[RT] The Silent Architect (IC)

[Mazer Rackham]

The Observation Control/Engineerium:

 

The command to shut the doors results in the sudden slam of rapid deadbolts being withdrawn from hydraulic pressure pistons. Deadwieght drops the blast doors back into place behind Reynard and Castinius, sealing them inside with both flame and cybernetic beast.

 

GM: OOC Since Lysi acted 'at the same time' due to circumstances, it would make sense he's in there, firefighting.

 

Vents and evac-fans grunt into turbine motion, beginning to suck the air from the room, and leave only a vacuum to smother the fire, the chunk-whirr is perhaps a bitter welcome, but worse is the odd static crackle, as one of the damaged conduit panels suffers a sudden surge and explodes with a heavy, shrieking bang. Sparks fly into the smoke with a pretty scatter of stars, before the whole engineerium shudders.

 

In a cascade of pops and bangs, metal conduit plates pop off into the room, blue trails of plasma exhaust turning them partially molten. They careen around the engineerium, slamming into the observation deck viewing sleeve, one almost penetrating it, transfixed within the armaglas at a wicked angle, slowly cooling. It is a mixed blessing, since the fans arrest, having pulled out a good deal of the smoke, but leaving a modicum of atmosphere.

 

The room is now a thinly masked, ghostly grey miasma, the dark shapes of your crewmates, macabre marionettes, dodging and shying from the blast results.

 

A slurried plate slashes through the gloom to strike another figure, blade for hands and rigid steel rods for limbs. It takes the head clean off the construct, ending it instantly.

 

The lights flash on and off on both decks momentarily, before dying altogether, rendering the ship a stygian-dark tomb...

 

 

 

Edited May 13 by Mazer Rackham

[A.T.]

Malvolio

 

Neither flame nor darkness were of consequence for the Emperor would guide his faithful through all. Somewhere his enemy cowered from its fate but it would not escape their wrath.

 

Awareness

Perception 43 +10 (assistance) +10 (heightened senses - sound) = 63

Roll 49 - pass with one DoS and one extra from assistance = 2 DoS total

 

(drawn opposed test)

[Mazer Rackham]

Malvolio:

 

You hear the Murder servitor, ranging it exactly at 20m to Castinius' right, partially hidden behind a console.

 

Because of your preternatural abilities, you hear the strange sound of malfunction the moment before, but are powerless to do anything. Below you, the engineerium seems to explode with a ripple of force and heat, exposing raw transductors and conduits. The sudden violence is tempered by the altogether more frightening silence as the lights go out, and once more, you hear it first.

 

All around you, the hull creaks. It is the pressing of a thousand, million tonnes of psychic force per real, square inch. The depths of an ocean mankind was never to meant to experience, let alone plunder, and the ribs of the hull are being slowly crushed as the Gellar Field flickers, desperately wheezing along on the back-up batteries.

 

You cannot hear the voices yet, the whispering, the jibbering, but each creak and croak is the same, maniacal laughter to those with the gift. Those things without run tickling fingers of anticipation on the pathetically thin, pathetically metal skin keeping you all alive.

 

And you are beginning to gently list, pushed by the tide of the immaterium.

 

GM OOC All Players: The decks are now unpowered, until the backup generator kicks in. The fire is out, and there is atmosphere across both sub-decks, but the ship-comms are gone, etc. Anything personally equipped, and with a charge, still works.

 

++ STRUCTURED TIME ENDS IMMEDIATELY ++

 

Edited May 14 by Mazer Rackham

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

When the deck started to move beneath his feet, Reynard put the now useless extinguisher down carefully and pulled his stablight out from another pocket, panning the beam across the Engineerium. He didn't have a clue how to fix the damage. The tech-adepts in here were all dead, but there would surely be more racing from other parts of the ship? They would need to get inside, though.

 

He hurried over towards the blast door that had dropped, looking for a manual emergency release for the mechanism. Even as he started searching he activated his own personal micro-bead, hoping that someone else who knew more about the ship than he did might be listening.

 

++Anyone know how to get the Engineerium blast door back open?++

 

 

Spoiler

Awareness Test?
Per33 +20(Awareness+20) +10(HS:Sight) +10?(Assistance?) = 63(73?), Roll: 47, 1(or 2)DoS

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Reynard:

 

The murk eerily parts around the lance of your stablight, revealing several engineering runes located on several panels. Some of these are indecipherable to you, the Techna Lingua of the Omnissiah impenetrable as their order. However, much like the damage control equipment, even an untrained Rating must be able to serve and save the ship - indeed, it is expected.

 

In this, lies a sliver of hope, since the pressure doors here are based on the miraculous STC technology used in everything, from civilian hives, to Imperial Guard bunkers, to ex-Navy ships. There is at least one Aux Power port which you cannot interface with, since you lack both the grafts and unguents of communion, but there is a panel which reports the following, in stencilled, partially worn letters:

 

MANUAL RELEASE.

 

GM OOC: Under the panel will be a hand-crank and very simple instructions for use. No strength test is required for use, it will just take a while, since the deadlocks need to be released, and then the door needs to be raised. The tool/wrench is double-headed, with a locking nut matching the alcoves for each of these mechanisms. Since the mechanisms are unpowered ratchets, there is no chance for them to 'unexpectedly reverse' if you get my meaning.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

With a grunt of irritation, Reynard found the proper nut matching the deadlock and started the laborious process of manually opening the blast door. He was glad of the tireless help of his new augmetic limb. As he turned the crank, he kept talking, still not knowing if anyone was hearing.

 

++Opening the blast door now, but the generator is still down and the crewmen in the Engineerium are dead. Someone who knows what the bloody hell they're doing needs to get down here, now, and get the power back on!++

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

The Observation Deck:

 

Reynard:

 

As you crank open the blast door by a sliver, the communications frequencies link up and blissful static trembles into your ear, but the words are jumbled between them.

 

+Ah'm coming,+ a voice replies, like boulders grinding together, +Has - bzrrt- been pushing -zzt-oody butto-twzz- again?+

 

It's at this point, you notice things are beginning to lift from the floor, and what should be shedding as the vessel lists is remaining happily in place. A shift in your ear and guts makes it feel as though you're in a grav-car, slipping over the zoom-barrier.

[Lysimachus]

OOC: Reynard will attempt to wedge himself against the deck/bulkhead/whatever so that he still has leverage to turn the crank in zero G (rather than just pointlessly pushing himself around and around the crank! )

 

Edited May 14 by Lysimachus

[A.T.]

Malvolio

 

A silent hiss of stabilizer jets ensured the astropaths position remained firm, unwavering as the ship lurched within the immaterium. This was not to be their fate.

 

Reaching out with his mind he offered the guidance of the Emperor to the others that they might be reassured of their purpose and place here, and of a destiny yet unfulfilled.

 

Fettered 'Ties that bind' (sustaining soul of adamantine)

WS test: 51, pass (needs to be reactivated each round)

The other players gain a +5 bonus to a single test each

[Mazer Rackham]

The Observation Deck:

 

The door to the viewing gallery opens with a squeal as the Enginseer of the Chylde breaches. His hand wrapped in bandages, the flesh of his thumb a throbbing sore beneath, and more injuries picked up on his way here - scalded flesh, cuts and bruises - all from making haste in low gravity.

 

He is not burly, nor would stocky be a good enough description. This abhuman has been quarried from a mix of asteroid granite and molotov cocktail. His jaw is set, face grim. He shares the look on his swarthy features all starfarers wer in their secret hours, when fears of shipwreck and void-kill become reality, when death at anchor in the freezing chill draws near - yet the fire in his gaze is fierce.

 

The void will meet it's match 'ere the end.

 

All of his equipment, including the helmet for his Squat-forged void armour, is maglocked and deadlined to him, as he hovers, pushing adroitly through, he reaches the console and applies himself. He takes in all, sees the desperate situation, he sighs deeply.

 

+Castinius, can you hear me? Since you're dressed, I need you to go into the pipes and hit one of the diverters.+

 

He pushes off, and breaks out the manual release wrench from the gallery side of the blast door, and maglocks his feet in a strange mirror parody of Reynard on the other side, and begins winding.

 

+I'll do Starboard, you do Port.+

 

The crew knows 'loosely' what this means. It requires a crawl down the engine gullet of a plasma reactor that is currently trapped in belayed recombine cycle. The plasma is not getting where it should go, but it is insanely hot, and incredibly dangerous, and usually accomplished by servo-skulls or servitors. Also, normally, there would be  automatic venting, but alas...

 

'If anyone knows their way around a wiring panel, or a medikit, stay. Otherwise bugger off!' He quite obviously doesn't include Malvolio in his imprecation.

 

GM OOC: Getting to the diverter will require and extended (3 x) Difficult (-10) Toughness Tests against Heat. Failure will inflict 1D10+8 Energy damage to a randomly rolled (D100) location. Armour and TB will negate. Note that any armour value on the location will count as 1 point higher to resist/absorb. Bionics provide no bonus. If the armour has reflective qualities or upgrades, the AP is doubled.

 

Narratively, the diverter itself is a big handle, which swings left to right. It will only go one way. No test required to activate it. The tunnel will require moving with hands and knees (zero gravity will let you push down it at full move, but turns in the pipe will require simple arrests for orientation/stopping distance, since otherwise you're going to end up down the emergency bleed chute, and space).

 

Questions and shouting in the OOC.

 

Edited May 15 by Mazer Rackham

[Lord_Ikka]

Castinius

 

+Will do.+

 

Castinius moved to the tunnel and began to crawl towards the diverter. His armor warded off most of the heat, but his left hand and right leg touched the edges of thermal-conducting pipes. The pain was immediate, but not enough to stop him from reaching the diverter location.

Spoiler

Toughness Tests vs Heat

Target - 21 (31 - 10 difficulty)

Rolls - 80, 38, 16

Results = Fail, Fail, Pass. Damage taken (d10 + 8 - 10 armor/TB) = 3 (13 before reduction), 1 (11 before reduction). Total damage 4/16

Reaching the diverter, he cranked the handle hard. 

 

+Diverter activated. Anything else needed in here?+

[Mazer Rackham]

Castinius:

 

There's a click, followed by a shunt as manually tripped mechanisms shift into place. A sympathetic noise comes from somewhere across the other side of the broad tube you reside in, the heat making it a nasty habitat to linger in.

 

+No, get out of there. We have to try and get the pump manually restarted.+

 

Edited May 17 by Mazer Rackham

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

When Castinius disappeared into the pipework, Reynard started getting ready for when the Lieutenant emerged. Panning his stablight around the still-dark chamber, he spotted a cabinet stencilled with the winged staff and serpents of the Officio Medicae. He hurried over, still having to pick his way carefully across the slowly yawing deck, and helped himself to some of the medical supplies within.

 

When de Brae appeared, the helmsman removed the left glove of his void suit and flexed the reddened hand open and shut several times. Reynard moved smoothly forward, pulling a small aerosol from his pocket. The spray would have both a cooling and counterseptic effect.

 

“Allow me, Lieutenant?”

 

 

Spoiler

First Aid test: Int42 +20(Medikit) +10(Assist from Petrus?) = 72, Roll: 60, Success. Heals IntB=4 Wounds.

 

 

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

The Engineerum:

 

There is a shudder which passes through the whole deck and the conduit orifices secure with a slam as soon as Castinius emerges. The ducts sealed shut, the whole frame of the ship shakes and creaks, and the red, emergency lighting cuts in, illuminating all decks, banished the stygian gloom with a wash of arterial scarlet.

 

+This is the Captain,+ De Wiart's voice grimly echoes from the otherwise silent ship, breaking into the awkward silence it was mired in, sudden and shocking. +All hands stand by for crash translation on emergency power.+

 

There is no sign of Tarvesh, and no outlets obvious for his extraction from the deadly power wells.

 

Klaxons sound, and the deep stirring of something giving way, a surreal breaking of waters writ large in every vibration of rivet and bolt, as the empyrean reluctantly begins to release it's shrieking grip. The vessel groans with the pangs of wrenching free of neverborn-life, trying to save her crew from a fate worse than merely being spaced.

 

With a ripping of unreality and the cold firmness of the void, the warp vomits the ship forth with a retching, wretched noise that not only the warp-sensitive Malvolio can hear, depositing you back into realspace.

 

+All hands, damage control teams report in and stand by for further orders.+

 

The lights flicker back to power, restoring full function to consoles, cogitators and the life-functions of the ship.

 

Edited May 18 by Mazer Rackham

[Trokair]

Sola

 

A fire in the Engineerum was bad, and from little she had seen the duty staff had been decimated as well, skilled workers such as these where much harder to replace. The other shifts would be stretched thin until they could hire or train replacements.

 

Following the Stoic’s order Anastasia retreated, there was little she could do here to help now, and with Captain De Wiart’s announcement she knew that the bridge was where she needed to be. Emergency wrap translation was never a good sign, given the fire and power loss an expected reaction, but one still wrought with its own dangers. If this was a prelude to an ambush she needed to be at her station to command the guns, assuming the reserve power could be spared to fire them.

[Mazer Rackham]

Sola:

 

As you reach the bridge through corridors either deserted or containing sporadic pockets of damage control officers and wounded crew, all is complete stillness and quiet.  The air is humid, ripe with perspiration from intense action turned to worry. The scopes are reporting long range, intermittent contact with three ships, one large, two small. A small school of Orcas ploughing the starred-sea, which had plotted trajectories away from the stricken Chylde, but now track towards it.

 

Captain De Wiart is fast in his throne, unconscious. What you can see of his face is pale, drawn. The emergency translation was not kind to him, and a console lies nearby, cut to pieces by emergency torches, but it carries scrapes of paint that match gouges on De Wiart's chair. Rivulets of blood seep from the reddening dressing across his upper face and scalp. You can tell the last few hours have been a toll borne strongly on the crew's shoulders, but those same broad epaulettes can only carry so much, and the madness of it all glimmers in the bridge crew's tired eyes.

 

'Report,' an officer of augurs says, a weariness not there even running from Damocles.

 

'Main power still fluctuating, sir,' a crewman reports. 'Manoeuvring offline. Attitude adjusters and gravity generator functioning. Gun loaders are jammed on batteries 3, 4 and 6.'

 

It becomes brutally apparent, only half the guns are working, and none of them pointing in the direction of the enemy. The crew sees you, and their collective relief hits you in a wave, as you realise you are now ranking officer on the bridge.

 

'Your orders, ma'am?'

[A.T.]

Malvolio

 

Just as travel through the immaterium was guided by the strands of fate so too was each return to realspace, near or far from a destination determined as much by the path taken as by skill of navigation or mastery of machine. Had they arrived here because they were drawn to these vessels or had others forseen this and were awaiting them.

 

Stepping forward he took his usual place alongside the captain, for only in death did duty end and little short of that would pry De Wiart from his chair while the ship was still in danger.

 

Gazing across those displays still active he took stock of the situation. Without manoeuvering the Chylde could make little use of its speed and bringing the torpedoes to target would be difficult. Still, space was large and the ship was stealthy if they could only propel themselves forward, if only to buy time to deploy the escort screen.

[Mazer Rackham]

Malvolio:

 

Your arrival on the bridge is greeted by tense nods and quick salutes. From the tactical map you can discern only sporadic signatures, flickering in and out of existence. The vessels have turned, but they do not appear to be unfolding into any specific search pattern. The co-ordinates of the Chylde are well outside those expected for entry into the target system, and by quick reading could even be weeks away under standard engines.

 

The crew continue to effect the minutiae of constant maintenance, feeding information back and forth - such as it is - on the other parts of the ship they are in communications with. No-one has spoken up since Mistress Sola was asked for orders. They carry out their duty, but their nervousness in the growing silence tars the psychic wash thickly.

 

GM OOC: Note that the appearance on the bridge has allowed for about an hour or so in realspace, so the crew/PC's could, in effect, appear anywhere they prefer. There is still no sign of the Squat Explorator-Enginseer (he's in the GM bag of holding, but you can narratively assume as you please).

 

Edited May 22 by Mazer Rackham
Copypasta and typos. BLAM.

[Trokair]

Sola

 

Raising her voice so as to be heard by everybody, but not so much as too be shouting, she addressed the bridge. The individual section had been kept in good working order by their officers, drill and experience keeping the bridge functional despite the disruption.

 

“Until  Explorator Marlov get the Engineerum up and running again we are adrift. They will need time down there to fix the damage of the fire and the emergency translation. We need to buy them that time. Silent running protocols until further notice.”

 

“Helm, what is out trajectory and delta-v?”

 

“Auguries, predictive plots of the three ships out there, I want to know when we are likely to be detected by any of them if they have not spotted us already. Additionally plot lance and macro fire engagement range, if they are hostile we need to know how much time we have before they can open energetic communications.”

 

“Comms, silence for now, but let us know if you pick up any transmissions.”

 

Turning towards her own section the duty officer anticipated her next words . “Plotting firing solutions as per standard precaution protocols Mistress Sola.”  She nodded in acknowledgment, she would review the prepared engagement plan shortly but for now left them to proceed.   

 

Pointing at two of the Armsmen standing guard by the bridge entrance.

 

“You to, take the Captain to his quarters and get a medic to attend him.”

[Machine God]

Restal:

 

"Belay that order!" stated Kerr Restal moving out of the shadows to the left of De Wiart's command throne.

 

 

"A captain stays on the bridge of his ship, it behooves him to set this example to us all!"

 

Kerr Restal forcefully instructed the ordered arms-men, his arms chopping, pointing with clear and precise emphasis.

 

"Bring medicae staff and attend to him here. He in his unconscious state is watching your actions even now. He is Viscount Iago Howell Gawain De Wiart!"

 

 

Kerr Restal cast his gaze over all positions of the bridge in turn, he swept his trench-coat back showing the tools of his trade.

 

"We all have our important jobs to do and will not be found wanting. I am his Arch Militant."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Edited May 22 by Machine God
typo

[Lord_Ikka]

Castinius

 

"Stand down Mr. Restal. Threatening those attempting to do their job is not appropriate." 

 

Castinius looked up from the helmsman's station and towards Sola.

 

"However, he is right. Unless he is dying, the captain should stay here until he regains his senses. Send for medicae crews- everyone else, be about your business for there are possible foes about!"

Spoiler

Navigation (Stellar) Test

Target - 41

Roll - 33

Result = Pass, no DoS

 

[Mazer Rackham]

The Bridge:

 

Sola:

A nav crew member is the first to reply. 'Ma'am, telemetry reports upon exit from the lesion-anathema, our current velocity is; 2.2 metres per second increasing by 2 metres per second every second, pitch; minus 3.7 degrees from neutral and steadily increasing, roll; 15.0 degrees starboard from even keel. Zero yaw. We came out as we went in.'

 

The tactical map illuminates with three possibilities for each ship depending on formation and reported speed. Augurs show an odd zigzag trajectory which now is smooth out and straight. 'Silhouettes unstable, Ma'am, capabilities unknown. We have not yet intercepted detection augurs. Passive sniffer protocols are being reflected. Source unknown.'

 

Interlocking patterns of the Chylde's guns project onto the hololithic array. They are woefully small and short. The enemy is at least ten minutes from optimal firing distance for the ship.

 

Restal:

 

The mood of the bridge steadies a little further and an armsman nods, fires a brief salute and goes to fetch the medics.

 

Castinius:

 

If Restal's force was steadying, the familiar bluff orders cement the crew in routine. Between the three officers here, the bridge has been given much to do, and whilst the tension doesn't ease, the ability to cope increases.

 

As you regard the quickly plotted astrogation charts, you realise this is wilderness space, the viewports, still closed, would reveal far flung stars as always, but with the time elapsed you know you are a long way off ETA, and apart from some pulverised rocks in a wide asteroid belt around the local, medium green star of Yracles.

 

There should be nothing here.

[Trokair]

Sola

 

Politics, at a time like this. The medics could treat the Captain here, just not as well as in his quarters, so be it then. Out of all the things on this bridge just now, for him to throw his weight around in an attempt to prove his worth as a newcomer, that was the least critical. Did he even know what had happened to the last Arch Militant she wondered.

 

She focused on the nav crew's report; they were still accelerating even with the engines down. The Warp Tides just prior to transition had given them quite a shove. This would put them further from the breach site then the other ships might expect. Perhaps they could leverage that.

 

The rest was the information was patchy, no surprise when relying on passive sensors, and minimal power at that. It would have to do.

 

Ten minutes were a long way of, and yet way to close given all the unknowns. At least one stable data point gave her something to work with and put the situation into perspective. For the next few minutes it was a case of observe and plan.

Edited May 25 by Trokair
Typos

[A.T.]

Malvolio:

 

"The vessels should be identified. The house De Wiart has many allies, and many enemies. To know which will shape our path."

 

The ships augers had been thankfully spared in the return to realspace and could pierce the void without alerting the other ships as to their actions or position.

[Mazer Rackham]

Malvolio:

 

'Aye sir,' an augurman reports. He is sweating profusely, eyes glued to his instruments, fingers prising the adjustment and refinement control dials to zero and isolate. 'Drive core returns are very faint - almost like they don't have engines at all.'

 

The markers on the tactical map suddenly veer to their port side, vectoring in a wide tack, picking up speed swiftly, before stabilising course.

 

They will be in range in eight minutes.

 

A small shoal of smaller, little crimson triangles sprout from the oscillating blips. They rapidly, impossibly change course.

 

'Tactical voidcraft launched,' the augurman confirms, his face pale, but tone stable. 'Harmonics are...not, repeat not ident as any known Imperial.'

 

The tactical bastions plot the course of all ships, spreading out into a sweeping formation.

 

'Will have definite silhouette confirm in sixty seconds...'

 

It's going to be a long minute.