Administratum Myrkul's Story

The fresh aired morning was usually one you roll out of bed, stand up to stretch, then go get a bagel from the hospital cafeteria. Since you can't leave the hospital because of a double shift. What you don't expect is opening your eyes to paperwork, at your desk, with your hand filling forms out. The doctor's hand moved in a glove that looked like heavy wool. On its own though rather comfortable. As the cobwebs cleared he tried moving his arms and head then saw his actual coat across the other patient bed where he'd left it. A walking bed it may be, comfortable, warm, snug, relaxing... Wait, no! He had to do at least some sort of paperwork this week.

What new craziness has got him in this damn city now? As he tried to move his arm the moving pen stopped and the taps on the datapad stopped.

A cowl tightened around his head to speak a voice as flat as day old soda, "The paperwork isn't complete and there is more paperwork to complete."

Getting slightly worried that one of those creeps from the basement was wearing him he used his 'doctor's voice, "Who are you anyway? I have to start my rounds in less than 10 minutes, if you can't do that too then let me go."

He had a pang of regret as the really comfortable bed backed off of him and the loose empty robe replied, "I am Administratum. I rectify missing administrative functions not human repairs. I will return when paperwork is failing to complete."

A medical degree definitely didn't put him in the stupid end of the gene pool, "Oh no you're not, come on. There's a lot more paperwork to do. How many more are there of you?"

The voice while more personable than the creeps didn't seem to have the bedside manner down, "Of course. Administratum in the stasis array are currently capable of maintaining hospital regulation. Even in the event of catastrophic failure of all administrative personnel. While they still function we may not replace them."

Bosses couldn't steal them so this called for coffee, "You don't have to replace them just stick with me and keep track of my paperwork. Let's go get coffee."

The robe flutters and takes off into the air, drifting closer, "That is not against dicta. I will not need a coffee."

Mankind is permitted to kill Mankind. Such was the fallen Emperor's edict, and they were not to interfere in killing business unless asked. Myrkul made an exception for humans under threat by nonhumankind but the assault here did not apply. As such they patiently waited from within protected locations until the last bullet was fired and combat ended. Inky-robed humanoids with four grey sparks for eyes poured from drains, manholes, accesses, or even holes in the sidewalk. They'd grown a very large presence here but stayed out of sight unless necessary to complete their duties. It disturbed the humankind less and did not draw as much attention from enforcers. The Administratum were hollow white robed individuals with more natural understanding of humankind and their rules. A servitor created to deal with humans and their rules a feature required to restore functionality in some obscure governmental departments not yet reconnected to the TNG government after the last destructive episode. There were still several hundred with 'day jobs'.

Jinhai went from wreckage to wreckage, pouring heads through bullet holes and rent armor looking for bodies. The administratum either followed them around or stood at an intersection quietly waving pedestrians off with small handheld 'Detour' signs fabricated from scrap metal. Some thrones of mankind were salvageable and bone-white ceramic cases appeared from underground to salvage body parts from that which was not. Servicemen were quietly repaired with the remains of destroyed brethren. As EMT showed up they interrogated a waiting Administratum for nonhuman transports to Wing City Hospital as collators of the rekindled Jinhai brought back IG or questionably lucky citizenry whole but unconscious. The black-robed individuals simply stepped over nonhumans bleeding to death with drowned croaks asking for help. The local EMTs of course had a rather more general mandate and arrived some seconds later as Administratum helpfully collated information on the nonhumankind's deteriorating condition. Some made choice comments at various of Myrkul's Administratum as to their brutal apathy.

Empty robes curtly replied in a strange cheer imitated from commercials, "We are not permitted to rekindle nonhumankind or to intercede in the warfare between humankind without His explicit mandate extended to His servants. All Inquiries to alter Dicta shall be directed to the Living Emperor of Mankind. No such mandates are known to exist. Emergency vehicles have been repaired, have a nice day!"

A Twelve many stood up over other transports as the occupants removed themselves. The transport was in the way and it would be returned to Genesis to attempt repair despite Primorium's failure to make contact with Mechanicus on Segmentum Solaris. A drifted face more full of spark-eyes than likely comfortable stared at the commissar though the 11 foot high sixteen-many Jinhai said nothing. Other four-many busily move white cases full of human organs in stasis pile into the middle of the street. Some of what remained were busy repairing city infrastructure without a word a thing that had earned them a begrudging presence with many compared to the imperium. All similarly ignored the two men as they were moving under their own power.

As Jurgen began to scrounge around for a working Vox Opperator, the appearance of their allies of a different form appeared. Jinhai, strange creatures that seemed to work for humanity and the Emperor. And they were doing what they did best, gather corpses and vehicle wrecks...Of course it beat encountering gunfire first.

”Commissar, I found a working Vox.” Jurgen called out as he removed a working Vox radio from a deceased Vox Opperator. Commisar Ciaphas Cain walked up to Jurgen and retrieved the radio as he held the pack. ”Commisarial code T-101 Segmentum Solaris, grace be unto the divine father on Terra. Come in, this is Commissar Ciaphas Cain to all surviving Imperial forces still in Wing City. Although we have been beaten I am hearby taking full command of the Imperial Guard remnants of Wing City.” The Commissar spoke as he motioned for Jurgen to encrypt the frequency and ensure it was also in gothic making it much harder to locate and translate.

”To all forces that remain. I need you all to prepare to evacuate to the gate Of Wing City. Gather everything you can muster, but ensure you are not spotted by anyone. If you are closer to the location await further transmition from me before regrouping. To everyone still far away, begin making your way there by any means possible. Utilize our underground networks to transport armored vehicles and supplies. To those on the surface sneak and blend your way through the crowd. To all of you stay alive, we will not lose our lives this day after our defeat. We will survive again, Emperor watch over you all.” The Commissar gave his order as he shut off the Vox putting it to radio silence.

”Alright Jurgen, we are making our way to the Wing City gate. As much as I would like a vehicle to ride we will be safer on foot...” The Commissar spoke as he began to move. ”Of course sir, no doubt the local populace will still be hunting us down.” Jurgen replied as he followed behind, lugging the Vox on one arm, his las-gun on another, and his Melta-Gun behind him.

Alright Ciaphas...Now your in the middle of enemy lines again...What a familiar scenario...

They didn't introduce themselves in specific and spoke in turn among the group. The set with cognizance vaults quietly turned around to collate themselves pouring together into a writhing dune. Then stood up a sixteen many nearly 4.5m tall. Its large gloved hands taking the now small geode canisters in hand and moving to the wreckage. It hefted large chunks of wreckage after deforming closer to inspect them.

One four-many looked directly at the rookie spark-eyes drifting the dusty voice ever placid, "Do not shoot servitors. Jinhai currently contain delicate tools. Remanifesting them is inconvenient."

Another taller eight-many replied to Titus directly as two merged together for more complex abstractions, "We are Jinhai. Manifestation servitors of Myrkul's Vein, overbeing under the will of the Living Emperor. Tech priests sustain the Living Emperor's machine spirits. We repair the spirits of humankind under the Living Emperor. We will rekindle the Thunderhawk with currently known structures."

Another looked toward the Psyker as the eight-many left to begin manufacturing stone platforms with human-shaped recesses, "The Immaterium has been temporarily suppressed in this locality centered on the tainted humankind. The envelope will diminish as the humankind inevitably re-attunes with the Immaterium. Ensure security of the tainted humankind while work is ongoing. Resources are arriving."

One knelt as they dispersed to wreckage, as much as a thing can without bones, hands held wide focusing on a small firefly of light. The psychoportation mote flared as an administratum flared in from a collection of white cloth scraps carrying a bundle of sixteen meter-long rods. Each rod with deployable legs and a twist-pull activation from Gunnac's small munitorum at Wing City. Built by a techmarine it had the ornate gold common to the imperium its Sides labeled with Gunnac's name, seal of mechanicus at its top, and the imperial eagle along its length. The hollow white robe floated with little effort under load up to Titus.

---

Meanwhile, the Jinhai consider how to implement their task. A small group of four many stand among the wreckage as others acquire bodies and quantify the amount of sapience lost in the wreckage. They did not recognize the type of ship but could compose a functional servitor as requested. There were parts missing from many humankind as the dune-faced servitors drifted into rent holes to inspect equipment. The eight-many in particular brought a single mostly-intact guard to placate them with stasis in a gentle brush of its hand. As compatible organs and limbs arrived the eight many adjusted concordance of the humankind vessel then affixed the donor parts. Bloody rents in the bodies pulling together as a dusty tornado at its fingertips draws wounds together then fuses it shut. The tau were not so lucky the discordant bodies sorted but segmented away from the rest of the Imperium's own though a problem soon became evident.

One held up two legs, "These two pieces are not from compatible humankind the blue is very low potential though observed entangled sparks are very intercompatible with each other."

Another noted, "The sparks are tightly impressed and cannot be easily removed from their bonded surfaces as the thrones of mankind are destroyed. They cannot be rekindled."

"Impressed sparks on the mass are observed to recover from aether hysteresis likely induced by mass psychometric impact. Further degradation of the gestalt state by exposure to tainted aether has been arrested." Said another mistaking the souls starting to mingle from Tolyl's smashing of their immortal beings into metal for a diminished form of a collective psyker intellect inherent to the ship.

The sixteen-many distributed its own manifold for the puzzle pieces unknowingly perpetuating a misunderstanding and sparking new stable design among the Jinhai, "Humankind vessel concordance can be reimaged into a high-coherency aether core. Redundant humankind artifact can be repurposed for a core reliquary. Compatible regulating entities for interfacing with weapons and engineering systems have been found. The other humankind observed are ideal for autonomic and engineering functions. Presumed fully segmented from executive rights to provide aether-hardened executive support to humankind while not diminishing requested combat readiness."

A single four-many sealed their common fate and damned the Tau to servitude though perhaps saving them all from the warp, "A concordance is reached. Adaptations to specialize the nonconformant humankind will be implemented as necessary."

Work went quickly flashes of sparks and manifestation flares as the Jinhai bent metal to shape reconnecting metal hull and forging brushed grey metal sinew out of translucent billets of raw ferroplasm. As they moved equipment to build or bent it open discovered guard remainders were extracted from the Thunderhawk. Intact bodies, or at least the heads, instead carried lifeless to the eight-many instead. Repaired with the intact substance of their brethren plenty enough in spare parts but those not smashed against the hull or immolated are shortly exhausted. At the end five Astartes in smooth refurbished armor lay in the human-shaped depressions covered in a fine ectoplasmic hoar. As Adolefactus completed rekindling the anchored spirit to its throne they took breaths once more, or perhaps yelled in continuation of their last thought, the hoar flashes from them in lucent steam with the rekindling of life. Most fall from their slabs after putting eyes on Titus then after drunken stumbling for a moment rejoin to their brethren away from the Xenos now ignoring them dematerializing the slabs they left.

Smashed bodies and nearby spirits now lacking a suitable throne of mankind to sustain them received a different fate. As did all the Tau and after purification the remainders of any tainted humankind onboard. A huge ferroplasm sphere took shape as Jinhai carefully oriented and manifested the aether core to integrate. Bones cleansed and marked with words of the Living Emperor affixed in patterns to offer a place for the spirits within the core to anchor. Other work spaces appeared from harvested boulders exploding in shrapnel as green beams from the Jinhai reorganized them. Similar turning of meaty human sinew to ferroplasm leg cording then weaving together for a new cord of the legs. The largest a torso work plate where internal ferroplasm spars and compartments took shape showing it easily standing among reaver-class titan as the legs and arms took shape too.

Unlike Mechanicus they had less compulsion to avoid Xeno technology however had slowly gained an understanding of how the 'machine spirit' was to integrate with the components. Gunnac ensured they were taught. Synthetic thought it may be the nature of a mind's utilization of components they well understood if more in ritual nature than themselves. The Tau components were duly altered to service the machine spirit within the Thunderhawk. Layers of redundant aetheric feeding coils and shielding arrays assembled onto the aether core. Motilization and data networks housed in protected conduits capable of minor self-manifestation under the will of inner humankind bound to the Aether Core. Jinhai's own ferroplasmic structures and energy manifolds replacing the pseudo synaptic relays finding them less fit to protect or conduct human cognition while interfacing with a machine spirit. The Tau computer less familiar and found lacking in a machine spirit pattern was dismantled for its parts. The machine spirit connected to many extradimensional redundancies or compnents among the Titan's interior altering them according to the burgeoning collation of souls migrating to the aether core.

As the networks optical, transdimensional, and conductive were slaved to the machine spirit they rebooted the computer with enough of the souls now arrived. The Aether core quietly flared with blue light then a high soft lilting from inside a platoon's howl of loyalty from somewhere inside as a fusion core ignited. The husk of the new titan sprouting equipment under quiet leather gloves assembling or affixing parts darting over to them with a flare of ferroplasm or manifested mass. Legs arrived held by two eight-many weaving into the mass then emerged too-large engines from the flexible inner tangle. Ferroplasm cords and thunderhawk armor lined the leg though plates then shot out to cover the gaps of exposed leg in far heavier, and slower, armor as Jinhai tested the Aether core's ability to refit under design of the machine spirit. The arms doubly one arm covered in a specialized manifestation grid the other in a multimodal projector of weapons systems.

Marine minds in concordance perhaps now growing alert as various Thunderhawk weapons formed slowly in crossection behind a manifestation grid writ in large from the end of the barrel. As they finished printing each alit then quieted and demanifested in reverse. The Tau were there too though could neither control the machine spirit nor the aether core. After a moment a railgun appeared in a design odd for the Tau perturbed by the machine spirit's interpretation of its mechanics. Small manifestation plates alit in a storm of blue plates as an intelligence began to redesign the weapon from inside. The other arm connected now Jinhai dodged out of the way silvery threads pouring out of the arm's projector weaving and filling to form a gigantic storm shield. Small hexagonal void shields emerged in front of it the minds exploring their capabilities.

A Jinhai stood atop its head and looked at the central sensor array in their connection able to sense the humankind souls watching informing them, "Your bodies have been destroyed. Available Humankind souls have been reformed into a collated servitor fit to serve the Living Emperor. Unknown humankind patterns have been stripped of executive rights and made servitors to the Machine spirit. The dreadnought pattern was too small given available material and soul quantity. Vox hardware, sound emission, and a direct Myrkul access is installed please contact Humankind leader Titus by those means. Your internal troop capacity is approximately similar for living beings within the extradimensional transport manifold. Nonintelligent hardware can be demanifested separately and is limited by actual volume. All demanifested living matter will be aggressively destroyed without exception to protect against Chaos infestation. Myrkul provides a secondary Astronomican for Way access so warp travel is not required but possible."

As it finished its long-winded description the remaining horde of Jinhai had poured into three ten-many quietly looming around the body shaping to its armor Imperial iconography. The Imperial eagle in gold emblazoned onto the chest. The shield hovering in space rotated, decking a Jinhai whom just bent at the waist, to slam down on the ground to stand itself up.

Somewhere, a Vox communicator near Titus started beeping as the Jinhai quietly started packing and demanifesting remaining matter into now empty vaults for processing.

Sound passed oddly in Myrkul's halls. Especially insulated against external connections as they were. They were ever utterly solemn save for any electronics inside added by the Emperor himself. Partly as Myrkul's inner substrate didn't transfer sound so well but also that it folded space as necessary to allow the Living Emperor's labs to expand in any direction he desired. As he approached one of many guarded doors the sound of sparring rang out. A howl from Nuria and the bass boot-clang to armor erupted a clatter of stony noise from a wall impact. The son smashing a large crater in Myrkul's many walls. Laughter from his son and thunder of metal on metal resumed.

As Adolefactus sent orders away it spawned a new message-worm with a psionic missive. This but the lesser of Myrkul, Eldrylth, the message indicating the very remote distance she traveled to for study.Styled a Wyrm for the robustness of individuality but no less the same mote-bound creature as Myrkul. It would take her time to seal her ingress shut again and anchor her prototype. The defensive mechanisms she left clung to the standing webway gate. Ready to lance at any energies of demonkind emerging from the Immaterium-exposed area beyond.

Thus her voice within the missive had the sharp draconic accent by impression, "I am returning from my study of the Webway, Living Emperor. We penetrated servitors to the interior but much study is necessary. We are finding other entry points within which to repair its extensive damage and subsequent exposure to the warp. Patches are serviceable, expensive, and not ideal. I return to assist Adolefactus with the incarnation dias but the prototype gate slows my transit. Nonhumnakind and their leather-clad offensive brethren as souls in my care were returned to their own. Re-embodied to small tree rodents stripped of threatening capacity. The interaction passed without war intent. The ugly green ones and shattered Aetherkind are being destroyed."

Other tasks continued to facilitate the Living Emperor's commands. New servitors of Myrkul, clad in bright white psistone, busily tapped at lucent shadows of computers. The screens showing data of Sammon Solauth that shortly emptied of data. Small worms left their bodies to carry the erased data away into Myrkul's extensive and armored memory, the Almanac. Others were centered around an empty room perturbing the Way, its psychoportation network, to get closer to the Blood Angels. Pips of blue light emerged among a dim solar map as Jinhai reached to uninhabited worlds. From which Myrkul could anchor a new span potential of their network. The other reaching arm of the cloud centering on Terra pointed toward Segmentum Solaris.

Sparring was quite normal in the Imperial Palace, his own Honour Guard even participated in blood games with eachother. Somthe act of seeing some people sparring nearby was a simple thing. However a communication came to him informing him of Eldrylth returning soon after studying the Webway.

Well when she came he would allow her past his honor guard, for the time being. He simply began to walk through his lab, doing another thorough checkup on all systems. Right...There was a battle going on at Terra. It can’t be helped, but right now the situation was in the hands of the Space Marines now.

The systems reported power abound through many fusion power plants or other generators the Emperor had created. Though newer ones appeared with little more than erratic line-patterns a unreadable expression to the hardware of a quantified thought. They ported around the mass at will balancing out power spikes or topping out storage. Myrkul supplied what signals it could to hardware but it was an ill fit to them. The equipment map had the unfortunate duty of attempting to express locations in non-uniform spacetime.

Engineering systems otherwise unfolded according to the Emperor's programming. Myrkul's control of its own interior lead to a twisted network of densely packed volumes and planes likely only it or the Emperor could easily discern. The hardware behind the walls a momentary hall of mirrors until the overbeing uncompressed and normalized the space. All things unaware operating in their own reference frame wholly unperturbed. The Emperor's labs were a locally segregated tangle however. Denser clouds of ferroplasm sheets and psistone bricks moving through endlessly shifting dune hinted at a protected presence. Special attention of mobile armor in the interior volume. Even outside any armor the Emperor had added to his own demesne. Sheer volume indicated Myrkul had expended battle barges worth of effort in armor. Even dense cognitive grids of crystal, bone traces, and energized motes by the Emperor's keen engineering easily seen as Myrkul's own version of Gellar field projectors in operating nodes of the depersonalization grid. All to gird the Living Emperor with an eternally intense concern at keeping Him from becoming a new Fallen Emperor.

Administratum came and went to parts of Myrkul balancing the rivers of motes stymied by their unfamiliarity with imperial hardware. Others stopped where they were to handle other tasks for which Myrkul found them suitable to delegate. One in particular was a problem of endpoint lost.

There were three considering one problem in particular and speaking in turn, "Attuned Humankind Otto Hannig is still amassing potential to remanifest a corporeal image. The weapon manifestation point is lost. A servitor has been moved into position. The Jinhai will abate the loss in efficiency. Attuned Humankind Otto can be manifested in the two Humankind's proximity. The original location will likely remain suitable as well."

They dispersed as one opened a small spatial window to monitor a large glowing ferroplasm sphere. A deep cruor geode inside among small windows to its interior. It slowly amassed psionic power with luminous circles underneath in orbit jolting red crystals through the holes with bright purple arcs. The telltale hum of a living dreaming human mind taking shape inside.

A large torso lowered from the austere floral ceiling fraught with wear and cracks added with perfect regular symmetry. It was not someone dropping down but the slow arc of one standing on the ceiling facing away. The shoulders and head splashed as an indistinct humanoid face with eight grey flares for eyes stared down to her. The Jinhai reformed itself backward rather than bothering to turn around as the dusty reorganization quelled back to their common matte leathery surface. Eight grey disc flares for eyes floated haphazardly around its sketch of a human face to inspect the newcomer. Most of the disc-like spiral flares angled downward immediately to resume work on a simple wrought-iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Two of the four bulbs were lit the creature as gloves reached down to the metal socket. Once there a small lightbulb emerged from a energetic blue arcing of metacreativity. Embedded in its hand and rotating to install the other hand at its side flaring with tulip shroud for the sconce made out of glass.

Every hanging light in the corridor had three of four bulbs its loud voice as dusty scuffed as the glass and room it repairs, "Humankind? By Bristol's Ductu it was written in the Almanac that someone is coming."

The head torqued at its center in some imitation of quizzical human behavior from a creature wholly unfamiliar with bones. The lightbulb turned on as the other hand reached to add the shroud. The whole of the body rotating downward to make contact with tiled floor the anchors of its shoulders changing chirality with no expression of necessary leverage. As torqued feet drift and hit ceramic the body took on a shape far less impressionist. The 'robe' flumping loosely toward gravity not of any particular obligation. The cracks in the floor gave a faint hint of function in the network of cracks as motes leaked back and forth between them. Another four-many Jinhai's regular sized gloved hand and arm reached out from near the floor somewhere beside the door to pull it open. A single set of fingers poured through the metal vanes of a heating vent held the door open.

The elevator dinged as Bristol appeared from the door, "I'll handle it, Jinhai, thank you."

There were other empty white robes that followed him hovering in place. They had lanyards tied to a random location on their body and a keen mage's eye would tell why. A slumbering human psyche anchored firmly somewhere and kept asleep. Others leaned in from nearby doors with clearer inquisitive human faces bearing papers and forms. Waking dreams guided by the servitor's tasks the wandering eyes of bodies whole enough to need reality shaking the atrophy from their soul.

Bristol quickly jogged over to Ayasha to extended a gloved hand of his heavy suit and a smile though the suit moved like fabric had the texture of metal. It echoed strongly to the aether the material having a particular affinity for the psionic and the magical if duly constrained. Ductu covered his body entire long since availing itself of Jinhai for a ferroplasm strands to strengthen its purpose into armor. Two soft blue eyes peered in from behind brighter blue cloth folds of his collar. Ductu were quiet servitors even compared to the Jinhai. The eight-many looming over them busied itself quietly with making another wrought iron chandelier.

"Bristol Stacks, miss, can I help you? I'm expecting a guest as I'm hoping to resolve concerns my friends are tragically unsuited for. Would that be you?" Asked a warm tone of bright and focused eyes.

An insular fellow to some degree the greeting somewhat lacked a tone of gregarious smarm. Bristol disliked the false affection more common to car salesmen and politicians. Certainly he was capable but it was better not to feel like you needed a shower when someone had to help you stand up.

Momentarily startled though she was by the ethereal-seeming astral forms in various stages of realization anchored within the Administratum, Ayasha took the proffered hand, returning a firm handshake. She let the distraction fall from her face, replaced with business-like efficiency. "Mr. Stacks, good morning," she said, smiling briefly. She too disliked politicking, that farce and manipulation common to many of her colleagues. "My name is Ayasha Ziedins. I'm with the Ministry of Magical Affairs."

More than that, Ayasha was Salma Khayyam's new Minister of Magical Affairs, though she hadn't bothered to introduce herself by title or rank. She knew who Bristol Stacks was, of course. He'd run in the Wing City mayoral election, but lost to Snowbund Sunrider of Kraeth. Ayasha hadn't lived in Wing City for a long time, and still managed to keep a different address, but she'd found it impossible not to hear news of the election. Everyone had at least encountered some tidbits during the long-fought campaigns.

What was not public was Bristol's psionic connection with a Ductu. Nearly undetectable, but Ayasha sensed something there, lurking at the periphery of Bristol's nervous system, hidden behind synapses and axons. She did not know its name or its nature, but its presence -- sentience, cognizance -- was readily apparent.

For her own part, Ayasha presented as quite ordinary and rather mundane. Dressed in everyday attire, with no magical enhancements to cloth or body, she could have been a naturalborn human, notable only for her atypical height. Someone had complimented her woolen coat earlier in the morning, not knowing Ayasha had found it at a discount sale for only ten credits. But importantly, it was comfortable, and minimally acceptable wear while out on official government business, while sufficiently anonymous it would not attract undue, and unwanted, attention.

"I received your communication requesting a meeting regarding the activities taking place here," Ayasha continued, indicating with an upward movement of her chin the activity of Jinhai and Administratum whirring about them. "How can I help you?"

The Administratum trailing him muttered quietly the souls aware they weren't doing anything. The bodies of these two in particular in poor shape by unfortunate happenstance. The voice of the Administratum did have a bit of smarm but it sounded rote, machined, the imitation of genial human intellect by inherently unfamiliar beings. One face was invisible unintelligible muttering but the other only nearly transparent under the empty hood quite more cogent. The face squirmed as if sniffing periodically.

Soft meandering conversation between the minder and the one that dreamed there crept out, "I need a hit it's all falling in. You do not need a hit. The shakes hurt me so much. You're not addicted anymore. I'm not? No, you are now untainted. The shakes won't bring the ceiling down? That's nice. I want an apple. You're busy standing here. Ok, later."

After shaking her hand Bristol reached back to pat the mutterer on the shoulder before continuing. Whimpering once the noise inside that administratum stopped replaced with whistling chanties instead. The blue eyes narrowed at the woman from Bristol's back not of malice but more an acknowledgement they saw each other. While not particularly possessive the Ductu had developed a protective affection for the man by extended care.

The brown eyes turned back to Ayasha mild concern replaced with the task at hand, "That one didn't end in a good place I think. Well, it's good to meet you miss Ayasha. We need to talk about several issues that might affect the TNG since these fellows arrived. They're subordinate creatures of an entity known as Myrkul's Vein that arrived several months ago. While I don't have an official capacity with them or its alliance with the Imperium of Man I'm entrusted by the overbeing to solve problems for them as I see fit."

"Would you like a some coffee or drink first? They know a good bean now but I haven't had any luck convincing them to learn more than one instance," he shrugged with a sheepish grin nodded at the placid Jinhai, "so the flavor is consistent if a little flat."

A white speck appeared over the hills from direction of town. Dispatched from their new locality endurance wasn't a word of meaning to them and they walked quickly without stopping as soon as the objective arrived. A tanned male face with a banal, if pleasant, expression nestled among a white hooded robe the almost-skin unblemished. Though not much more than a hollow puppet with crystal-glass eyes and ceramic teeth. Much to the point the olive face had eyes pointed at the gate as it arrived but neither of the glass eyes were centers of its sight. It had a message to deliver and little interest in its own safety at the reputation of the place.

Unlike the Jinhai the Administratum had some sense of human decorum and did not walk through the gate though it did try to squeeze its pliable head and glass eyeballs through the bars to see if anyone was there. It would then knock on the door with loud bangs of its ferroplasm gauntlets though parts clad in black motes as an ornate leathery coating.

The great gates of Castle Vankoryth swung open of their own accord, allowing entrance to the strange guest. A great flock of bats departed from the pillars on either side. They moved in a whirl to the castle and disappeared into the very walls of the great gothic structure. Giant stone gargoyles peered down from above.

As the knocks reverberated from below one gargoyle opened his eyes. He peered down at the visitor below. They weren't human, but they weren't a vampire either - he could sense them miles away. Seeing as there wasn't anyone immediately available to answer, as well as his recent awakening in the sake of tighter securit, Chronus assumed his duty and moved to greet the guest. He sprung from the roof, his wings snapping out and casting a shadow as he descended to land behind the guest. There Chronus landed in a crouch, lifting his head and in a voice like stones scraping together addressed the newcomer.

"Gratam arce Vankoryth, what brings you to the threshold of the Detente?"

The crystal glass eyes looked up as the gargoyle approached quietly staring with a smile that leaped to its face. It simply assumed a servitor of some kind and entered human pleasantries. The metal gauntlets clasped quietly in front of it as it listened to the large stone essencekind. The face it puppeted bearing a smile just slightly too large on its fleshy-looking face.

Its voice came more from the region of its empty hood though it had a throat to shape the noise of scrapign Terran spoken by stone essencekind, ((We carry a diplomatic message for the Camarilla from Myrkul's Vein per Imperium protocol. It is recorded by the Administratum that diplomatic contact can be had at this location.))

Jazzei felt herself being helped into a seat. “Where am I?” she thought. “Where's the Bar gone?”
But that mattered little right now. Her wrist was throbbing more than ever and had started to swell up. Her head throbbed even more!
She blinked, rubbing her eyes (one of which was puffy and bruised) with her fingertips. How blinding the lights were! But at least there were no shadows? No. No shadows! Phew! Thank God for that!
Through her fogged vision she could just make out the sterile room, with patients of all kinds sitting, waiting to be called, some reading magazines, others reading books or staring into space. Nurses and doctors were also present, hurrying to and fro… they always seemed to be in a hurry!
And, indeed, Jazzie remembered that she herself had certainly been kept busy whilst working at The Saint Louis Hospital in Paris. The hospital that had been deliberately burnt to the ground, claiming so many lives, including that of her sister...! She could still see the flames…! Could even feel the searing heat on her skin, as her lungs became choked with thick, black smoke! Spreading with terrifying speed, it hadn't taken long for the inferno to devour the entire building and all of those inside, turning it from a place of safety, into a deadly oven! She could hear the patients’ screams as she tried to get to them, their desperate cries for help…! The children! Bast! The children…!
Her breathing became rapid…! She started to shake violently…! “Oh my GOD!!!” she freaked…!

A TLA dropship landed outside the Hospital. Out of it stepped two women one was wearing white armor with a red cross the other an armor covered in tech and a large rifle strapped on her back.

"The Emperess really called you back from Ridgecrest to run a check on a hospital?" Asked the cleric

The Ghost Sara nodded. "After Priestess' reports of those strange creatures in the basement the Emperess pulled me... I figure she hopes with my psionic powers i can connect with them better then Priestess did..."


Inside the hospital Priestess herself had just entered the lobby when a group of people teleported in. "Looks like one of them is hurt... oh and remind me to request some more mages to cast a spell to prevent people from just teleporting into my hospital..."

As the Nurses rushed over to check on the newcomers asking them a million questions about who they where and what happened Priestess noticed Sara a cleric and two Terra Nova marines walk in. "Commander Drake" Priestess said with a salute. "Forgive the chaos. We just had a few wounded drop in here."

Sara returned the salute. "At ease no need to worry I figured such a place would be a headache. I'm sure you know why I am here."

"Yes please i will show you to my office."

Meanwhile, someone was holding a wad of gauze to the wound on the side of Jazzei's head (which was leaking blood all down the side of her face and into the neck of her blouse.) At the same time, a nurse in a light blue pinafore kindly handed her a paper bag and instructed her to breathe into it, taking long, deep, breaths. Which she did: Breathing in. Breathing out... and so on. Until, eventually, her heart rate began to slow and she was able to think rationally again, “I'm safe...! All fine...! Must… stay... calm!”
True, the hospital was the LAST place on Terra she wanted to be right now, but at least it was not ablaze! No. She was not burning inside a hospital building! The heat that she could feel was, in actual fact, the hospital’s state of the art central heating system. And those were not patients’ screams, but people simply talking!

Suddenly, a throng of people marched in through the automatic doors, and all at once the lobby was a hive of chaos! Through it all, Jazzie pricked up her ears and tried to make some sense of it.
One of the people seemed a bit narky about the fact that they’d had the audacity to teleport in (apparently that was against hospital safety policy!) And Kurt was bluntly explaining to her that they wouldn't normally have done such a thing, and that they would have arrived at the hospital in the traditional fashion, had they NOT been trying to escape from a bunch of crazed lunatics who had been trying to MURDER them at the time! (And who were, more than likely, STILL after them!)
“What happened?” Asked one of the nurses.
Kurt then explained that his charge had been involved in a car accident, and was suffering what he suspected to be concussion, and quite possibly, a broken wrist. She was also showing signs of acute psychological trauma, but had no idea of how to calm her down, because he was no good at these sorts of things; plus he'd only just met her!
“Well then,” said the nurse. “We'd better get that head injury checked out first, seeing as its bleeding quite badly. And then we'll see about your arm. In the meantime, we can give you something for the pain.”
“I'm a heroin addict,” Jazzei quietly told her, still having trouble speaking due to an incessant bout of trembling (And was therefore grateful for Kurt's input!) “Currently tapering off... I'm on 100mg of methadone per day, and I drop that by 10mg on a week by week basis. I'm injecting... my body cannot tolerate the sugars in the liquid form.” She needed to be honest about it. After all, it wasn't her fault!
“Then we'll see about getting you some help with that,” said the nurse, kindly. “If you'd like to follow me…?”

He happened to be the closest to the hospital, and EVE just wouldn't shut up about imploring him to investigate two potential targets of interest to the Confessor Cabal.

He effortlessly managed to conceal himself among a crowd of people coming, and going to the hospital. A simple dark purple suit, with the iris like emblem of the Confessors pinned to his lapel, the same suit he was wearing to Elijah's trial, which had been going on for some time now.

Reaching out, he stepped forward and pushed the front doors to the hospital open, already formulating his plan through real time updates from EVE. He checked his watch, Ayla would be Bifrosting in any moment unless Marlene managed to convince her to take an alternate course of action.

Kesslee kept his mind vigilant, and on guard, the Psionic inhibitor he wore active, and preventing intrusions into his mind, this was disguised as a cell phone's bluetooth earpiece, which also allowed EVE to communicate with him.

"Present, target one is in Triage, target two is accompanying. Assemble a Tac team, quietly, I'd like to avoid a firefight." Kesslee said into his comms, which were triple-encrypted on a high level Aschen military frequency.

A few hours later, Jazzei sat inside the Pharmacy waiting area, waiting to collect her meditation (which would include: a weeks supply of methadone, sterile needles, some paracetamol and a supply of dressings for her head and elbows) with her arm (having been x-rayed and formally diagnosed as a transverse fracture) now set, and safely secured in a plaster cast. Luckily, a severe head injury had been quickly ruled out, but the gash had required a few stitches, along with a small dressing. ::Most fetching!:: she thought, dryly.
The nurse, Julie, had then told her that the plaster needed to stay on for at least six weeks, and after that she would require a course of physio. However, the concussion would possibly take a while to recover from, and advised her that her best option would be to go home and rest. “I don't have a home,” Jazzei quietly replied.
“Is there no one you can stay with?” asked the nurse.
Jazzei looked at Kurt. “I have friends,” she said.
“Good. Well, if you'd like to make an appointment for a psychiatric assessment, then we can see about getting you some support for your addiction. Here, at the hospital, we have a dedicated drug support team who would be more than happy to help you through it. Otherwise, you are free to go.”
“Thank you,” said Jazzei, smiling. “I will do that!”
Presently, the Pharmacist came out and called her name, “Arsinoe LeMusa?”
Jazzei stood up. “Yes,” she said.
Smiling the Pharmacist handed her a package and said, “Take the Methadone as you have been. The paracetamol as and when you need it, but do not exceed the stated dose. Ok?”
“Thank you,” said Jazzei, taking the package and stuffing it into her handbag... then she frowned. Something wasn't right! She could feel it in her bones!
Whilst inside Gambit’s Bar, she had sensed malicious eyes on her, tracking her every move…! But had not been able to shake off that feeling upon arrival at the hospital...! Something had followed them there! And not only that, but the object that she kept concealed next to her heart suddenly began to feel hot to the touch- a sure sign that something sinister was afoot!
She quietly dipped her uninjured hand into the bag, grasping the pistol and fiddling with the safety catch, but didn't pull it out.
Next, keeping her demeanour calm, she went to join Kurt, who was waiting for her outside the booth… and that was when the feeling grew stronger! A feeling akin to her having just swallowed a load of marbles- while the artefact was practically burning a hole in her breast! “Kurt!” she whispered, looking the weathered gentleman (who she now saw as a friend) in the eye, whilst at the same time, scanning the crowd with her peripheral, “Someone's following us!!!”

In the hours that lapsed, Kesslee managed to get everything in place. The entire hospital was surrounded by the forces of the Aschen Empire. But the casual observer wouldn't notice such a thing. People were walking their dog, moving about the grounds of the hospital as if they were dealing with their own business in the hospital.

A group of EMTs were loitering outside of the Pharmacy, but they were really agents of the Aschen Empire's Imperial Intelligence Agency, the duffel bags, and rolled bedding concealed the weapons they brought, and their EMT uniforms meant that no one would so much as give them a second glance.

Kesslee followed Kurt and Jazzei into the pharmacy, but he ditched the confessor suit for a pair of scrubs, allowing him to blend in with the hospital staff, and move more freely among it's halls.

It was time for him to pounce.

He lit a cigar, and moved right next to Jazzei, and Kurt, while clearing his throat.

"It's best if you two don't make a scene; I have this entire hospital surrounded. Come with me, and no one gets hurt." The Confessor said quietly.

EVE was monitoring everything continuously.

The EMTs outside slowly began to reach into their duffel bags, one of them placing his hands on a Type 03 Disruptor PDW, a fast-firing compact, high powered energy weapon typically fielded by agents of the Aschen Empire.