Post by Tetradymite on Jan 2, 2024 21:43:57 GMT
The clear metallic voice sounded out for what sounded like the ten thousandth time since their shift had started.
“Storage shelf BC54. Container 18 integrity confirmed. Manifest States 8,000 rounds of standard autogun ammunition. Validating. One, Two, Three, Four, Five …”
Both Shabz and Pietre knew that the mechanical voice would drone on until the count has been confirmed. Despite the boredom of following this Tech-Priest and making occasional notes on their heavy duty data pad, this was light duty and they knew it. Pietre had slipped a double pack of Lho sticks to the shift manager when the inventory task had come up. He'd probably not needed to, as rhe manager married to his 1st cousin, but you don't live long by scrimping on the bribes.
“Ow much a dis place we got left?” asked Shabz looking around and trying to gauge how much of this PDF storage facility they'd covered in the last few weeks.
“Bouta munf I reckon.” Replied Pietre picking at one of his healing scabs.
A grunt was the only reply against the background noise of servitors, heavy lifters and of course the count. A greasy hand checked and double checked that it was on the correct listing. The easiest way out of Cogboy duty was to make a mistake. Shabz had said that one of his uncles work partners had mixed up 2 different shelves. When he was next seen it was as a heavy lifter servitor. Normally one to dismiss such stories Shabz shuddered remembering the look in his uncle's eyes when he told the tale.
“Ee neva luzes cant duz ee?”
“Huh?” replied Shabz “whut duz ya mean?”
“Eez counting, but not writin it, or nuffin. Whot last week we did a box of foor undred un eighty too fousand six undred un furty free whateva it was. We wuz canting fur free dayz, un not once did ee stop or get a number wrong.”
“Ya make a fair point, but oo knows whuts under dat hood.” Shabz paused, looked at the red and black robes figure, made the sign of the Aquila and carried on “I meanz whut eez bin blessed wiv.”
And there it was, almost imperceptible, but the count lost it's rhythm for the briefest of moments. A tiny pause between eight hundred and three, and four. The two grubby men exchanged glances.
“I bet youz can't do it again” challenged Pietre.
Both were gambling men, so a bet was par for the course to help pass the time. It was coming to the end of the month, script was tight. So the stakes would be low, or very high.
“I bet you cant un all.” countered Shabz “So standard, I'll go, you go?” Offering a Challenge bet, where both would have to put up stakes.
Pietre paused pondering what he could put on the table.
“Sure, I'll wager ma … “ with a pause Shabz knew Pietre was going to offer something big “Eros ov da Order ov da Agent Dawn cards.” This was big. This was a real wager, a man's wager and a wager too high to back down from. Once Pietre had let him see just three of the cards. The beauty and holiness captured on the cards a ray of light in the grim world of hive city life. He said they were a hand me down from his grandfather when they moved here.
“Dats … dats a high stake mate.” Shabz said taking the time to think of what he had which would be of the same value. His script was tied into the meals for his family, and what little was spare his parents were scraping together to try and get him and his newborn a place to live. There's no script that would be worth the cards either.
“Alright if I win, den … den …” he stammered almost unwilling to say what he would offer as a stake. Life was cheap in the Hive, but this was his second son and his wife had passed in labour. It was worth it, and this was an heirloom, one he could pass on to his next child. Pietre had no children and his heir-tithe was drawing near, he must be getting desperate. “Den I'll meet ur air-tive”
Some relief creeped into Pietres face, it was less than a year till the tithe was due, and soon he'd cross the threshold where even if he found a wife, she'd not give birth soon enough.
“But, if ya win, ya live in so I can be wiv little Eddy till da tive is due” Shabz finished.
“Dun” said Pietre sticking out his hand. They shook, gave each other a long look. “So you furst den.”
Shabz shrugged and took a moment to collect themselves and started. His plan was to say numbers around where the priest was counting, in and out of sync with their own rhythm, then one he had already interrupted once. Before starting he paused, thinking on the wager.
“Nah mate, Iv already dun it, you go first”
Pietre paused a moment and gave a nod.
“One thousand one hundred and seventeen, one thousand one hundred and eighteen, one thousand one hundred and nineteen, one thou…” went the background droning voice.
After clearing his throat an alert gleam came into his eye. In a surprisingly impassioned tone and in clear cadence he began.
“6 9 12 20 8 1 14 4 7 18 9 13 5 16 15 24 1 14 4 19 12 9 13 5 2 5 1 20 9 14 7 23 9 14 7 19 1 14 4 19 5 5 16 9 14 7 7 18 21 5 2 18 9 14 7 25 15 21 18 6 12 21 24 19 15 13 5 5 14 5 18 7 9 5 19 2 18 9 14 7 21 14 3 12 5 1 14 12 9 6 5 23 5 2 5 19 5 5 3 8 25 15 21”
And the counting stopped.
Pietre grinned.
“Question - How did you source that data sequence?” Came a clear single question. The iron in the voice, not just from the replaced vocal cords.
Pietre and Shabz froze mid glance. Before they could react the Tech Priest whirled down from the shelves, taking two long strides to the two technicians before lowering their frame to stare directly into Pietres face. Seeing the Priest this close uncovered some of the secrets their voluminous hood covered. To the left was the smooth bone of the priests skull. With a simple looking cyber eye glowingly with a soft red malice, still sunken into the eye socket. On the right, a mask of steel and augmetics, still retaining the skull shape but significantly enhanced with what seemed artificial organs in every orifice. Any remains of the original flesh seemingly buried deep within the Priest of The Mechanicus armoured cranium.
The silence hung seemingly too long in the air. Shabz had frozen, devoid of any feeling past unknowing apprehension, stuck rooted to the floor. Pietre looked the same, or did till you saw his eyes. Fearstruck and wide, but with a tinge of defiance, strength … endurance.
The silence lengthened, it seemed a contest on who would speak first. But instead of a word it was a blink, a bead of sweat had rolled down Pietres forehead and into his eye. He rubbed it away with his hand and looked back up at the looming Tech-Priest.
Now the silence was deeper, the doors to the warehouse remotely closed, all servitors stopped in their work and the last remaining workers slowing in their work. The Priest cocked their head.
“Preface - Noise levels reduced.
Reiteration - Respond to previously stated data request.”
The same level voice, the one they had heard intoning countless numbers, no anger, no tone.
Pietre crumbled and stammered an answer “My … my … my grandpappy.”
“Instruction - Under-Storekeeper Grade Seven Shazeikeal collect all persons within Hive-Storage Seven Alpha Eight Slash Nine Five at the chemshower point.
Instruction - Under-Storekeeper Grade Eight Pietre you will comply with me.”
A pair of shackles appearing suspended from a mechanical claw.
As the pair left the Priest looked over to the group of huddling workers.
“Instruction - Under-Storekeeper Grade Seven Shazeikeal mark the count One Thousand One Hundred and Twenty.” A pause
“Acknowledgement - I am blessed.”
With that the Black and red robes figure walked with heavy strides out of the room. Shabz breathed a momentary sigh of relief, as he breathed in deeply he noticed a new tang in the air ….
**
Standing before a smaller human figure the Tech-Priest gently directed a long Mechadendrite to place a data slate onto the wooden desk, with a second placing a tightly wound scroll next to it. The wax seal gleaming in the candle light.
“Report - Cult Reference Pilum Argentum now purged from the Imperium.”
With a raised eyebrow the Inquisitor responded “Very well. That last thread was it worth 2 years to find the grandson?”
“Conclusion - Yes”
“And that's it? Or have you suitably detailed how you came to this conclusion in your report?” The Inquisitor followed up, bemusement in their voice. It seemed to be an old repartee. Idly reaching for the scroll and breaking open the seal. A few minutes of scanning later and they tossed the scroll aside. “And I take it this is where my quartermaster got those new servitors they are so happy with. Through as ever I see.”
**
Addendum
Eddy didn't know the huge cloak figured. Nor truely understand the only words it spoke.
“Statement - Your father has been blessed”
With nothing else they had turned and left with heavy steps their hands shuffling a deck of cards.
“Storage shelf BC54. Container 18 integrity confirmed. Manifest States 8,000 rounds of standard autogun ammunition. Validating. One, Two, Three, Four, Five …”
Both Shabz and Pietre knew that the mechanical voice would drone on until the count has been confirmed. Despite the boredom of following this Tech-Priest and making occasional notes on their heavy duty data pad, this was light duty and they knew it. Pietre had slipped a double pack of Lho sticks to the shift manager when the inventory task had come up. He'd probably not needed to, as rhe manager married to his 1st cousin, but you don't live long by scrimping on the bribes.
“Ow much a dis place we got left?” asked Shabz looking around and trying to gauge how much of this PDF storage facility they'd covered in the last few weeks.
“Bouta munf I reckon.” Replied Pietre picking at one of his healing scabs.
A grunt was the only reply against the background noise of servitors, heavy lifters and of course the count. A greasy hand checked and double checked that it was on the correct listing. The easiest way out of Cogboy duty was to make a mistake. Shabz had said that one of his uncles work partners had mixed up 2 different shelves. When he was next seen it was as a heavy lifter servitor. Normally one to dismiss such stories Shabz shuddered remembering the look in his uncle's eyes when he told the tale.
“Ee neva luzes cant duz ee?”
“Huh?” replied Shabz “whut duz ya mean?”
“Eez counting, but not writin it, or nuffin. Whot last week we did a box of foor undred un eighty too fousand six undred un furty free whateva it was. We wuz canting fur free dayz, un not once did ee stop or get a number wrong.”
“Ya make a fair point, but oo knows whuts under dat hood.” Shabz paused, looked at the red and black robes figure, made the sign of the Aquila and carried on “I meanz whut eez bin blessed wiv.”
And there it was, almost imperceptible, but the count lost it's rhythm for the briefest of moments. A tiny pause between eight hundred and three, and four. The two grubby men exchanged glances.
“I bet youz can't do it again” challenged Pietre.
Both were gambling men, so a bet was par for the course to help pass the time. It was coming to the end of the month, script was tight. So the stakes would be low, or very high.
“I bet you cant un all.” countered Shabz “So standard, I'll go, you go?” Offering a Challenge bet, where both would have to put up stakes.
Pietre paused pondering what he could put on the table.
“Sure, I'll wager ma … “ with a pause Shabz knew Pietre was going to offer something big “Eros ov da Order ov da Agent Dawn cards.” This was big. This was a real wager, a man's wager and a wager too high to back down from. Once Pietre had let him see just three of the cards. The beauty and holiness captured on the cards a ray of light in the grim world of hive city life. He said they were a hand me down from his grandfather when they moved here.
“Dats … dats a high stake mate.” Shabz said taking the time to think of what he had which would be of the same value. His script was tied into the meals for his family, and what little was spare his parents were scraping together to try and get him and his newborn a place to live. There's no script that would be worth the cards either.
“Alright if I win, den … den …” he stammered almost unwilling to say what he would offer as a stake. Life was cheap in the Hive, but this was his second son and his wife had passed in labour. It was worth it, and this was an heirloom, one he could pass on to his next child. Pietre had no children and his heir-tithe was drawing near, he must be getting desperate. “Den I'll meet ur air-tive”
Some relief creeped into Pietres face, it was less than a year till the tithe was due, and soon he'd cross the threshold where even if he found a wife, she'd not give birth soon enough.
“But, if ya win, ya live in so I can be wiv little Eddy till da tive is due” Shabz finished.
“Dun” said Pietre sticking out his hand. They shook, gave each other a long look. “So you furst den.”
Shabz shrugged and took a moment to collect themselves and started. His plan was to say numbers around where the priest was counting, in and out of sync with their own rhythm, then one he had already interrupted once. Before starting he paused, thinking on the wager.
“Nah mate, Iv already dun it, you go first”
Pietre paused a moment and gave a nod.
“One thousand one hundred and seventeen, one thousand one hundred and eighteen, one thousand one hundred and nineteen, one thou…” went the background droning voice.
After clearing his throat an alert gleam came into his eye. In a surprisingly impassioned tone and in clear cadence he began.
“6 9 12 20 8 1 14 4 7 18 9 13 5 16 15 24 1 14 4 19 12 9 13 5 2 5 1 20 9 14 7 23 9 14 7 19 1 14 4 19 5 5 16 9 14 7 7 18 21 5 2 18 9 14 7 25 15 21 18 6 12 21 24 19 15 13 5 5 14 5 18 7 9 5 19 2 18 9 14 7 21 14 3 12 5 1 14 12 9 6 5 23 5 2 5 19 5 5 3 8 25 15 21”
And the counting stopped.
Pietre grinned.
“Question - How did you source that data sequence?” Came a clear single question. The iron in the voice, not just from the replaced vocal cords.
Pietre and Shabz froze mid glance. Before they could react the Tech Priest whirled down from the shelves, taking two long strides to the two technicians before lowering their frame to stare directly into Pietres face. Seeing the Priest this close uncovered some of the secrets their voluminous hood covered. To the left was the smooth bone of the priests skull. With a simple looking cyber eye glowingly with a soft red malice, still sunken into the eye socket. On the right, a mask of steel and augmetics, still retaining the skull shape but significantly enhanced with what seemed artificial organs in every orifice. Any remains of the original flesh seemingly buried deep within the Priest of The Mechanicus armoured cranium.
The silence hung seemingly too long in the air. Shabz had frozen, devoid of any feeling past unknowing apprehension, stuck rooted to the floor. Pietre looked the same, or did till you saw his eyes. Fearstruck and wide, but with a tinge of defiance, strength … endurance.
The silence lengthened, it seemed a contest on who would speak first. But instead of a word it was a blink, a bead of sweat had rolled down Pietres forehead and into his eye. He rubbed it away with his hand and looked back up at the looming Tech-Priest.
Now the silence was deeper, the doors to the warehouse remotely closed, all servitors stopped in their work and the last remaining workers slowing in their work. The Priest cocked their head.
“Preface - Noise levels reduced.
Reiteration - Respond to previously stated data request.”
The same level voice, the one they had heard intoning countless numbers, no anger, no tone.
Pietre crumbled and stammered an answer “My … my … my grandpappy.”
“Instruction - Under-Storekeeper Grade Seven Shazeikeal collect all persons within Hive-Storage Seven Alpha Eight Slash Nine Five at the chemshower point.
Instruction - Under-Storekeeper Grade Eight Pietre you will comply with me.”
A pair of shackles appearing suspended from a mechanical claw.
As the pair left the Priest looked over to the group of huddling workers.
“Instruction - Under-Storekeeper Grade Seven Shazeikeal mark the count One Thousand One Hundred and Twenty.” A pause
“Acknowledgement - I am blessed.”
With that the Black and red robes figure walked with heavy strides out of the room. Shabz breathed a momentary sigh of relief, as he breathed in deeply he noticed a new tang in the air ….
**
Standing before a smaller human figure the Tech-Priest gently directed a long Mechadendrite to place a data slate onto the wooden desk, with a second placing a tightly wound scroll next to it. The wax seal gleaming in the candle light.
“Report - Cult Reference Pilum Argentum now purged from the Imperium.”
With a raised eyebrow the Inquisitor responded “Very well. That last thread was it worth 2 years to find the grandson?”
“Conclusion - Yes”
“And that's it? Or have you suitably detailed how you came to this conclusion in your report?” The Inquisitor followed up, bemusement in their voice. It seemed to be an old repartee. Idly reaching for the scroll and breaking open the seal. A few minutes of scanning later and they tossed the scroll aside. “And I take it this is where my quartermaster got those new servitors they are so happy with. Through as ever I see.”
**
Addendum
Eddy didn't know the huge cloak figured. Nor truely understand the only words it spoke.
“Statement - Your father has been blessed”
With nothing else they had turned and left with heavy steps their hands shuffling a deck of cards.
