Atellus Kaenar's Story

Arcturas would find at least one other person near the bridge- Atellus Kaenar stood at a window, looking out at the stars, frowning slightly. There would be something a bit off about the bridge and the area leading up to it, likely- Something not quite right...

Namely, it was that he was alone. No crewman staffed the halls, nothing but machines and blinking lights. It looked like a single-pilot craft, almost, though large enough to admit many more than that. Any crew seen seemed to be solely occupied with loading and packing.

Atellus turned when the detective entered, surprised. Who's this, then? he wondered, his third eye reaching out to examine him... And then there was pain, the pain of looking into an empty, howling void. He'd felt that pain before, when trying to contact a dead astropath, or when once an ork psyker had blown himself up. Atellus shuddered, a hand going to his face instinctively. By the Emperor, why me? Half-blind and slightly stunned, he would appear to have flinched violently to the detective. He straightened up, trying to hide it. "Hello there," he said, mildly. "I would much appreciate it if you came no closer."

Heavy, steel shod boots clanged loudly across metallic flooring as the stout, broad form of the Squat Engineer stumped out onto the bridge, thumbs hitched into his broad tool-belt and pipe clenched between his teeth.

Looking slowly around the ships command deck spread out before him, Thungrim Thunderfist saw that he was alone, but following the Manling Inquisitor's request that he get to know the ship, the Squat puffed out his cheeks and strolled towards the main control panel.

Coming to a stop before the Manlings ship controls, Thungrim ran an armoured hand along its smooth, metallic surface.

"Ello Lass,"
He grunted in greeting to the manling ship, casting an expert eye over the controls, flashing screens and floating Servo Skulls, taking in the craftsmanship and workings of the primitive technology before him.

"Hmpf."
He muttered, stroking his beard thoughtfully, tapping a few of the controls in an experimental manner as he did so,
"We'll soon get ye up an' running properly darling, don't ye worry! Trust this ole Engineer."

Arcturas saw the man at the bridge entryway before the fellow seemed to detect him. He inclined his head in greeting, gauging the fellows harsh reaction to his presence. Psyker, clearly. Most people were uncomfortable around him, but psykers were unable to be around him properly. It was painful to them, as it was described by one, who was a safe distance away. The psyker requested he come no closer, politely no less, and the detective nodded and actually moved to give the man some more breathing room, moving to lean on the wall. He returned the nod to the very short Squat, if memory served of the abhuman races one would deal with in the Imperium. Directing his attention back to the Psyker, he decided a formal apology was owed to the man.

"Apologies about catching you off guard like that. I'll give you all the room I can, when possible. I know folks ain't comfortable around me, at the best of times." It was a polite way of putting most people subconsciously avoided contact, while psionically active were actually harmed by his presence, depending on proximity. Crossing his arms, he left enough room, by his estimations, the psyker could leave with no real contact with the blank zone, having remained at the passageway that split off in different directions. Considering how few real crew he had come across so far, he made a guess this man was part of the Inquisitor's retinue, and an introduction wouldn't be of any harm.

"Well, might as well introduce myself. Names Arcturas Serdali, detective. I'd offer to shake your hand, but that wouldn't end well, would it?" He half chuckled at the comment, but was obviously aware of the fact he would have to tread carefully around the other man. His reaction said that much. There was bound to be other crew moving about, and others of the Inquisitor's retinue. A psyker in the retinue would be a good idea, although he probably wouldn't be working too closely with the man, simply because of the conflicting talents already obvious. But no need to be harsh or unduly impolite in dealing with him.

Atellus nodded, still guarded. He didn't move yet, his third eye hesitantly probing to see just how far the blank field extended. It felt like repeatedly jamming needles into his brain, but knowing just how much space he would need in the future would be a helpful piece of information to have. "I... Apologize. It is not your fault- Neither of our faults, I suppose. I am Atellus Kaenar, astropath." He blinked, even though he had no real eyes to speak of- An instinctive reflex as he more or less psychically squinted.

Truth be told, he wasn't sure what to think of a blank. He'd heard of them, of course, but never had he actually considered the possibility of meeting one. On one hand, the man was a Blunt- But he took it so far that, in a way, he was like a psyker in the other direction. That, at least, deserved a healthy amount of... Respect, he supposed. They were both tools with a very specific purpose; Even if their functions interfered with each other.

Varn shrugged to Tristan's comment and kept walking down the hallway, Varn retreating into his own thoughts. Varn allowed the Tech-Priest to lead the way, though they didn't talk much after that, and eventually they arrived before the door which led into the Bridge, where Varn, who was still in his own world, entered the door along.
As Varn stepped in, he gave the room a good look and noticed an abnormally short figure that immediately brought suspicion and fear. "Bloody Warp! I didn't know there was a Ratling onboard the ship," Varn said aloud, and pointed to the stomp figure in the room.

Arcturas nodded in response towards the psyker. He had no ill feelings towards the Atellus fellow, despite them being opposite ends of the spectrum. He had to respect the lack pleasantry the fellows went through being around other beings, let alone blanks, so he didn't act with any hostility when dealing with psykers that were not hostile, which was a rarity due to this condition. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Kaener. I guess you would be part of the good Inquisitor's team?"

Arcturas looked up at the PA system as the Inquisitor gave the order to group up, and he nodded towards the psyker as the path lit up. "Show time." With that he went off, a healthy speed thanks to his strides, giving the psyker all the room in the world for moving about. He doubted he and the psyker would really interact much beyond this, simply for the health and sanity's sake of the man.

Atellus nodded, about to speak, when the lights on the floor flashed on. He looked down, raising an eyebrow, and caught a glimpse of the Blank hurrying off.

Certainly an interesting comrade, but not one I'm keening on working with.

Atellus took his own leisurely pace towards the briefing room, letting his psychic sight expand again. He was already beginning to work on a way to avoid looking at the blank- Or, indeed, anything like him, to make a hole in his vision. It would be a useful skill to have in the employ of an inquisitor, though he would need to be careful, lest he unwittingly ignore something vitally important.

Volsk nodded and downed his tea, "Mmph! Aahh! delicious. Now, onto business, first thing's first," He reached over to the table next to his chair and picked up a small, grey, metallic box, and tossed it to Arcturas, "That is your limiter, it will limit the void that you create, making your presence here much more bearable for those of us who are of the psychic persuasion." He turned his head to the Navigator seated in the chair next to him, "Ah, the ever beautiful Yolande Visus," He took her hand and kissed it, "How are you today my dear?" They always started briefings with a small bit of banter. As she finished telling him about her day to day events, he stood and adressed the group around him as a few more of his team, already well entrenched in his life, began shuffling their way into the briefing room, "Welcome, those of you who have not had the pleasure of my informal acquaintance, I am Volsk Osbourne, and I offer my hospitality to you. Any questions before we begin?"

Holt made a sound somewhat like that of clearing one's throat.

"If I may my Lord, I have a question of a rather complicated nature regarding this ship which has been troubling me since shortly after I came aboard it. said the Tech-Priest. "In the few hours I have spent aboard this vessel, it has become very apparent to me that the size of this ship's crew is well below the minimum size necessary for the operation of an ordinary ship of this class."

Holt paused for a moment in hesitation.

"I also briefly visited the ship's Enginarium, and found the entrance secured by an advanced gene-lock, something which seems out of place in an area of a vessel that would normally see hundreds of Tech-Adepts and servitors entering and exiting it every day. I would like to know how it is you have achieved this degree of automation. Know that I am making no accusations and mean no disrespect, and that I will accept your decision should you choose not to answer my question, but I would at least like an assurance that this vessel is not tainted by the use of forbidden technologies—namely that of the abominable intelligence—so that I may put my mind at ease regarding this issue." said Holt. As the words left his vox implant, he felt a sense of growing dread as he noticed many of the people in the room were staring—and in the case of the Navigator, glaring—at him.

Omnissiah preserve me, it had to be asked. Have not impliated Gaius, though the Squat will most certainly inform Osbourne that he was there. thought Holt.

Atellus frowned. An artificial intelligence? Are Inquisitors exempt from the rules the Machine Priests have put on themselves? He shook his head. This could only end badly, like it had every time before. There was a reason the Emperor forbid their use. Perhaps this one was better controlled, or perhaps not, but Atellus made a mental note to learn the location of the escape pods as soon as he could.

Holt nodded. "If I understand what you are saying correctly, I would guess that the virtual intelligence you are referring to a are a form of archeotech voidship cogitator. While I have read of such things in Mechanicus texts, I have never seen one myself; they are exceedingly rare, even among ships belonging to the Priesthood."

"Fascinating." he added.

Across the room, Holt noticed the squat engineer lighting his pipe.

Damnit! Does nobody here understand how much damage smoke inflicts on air filters!? thought Holt.

"I'll graft some runes of protection into the Enginarium, Key Engine parts, Hull an' Bridge,"

"My brother was the Rune Priest but every Engineer knows how tae protect his machinery, they'll banish an' keep out any Daemons that might try tae tamper with the Ships workings... IF we Do happen tae have a Daemon stashed away on board somewhere ye may want tae tell me..."

"I think you misunderstand my question, squat. I was alluding to the possibility that the ship's core bore a soulless sentience, an entity which is entirely the opposite of a daemon, but equally abominable. Either way, I am satisfied with the Inquisitor's answer." said Holt.

"You seem quiet today, my lady, what seems to be the matter?" said the Inquisitor, addressing the Navigator from earlier.

Yolande glanced away from the Tech-Priest to acknowledge the question. Internally, Holt breathed a sigh of relief. Even with a psychic-dampening headband covering her third eye, the glare of the Navigator's unblinking greyish-black eyes was quite disconcerting.

"Oh nothing my lord. There just happens to be a gaping hole in the warp sitting a few feet away from me. He has yet to turn on that limiter device you gave him, and it's giving me a rather dreadful headache. No offense of course Mr Serdali." said the Navigator, looking over at the Detective seated across the room.

Osbourne finished his tea and nodded to the squat, "Ah, excellent question, I suppose i should begin the briefing. After all that is the purpose of this gathering. Business first, play later, as they say." he retrieved a remote from the folds of his robes and clicked one of the buttons on it. A holoprojector whirred to life, and projected in the center of the room a photograph of a man apparently in his late forties, with dark hair, a thin mustache, and a haughty expression. Volsk pointed to the picter, "This is a picture of one Humeras Tolenka, the planetary governor for a little known hive world oout in the Eastern Fringe. He died last night of an inexplicable heart attack." Heclicked the button again, showing the picture of a young woman, possibly in her mid-twenties, "This is Ramanja Coreva, a respected and very wealthy dignitary from the same world, she died three weeks ago, again of an inexplicable heart attack. There are many of these occurances occuring, and I do not mean one or two isolated cases here and there. I mean hundreds of cases popping up every day, all of whic follow a similar, if strange, pattern. They all occur amongst high standing members of society, all those afflicted were young, not nearly old enough to require juvenat of any kind, and they all occur on the same planet. Any questions so far? or is everyone following so far?" He glanced around the room.

Hell's bells, what are they talking about? Runes and 'Daemons'... What are Daemons even? Is it another form of xeno? Varn thought, clearly puzzled by the terms, but the moment the word 'psyker' was said, his lips moved silently, saying 'Frak me'. Like any other Imperial Citizen, Varn had been taught to fear and distrust psykers and time in prison and Legion certainly hadn't dulled that fear, for he had heard stories how Sheol XVI had hidden cells where rouge psykers were stored and rumors had once circled the Legion that they had a psyker whose own powers blew himself to pieces. Confidence in such people was not something that Varn could offer openly. Oh, and what had the Navigator meant by there was 'a gaping hole in the warp sitting a few feet away from me'? Varn couldn't see anything abnormal in the room, and this Mr. Serdali seemed to be another ordinary human.

Varn made a mental note to have a discussion with either the Tech-Priest, or the Inquisitor, as they seemed to know more about what was going on. He then turned his attention to the briefing, already regretting not brining some form of paper to take notes on, though he'd have to endure.
"... poison can probably be ruled out" Tristan said, though Varn added, "And radiation. I don't know about this Hive World, but on Frenksworld we had radioactive chemicals going through our Spire pipes, and unless monitored properly, they could end up in the upper Hive, and that could turn ugly when they mixed with the wrong chemicals." Varn said. "Do continue," he then said, signaling that he was following.

Mr. Serdali's notion of the Royal Hivers' typical behavior did sound true enough, though Varn was born from the middle class, he had heard many stories about corruption and injustices, though nothing had ever bothered him as he had stayed in line and simply done what he was told. "How about spores? Stealer Cult DNA?" the Squat noted, and Varn's head turn, Spores? Stealer cults? What da frak is he on about? he thought.

He continued to listen as the Squat and the Tech-Priest discussed their options, though Varn had a hard time following along with what they were referring to. Chaos cults, eldars, ‘pointy ears’, DNA cults, none of it makes sense, Varn thought.
The Inquisitor eventually began to give some background of himself claiming to be of a guardsman background, and then who his crew members were. While Varn was not experienced in the field of hacking, he knew that on Frenksworld, it could get you into more trouble than it was worth. However, when Nomina yelled at the Inquisitor, Varn expected to see swift suppression to her lack of discipline, yet the Inquisitor merely smiled back. Varn couldn’t hide his shock, he stared open eyed at the woman and the inquisitor, barely believing what he had just seen.

"Alright, I want each of you to introduce yourselves to the team, tell a bit about yourselves and when we're done, feel free to mingle and chat. We have a few days before we reach Raleigh Prime, and there is plenty of time to meet you new colleagues, chat, and generally get to know everybody." The Inquisitor said.
Varn looked around and then sighed, "Seeing as this is like any other Introduction Week, I might as well go first," Varn sighed. "I'm Varn Gaius. Biochemist and soldier, at your service." Varn deliberately left out Penal Legionnaire, in this company it wouldn't give a good impression to mention anything about his criminal background.

Atellus stood up next, his face slightly gaunt from working on the blank problem. He'd managed to poke a hole in his vision, selectively avoiding seeing a small area, but the effort made his head spin- Obviously he'd have to work on it. He bowed slightly, his empty eye sockets visible. "Greetings to you. I am Atellus Kaenar, of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica. I will be serving for communication and such tasks with the Inquisitor." He sat back down, keeping his head facing straight forwards, though unnervingly as if he had his attention on everywhere at once.

"By the way lad, fer future reference.... My feet ain't hairy an' Rattlings don't have beards!" the Squat said to Varn, after having singled him out.
"Well, pardon me, last time I met anyone that short he robbed me of everything I had. I'm just cautious next time I come across vertically challenged people," Varn responded. "I've only seen Ogryns, Ratlings and normal people. They don't exactly tell you about every variation of mankind there is."

Varn felt extremely uncomfortable with what he had heard. He had lived and worked as a middle Hiver, and liked the life he had, the idea of venturing in where influence and contacts mattered seemed... Dangerous. Though the talk of daemons, cults and whatever other types of Xenos there were out in the dark universe, made him much more uncomfortable; he had seen first hand how terrible war could be. He couldn't imagine how secret wars were fought, especially those by the Inquisition.
He shivered. Memories of how he had created bio-chemical weapons for the Penal Legion rushed back like a nightmare… The results had been terrifying.

He looked down at the Squad. “You seem to know a lot about the Imperium’s enemies. Would you mind explaining to me what… Tyranid is… exactly?” Since Varn had been educated by Imperial standards, he was largely ignorant of the true enemies of Man. On Malice he had fought Rebels and traitors whose leaders were unfortunately competent, and most talk about Xeno encounters were dismissed as incompetence or just plain nonsense.

Volsk looked up, "Ah, excellent question!" He picked up the remote once more, clicking to a completely new slide. The slide revealed a repulsive creature, a cross between some foreign insect, and some kind of alien lizard. It's four arms ended in wickedly sharp hooks, and its entire body was covered in chitenous armor.
He turned to Varn, "This, my friend, is a tyranid, or at least, one type of tyranid, called a hormagaunt. Fascinating creatures, the tyranids. We have yet to study them in depth, but as far as we can reason, they have one singular goal. The acquisition of sustenance. They are able to take many forms, from swarms of hormagaunts, to the enormously destructive carnifex. They scour entire worlds clean of life, absorbing it into their ever churning, biological manufactories. I personally believe that they quite effectively personify the worst aspects of humanity in a volatile swarm. I know many of my colleagues, and the human population as a whole will call me a blasphemer, but if you were to see them in person as my teacher and I did in the Gaius Campaign, you would know that I speak the truth. Many men and women died those four years..."
Osbourne stared at the floor blankly as he slipped into a brief flashback, flashes of lasfire lit the night, as the screams of the dead and dying rang hollow in his ears. A swarm of the creatures had breached the eastern rampart, and had begun flooding in through the breach. He, Corvus, and his teacher stood side by side with a squad of guardsmen, beating back the ravenous tide as best they could. They had decided to join the men of the Gaius Campaign in order to attempt to capture one of the tyranid creatures alive. However, after his first encounter, he realized that there could be no quarter for these monstrous creatures. They needed to be eradicated from the universe as soon as possible.
Nomina, the young woman he had introduced earlier, stood and stepped lightly over to Osbourne's chair. She gently placed her arms around Volsk's shoulders in a tender embrace. He looked up at her and smiled slightly, snapping back to reality, "Thank you Nomina. I apologize everyone, I still get flashbacks from time to time, usually from past cases or from my time in the Guard. Do not worry, as it will not affect my combat prowess. In a firefight, my mind is able to focus on the task at hand, but when my mind is allowed to wander, I sometimes slip." He smiled at the group, squeezing Nomina's hand, letting her know that he was okay.
He stood and adressed the group, "I suppose I should introduce myself now. As you all no doubt know by now I am Inquisitor Volsk Osbourne, Ordo Solar. I am in charge of this mission, this is my ship, and it was my teacher's before me. It is one of the few items left in his memory. If you disrespect my ship I will personally administer punishment upon you. I generally consider myself a rather amicable fellow, but I will not tolerate any disrespect to my teacher's memory. Am I understood! Now to be clear, by disrespecting my ship, I mean damaging her intentionally, or defacing her public areas. What you do in your private quarters is your own business, within limits of course. Should any of you need anything, and I have the power to get it for you I will generally attempt to get it. However, should you tell me, say, a week from port, I will no doubt forget by the time we reach moorings. Simply remind me when we make planetfall and I will try to carry out your request." He smiled at them in closing, refilling his mug, and returning to his seat.

"God-Emperor save us," Varn muttered when he saw the picture of the beast. It was a twisted monster, something he would expect to see in his nightmares, and certainly not in real life, he could feel both his fears rising, what f it was such monsters that they had to face? The Legion had taught him that anything could be defeated through sheer will and determination to live, yet he felt doubt about facing such a foe head on.

He shook his head, trying to get over his fears though he shuttered by the thoughts of meeting such a creature. Then he felt his stomach twist and turn again. Damn... When was the last time I ate? Varn thought, rubbing his stomach. "Aight, I need a break," Varn announced for everyone. "I haven't had a decent meal in two and a half year now, frak, I haven't even had a clean shower since Frenksworld..." Varn turned and walked towards the door.
[b]"I don't know about you folks, but I think better when I at least have something in my stomach, and get some time to clear my head. We can't think of everything at once,"[b] He said, indirectly inviting anyone to join him at the canteen.