There was a building deep in the heart of the manufactorum areas on the outskirts of Byzantium Nova, surrounded by the heavy, smog-belching factorys and the squat assembly lines that churned out tank after tank, day after day. The area between these colossal structures was a dimly lit maze of techno-dwellings, where a thousand red-robed artificers traveled at all hours- the servants of the Mechanicus did not sleep as normal men. From the upper layers, machine-oil dripped out of ancient warehouses and workshops to collect in dank pools on the street below. A hundred buzzing servo-skulls hovered above at any moment, running a multitude of errands for their unseen masters.
It was through this mess of man and machines that Jorn found himself, distinctive in his armor no matter what steps he took to disguise it. His cream tabard's hood was pulled up to shield him from the everpresent rain of oil, but it was a lost cause. The fabric would probably be ruined by the corroding deluge. Jorn tried to ignore the dripping, and continued to shoulder his way past what seemed an endless stream of identical adepts, towards his goal- the master-smithy at the center of the complex.
The building was difficult to miss, the huge gold and chrome details that decorated the outside, venerating the Machine God- the Omnissiah, the so-called 'Clockwork Emperor'- and the devices themselves were not merely decorative, for the Mechanicus despised human weakness such as vanity. The massive framework let out steam at regular intervals, the whole face of the building acting as a chimmney for some vast furnace held within.
The grand effect was lost on the lone space marine as he walked through the high threshold without a second glance. Every second here and not fighting scratched across his veins like broken glass. Every moment wasted here was another life lost- and more time for Gaius to complete whatever he was planning.
The only thing for it was to get through as quickly as possible, to find the Magos he had been called to meet and have done with it. Jorn was ignorant of what was wanted of him now- he had hoped that with the rest of the Company off on it's own mission, he would be spared his obligation. This hope evidently in vain, Jorn pondered his fate even as he was led off through the winding passages, each more beautiful and cramped then the last. His attention was brought back to the present as the hunched servitor that had directed him here, to this cramped and dark cell no wider than Jorn's own aboard the Polybius, hissed steam and slid off into the darkness- where, Jorn tried not to think about.
"What is your name?" Asked a voice from the shadows of the tiny cell. It was a voice that wheezed like a machine and croaked with all the emotion of a boltgun- a mechanical synth-device used by all higher level Tech-Priests.
"I am Jorn, Brother-Captain of the Black Templars Chapter." Jorn recited- he knew the script- and continued on, "I come to repay that which is owed."
"What is owed, and your shame, are thus...lessened." The mechanical voice-box rasped out, before stopping. The ceremony completed, the unseen priest stepped forward on mechanical legs, bringing his face- totally artificial- to light. "Brother Jorn your continued function is most convenient...Replacing an Astartes is so...difficult."
"You called me here, Magos. Spare me your idle chatter and get to the point." Jorn spoke softly, but even so his voice echoed around the tiny room.
"Your...rude tongue does you a...disservice, Marine. You are in the presence of your betters." The Mago's voice could not betray emotion, but even so there was a hint of reproachfulness about him.
"In the presence of my Masters, not my betters- and not even that for much longer!" Jorn couldn't help but snap out, although he knew he should keep his mouth shut.
"Longer...than you think, if your actions continue as they have. Why, why always do you...humans react with such emotion to such simple stimuli? If you are determined...to be this unhelpful, then I will...make our meeting short." At each pause there was a whump of pressure as the hydraulics deep within the Enginseer reset themselves, and steam billowed from the man-machine throughout. "You have spoken with...the sisters on this planet?"
