"Hey! Lorgar!"
A familiar voice, steady yet carrying a strange, penetrating power, rang out without warning from the communications screen in one corner of the room.
Almost simultaneously, a steady, flickering light coalesced, and the Emperor's figure appeared clearly in the center of the display.
"It seems I recently, hmm, 'offended' an ancient organization calling itself the 'Cabal.'"
"Given their habit of lurking in the shadows of history, they've probably already sent a few 'little nuisances' after you youngsters campaigning out there. They haven't come looking for trouble with you, have they?"
He paused briefly, his gaze seeming to pierce the screen and settle on Lorgar.
"Do you need me to... help you deal with it?"
Lorgar turned toward his father's image on the screen. There was no surprise on his face; he merely lifted his chin, indicating the scene on the other side of the room.
"That question," Lorgar said with a hint of resigned humor, "is a little late, old man."
He stepped aside, allowing the camera to clearly capture the devastated figure still kneeling on the floor.
"See? She's already here. We even had quite a chat about 'life's aspirations.'" Lorgar jerked his thumb toward Mary, then looked back at the Emperor and raised an eyebrow.
"How should I handle her? Deal with her myself, or package her up and send her to you as a research specimen, or perhaps... a bargaining chip?"
Following Lorgar's gesture, the Emperor's gaze lingered on Mary for roughly a second.
There was no inquiry or curiosity in that gaze, only pure, condescending scrutiny, like a human examining a somewhat unusual insect in a laboratory dish.
Then he withdrew his gaze and looked back at Lorgar.
"Handle her yourself." The Emperor's tone was casual, as though he were deciding something utterly insignificant.