Though perhaps not outwardly a glamorous role, the techpriests Logis -- analysts and logistics experts of the Adeptus Mechanicus -- were often held in high regard by their fellow priests of the Omnissiah for their ability to predict future trends.

Info-Executioner Almathius was one such techpriest. Though only a low-ranked priest, he was already afforded command of his own, albeit small vessel, a long-distance cargo hauler whose contens often fell under his purview.

His vessel, unnamed but numbered, looked from the outside like it shouldn't even have been able to fly, with Almathius himself sitting at the rear of the bridge, hiding behind a meters-thick layer of armaglass of the highest quality. Only two other techpriests were present on the bridge with him, the other dozen or so stations occupied by servitors that mindlessly went about their pre-programmed work as the bulky vessel trudged through the warp, shielded from daemonic incursion by a powerful Gellar Field. Normally, such a large hauler would be reserved for missions to major worlds, but on this occasion, it was assigned to deliver vital specialty munitions to a nearby forge that lacked the facilities to produce them by itself. Relatively unaugmented by the Adeptus Mechanicus's standards, he was prone to a number of surprisingly human mannerisms -- tapping his pale-skinned fingers against the armrest of his captain's chair, for example, as he found himself bored by his silent journey through the warp, something he was still incredibly thankful for.

**"Vessel *35973-Gamma* is nearing its destination. Prepare for translation into realspace."** One of the Bridge Servitors chimed, its high-pitched voice breaking the silence of the hauler's bridge. Powerful vibrations reverberated through the ship's adamantium hull as it tore its way back into the grim comforts of reality. Almathius nodded to himself, slowly rising from his chair, only to freeze as he laid eyes upon what lay before him. His muscles tightened, a distant pyre flickering in his mind. *The forge... They... Destroyed it.*

Suddenly, the bridge's lumens shifted to an angry crimson, klaxons blaring as the ship's automated systems intoned a warning. "Hostile Vessels detected. Designation *Excommunicate Traitoris*."

Inwardly, of course, Almathius was fully aware of what would happen next, even as he inputted orders for the ship to initiate an emergency warp jump; a course of action with a very rarely predictable outcome. Considering the firepower pointed in his direction, his vessel would likely not survive the return journey, but that meant that Belenosa would not receive confirmation of the delivery on time. He smiled, lowering himself back into his chair. The Archmagos Dominus would be informed of the situation. Those who dared to defile a shrine of the Machine-God would burn.