then I saw the bit about the numbers on the wheel…

 

 

Reynard should have been, perhaps would have been, enthralled by the sudden wealth in his lap… but then the hooded man spoke again. Tarkan's men at the…? his prize…?

 

Had it been the Crimelord's men who attacked the lander? And if so, was this other man responsible for their actions? And crucially, whatever he sought from Stitches' bag… maybe he had not yet claimed it? Reynard had thought this a side mission, a distraction, but perhaps it was actually the missing piece of their real task?

 

The thought was like ice water in his face, focusing his mind… and suddenly the bunker felt uncomfortable, oppressive. Something felt… wrong. What was happening here? Instinctively, pretending to move on his cushions, he shifted his guns under his coat, moving them into a better position to draw.

 

"Una, dear, I think I'll leave that drink for now. Restal, look at these rubies. What a beautiful vermillion."

 

He hoped that using the word for a Guard high level alert would be enough to warn them to be ready.

 

 

Edited March 2, 2023 by Lysimachus

[Mazer Rackham]

The Bunker:

 

Seduction Attempt vs WP: Reynard wins by one DoS.

 

Perception Test: Partial fail.

 

You know the robed man's voice. Even as you sit near him, you can detect the perfect, quiet whirr of master-crafted servomechanics. 

 

"Oh, such a shame you will not claim riches which are yours for the taking, Baron. Such secrets we could have shared!"

 

+Enough! Where is the serum, Tarkan? Produce it, or Throne help me...+

 

"Come my friend let us not fall out! No need to invoke the false master's name here." The crime lord smooths his eyebrows, completely unperturbed. He picks up the six-shooter and spins the cylinder once more, in the obsessive number. He looks Reynard right in the eye, with only cold, haunting humour.

 

"Five times six have I spun it, five times have I lived. Play the game - Mister Reynard! Ha! I made a deal. A deal with the devil. Money and power, only for the small price of a soul. Now you must choose. One of these people," he chuckles with dark glee, "is going to die by your hand."

 

"Shall it be your little harpy? So succulent! Or this ungrateful stranger? What a princely corpse he shall make!" He pauses, knuckles going into his mouth as he thrashes his legs like an excited child. A malevolent, wicked child that enjoys staking out pterasquirrels and vivesecting them. One of the waitresses begins pressing herself against him, sinuously cavorting against his back. Tarkan bites his knuckles, almost swooning at the pain before he sputters bloody saliva in euphoric abandon.

 

"Choose Mr Reynard! Hahhah! - For neither Mr Restal, nor his Golden Godly voice can hear within my sanctum!"

 

"Kill one of them, and get an answer to whatever burns inside you! Secrets and sins! Secrets and sins!"

 

As he says this, a pile of disembodied hands spill across the couches from one of the male servers. Each has a palm, fixed in rictus terror, each with an electoo burned into it. Tarkn dumps the revolver in Reynard's lap.

 

"Complete the wheel! SHOOT!"

 

His manner changes, cold, icy water pouring. "Or die!"

 

There are narcotic, soporific pollutants in the air. You will require a Challenging (+0) Toughness Test or suffer One Level of Fatigue.

Edited March 2, 2023 by Mazer Rackham

[A.T.]

Falk:

 

Peering inside Falk quickly scanned the lift for visual augers. He had considered leaving one of the guards here but Kraevus was too on-edge, though that may continue to work to his advantage, "they'll be looking for three men and uniforms but that can't be helped, keep your faces down and away from the windows." Standing partially in the door he waved Kraevus through.

[Mazer Rackham]

The Arcade:

 

The party hurries into the lift, and complies with Falk's directions. Each takes a great interest in the toes of their boots.

 

Once the door seals, Yannic presses the button to go up. It illuminates green, and the clamps of the magrail lift diesngage.

 

Then the lift begins to go down.

 

Yannic punches the button. Nothing. Then he thumps it. Nothing.

 

The lift starts grinding down at a steady pace.

[A.T.]

Falk:

 

Given everything that had happened thus far Falk tried his best to see this as an opportunity, the lift was at very least moving rather than falling...

 

"Secure the door" he instructs, considering how best to warn Nicios without revealing himself and hoping the comms would hold. Pulling his multikey he checked the pannel for an override then glanced back at Kraevus, "The fact that we are going down rather than up means that you were less that forthcoming about your situation. If we are going to get out of this alive I suggest you tell me everything, and fast."

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Spoiler

Toughness Test: T24, Roll: 61, Fail. 1 Level of Fatigue suffered.

 

 

Reynard looked down and picked up the elegant stub pistol. As if in a dream, he held it up in his left hand, twisting and turning it to bounce the light off the silver and pearls. Mesmerising. Then slowly, languidly, he extended his arm to point the weapon first at Una, then back towards the hooded stranger.

 

"Sincerest apologies, old boy…"

 

He let go of the pistol. As the room's occupants watched it suddenly fall, still sparkling and bouncing light, Reynard's hand dropped down to join his right on Restal's shotgun. The very end of the barrel poked out from among the cushions. Pointed directly at Tarkan Pirentus.

 

"...but I don't make deals with the house."

 

 

 

Spoiler

Quickdraw Combat Shotgun.
Full: Semi-Auto Burst at Pirentus
BS41 +30(Point Blank) +10(SAB) -10(Fatigue) = 71, Roll: 32, Hit with 3DoS.
Spend a FP to add 1DoS for 4DoS total.
Semi-auto = 3 Hits, +Scatter at Point Blank = +2 Hits
5 Hits in total.
Dam1d10+4
Hit 1: 5+4=9
Hit 2: 10(!)+4=14 (RF roll: 66, Pass) +7 =21
Hit 3: 2+4=6
Hit 4: 4+4=8
Hit 5: 6+4=10

 

Edited March 2, 2023 by Lysimachus

[Mazer Rackham]

The Cradle Bunker:

 

Pirentus is splattered all over the cushions, wall and ceiling.  The shotgun force batters his body upright, and hurls him backwards, but all with a smile on his face.  The stupid expression is still there, even as the meat of his now standing corpse is rent and finally flops down. The woman behind him gets carved up as well, until there is a pile of jellified humanity, sitting quivering in a pool of rapidly spreading blood. Obscenely, they still seem to intermingle, as though lovers in death, wrapping around each other, and smiling whilst doing so.

 

The first thing the other occupants of the room do is laugh. A shrill, hysterical riot of cackling and garbled chuckles that echoes from the walls, rebounding quite painfully, discordantly until it is just a wall of white noise.

 

All Hearing Perception scores are halved, and voice communication is now impossible.

 

Then the men and women alike drop whatever they are doing, and move with lithe, feline beauty.

 

Gentlemen, Initiatives.

[Mazer Rackham]

The Maglift:

 

The guards don't argue, dropping their burdens and readying themselves for action. Since you haven't shot them, and they see your competence, they decide you're better an ally. Survive now, argue later. They cover the door.

 

Kraevus looks at Falk. "You're an agent aren't you?"

 

The lift begins to speed up, going from a sedate pedestrian pace, to enough to give the odd sense of vertigo.

 

"You don't understand! The old man made a...a bargain! He tried for years to stop the mutation, to no end, until I found Drexler, then Dreyfuss!" He licks his lips. The numbers on the lift begin to dwindle a little faster. "I financed him, through intermediaries, please understand, Helene is...God!"

 

The look on his face signifies he knows what he's just said.

 

"She found out about it. She told me to hire mercenaries through Canthus, told them to find the serum, kill anyone in their way if they interfered! She was the Red Queen! Don't you see? She wanted the throne - and to keep it! Even from her sisters, even from her father!"

 

The lift car speeds up, beginning the first stages of weightlessness. The boxes shift and clatter around the floor. The lift isn't falling - oh no, it's being pushed.

 

"She hated Magda, hated the Imperium for taking her!"

 

Your multikey finds an access panel. As you tear it off, you find the interface ports to control the lift as you plummet further into the hive.

 

You may attempt to stop or slow the lift, based on your DoS. However, this will be a series of three Opposed Tests.

 

The Spaceport:

 

Nicios:

 

Falk should have been here by now, and the coms are patchy, full of long breaks of static. The private Aircar is lingering, checking his change.

 

So that Falk isn't left alone here, if Ikka can work up a reason for touching the lift doors, and making a Sense/Psynicience/Detect Jedi etc test, then, depending on DoS, he can get a read on it.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Initiative: AgB4 +1(Wary) +8(d10) = 13.

[Lord_Ikka]

Nicios

 

They should be here. Where are they?

 

++Falk, where are you?++

 

Static answers him, then a burst of distorted sound that might have contained the words "down, alive, fast"...

 

What in the name of the Throne?

 

Nicios moves to the liftbank and grabs ahold of the edge of the lift. Forcing his mind down, he blasts his pyche into the machine, trying to find a hint of Falk.

Spoiler

 

Psyniscience Test 

Target - 36

Roll - 89, Fail

Fate point spent

Re-roll - 13

Result = Pass with 2 DoS

 

 

Feeling slight backlash from the depth that his mind had to go, Nicios reels with blood bursting from his nose.

Edited March 2, 2023 by Lord_Ikka

[Mazer Rackham]

Nicios:

Spoiler

The panic of Kraevus and the controlled fear of his bodyguards wrap Falk. The magrail lift feels like a lead plumb-weight on a length of sounding rope. You can feel the bottom of the dark abyss below, and a terrible hungry monster beneath. It is this psychic shock, that thunders back up through your veins like electricity, boiling your blood, and bursting capillaries.

 

Something terrible, something empty....then it is gone, but the fear remains a copper taste in your mind, greasy.

 

GM Note: The Cradle Bunker fight will use no maps. The area is small, and theatre of mind, plus clarification in the OOC and IC GM text will suffice.

[Trokair]

Bardas 

 

He let the error message on the display as he intoned a short prayer of guidance. Connecting to the main power supply would be foolish at this time. A fraction of interruption or a surge brought on by another hive quake could be disastrous to the damaged core. A battery then, but it would have to be substantial, something like the lasgun power pack trick he had used to keep Magos Krupp data stack going was not going to be sufficient here he suspected.

 

+Yshing, I need a long lasting power source that’s independent to the main but would otherwise output the same. Ideally with a surge fuse or similar protection. Is there anything to hand that would suffice?+

[Mazer Rackham]

The Tech Labs:

 

"There is the power pack from the hallowed armour of the fallen Lady? That would be ideal."

 

 

Edited March 2, 2023 by Mazer Rackham

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal:

 

They had entered the vault bunker to locate the Bounty. Seek and destroy with extreme vengeance.

 

 

A slender man, in a black waistcoat and trousers, stirred himself from one of the seats at the mini bar within the room. The counter is attended by another lady, but her features are so fine to be exquisite. She smiled at you as the man plucks a lho stick from his lips. He glanced towards them, his smile as sharp and handsome as the woman behind him. "And why not? Come in and indulge yourselves."

 

As they passed the threshold, the door began to close behind you. It is at that point you see the shadow draped figure of Tarkan Pirentus reclining on the cushions. He blew out along string of purple-hinted smoke. The wispy cloud floated across a roulette wheel, before meeting three men bent over the gambling table. Playing chips piled up as the white-steel ball is cast into the spinning, numbered wheel.

 

A moment later, cries of anguish as the ball drops into a slot which carries no bet. The anguish becomes laughter at easy-come, easy-go, as a woman dressed similarly to Una poured amber liquid into tall flute glasses they hold. Hard-faced men regard the trio, easing jackets aside to show weapons.

 

"A degenerate, a killer, and a common lily!" Tarkan bellows, face wrapped in blissful visitation. "Take root within this garden. Spend, play, love."

 

 

As if on cue Restal raises his hands, but...

 

He can't say anything, as if he were out of phase looking in on the situation. A by-product of his earlier catatonia perhaps?

 

 

Perhaps it was aid from Him, masking his killer abilities from view until the kill.

 

 

 

One figure sits cross-legged, hooded, hands tucked into his sleeves. He is immobile in a nest of cushions.

 

There are no tall seats except for the bar. Everyone lazes on the floor, thick carpet and pillows of exquisite red, purple and green upholstery.

 

 

The door slams shut, thumping thrice more.

 

 

 

"Come friends!" Tarkan encouraged, his voice warm and inviting. "There is much here to amuse you! Are the ladies not lovely? The men not handsome? Does the gold not sparkle?"

 

Reynard, Una and Restal will require an Opposed Willpower Roll vs Charm.

 

 

 

 

WP 39 Vs Charm. Result: 10, Pass 2 DoS

 

 

 

Held in his out of phase condition, the oily charm of Tarken washes away.

 

 

 

The robed and hooded figure turns to the host, angular plates forming hard lines under the smocking fabric. +Forget them. What of our arrangement?+

 

"Calm yourself, young seeker. Let us bathe our senses." He ran his hand over the leg of a waitress who strayed near to let him. A silver inlaid, pearl-handled stub revolver squeezes out from a holster inside the front of his waistband and tumbles to the floor. He laughed, and snatched it up, spinning the cylinder six times, and placing it to his temple. There's a click.

 

"Ha-ha! The great game goes on!"

 

The roulette wheel span again, the female croupier pulled at the large cruciform handle six times, to spin it way beyond a normal gambling rotation.  The silver ball danced, twinkling in the light.

 

Tarkan rummaged under a cushion, and hurled a pouch at his feet. "A thousand! Bet it, wager it!"

 

Standing with eyes on the mark, he ignored the pouch of thrones at his feet.

 

 

"Restal, look at these rubies. What a beautiful vermillion."

 

A far off voice from the Weasel.

 

 

Red Alert. Noted.

 

 

Tarkan tossed the revolver to Von Graen.

 

"Complete the wheel! SHOOT!"

 

His manner changed, cold, icy water pouring. "Or die!"

 

There are narcotic, soporific pollutants in the air. You will require a Challenging (+0) Toughness Test or suffer One Level of Fatigue.

 

 

 

 

 

TGH 34 +20 (Filtration Plugs) -0 (Challenging) = 54. Result: 12, Pass 4 DoS

 

 

 

 

The Weasel was obscured from view by a hooded stranger, but he heard his spiel.

 

"Sincerest apologies, old boy…"

 

"...but I don't make deals with the house."

 

Fennella spoke and brought unkindness, turning Pirentus into burger meat.

 

 

Pirentus is splattered all over the cushions, wall and ceiling.  The shotgun force battered his body upright, and hurled him backwards, but all with a smile on his face. The woman behind him got carved up as well, until there is a pile of jellified humanity, sitting quivering in a pool of rapidly spreading blood. Obscenely, they still seem to intermingle, as though lovers in death, wrapping around each other, and smiling whilst doing so.

 

The first thing the other occupants of the room do is laugh. A shrill, hysterical riot of cackling and garbled chuckles that echoes from the walls, rebounding quite painfully, discordantly until it is just a wall of white noise.

 

 

Then the men and women alike drop whatever they are doing, and move with lithe, feline beauty.

 

 

"Take root within this garden. Spend, play, love."

 

 

Restal finally slotted back into real time. His hands raised level holding his twin las carbines.

 

His target eliminated, he casually tracked the closest targets, a man and a women.

 

 

"Play!" He laughed.

 

 

Gentlemen, Initiatives.

 

 

 

Rolled: 10 + AGL 3 = 13

 

Edited March 5, 2023 by Machine God
Tidy up to show targets.

[Trokair]

Bardas

 

Turning to consider the armour on its stand Bardas hesitated, he knew little enough to even speculate on the inner workings of the armour and its power pack. Using the helm to make contact had been one thing, a vox is much like any other vox, a system he understood well.

 

Furthermore, the spirit of the  armour, already bereft and possibly angered at his early intrusion to use the helm  was unlikely to co operate. He did not know the rites and blessings appropriate to one of that other faith of the Omnissiah. Perhaps, as a machine at heart, it would respond to Martian rites as readily as that of its owners. Bardas dismissed this thought almost imidietly, with two dead Hives optimism was in short supply.

 

+Very well, help me move it over here.+

 

Sanctifying the workspace where the power pack would rest, and anointing the unit itself he hoped it would mollify the machine spirit within. Suitable connecting cables where easy enough to locate, and Bardas waited a full minute after plugging the power cable in to see if there were any automated responces to the supply of power.

 

With none apparent he pushed the ‘Y’ key and stepped back.

[Lord_Ikka]

Nicios

 

Bleeding from the nose, Nicios staggers to the maglift's operator. Pulling out his Inquisitorial emblem with his right hand, he flashed the tattoo of his left hand in the operator's face.

 

"Get that lifter going to the deepest depth you can. Now!"

[A.T.]

Falk:

 

A confession then, if any of them would survive to bring those implicated to trial. But little more than confirming what was already suspected as Falk attempted to cut any remote connection to the mag-lift.

 

Nothing, a force pushing down... this was not the work of Bardas' shadow but perhaps the same psychic energies that had assaulted the sanctum.

 

Defiance, symbolic and physical, it had worked before. Abandoning his attempt to cut off whatever was driving the lift he sought to bypass it all - maximum force upwards, any and all power, and the hope that whatever machine spirit was contained here was as stoic and intractable as countless others across the hive that seemed to delight in their stubborn refusal to respond with haste to his requests.

 

"Not enough Kraevus, do not think you can offer confession so meekly. Speak their names, places, acts, means of contact. Throw yourself truly and fully upon the mercy of the God Emperor".

 

At his words the lift seemed to shudder, perhaps even slow for a moment as the lights dimmed and the red glow of the overheating mag-levs outside began to fill the compartment.

 

"What say you of Canthus himself, of De Grassi, of Locke?", abandoning the panel Falk pulled his pistol from beneath his coat, "of the father, of the golem, of the coven?", igniting the symbol of the inquisition to its brightest as his voice grew louder to cut through growing roar of wind outside as competing forces began to twist and crack the lift itself, "IN THE NAME OF THE THRONE. CONFESS!".

 

A single shot, directly upwards. Several of the stressed mag-brakes caught fire illuminating the cabin as the power to the lights gave out.

 

 

First test: 73 vs 62 - fail with 1 extra DoS (uh-oh)

Second test: 20 vs 62 - pass with 4 extra DoS (assuming security)

 

Third test: 3 vs WP 41 or FEL 40 - pass with 2-3 extra DoS - going to spend a fate point for a suitable act of faith here rather than going for security / tech use tests - might give Bardas something to lock on to.
 

Perhaps stretched out across the ongoing confession - repent and pray for the God-Emperors intervention.

[Mazer Rackham]

Note that I will be dealing with different interactions in discrete posts, since players have generated a lot of stuff to break down, and the responses need to be planned in order to deliver the desired info/effect. This requires distinct and directed replies with my full concentration in each, thanks to the split parties (basically, I'm not spamming).

 

Each significant arc is up to date, save for the pilot 'Cutter', but @Ancient_Sobek's posts are fine to stand alone, so fire away when you've got a moment, sir.

 

=][= Please stand by. =][=

Edited March 3, 2023 by Mazer Rackham

[Mazer Rackham]

The Bunker:

 

GM NOTE: The details below are very specific because we're playing with Theatre of Mind, and we're at a critical moment. This will be a very dangerous fight. Dance with a plan, and do not be afraid of asking for more clarity in the OOC.

 

You are agents of the Inquisition, facing minions of the Great Enemy. Pinning, misdirection, none of that will avail you here. This is a fight to the death, and, The Emperor Protects.

 

+ NARRATIVE TIME ENDS +

+ STRUCTURED TIME (PAUSED) +

 

The Arena of Death:

The room is circular, as the rooms without, and as the Roulette wheel. You can discern this is no accident. It measures Twenty (20) Metres in diameter, and is Four (4) Metres in height at the centre of the room. The floor is covered with cushions and other furnishings which do not provide a sure footing. The room is considered Difficult Terrain, imposing a -10 Agility Penalty to ANY Agility based test. This includes Dodges, etc. However, the cushions etc are light, and thus do not impose movement rate penalties.

 

Any leaping, jumping etc will require an Agility Test to stick the landing, and will need the Penalty taken into account.

 

At the end of Each Round, Combatants will require a Toughness Test due to the Soporific Musk in the air. Note that from this point on, if you do not have an environmentally sealed suit, flugs, repirators, all that jazz will provide no benefit. Failure of the Toughness Test will result in +1 Level of Fatigue. Your environment is the biggest enemy. You must kill quickly and effectively or be overcome. Remember that being Fatigued will impose Penalties to Stats, which will in turn affect your AG and Init Scores. For every level of fatigue, you are going to drop point of Init.

 

If your level of Fatigue exceeds your Toughness bonus, normally this would mean you go unconscious. That rule is suspended. Should you Fatigue level surpass your TB, you may pass a WP Test to keep fighting. @Lysimachus, for this combat, your Fatigue level will be reset to nil - this will be your shaking off the imposed lethargy now you know what you're facing. Once Round 1 finishes, please test as normal.

 

MAP:

Spoiler

 

GM NOTE: Yellow circle = W, is the Roulette Wheel, Green Diamond = P is Pirentus' corpse.

 

+ Initiative Order +

Spoiler

Robed Man = 15 (??/??) (Arm: ??)

Bartender = 14 (12/12) (Arm 2)

Cultist 1 = 14 (12/12) (Arm 2)

Cutist 2 = 14 (12/12) (Arm 2)

Reynard = 13

Restal = 13

Una Weslock = 13 (15/15) (Arm 2)

Cultist 3 = 11 (12/12) (Arm 2)

Cultist 4 = 10 (12/12) (Arm 2) (Firearm)

Cultist 5 = 7 (12/12) (Arm 2)

Hostess = 7 (12/12) (Arm 2) (Firearm)

 

Edited March 5, 2023 by Mazer Rackham
Updated map

[Mazer Rackham]

Thanks to Tro for giving a name to this. Don't have him around Gozor the Gozarian any time soon though.

 

The Hellevator:

 

As the steel coffin plummets, Kreavus collapses in the corner, gripping his sidearm. Sweat is pouring off him in buckets, and it isn't just the heat. He lifts his voice over the screaming of the lift brakes, gasping as one of them breaks off with a sharp squeal, careening off the lift car and walls of the shaft.

 

"Helene was so jealous! She carried on her father's curse in more ways than one. When the Black Ship was downed, only a handful of survivors came forth. They joined the populace with old Lord Galvin Aldario's blessing, to hide them from a young Inquisitor sent to take the manifest, check the ship's purity! Dreyfuss knew about the refugees, was given samples. He went around the hive testing everyone and anyone - but Helene was furious, she called them her family, her coven of secrets! Dreyfuss took them - rendered them down into gruel for an antidote! We were so close! To fixing it all!"

 

He gathers himself, face now calmer as he stares through the walls of the car, the hive, his look piercing a thousand yards. "And that's what pushed her over the edge."

 

"She banished Gwynne, my own betrothed, because the cursed devil who saved her said to! Silence the Choir, or mute it! Let no-one know what happened! And so we lived on. In fear, in loss. Maybe Gwynne knew - all along."

 

The lift continues to plummet.

 

"Of De Grassi's involvement, I know nothing. Fabian Canthus didn't even know, to protect my sister. I got his mercenaries on contract through Drexler - honourable servicemen, bid to do the craven and dastardly. All because I was a coward."

 

His pistol comes up, buries in his chin. "Tell my Gwynne, tell my innocent sister, I love them."

 

He blows his head all over the lift wall.

[Mazer Rackham]

Elevator Control:
 

The adept controlling the magrail lift looks up at Nicios. "By God sir, she's fairly lost. The only way I can get you down there, is to let you fall and marry 'em in death."

 

He works the controls, and another car comes at his command. The doors open.

 

"I's obey, no mistake, but it's up to you, me lordship."