Techsorcist in service of the throne and Omnissiah
A Bust
“Pilot return to point mars. There is nothing more we can do here.” The Priest began disarming the imperial steel cannon across his lap, removing the ammunition, brushing out the barrel and chamber.
“Well it’s your thrones” the pilot responded a tinge of disappointment in his voice.
“Remain on standby. I will likely need your services again soon.”“Yes sir.” The meandering block of steel called a transport diverged from its local flight routine. Its engines turned from a dull roar to volcanic as its power plant moved its bulk between the spires toward a public transport hub.
The request for building plans had come back from the administratum, much speeded by not entirely truthful clearance idents. Even so they were right on time for the administratum. Data provided after usefulness. It may reveal some insight when compared to the “Speks Skull” sweep. If the enemy left in haste they may have forgone the destruction of assets or information. It would be something to look into at any rate.
The majority of the skulls had returned to their bays but a pair lingered in the shadows near the Inquisitor and his Acolyte whilst a further pair tracked the truck via leapfrog shortcutting.
By the time everything was stowed the transport had reached its destination near the terminal in a loading bay for a nearby convenience center. The door lowered and the lumbering crimson swathed giant strode out without a word.
Finding his path conspicuously empty of fellow pedestrians the priest made swift time to the terminal proper. Finding the train headed toward the local Mechanicus temple, he decided to remain standing. He was not entirely sure if rail car seats had spirits but it was usually better to err on the side of caution. It would not do to waste imperial resources after all.
Upon returning to the temple he would have to make various inquiries with his fellow Techsorcists, much could be learned from the affiliation of these statues to their deity and known heretical organisations. Work must also continue on the Incursion pattern Mechadendrite. Time and warp tide waits for neither man nor machine.