Sparks flew in all directions, and the welding arc lit up the surrounding metal surfaces. It also lit up Vito, lounging on a seat that had been removed and set aside, a fruit drink in one hand and sunglasses on his face.
The four Deathwatch Astartes stood behind him. The dazzling sparks fell on their black armor as if swallowed by a black hole, without a glint of reflected light. They were utterly submerged in darkness, with only the four giants' faces illuminated.
Unlike mortals, Astartes could endure such dazzling light with their retinas and didn't need to wear sunglasses like Vito.
The Adeptus Mechanicus Magos cut into the shuttle's damaged hull with his mechadendrites. When Vito had retrieved the thing from the Adeptus Arbites' impound lot, it had looked like a watermelon that had been smashed to bits. It was hard to see whether it was worth anything at all, but they had brought it here anyway and left Omega to deal with it.
Servitors assisted the Magos from all around. Mechanical arms emerged from beneath his robes, a dizzying display like flowers scattering in the wind. Plasma torches, cutting tools, heavy clamps, rivet guns, and countless other instruments of the Machine God worked side by side. Under the Magos's deft control, the shuttle was taken apart, reassembled, and cut open in a fluid sequence.
Vito sucked on his straw, watching the countless mechanical arms with interest—the complex, nimble mechadendrites, like the tentacles of an octopus. "How much of that guy is still flesh under his robes, you think?"
"I reckon he's got a brain left," Lancelot said, folding his arms as he studied Omega. Ragnar waved a hand. "How could someone with a brain be so boring? Look at him. Every day, he's as dull as a brainless Servitor. He's definitely got no brain left—and nothing below the belt, either!"
"What makes you say that?" "Ha! How could a real man be so boring that he only gets turned on by machines?" Ragnar chuckled under his breath, but Olaf sighed helplessly. "Watch your words, brother. You know how the Adeptus Mechanicus will react."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Those boring Tech-priests don't even understand a joke. Even this Caliban lad gets it." Ragnar laughed, patting Lancelot on the shoulder plate with an armored hand. Lancelot laughed too.
"It's not like all we do is pray and train back home. Although, we are pretty serious—especially Lord Asmodai. Uh..."
Just hearing the Interrogator-Chaplain's name made Lancelot shudder. Anyone who could frighten an Astartes had to be a formidable man, and Asmodai was the most formidable of them all. Even in the Dark Angels, a Chapter that was already pretty unhinged, he was surely the most unhinged of the lot.
Vito had heard plenty of stories about that "hardcase." Yeah, he had no desire to meet him.
"I don't think there's anything wrong with Omega, brothers. Reason and efficiency are exactly what we need," Bell said. Ragnar impatiently waved a hand. "Have you lost all your flesh too, Bell? You talk like a Tech-priest."
"Complete," Omega said, halting his dazzling flurry of work. He then used a mechanical clamp to move a lever on the shuttle's shattered platform. The extremely complex circuitry was plugged into the interface in his brain.
His mechanical right eye began to flicker, countless streams of data scrolling across it. Several Servo-skulls flew in from who knew where and began circling the shuttle, scanning it.
Dark green scanning beams swept over most of the shuttle, while faint crackling sounds came from the Servo-skulls. Vito got up from his chair and walked over to Omega, drink in hand.
"Did you find anything? It took some effort to get this wreck back without using my Inquisitor credentials, so I'd better hear some good news." "Your premise is highly illogical, Vito. No matter the cost you incurred, objective data will not change to suit your subjective expectations."
"You misunderstand, cause and effect. This is an illusion created by the human brain." Omega spoke in a captivating electronic voice. Vito just smiled and shrugged. "Don't be so boring, Magos. Tell me, did you actually find anything?"
Omega raised his head, and the Servo-skulls flew away. His face was almost entirely covered in machinery. He turned to look at Vito with cold eyes.
"May the Machine God bless you, Inquisitor. I found useful information in the data," Omega said, walking over to the holoprojector. A small mechanical arm extended from his shoulder and plugged a data cable from his brain into the projector. As soon as the connection was established, a complex diagram was projected before them.
The Astartes gathered around, the giants crowding around the holoprojector and staring in confusion at the immensely complex, jumbled streams of data.
"Not to be rude, Old Man, but that looks like a pie I've already eaten. I can't make heads or tails of it," Ragnar said, scratching his head in confusion. Then he nudged Lancelot with his elbow. "Can you make sense of it?"
Lancelot gave it some thought, then nudged Olaf beside him. "Can you make sense of it?" Olaf passed the question along, nudging Bell.
The Apothecary sighed helplessly and looked at Omega. "Magos, could you filter out the accumulated log data and isolate the records from after the space station crisis? I believe the Imperial security protocol's secondary system can do that."
"Correct, Bell. You should go to Mars to study and become an excellent Techmarine," Omega said, starting the process. The jumbled data rapidly dwindled until it became clear.
"Yeah, Bell, while you're at it, take a look at my Chainaxe and—" Ragnar began with a grin, but Bell cut him off with a simple reply.
"Get lost."
The jumbled data became concise and clear, until everyone could understand what it meant.
Vito raised an eyebrow, looking surprised. "What the hell did those idiots take aboard? It was way over the weight limit."
According to the shuttle logs, after the crisis on the space station, the traitors had carried something aboard while fleeing, severely overloading the shuttle. They had clearly refused to abandon their cargo and launched anyway. In the end, after running out of fuel, the shuttle had crashed on Owen-4.
"Some kind of machinery? Or a relic?" Lancelot asked. But the older Old Wolf, Olaf, shook his head. "No. Relics wouldn't be stored on a space station. And the traitors clearly couldn't carry machinery, let alone fit it inside."
Vito fell silent for a moment, resting his chin in his hand as he pondered. "Is there any footage from inside the cabin?" "Unfortunately, it was damaged in the crash. But I found something else." "What?"
One of Omega's mechanical hands passed a fragment to Vito. He took it and examined it, then realized what it was. "A bone fragment. Human bone."
"Yes. There were many in the cabin, along with dried bloodstains," Omega said. Olaf frowned. "Some kind of vile ritual? Or a sacrifice? Is that why the bodies disappeared?"
"Perhaps the Chaos Cultists hoped a blood sacrifice would persuade their loathsome Chaos Gods to guide them to a safe planet?" Olaf suggested. Vito shook his head. "I've never heard of Khorne Cultists using the blood of the dead for sacrifices. And if they were alive, the traitors couldn't have locked them in the shuttle."
Vito rested his chin in his hand, studying the bone fragment. "This is getting more and more interesting, Omega." "Inquisitor?" "We'll bring you more things to analyze. I need you to examine them."
"Cole?" Vito spoke into his communicator. "Received. Go ahead." "Have we reached the Capital World?" "We're getting close to the destination. I'll have the ship stop behind the barren world, and your shuttle can fly over." "Good. Fill her up for me."
The Magos nodded. Vito then turned to the four Astartes with an apologetic smile. "Gentlemen, I'm afraid I'll be handling the secret investigation myself for a while."
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