(8:24:47 PM) jono: Long docking tubes connect the Night to the currently unnamed Starfort, behind a docked Secutor class cousin of hers in the Mechanicum red, a Lathe class sister to the Night gliding in behind her, anchoring in the docks entrance.
(8:24:47 PM) jono: The air in the starfort is old and stale, still reeking of the death and bloodshed the orks brought to it in their invasion. The hallways are hauntingly empty, servitors having cleared the wreckage and vented the corpses, then left.
(8:27:05 PM) ***Hektor 's mood matches the scenery as they're lead through the station.
(8:36:34 PM) jono: A hovering silent servo skull with a blinking red eye leads the way into the complex, to a huge industrial lift. Harken has brought a squad of shocktroopers as an honor guard, wearing his old stormcoat and commissar cap. Zaahid marches in lockstep with him, wearing a pristine captain's uniform with the Imperial Navy insigna's carefully peeled off. Behind them Frankie has a servitor carrying
(8:36:35 PM) jono: his data slates, and Epsilon is silently assessing the repair work as he follows.
(8:39:04 PM) ***Winter traipses along, armored up and wearing her sidearm, keeping her expression controlled.
(8:39:13 PM) ***Hektor stalks along quietly in his carapace shod boots, unamused with many things, including this detour.
(8:40:45 PM) ***Hektor regrets the selling of those torpedos. A warhead loaded into the teleporter or secreted in a lander would have been convienent.
(8:42:25 PM) jono: Epsilon activates the control console, large grated doors squeaking open, then climbs into the lift after the servo skull. The skull chirps something in machine code, and Epsilon sets the destination for floor 250.
(8:45:08 PM) ***Hektor waits with arms folded across his waist.
(8:46:31 PM) Winter: "This reminds me why I hate dealing with the Cogboys," Winter grumbles as she files in. "Even the ones on the Night."
(8:47:35 PM) jono: The lift jolts and shudders as it gains speed on the way up. Epsilon seems perfectly at ease, and military dicipline keeps Zaahid and Harken from showing concern, but the squeal of steel on steel doesn't sound safe at all.
(8:47:44 PM) Hektor: "And ours are barely affiliated with them anymore.  I can only imagine how insufferable this new computer is."
(8:48:13 PM) ***Hektor grew up among rickety machines that were once great and, if anything, the stale squeal feels entirely home-like.
(8:50:29 PM) Hektor: "We must, however, be as nice as possible for as long as possible given the family's relationship.  So I expect all smiles until I do otherwise."
(8:50:53 PM) Winter: "I hope you mean that figuratively. I think the best I can give is not frowning."
(8:52:13 PM) jono: The lift begins to slow and comes to a stop on the top level of the starfort. Here hundreds of tech priests of all shapes and sizes, as well as a small army of servitors, are busy repairing half the station, and tearing apart the other half. Strewn across the floor are tubing, wires, wall panels, tools, and boxes of replacement parts. A tech priest with six glowing green eyes under his hood
(8:52:14 PM) jono: and eight insectoid legs scurries across the hall carrying a large generator, while another who floats along on no legs and is only the size of a child directs the flow of servitors.
(8:54:40 PM) Winter: "Creeeeeeeeeeepy," Winter whispers, schooling her features again.
(8:54:47 PM) Hektor: a lovely view of the system from the viewports.  This will be a pleasant bridge once it is mine.
(8:54:57 PM) ***Hektor just nods along, not bothering to scold( yet)
(8:58:44 PM) jono: The is set up as a huge amphitheater, a hundred meters across, with a catwalk leading to a suspended platform in the middle for the highest ranking officers to look down upon their staff. Stairs lead down through lower and smaller rings for less important people, while above is a huge glass dome. Seated in a command throne overlooking it all is a tech priest who looks almost perfectly human,
(8:58:45 PM) jono: except that his skin is silver, his eyes glowing a soft green, and his hair sculpted gold.
(8:59:49 PM) ***Hektor looks up at it with hard eyes. What is this clown?
(9:05:07 PM) jono: Fabricator General Thrika Hediatrix three-three-three of Forge World Incaladion sits as if lord of his domain, overseeing techpriests and massive industrial servitors below as they rebuild the command centre. The little servitor guiding the envoy party hovers over to its master, proclaiming his name and greatness before announcing his guests.
(9:06:31 PM) ***Hektor waits cooly.
(9:08:58 PM) jono: The servitor finishes reading the long, formal names and titles of the guests before falling silent and lighting up one of the walkways up to the Fabrigator General, oh so graciously allowing you to approach the command throne.
(9:09:18 PM) Hektor: gee, thanks.
(9:09:23 PM) ***Hektor ascends slowly.
(9:12:54 PM) Winter: Winter comes up four steps behind him, keenly aware of the weight of the pistol on her leg. She really feels like using it.
(9:13:07 PM) jono: The rest of the party reluctantly follows suit, maintaining a respectful distance as skitarii guards position themselves behind the shocktroopers.
(9:13:55 PM) ***Hektor feels a suspicious itch on his back.
(9:14:01 PM) Hektor: I wonder what that could be.
(9:15:11 PM) Derelia [Deleted@sux-9A5F74B7.dhcp.mtpk.ca.charter.com] entered the room.