hood to reveal a jowled face. Their leader. ‘I am Lord Magos Plosk, of the forge world Triplex Phall.’ Plosk was a stout man. The metal of cranial implants studded his bald scalp, long steel-covered cables went from the rear of his skull to a machine concealed by a hump in the robes on his back. His face was otherwise unaltered, and presented an expression of equanimity. ‘I apologise to you, Lord Chapter Master Caedis of the Blood Drinkers, and you, Lord Captain Galt of the Novamarines, for the manner of our arrival. But we cannot allow any harm to come to the Death of Integrity .’
‘The hulk is the harbinger of doom,’ said Caedis. He gripped the arms of his throne sufficiently hard to cause the wood to creak. ‘For a third of a century I have followed it, determined to destroy it and spare the worlds of the Emperor infestation by the plague that it carries. And you would deny me at the moment of my triumph?’
Plosk stood firm in the face of Caedis’s anger. ‘I would.’
Caedis leaned forward. ‘I am a Chapter Master of the Adeptus Astartes, Lord of San Guisiga, with a rank equal to that of an Imperial commander. You stand before me impudently, you and your followers do not kneel as is appropriate to my station.’ He hissed his words between his teeth, spittle chasing them into the air.
‘I do not,’ said Plosk equably. ‘It is I who hold higher authority here, not you, my lord.’ He dipped his head.
‘Insolence!’ spat Caedis. Galt looked sidelong at him. Caedis’s face was contorted with rage. The Blood Drinkers Reclusiarch stepped forward and rested a hand upon the Chapter Master’s shoulder plate. Galt was surprised at this lack of deference. Caedis shook it off.
‘A fact, my lord,’ said Plosk with a shrug. ‘I deal only in fact.’
‘You are not beyond the customs and laws of the Imperium, tech-priest. You have interrupted a military operation against the enemies of the Emperor. I demand to know the meaning of this outrage!’
‘It ever was my intent to do so,’ Plosk waved his metal left hand.
From behind the clouds of incense, a pair of servo-skulls flew forward, red eye beams cutting through the smoke. They bore between them a man-high scroll that dragged on the air.
‘Behold,’ said Plosk. ‘My authority. The first part of it. You may see the other fifty-seven segments as and when you wish. This is the pertinent scroll, however, verified by the Masters of Mars, and the High Lords of Terra. This document grants seniority in any and all Imperial matters appertaining to the recovery of STC data. Without exception.’
The servo-skulls floated to a stop in front of Galt, the scroll pulling the smoke into curls. Galt stood, and read the scroll.
‘It is as he says, Lord Caedis.’ Galt picked up one of the heavy seals adorning the bottom; black wax, and smooth to the touch. ‘It is sealed by High Lord Garm, Lord of the Munitorum.’
‘Garm died a century ago,’ said Reclusiarch Mazrael.
‘Did he now?’ said Plosk. ‘I did not hear, we have been to the very edges of the galaxy and back, beyond the light of the Astronomican, searching for this hulk. And to think!’ he gave a watery smile. ‘Here it was, all this time, lodged as a thorn in the heart of the Emperor’s dominion.’ His smile fell away. ‘Nevertheless, the authority stands, whether Garm lives or does not live. His word is inviolate.’
‘How come you by such authority?’ growled Caedis.
The youthful Magos Samin answered for him. He spoke like a fanatic, and made no attempt to hide his sense of superiority. ‘Magos Plosk has been most efficacious in recovering archeotech. Very successful. The High Lords would see more of that success.’ Samin was barely augmented, some kind of apprentice, thought Galt.
‘I have reason to believe that this hulk contains many first and second generation STC printouts, perhaps still functioning. Even one is a treasure beyond reckoning from the Dark Age of Technology.
‘The hulk is the harbinger of doom,’ said Caedis. He gripped the arms of his throne sufficiently hard to cause the wood to creak. ‘For a third of a century I have followed it, determined to destroy it and spare the worlds of the Emperor infestation by the plague that it carries. And you would deny me at the moment of my triumph?’
Plosk stood firm in the face of Caedis’s anger. ‘I would.’
Caedis leaned forward. ‘I am a Chapter Master of the Adeptus Astartes, Lord of San Guisiga, with a rank equal to that of an Imperial commander. You stand before me impudently, you and your followers do not kneel as is appropriate to my station.’ He hissed his words between his teeth, spittle chasing them into the air.
‘I do not,’ said Plosk equably. ‘It is I who hold higher authority here, not you, my lord.’ He dipped his head.
‘Insolence!’ spat Caedis. Galt looked sidelong at him. Caedis’s face was contorted with rage. The Blood Drinkers Reclusiarch stepped forward and rested a hand upon the Chapter Master’s shoulder plate. Galt was surprised at this lack of deference. Caedis shook it off.
‘A fact, my lord,’ said Plosk with a shrug. ‘I deal only in fact.’
‘You are not beyond the customs and laws of the Imperium, tech-priest. You have interrupted a military operation against the enemies of the Emperor. I demand to know the meaning of this outrage!’
‘It ever was my intent to do so,’ Plosk waved his metal left hand.
From behind the clouds of incense, a pair of servo-skulls flew forward, red eye beams cutting through the smoke. They bore between them a man-high scroll that dragged on the air.
‘Behold,’ said Plosk. ‘My authority. The first part of it. You may see the other fifty-seven segments as and when you wish. This is the pertinent scroll, however, verified by the Masters of Mars, and the High Lords of Terra. This document grants seniority in any and all Imperial matters appertaining to the recovery of STC data. Without exception.’
The servo-skulls floated to a stop in front of Galt, the scroll pulling the smoke into curls. Galt stood, and read the scroll.
‘It is as he says, Lord Caedis.’ Galt picked up one of the heavy seals adorning the bottom; black wax, and smooth to the touch. ‘It is sealed by High Lord Garm, Lord of the Munitorum.’
‘Garm died a century ago,’ said Reclusiarch Mazrael.
‘Did he now?’ said Plosk. ‘I did not hear, we have been to the very edges of the galaxy and back, beyond the light of the Astronomican, searching for this hulk. And to think!’ he gave a watery smile. ‘Here it was, all this time, lodged as a thorn in the heart of the Emperor’s dominion.’ His smile fell away. ‘Nevertheless, the authority stands, whether Garm lives or does not live. His word is inviolate.’
‘How come you by such authority?’ growled Caedis.
The youthful Magos Samin answered for him. He spoke like a fanatic, and made no attempt to hide his sense of superiority. ‘Magos Plosk has been most efficacious in recovering archeotech. Very successful. The High Lords would see more of that success.’ Samin was barely augmented, some kind of apprentice, thought Galt.
‘I have reason to believe that this hulk contains many first and second generation STC printouts, perhaps still functioning. Even one is a treasure beyond reckoning from the Dark Age of Technology.
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