You step back again, hands reaching back and yanking up the hood of your work robe - not the nicer traveling gown that you had bought so long ago, but one of many borrowed work robes that you would use when in the forge. If you were entirely honest with yourself, it bothered you to wear it, but your normal gown did not have the oil and heat resistance that proper Mechanicus vestments did, plus a hood to keep the oil splatters off your face. You had plans to alter your gown, actually, but-

A shape passed in front of you, and you immediately turned to the side, facing the back of the skitarii-esque adept, sticking your hands in your pockets as if you were waiting in line with him. The position of the pockets on the shortened jacket meant your elbows were bent more than they would be otherwise, but you hoped it looked natural.

Even without turning to look, you could tell that the shape had paused while passing. Whoever it was had clearly paused, though you couldn't know if it was that weird noble or someone else who just happened to be nearby.

The urge to turn your head and look never even flickered within you. That was beneath your series. And if you did - and he saw your face - then this entire maneuver would be pointless, and he would know something strange was going on. You couldn't let him realize that.

“Hey, miss... I know you, right?” A familiar voice came.

Dammit.

>Stare at him like a deer in the headlights.
>Greet the person you were hiding behind as if they were actually a skitarii.
>Turn as if you didn't hear him and try to vanish into the crowd.
>Try to find someone to distract him.
>[Sub-Option] ...what even would distract him? Rats? A woman?
>[Write-In]

>>6075490
>[Write-In]
"I have not shared my designation with one such as you, so I must disagree." Do not make eye contact.

>>6075490
>>Greet the person you were hiding behind as if they were actually a skitarii.

>>6075490
>Turn as if you didn't hear him and try to vanish into the crowd.

>>6075490
>Turn as if you didn't hear him and try to vanish into the crowd.

>>6075487
Remember to just say no to demons

>>6075490
>>6075720
Sure lets greet him coldly

>>6075490
> Greet the person you were hiding behind as if they were actually a skitarius.
(-ii is the multiple of - ius </grammar_nazi>)
>[Sub-Option] ...what even would distract him? Rats? A woman?

Okay, so that's... a three way split, but instead of a triple rolloff, considering 2/3rds are for greeting him coldly, I think I can fuse:
>Greet the person you were hiding behind as if they were actually a skitarii.
>"I have not shared my designation with one such as you, so I must disagree."

>>6077085
Skitarius is the singular, but wouldn't you grammatically reference them as being skitarii when referring to group membership, the same way you would shorten 'member of the military' to 'is military'?

>>6077110
Ok, further nitpicking, but in this case, skitarius is the object of the sentence (What? A skitarius. What? a soldier), so it needs to be in noun form, and not adjective form. Skitarius is the singular noun, skitarii is the plural noun, and skitarii can be an adjective by your logic that the adjective is the plural form. In military, it's easier. Since military is always plural, you can't use it as a noun, except when you are speaking about the organization. You are right with 'a soldier is military', but the object still needs to be singular.
</extreme_autism></grammar_nazism>

But it's your story, and I don't want to discourage you, false woman is one of the reasons I go to /qst/. Keep up the great work, OP, and disregard stupid autists like moi.

>>6077158
Nah, it's all good. I usually ignore strict grammar rules in favor of a clear read, but skitarii is a word that demands a bit more attention because of it's weird source.

You didn't even bother looking in his direction. Instead, you look up and blink in surprise at the behemoth of a man standing in front of you. “Oh, hello, skitarius, I didn't see you there.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you barely saw the man move. In an instant, he was behind you, gripping your shoulders, lowering himself to the ground and turning his head so rapidly the dreads his hair was woven into bounced around his head, some of them even lightly pattering the sides of your head as they whipped around. “Wait, seriously? A skitarii? Where?”

You feel a slight rankle at his proximity, but also his lack of grammar, pushing it down easily. “And you are...?” You feign ignorance.

“Er, sorry, I have a... uh, prior engagement with the Arbites. That's all.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, those Mechanicus dudes are sort of their version of the Arbites, right? Other than the Extremis, I guess." He paused, then seemingly turned his head in the direction of the large man in front of you for the first time. "Wait, you don't mean that guy in front of us?” He pointed.

You sigh. “I did.”

“That ain't one of the skitarii, that's L-37.” He scoffed, straightening up and raising a hand. “Heya, Lel.”

The 'skitarius' perked up slightly upon hearing his name, turning to look back at the two of you. On a closer examination, you realize that he was less augmented than a skitarius would be - all four limbs intact, for one, though clearly swollen with genebulking. His body was built for laboring, but that didn't seem to track particularly well with the robes of the adept, and the many cranial augmentations crowning his head. Had he risen up the ranks?

His eye lenses focused on the two of you in confusion for a moment. “Hm, yes- oh, hey, buddy.”

“How'd it go with the boss lady?” The man asked. “She let you off the hook?”

“I have been tasked with sterilization duty for the next five cycles.”

“Ooof.” He winced. “Damn, the apology liturgies not enough?”

“I would say that they were, considering that I haven't been banished back to the Steel Ladder.”

“Nice, glad I helped.” The man beamed, then glanced back to you. “Hey, don't scare me like that. I nearly mistook my good buddy for a cop."

“We have barely spoken.” L-37 replied.

“Irrelevant.” He replied, not taking his eyes off you. “Now, I'd know such a lovely woman anywhere. Remember me?”

You turn away. “I don't recall sharing my designation with one such as you, so I must disagree. I do not ‘know’ you.”

File: Lord Lovelace.png (1.12 MB, 760x734)

1.12 MB PNG

>>6078737
“I can fix that!” He took a step back, striking his heel on the floor and pulling his arms to his side for a hard swivel on his boot to create some space behind him and between the two of you. He paused, stepping one leg over carefully and bowing with rather more form than you had expected from him. “Lord Lovelace, of the Lovelace Dynasty, at your service and most pleased to make your acquaintance, miss...?"

You blink a few times. Did he just say 'dynasty'? Quickly, you mentally tab through your indoctrinated knowledge of Odrev's Customs Houses, but none of them called themselves dynasties, nor did any of Malignax's nobility. The only ones who called themselves that were...

>Quickly curtsy back and introduce yourself to the Rogue Trader.
>"I don't believe that for a second."
>"Lovelace of the Lovelace Dynasty? What's your first name?"
>Take off running.
>[Write-In]

>>6078738
>Quickly curtsy back and introduce yourself to the Rogue Trader
I know it's grimdark but a side quest is a side quest

>>6078738
>>Quickly curtsy back and introduce yourself to the Rogue Trader.

>>6078738
>Quickly curtsy back and introduce yourself to the Rogue Trader.
"I am A-414"

>>6078738
>>Quickly curtsy back and introduce yourself to the Rogue Trader.

>Quickly curtsy back and introduce yourself to the Rogue Trader.
Writing.

>>6078761
I'm not sure why this blindsided me so hard, but I'm getting this real '$50 is $50' vibe off of it and it's just making me giggle.

>>6079808
The world is grimdark, we cannot trust him, and if it was up to me, I would have ignored him altogether, or put a bullet in his fake noble head. But $50 is $50, and if gear is coming in our way we better not step away

File: hivers.png (99 KB, 240x353)

99 KB PNG

You dip into a low curtsy- a part of you instantly doubted his story, but on the off-chance he was just man crippled by the blood of his line, you decided to show due deference. Instead of merely lifting the edge of your skirt in a deferential, but not overly reverent way, you lift it up enough to expose your calves, so he could see the crossing of you legs as you lower yourself. “I am Lebesnati A-414, current initiate of this temple.”

Flashing you a brief, almost bemused smile, he gave you a single nod. “Lovely to meet you, A-414.” He held his hands up. “Now, we know each other.”

“I... suppose we do, Lord Lovelace.” You couldn't help but feel slightly wary.

The man made a face. “I'd prefer if you just called me Buddy."

“...Buddy?” You didn't let the consternation you felt at the idea show, but you did raise your eyebrows slightly.

“Oh, it's just what everyone calls me. I'm not one for fancy titles, you see.”

“Ah. As you wish, Lord... Buddy.” You finish, folding your hands on your lap and waiting expectantly. Buddy stared back at you, seemingly content to let the silence hang for the moment.

Dear Emperor and Omnissiah, what you would give to be literally anywhere else right now.

“...is there something you wished of me?” You prompt gent-

“Why did you lie to me?” Buddy asked, his relaxed expression not shifting at all.

“Lie to you?” You ask, not shifting or moving a millimeter, staring back at Lovelace with the passive expression you always wore.

“I didn't come over just because I could recognize you from the side.” With your hood up? “I was picking up some food for a few friends of mine. Lovely folks, very generous with their time if you know how to ask- same as you, I think.” His tone became more even as he spoke, less peaked with a subtle strain you hadn't realized he put on it usually. “Which is why I'm so shocked you lied to me, Leb. Now, I'm sure you had a very good reason for lying to your buddy like that, and it's not fair for me to make any assumptions, so I figured I should go straight to the source.”

Your mouth opens slightly for a brief instant, and then you close it, expression still as impassive as ever.

To be honest... what was the truth?

>You just didn't think he was trustworthy.
>You were already a flawed, rejected creation. What right did you have to interfere with your creator any further?
>He just didn't seem like he would value a tankborn servant.
>In all honesty, he just seemed kind of weird even before you learned he talked to rats.
>Even back then, you didn't like the implication that he offended the Mechanicus.
>[Write-In]

>>6081460
>>You were already a flawed, rejected creation. What right did you have to interfere with your creator any further?

>>6081460
>In all honesty, he just seemed kind of weird even before you learned he talked to rats.

>>6081460
>In all honesty, he just seemed kind of weird even before you learned he talked to rats.

>>6081460
>you didn't look like somebody who'd take a no as an answer. Not from the likes of me anyway

>>6081460
>He just didn't seem like he would value a tankborn servant.
>In all honesty, he just seemed kind of weird even before you learned he talked to rats.

>In all honesty, he just seemed kind of weird even before you learned he talked to rats.
Writing.

If you were entirely honest...

He comported himself among the adepts and priests of the temple like he somehow deserved to be here. Perhaps not ‘deserved’ - for if he was a noble, it would be his right to go where he pleased - but certainly... presumptuous. He seemed to be under the impression that this was a place of business and not a place of learning, going about meeting with the minds here as if he was purchasing something from a stall in a lowborn market. He'd even walked up to you and asked for you to perform a transcription like it was a matter of course to find a scribe within arm's reach. And yet, he seemed to be ignorant of things even the most pampered and secluded of nobles would know- things that the secluded should know, ingrained within them to support their lifestyles. Things like how to delegate the task of making contact to a servant, or how to make a formal overture to the Mechanicus about a purchase, rather than showing up on the doorstep in his finest suit.

It wasn't how a noble would act. It wasn't even how a free merchant would act. Whether that strengthened his claim of being a Rogue Trader or weakened it, you didn't...

...weird. The man was just weird.

What man of station talked to rats? A heretic? A witch? A fool? Who else but an idiot would simply spend weeks up in the steam pipe junctions of a Mechanicus forge looking for the... ‘tankborn department’ on the word of a stranger?

It couldn't be an act, could it? No, he wouldn't have actually done it, if it was. Was he speaking the truth, and his strange behavior was the result of an addiction that had long burnt out his higher reasoning, leaving servants at their wit's end until they simply abandoned their master to his own devices?

The thought of such failure on behalf of a servant made your stomach turn uncomfortably, only for you to realize he was still looking at you expectantly.

>Be truthful with him.
>Lie.
>[Sub-Option] Claim you had been mistaken before, is all.
>[Sub-Option] Say you aren't at liberty to discuss the matter.
>[Sub-Option] Double down and insist you did not lie.
>[Write-In]

>>6082524
>Lie.
>[Sub-Option] Say you aren't at liberty to discuss the matter.
>[Write-In]
Look around see the environment, arm weapons systems. Prepare to kill him, and prepare your defense. No one gets to impersonate a noble and live.

>>6082524
>[Write-In]
"In truth, you struck me as untrustworthy. Your bearing and mannerisms too out of place to recognize, and your addressal unconventional to say the least. I suppose why I said exactly what I did is because it was amusing to some degree, and the only real threat was whatever time you were willing to waste on a... 'wild grox chase', I believe the hive dwellers call them."

>>6082524
>>Lie.
>>[Sub-Option] Claim you had been mistaken before, is all.

>>6082524
>Be truthful with him.

>>6082524
>Lie.
>[Sub-Option] Say you aren't at liberty to discuss the matter.

>>6082524
>>6082634
>support
sounds sassy

>>6082634
+1

Okay, so that's a... split between lie and the write-in, with one truth in the middle. Honestly, since the write-in is pretty much a custom truth response, we'll count it with the truth and do.
>Be truthful with him + the write-in.
Writing.

>>6082524
>>6082634
support

Apologies for the delay, had something crop up and it ate up all my writing time.

You hesitate for a moment. “If I may be truthful, sir?” You ask, then catch the look on his face. “...Buddy.”

“Ey, there you go.” Lovelace grinned, lifting a hand off his lapel expectantly. “That's all I'm asking- the bit about the truth, too.”

“You seemed kind of weird.” You say. To Lovelace's credit, he didn't seem all that surprised by what you had said, though his eyebrows did go up slightly. Perhaps he was surprised a scribe would speak to him that way? “Nor trustworthy.” You make a gesture next to your head, brow furrowed slightly. “Your dress shouldn't be in fashion, but you aren't trying to make a statement with it. You don't have the bearing or manner of any Malignaxian noble, and your mode of speech is... unconventional to say the least. I didn't think you were truly a noble. And if you were, you weren't the kind I'd want possessing any more of my kind.”

You stop briefly. Perhaps you had said too much?

No, actually.

“It was also funny.” You add. “The only thing I wasted was the time spent on... what was the hiver slang- a ‘wild grox chase’. That was it.”

Lovelace nodded slowly. “...that's fair.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“...I could threaten to have you servitorized?” Lovelace offered. “If it would help my case.”

“Likely not.” You admit.

“Aw, c'mon. There's gotta be something I can do.” Lovelace straightened his coat slightly.

There wasn't, really. Normally nobility was simply proven by lack of challenges - any House worth the title would crush pretenders without mercy. Simply being permitted to exist under a name was normally all the legitimacy one needed. Any negotiation would include trappings of power, demonstrations of connection to the House that were implicit evidence of access to their finances, logistical networks, servants- in the end, it was based on abstract trust. Rarely was something as easily stolen as a signet ring proof of anything.

“None come to mind.” You admit. “You came without retainers, without proof. Nobody here knows you, or else you'd be having them vouch for you. Short of the documents of founding themselves...”

“What, my Warrant?” Lovelace laughed. “It's like the size of a building, I can't whip that out of my breastpocket on demand, there's only snacks in there."

“That's a shame.” You meant it, too. You would have liked to study the calligraphy on a real Warrant of Trade.

“Is there nothing I can tell you to make you trust me? I'm generous, I'll settle for believing me.”

>"I thought I was clear: you will need to show me the documents. So, cough up the Warrant."
>"What about your retainers? Where are they? Aboard your ship?"
>"If I must be honest with you, then you must return that- why are you here?"
>"Perhaps we can settle with a favor?"
>"Nothing comes to mind."
>[Write-In]

>>6086512
>"If I must be honest with you, then you must return that- why are you here?"

I'm leery about the favour. Really leery.

>>6086512
>>"What about your retainers? Where are they? Aboard your ship?"

>>6086512
>"What about your retainers? Where are they? Aboard your ship?"

>>6086512
>>"I thought I was clear: you will need to show me the documents. So, cough up the Warrant."

>>6086512
>"I thought I was clear: you will need to show me the documents. So, cough up the Warrant."

>>6086512
>"I thought I was clear: you will need to show me the documents. So, cough up the Warrant."

>"I thought I was clear: you will need to show me the documents. So, cough up the Warrant."
Writing.

Lovelace chuckles, trailing off as he sees your impassive expression.

Tactically, you raise an eyebrow.

“I thought I was clear.” You tilt your head slightly, dropping your chin slightly so they're lidded slightly by your bangs. “You will need to show me the documents.” You adopt a tone you're not entirely sure of as you speak, it was more of an affected flatness than you usually spoke with, the words slipping out without you quite meaning to. “So, cough up the Warrant.”

“It's crazy, I was just about to tell you why that's difficult.” Lovelace pressed his hands together. “It's actually why I'm here. So, first of all, very important- the Warrant isn't actually here. It's back at the seat of the Lovelace Dynasty, on, uh, Lovelace.”

“It's not on your ship?” Your other eyebrow goes up.

“That's a great guess- it is, actually.” Lovelace nodded. “Unfortunately, I left that ship back on Lovelace.”

Your brow furrows. “I see. So you traveled here upon a different ship of your Dynasty?"

“Ah, no. I hitched a ride with one of my suppliers, a merchant ship that stops through here.” Lovelace nodded upwards, as if the spaceport was just a few flights of stairs up. “So while I'd love to play twenty questions with you at the spaceport, you can see that it's somewhat difficult for me to arrange passage back to Lovelace on such short notice...”

>"Go on."
>"Let's just say I believe you."
>"You left your ship at home? What, enginseer forget the Rite of Activation?"
>"You said this is why you were here, but there's nothing here that would impair a Rogue Trader. So why this planet?"
>[Write-In]

>>6091336
>"You left your ship at home? What, enginseer forget the Rite of Activation?"
You are comitting a crime of impersonating an Imperial Noble. Punishable by Servitude Imperpetuis. I feel like I'm up to some target practice. You get 23.157m of lead. In the unlikely event you survive, you get to keep your pathetic life and forget about me. Otherwise I get a new servo-skull to assist me in targeting.

>>6091336
>"You left your ship at home? What, enginseer forget the Rite of Activation?"
I have not much experience with Rogue Traders, but you are doing little to convince me I am getting any at all. If you are lying, you are doing a bad job of it. Is there anyone within the entire Temple Pluriplaxis that can attest to your identity?

>>6091336
>>"You said this is why you were here, but there's nothing here that would impair a Rogue Trader. So why this planet?"

>>6091336
>>"You left your ship at home? What, enginseer forget the Rite of Activation?"

>>6091336
>>"You left your ship at home? What, enginseer forget the Rite of Activation?"

>>6091336
>"You said this is why you were here, but there's nothing here that would impair a Rogue Trader. So why this planet?"

>>6091336
>"You said this is why you were here, but there's nothing here that would impair a Rogue Trader. So why this planet?"

>>6091336
>"You said this is why you were here, but there's nothing here that would impair a Rogue Trader. So why this planet?"

>"You left your ship at home? What, enginseer forget the Rite of Activation?"
Writing.

“You left your ship at home?” You raise an eyebrow, leaning onto one leg slightly. You couldn't help it, though you tried to restrain yourself, your deference towards this man was threatening to wear through, and you couldn't help the slight breach of decorum as you leaned forward, brow falling. “What, did the enginseer forget the Rite of Activation?” You say dryly.

Trisha must be rubbing off on you.

“What-" Lovelace seemed to take a moment to actually process the question. "Oh- oh, nah. Ferrengus is the best, he'd never forget that. Nah, he's currently under house arrest, pending an Administratum investigation.”

“...what?”

“Yeah, temple fraud. Not his fault.” Lovelace waved the thought away. “Anyway, the problem with my ship is that it's ancient, too powerful to send to a minor processing hive like this, too venerated by the Machine God to deploy on a simple recruiting run and is also currently impounded by Navy decree, dastardly chained up with links too thick for us to get through with the files.”

“Files?” You pause, wondering for a second if you had misheard. “...your ship is impounded?”

“Yeah, we took them from the enginarium after they locked up Ferrengus and there was nobody to keep them out anymore.”

You close your eyes tightly for a moment, then open them. “No, not that. Buddy, is... is your flagship impounded?”

“Oh, no.”

You relax a little.

“No, the whole fleet is impounded. They let the merchant ships run so we can still make some money, which was nice of them.”

Your head was hurting, slightly, and it wasn't because you were overloaded with information. “How did you lose access to your whole fleet?”

“The tragedy is that I'm really not sure. Made some mistakes, had too much fun. Forgot some stuff... might have lost a few important things. It's all still there, of course, the Navy even went through the trouble of rounding it all up in one place for me and the Administratum, the real stuff we're having trouble finding is more information than paper." He put a hand to the side of his mouth, as if he was sharing a great secret. "We actually own a lot of paper."

Why the man felt the need to speak in endless sentences, you weren't entirely sure. Although, now at least you were starting to see why he would irritate the adepts so much even without asking for malatek creations. “...you're having tithe trouble with the Administratum.” You translate.

“Yeah, isn't that what I said?”

You didn't actually know much about Rogue Traders. Beyond the powers the Warrant granted them, there was no especial reason for them to be included in your knowledge of Custom-House bureaucracy and scribing. “Are you not exempt?”

>>6095182
“They say that you are, but it turns out that only counts for ships and worlds past the border. Lovelace was brought into Imperial territory a few hundred years ago, back when my great-grandma was the lady of the Dynasty.” Lovelace shrugged lightly. “We're a bit behind."

You close your eyes. Something was starting to connect in your head, and you weren't sure you wanted to believe it.

>"There's something more to this story. The Administratum would not be so adversarial as to impound the ships of someone who made them tithe money."
>"You came to this world, known for nothing more than... Buddy, are you looking for... an accountant?"
>"There's no way you're this incompetent."
>[Write-In]

>>6095184

>"There's something more to this story. The Administratum would not be so adversarial as to impound the ships of someone who made them tithe money."
>"You came to this world, known for nothing more than... Buddy, are you looking for... an accountant?"
>"There's no way you're this incompetent."

I'm choosing all three, it's hilarious.
Good to see you posting Bentus.
You doing okay?

>>6095184
>"There's something more to this story. The Administratum would not be so adversarial as to impound the ships of someone who made them tithe money."
>"You came to this world, known for nothing more than... Buddy, are you looking for... an accountant?"
>"There's no way you're this incompetent."

Kek, all of these.

>>6095184
>>"There's something more to this story. The Administratum would not be so adversarial as to impound the ships of someone who made them tithe money."

>>6095184
>>"There's something more to this story. The Administratum would not be so adversarial as to impound the ships of someone who made them tithe money."
>>"You came to this world, known for nothing more than... Buddy, are you looking for... an accountant?"
>>"There's no way you're this incompetent."

>>6095184
>>"You came to this world, known for nothing more than... Buddy, are you looking for... an accountant?"

>>6095184
>>"There's something more to this story. The Administratum would not be so adversarial as to impound the ships of someone who made them tithe money."
>>"You came to this world, known for nothing more than... Buddy, are you looking for... an accountant?"
>>"There's no way you're this incompetent."

>>6095184
>"There's something more to this story. The Administratum would not be so adversarial as to impound the ships of someone who made them tithe money."

>>6095184
>>6095229
support, but I'm leery of any implied commitments still

>"There's something more to this story. The Administratum would not be so adversarial as to impound the ships of someone who made them tithe money."
>"You came to this world, known for nothing more than... Buddy, are you looking for... an accountant?"
>"There's no way you're this incompetent."
>ALL OF EM
Writing.

>>6095229
Yeah, I'm doing pretty good. The plan of 'holy shit stop burning the midnight oil' is working out pretty well. Turns out sleeping for nine hours a day works, who knew? The rest of my life gets in the way of writing sometimes, of course, but primarily I'm just trying to take care of myself to avoid a burnout. And funnily enough, my writing output in general is way up, so that's probably a sign that it's working.

No. No, that was too ridiculous to give any credence to. It made sense - far too much sense - but the chain of events required for it to be true would be a verification of everything you suspected of this man. “There's something more to this story.” You say. “The Administratum would not be so adversarial as to impound the ships of someone who made them tithe money.”

“Actually, they usually just kill you, so I thought this was pretty charitable!” Buddy smiled broadly. “They don't want the money stopping just because things are a bit confused right now. Or the men, come to think of it.”

“That makes sense. Unfortunately.” You close your eyes again. That meant it wasn't necessarily a case of income, though. Or perhaps it was, and this was the Administratum attempting to work out a payment schedule? No, if that was the case, Lovelace would be chained down in negotiations, likely literally. There was no way he was going to make profit here, especially on a world within Imperial borders that he had less of a competitive advantage on, especially without his ship.

Why wouldn't the Administratum let him have his ship? Unless, of course, the problem wasn't strictly the tithe, but...

The horrible conclusion brewing in your mind takes stronger shape.

There wasn't anything of financial worth on Malignax- it produced a great deal of worth, but nothing that made thrones. This world was a minor, if proud supplier to a neighboring Forge World, not a particularly notable economic location in it's own right. No, the only thing notable to Rogue Traders here would be...

“But then why come to this world, known for nothing more than...” You say slowly, opening your eyes again. “Buddy, are you looking for... an accountant?”

“Yeah, didn't I say that before?” Lovelace looked slightly confused. “Gosh, A-4, you must have a terrible memory, I asked where the tankborn department was when we first met! Your very hurtful lies are why we're here."

You would have stared blankly, but the implied insult shocked you back into awareness. “...there's no way you're this incompetent.”

“Excuse me?” Lovelace suddenly bristled, a dark expression crossing his face. “Listen here, young lady, my great-grandma was a wonderful woman, she made this Dynasty what it was- wait, no, you were insulting me specifically." He stopped, considering it seriously. “...that's fair.”

The first time you had met, he had said he was a big fan, but you weren't sure why he had said that of you specifically.

It was because he'd correctly identified you as a scribe, wasn't it?

“You're here to purchase a tankborn accountant?”

>>6098214
“A friend of mine says they're the best.” Lovelace grinned. “Crack experts who slay paperwork like it's nothing. You could hold the service of a hundred datasmiths and they wouldn't be able to match one or two tankborn with some menials to help them out. Exactly what I'm looking for, as the parchment beast I hope to slay is unconventional and tricksy.”

You rather doubted that.

“And further- wait, hold on.” Lovelace paused. “The heck did you think I wanted one for?”

>"Honestly, I thought you wanted a sex slave."
>"My creator is a private person, I didn't think you were a customer."
>"I just thought you were crazy."
>[Write-In]

>>6098217
>"Honestly, I thought you wanted a sex slave."

>>6098217
>"Honestly, I thought you wanted a sex slave."

>>6098217
>"Honestly, I thought you wanted a sex slave."

>>6098217
>>"Honestly, I thought you wanted a sex slave."

>>6098217
>"Honestly, I thought you wanted a sex slave."

>"Honestly, I thought you wanted a sex slave."
Probably was a little silly to think the outcome would be anything else. Writing.

You think of a kind way to phrase it.

“I-”

No, it was impossible.

“Honestly, I thought you wanted a sex slave.”

“...I'm sorry?” Lovelace sounded genuinely confused for perhaps the first time in the conversation.

“...well, perhaps not a slave.” You reconsider. “I suppose most accurately it'd be a tankborn pleasure servant.” You wait for him to continue, but Buddy seemed so lost that you felt the need to elaborate. “It was the way you acted, my lord. Your... persona made me think paperwork was not the highest priority in your mind.”

“Then what was?” Buddy asked, seemingly flabbergasted.

“A frictionless journey to your chambers, sir.”

“...man, I gotta represent myself better.” Lovelace stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Don't get me wrong, you're definitely one of the finer ladies I've met in this hive, but if you thought I wanted, let alone-” He shuddered, possibly in shame. “Needed an entire tankborn just to be able to share a bed with someone, then I have been representing myself in the worst way possible. My great-aunt would be ashamed.” He fixed you with an aside glance and dropped his hands from his chin, instead taking up your hand and lowering himself slightly- awkwardly, given his height. “And for that, I do apologize.”

“Your great-aunt and not your great-grandmother?” You ask, confused.

“She's the one who taught me how to treat a lady politely, you see.”

“Is that a metaphor?”

“I do mean etiquette, young lady.” Buddy grinned and raised an eyebrow.

“I'm not exactly a woman of noble birth.”

“I wasn't talking about them, it's what you call any lovely woman.”

“...and you'd consider me to be one of the finer of them?” You ask dubiously.

“I find everyone beautiful in their own way, but..." Lovelace glanced you up and down. For a second, his eyes briefly lingered before his gaze recentered. “Yep.”

You furrow your brow and glance down at your own body beneath you, seeing just a leather jacket and your gown, lifting out a leg to see your boot poke out from beneath the hem of your gown, then back up at him in confusion. Was this what it was like to meet someone from offworld?

“But, ah...” Lovelace coughed. “I really do need an accountant-lady. Or man, I'm not picky, I just don't want to go to prison."

>"...okay, fine. I'll tell you about us."
>"And what about me getting to see your Warrant first?"
>"You have me, clearly... though I may be somewhat engaged for now."
>"I'm fairly certain you made all this up."
>[Write-In]

>"And what about me getting to see your Warrant first?"

>>6100784
>"You have me, clearly... though I may be somewhat engaged for now."

Why not.

>>6100784
>>"You have me, clearly... though I may be somewhat engaged for now."

>>6100784
>>"And what about me getting to see your Warrant first?"

>>6100784
>"You have me, clearly... though I may be somewhat engaged for now."

>"You have me, clearly... though I may be somewhat engaged for now."
Writing.

“You have me, clearly.” You fold your arms, thinking. “...though, I may be somewhat engaged for the future.”

“Huh?” Lovelace seemed somewhat surprised. “You mean you'll help me out?”

“I-” You blink. At some point in the conversation, you seem to have changed your mind about throwing Lovelace off the trail again- or at the very least, reevaluated your opinion of him. When had that happened? “I suppose I will.” You say, slowly. “Though I am a defective tankborn, I'm still a scribe.” Plus, on some level, you still wanted to see his Warrant, see it for yourself. You still weren't entirely convinced he was telling the truth, but now you were uncertain if he had been lying about being a Rogue Trader- or something else.

“...now, don't you ever call yourself defective.” Lovelace held up a finger, suddenly looking stern. “Just ‘cuz you’re a little different...”

You raise an eyebrow and almost smile. “While that's... kind of you to say, I didn't mean to disparage, it's just the truth.”

“Ah, c'mon, you're great with numbers and stuff, aren'tcha?” Buddy smiled. “You said you could run all the numbers in your head before, something's firing in there.”

“I'm not Biologis, Buddy, but I don't think-”

“...oh, Throne, wait. You're in line to eat, aren't you?” Lovelace suddenly looked guilty. “I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to eat up all your time. I'll find you again whenever you're done with, uh... sorry, what was your thing...?”

“I'm working on historical studies with Autohistoria Korash-22. It may be a few more days before I can render you any serious aid, but I'm sure after I could be of assistance."

“Mmm... yeah, Korash. I know him.”

“You do?” You ask in surprise. Korash didn't seem like he'd give the time of day to someone who seemed to be a vagrant...

“Sure did, but the man, ah... he's got eyes like a viper. Was more than happy to tell me anything you like, but I don't deal with men who keep their left hand hidden. Never make a deal with someone who wont tell you his price."

“...right.” It seemed like Lovelace's prowess with negotiation wasn't as high as he thought, if he got that impression off Korash-22. Perhaps he had dealt with Tome-X-502? The skitarii could be unnerving at times, even if you passed by the same one every day. “...I'll get back to my meal, then.”

“Oh'p, yes.” Buddy smoothed down his jacket and smiled. “I'll leave you to it- and also see you in a bit.”

You watch him go with a strange expression. He'd seemed a bit intense at the end, there.

>>6103392
Shrugging, you turn back to crowd and sidle out of line, now that you no longer need to hide. You find your way to the dining section closest to the kitchens, where the Magos Delectica always bade you sit when he was using you as a ‘tester’. Frankly, you weren't sure what he meant, as despite his insistence that your feedback was invaluable, there was no such thing as inferior corpsestarch- and the other food he sometimes prepared wasn't bad, either.

When you sat down at one of the benches, he appeared in the closest door as he always did, thumbing some kind of autoinjector as he pressed it into his right shoulder. “Hey, kid, give me a minute.”

You nod, leaning back as Amos vanished into the kitchen again. An odd smell wafted out of the kitchen- earthy smells that you had never actually experienced, just been imprinted with in the tank. Something heavily spiced, then?

Amos appeared without ever casting a shadow to show he was coming, holding a steaming plate in his hand. “Here you go. I'm experimenting with firmness today.”

>"Thank you."
>"I'll try my best to be specific."
>"Amos, do you mind if I ask you something?"
>[Write-In]

>>6103393
>>"I'll try my best to be specific."

>>6103393
>"I'll try my best to be specific."

>>6103393
>>"Thank you."

>"I'll try my best to be specific."
Writing.

Apologies, there will be a brief delay as I have to take care of some prep.

>>6106201
I can't believe Bentus is fucking delayed

>>6107587
I s-swear I'm working on it, I just n-need more time, boss!

I'm looking at the catalog position and I think funnily enough we'll probably cross threads at the next important narrative beat due to the delay.

File: faith takes me anywhere I go.png (284 KB, 1000x1000)

284 KB PNG

“I'll try my best to be specific.” You promise.

That never quite worked out as planned.

What Amos set down in front of you was much like what he had served you time and time again. ‘Imitation grox steak’, he had called it. This time, it was in two halves, each half of the patty delicately pinched between two slices of bread, a red sauce staining the crumb around it. A single leaf of green - a relative luxury - garnished the plate. It smelled of faint synthetic flavors and nutrient supplements- just like corpsestarch.

Carefully, you pick it up in a cloth and bite into it. The meat wept in your mouth, hot and pleasantly fragrant in a way you can't quite identify. Like so many other of these things you had eaten before, the smell reminded you of a corpse incinerator. It wasn't tender like it had been before, where the faux-meat had given easily beneath your teeth, but more mealy and chewy, holding it's firmness with the bread as you chewed, mixing the sauce, meat and bread together in your mouth.

It was good. Good, but you didn't understand what Amos expected you to say...

That it tasted like food to you? For some reason, the Delectica thought there was value in your opinion, despite you not having eaten at all prior to your release from the tank six weeks ago. Did he think you had a discerning eye when it came to corpsestarch, and such would be a more honest evaluator of it's reduction in taste than others?

Seems that no matter where you had gone in this hive, nowhere had you been able to truly figure out what your masters had wished or required of you. Alpha-Nought-5 seemed to favor you, for reasons you hadn't quite fathomed, was that why you were suddenly veering towards the faith? Korash-22 seemed to need you for... something. Symbolic reasons, maybe. He never seemed to need you to do any real work, though you learned beneath him. Cad, Tobias, Trisha- they all had believed you to have your own agenda, but you were increasingly doubtful of that.

There was a snort from your side, and you glanced up to see Amos wiping his nose with a cloth, sliding a small bottle back into his robe. “Well?”

You swallow the first half of the sandwich. “It's good." You hesitate. “It's good, and... chewy?” You hazard. “The sauce makes it taste... wetter than usual? But in a pleasant way, not like soggy corpsestarch. And the smell is as wonderful as ever and..." You sigh. “Mag- Amos. I'm not sure what you're getting from my opinion."

>>6109478
“A smile?” Amos raised an eyebrow. Your own raised in turn, and he snorted without pulling the bottle back out this time. “Okay, you never smile. I ask you because you actually like corpsestarch, A-4.” Your confusion must have been evident, so Amos gestured towards the rest of the mess hall and continued. “See the rest of these people? If I prepared anything like what I give you, they wouldn't taste anything more than corpsestarch unless they were so far gone their opinion was no longer useful. I'm polishing shite here, A-4. They'll never be able to ignore that under all the synthetic flavoring in the world, it's still corpsestarch, and it's all I ever hear about. You, I get something that might help me improve it so some habworker out there will actually want to eat it.”

“...so you consider me a taste expert?”

“The opposite, in fact. But that's why you're useful.”

“Useful..." You look down at your plate.

His words still rang slightly in your mind as you made your way to Korash-22's chambers. Useful, was that what they saw you as? Alpha-Nought-5 seemed to regard you as a student of sorts, was that because he thought you'd be useful eventually? You're not sure what Korash-22 saw in you that was useful, though. Certainly, he hadn't made much use of your particular talents yet. That made you itch to scribe in a way you hadn't felt in weeks. Maybe later, you could seek out Lovelace and...

“Name.” Came the vox-hiss from the skitarius guarding the door.

“Lebesnati A-414.” You reply.

"A-414." Instead of signaling the door into Korash-22's chambers to open, the tech-guard hunched over to address you directly. "Interrupt: A message has been dispatched for you."

You stop your motion towards the door, stepping back to allow him to address you, though he had to lean significantly down to meet your eyes. “Yes?”

"Forge Master Alpha-Nought-5 wishes for you to be informed that the specialist has sent word indicating that he will arrive within the day. Please make yourself available to be present at his request."

“I have duties.” You frown.

"They will be overridden to accommodate his schedule."

“...I understand." You reply, frowning as the doors hissed open, the skitarius stepping back into place. This Biologis' time must be limited indeed.

Within the room, Korash-22 had dimmed all of the artificial lumens so that the noospheric displays could glow brighter, softly swimming with the internal light of data fluctuations. Shimmering golden light played within them, never quite leaving the projectors to your unaugmented eyes, almost the inverse of the golden light that played between the Magi as they debated. The static lenses betrayed a strange depth to the light within. Lighting the floor from below, votive candles were carefully inset at strategic points, bronze cowls keeping their flames from the bookshelves.

>>6109480
“Magos Autohistoria?” You call softly, reflexively sticking your hand behind a shelf and withdrawing a drawing stick, flipping it up to make sure the chalk is still in place.

A shape shuffled out of the dimly lit room, your eyes still adjusting. As it turned, though, you saw the familiar low-light mode of Korash-22's optics peeking back at you. “Ah, Lebesnati. How are you this afternoon, dear?"

“I am well.” You look around. “You seem to be preparing for something today.”

“Ah, indeed we are.” Korash-22 beckoned you to come further in. “It will be a busy day, I think.”

You step closer, frowning as Korash-22's gaze moved down to the floor. You follow it, your feet coming to a stop at the edge of the chalk circle on the ground. Korash-22 had drawn a chalk circle around his private data-lectern, the one he kept to the side of his chambers. A double octagon, a linked binaric pair forming sixteen points, each inlaid with carefully proportioned symbols of binary and techna-lingua focusing inward around the noospheric node. Sixteen points of wisdom, each helping step down the question until only the purest inquiry remained.

And the target of said inquiry was no less than a simple brass and bronze plate bearing simple text, though you could see that it was currently being poured over with noospheric analysis as the two of you stood there. “The plate?”

“I was able to secure it temporarily from the reliquary for this ritual. A fitting path of inquiry for us, no? Especially as we have no other artifacts from the titan." Korash-22 smiled with dry lips, gesturing for you to come closer. “This is what we have been preparing for, is it not? Deep, deep data-meditation, hopefully so far that we may see between the data and grasp the Omnissiah's will- or perhaps something more tangible in the shift. Coordinates, perhaps.”

You look down at the circle, studying it's intricate precision. The exact meaning of the binary was unknown to you, but it was clearly the work of a master. Each line was flawless, effortlessly straight and yet not knobbled on the side like chalk bouncing against a clumsy rule. Complex binaric prayers and chants that you could only begin to guess at, but each obviously sacred from their precise proportions alone.

>"I'm not sure what I could possibly contribute to such a masterpiece."
>"Isn't data-meditation meant for a cogitator? That's just a piece of metal."
>"My time is limited today, will it be long enough for your communion?"
>[Write-In]

>>6109482
>"Isn't data-meditation meant for a cogitator? That's just a piece of metal."
>"My time is limited today, will it be long enough for your communion?"

Hopefully that first point is not considered rude, but displays ignorance that Lebesnati seeks clarification on.
Nice update Big-B.

>>6109607
Supporting.

>>6109482
>>"Isn't data-meditation meant for a cogitator? That's just a piece of metal."

>>6109482
>"My time is limited today, will it be long enough for your communion?"

>>6109607
+1

>"Isn't data-meditation meant for a cogitator? That's just a piece of metal."
>"My time is limited today, will it be long enough for your communion?"
Writing.

>>6109482
>"I'm not sure what I could possibly contribute to such a masterpiece."
>[Write-In] "Forgive me for my ignorance Magos, but I have no cranial circuitry, no electro-graft, no impulse unit or really any true flesh at all. If I cannot interface with the data, how am I to commune?" ... "Additionally, I have been asked by the Magos Analytica to make myself available so that I may speak with the specialist that is arriving today, though it occurs to me they also may be interested in further inquiry into the relic."

You look over the lace of metal and runes, frowning slightly. “Isn't data-meditation meant for a cogitator?” You gesture at the plate. “That's just a piece of metal.”

“Oh, it's much simpler to merely try it.” Korash-22 quickly assured you. “But... no, I can see that look in your eyes. How to explain...” He closed his eyes briefly, gathering his thoughts.

“...I don't wish to be rude, but my time is limited today. Will it be long enough for your communion?” You ask.

“Long enough?” Korash-22's eyes open. “Oh, psh- we'll do what we can today. Sometimes all you need is a glance, but I would not be surprised if you required multiple sessions.” He turned away from you, straightening slightly as he carefully walked around the perimeter of the circle. “You see, Lebesnati, data-meditation is not so simple as connecting to a cogitator. Any adept can comb through data-tiles, but to truly meditate on something, you must clear your mind of thoughts and appraisals. In that empty space, where we simply exist within the machine, and with the data, we open ourselves up to the Omnissiah. Deep meditation allows one to make logical connections they wouldn't have otherwise, probe the depths of the noosphere and see the empty gaps between data, to see what might have been. Words of knowledge, you see?”

“That sounds wonderful, Magos, but...” You gesture towards your head. “Forgive me for my ignorance, but I have nothing with which to commune with the machine. I haven't been given any true flesh, and none of what I was born with can approximate such things. I have no electo-grafts or impulse relays, no cranial circuitry of any kind. How is it possible for me to do this?”

“Ehhh...” Korash-22 scratched his chin briefly. “Well, you can't, in the traditional sense, child. I don't have a prayer that can circumvent that, but for our purposes, we aren't making a particularly deep dive into the inner workings of your mind, are we? In this case, I believe a shallow dive should do just fine, and we do not need to isolate our thoughts deeply within neurons of metal to achieve that."

You wanted to make a strange expression, but resisted it. Korash-22, like many of the senior Magi you'd met, had a bad habit of lapsing into poetic terms without thinking. Some days, you swore they did it on purpose just to misdirect the apprentices until they could follow the logic themselves.

“It really won't be that hard.” He reassures you. “Just for today, considering your limited time, we will start with a basic enumeration state, as practice. All you'll need to do is make yourself comfortable and clear your thoughts.”

>"I'm adept at clearing my thoughts, at least."
>"How can you tell a hallucination from the Omnissiah?"
>"This all feels rather basic..."
>[Write-In]

>>6113673
>>"I'm adept at clearing my thoughts, at least."
Bentus we're going to die soon

>>6113673
>"I'm adept at clearing my thoughts, at least."
>"How can you tell a hallucination from the Omnissiah?"

>>6113779
Yeah I see it, next update will be in a new thread.

>>6113673
>"I'm adept at clearing my thoughts, at least."

Imagine saying the other options, oof.

>>6113673
>"I'm adept at clearing my thoughts, at least."

>>6113673
>>"I'm adept at clearing my thoughts, at least."

>"I'm adept at clearing my thoughts, at least."
Writing and we'll post in a new thread.

Archived: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6075485/

New Thread: >>6116693

Apologies, I was hoping for a bit more time before the thread fell off, but it looks like I won't have the update for immediately at the start of the thread.

>>6116694
OH SON OF A BITCH THE THREAD TITLE'S CUT OFF.