darkstarling
Brilliantly Crazed
- Location
- Columbus, Ohio
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Thanks for the quote, clears it up. I misremembered entirely.
In The Grim Darkness Of The 41st Millennium, Nobody Beats G.I. Joe!
- Thread starter sun tzu
- Start date
- Crossover
At least Ironhide can sleep and kick ass comfortably.
I enjoy that picture. Even when he's not wearing his armor, it's just coming through in his body language. That's the smirk of someone who knows their armor can kill you with an automated point-defense laser while reheating an old slice of pizza at the same time; the Smirk of Being Awesome.
16 characters
Sick and tired of being Sick and Tired
- Location
- Alta California
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Wait is this set in the 80's? I know it's based on 80's cartoons but I had been under the imperession that it was set years after as like a followup thing as regards 'organitron'?
I might need to reread the earlier parts of this story? @sun tzu Is the timeline meant to be the late 80's or the 90's or what , assuming it matters in regards to these sorts of polices assuming nothing else would have butterflied them away earlier?
StarSingerBlue
Zenryoku Zenkai !
- Location
- The City of Lights
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Ironhide mentions the Internet is being developed back home, they seem to be in the early 90s.
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Mattman324
you expected some anime, non-IRL giant robot, eh?
- Location
- Working in the basement on my giant robot.
Internet was already a thing in the 70s, technically, and the WWW was a thing at the end of the 80s. The first big event you could really say that pushed the modern internet was the start of the Eternal September in '93, though it's unlikely they'd recognize that as such at the time.
Ronald Reagan did get elected for a fourth term right before Devoir, so, you're currently in the first weeks of 1993. 
No Clinton presidency means no Don't Ask Don't Tell - which, remember, was a step forward. Reagan-era policy on gays in the military is "immediately kicked out, no longer eligible for veterans' benefits". If anything, Reagan would love to crack down even harder on LGBT people (but, while Reagan himself is very popular, his party isn't; the Republicans haven't been able to get a congressional majority for a while and a half).
And yes, the Duke-Scarlet-Snake Eyes-Cover Girl situation is "Scarlet is dating both men, all three people involved seem fine with it; neither she nor Duke appear to be exclusive. Cover Girl is into Scarlet, has tried to get her attention via some very ill-thought attempts at hitting on Duke and rubbing it in Scarlet's face".
No Clinton presidency means no Don't Ask Don't Tell - which, remember, was a step forward. Reagan-era policy on gays in the military is "immediately kicked out, no longer eligible for veterans' benefits". If anything, Reagan would love to crack down even harder on LGBT people (but, while Reagan himself is very popular, his party isn't; the Republicans haven't been able to get a congressional majority for a while and a half).
And yes, the Duke-Scarlet-Snake Eyes-Cover Girl situation is "Scarlet is dating both men, all three people involved seem fine with it; neither she nor Duke appear to be exclusive. Cover Girl is into Scarlet, has tried to get her attention via some very ill-thought attempts at hitting on Duke and rubbing it in Scarlet's face".
Nah, because the immediate response is just going to be, "if the Imperials are ok with it, its obviously even worse than we thought"
- Location
- in between
Eh, the Imperium is varied enough I'd say there are plenty of worlds with Reagan tier takes on LGBT issues. Course there will be some that are vastly superior by sheer dint of the fact there are an estimated one million entire planets of cultures in the IoM, but the general tone of this fic makes me suspect we'll see more of the former than the latter.
I dunno about that, my impression of the tone so far is that what the Imperium is bad about they're terrible about, but they aren't necessarily worse than the US about every single thing, particularly this single thing.
- Location
- in between
Eh, maybe I'm just cynical when it comes to tone in this kinda fic, especially since I disagree with @sun tzu on most headcanons. For those who find the idea of the Imperium being pro-LGBT confusing - there are exactly three (3) conditions for being part of the Imperium of Man. In order, they are:
1. Don't have any deities other than the Emperor
2. Hand Psykers over to the Black Ships if they ever get there
3. Pay your taxes
That's it. As long as you do these three things, the Imperium, as a whole, doesn't give a damn what else you do and planets have pretty much total autonomy over their own affairs. Of course, the Inquisition can easily ruin this since what an Inquisitor considers Heresy is solely their own opinion and the list of people who can gainsay one is uh, very short, but wildly vacillating between ruining everything and saving the galaxy with absolutely no middle ground is kinda the Inquisition's thing so that isn't much of a surprise.
Whereas I'm reading that the Imperial Knight seemed to be flirting with a female Joe without any concern whatsoever on the Imperial side.
Of course, the Imperium 'as a whole' being fine won't necessarily do you a whole lot of good if the Ecclesiarchy (or some of the other mega-bureaus) have a problem with you. There's not really anybody to reliably protect you even if the notional imperial constitution is on your side.
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- Location
- in between
Indeed, such is the great flaw that makes the Imperium teeter on the edge of simply not functioning. It is simply too much of a mess, with too many people with more authority than they really should have and far too much latitude to use it.
StarSingerBlue
Zenryoku Zenkai !
- Location
- The City of Lights
- Pronouns
- They/Them
My headcanon for the Imperium is this: some people are tolerant. Some aren't. The nobility generally gets a lot more leeway since they'll typically have access to cool tech stuff like making babies out of two women's genetic material. Most commoners tend towards more restrictive gender roles and views on sexual attraction etc because the higher-ups want there to be more babies to be future workers and soldiers.
Kinda how fascist governments encouraged women to become mothers and crushed into little bits of dust anything queer.
Kinda how fascist governments encouraged women to become mothers and crushed into little bits of dust anything queer.
There are ways in which the Imperium is almost uniformly terrible (religious bigotry, anti-alien bigotry...). Others vary - as others have said, there's something like a million planets, with limited FTL travel and communication, so local cultures vary in many ways.
Most Imperium worlds don't care about orientation (or skin color). Rolande, who's spent half her life on Devoir and the other half on Cavitus, feels zero need to hide her homosexuality (she still expects to marry a man and have children with him because of feudal politics, which she is not looking forward to). Cadencio Almadero and Sean Kaltberg, noble sons of Cavitus and Vectorime who were educated at the Schola Progenium, are keeping things relatively low-key, but that's not because they're concerned about homophobic backlash - they'd be doing exactly the same if they were an opposite-gender couple.
And then, you've got some world that are brutally, violently heteronormative. Most of the Imperium thinks they're weird. Rolande thinks Organitron is weird for their bizarre hang-ups about same-sex relations.
Most Imperium worlds don't care about orientation (or skin color). Rolande, who's spent half her life on Devoir and the other half on Cavitus, feels zero need to hide her homosexuality (she still expects to marry a man and have children with him because of feudal politics, which she is not looking forward to). Cadencio Almadero and Sean Kaltberg, noble sons of Cavitus and Vectorime who were educated at the Schola Progenium, are keeping things relatively low-key, but that's not because they're concerned about homophobic backlash - they'd be doing exactly the same if they were an opposite-gender couple.
And then, you've got some world that are brutally, violently heteronormative. Most of the Imperium thinks they're weird. Rolande thinks Organitron is weird for their bizarre hang-ups about same-sex relations.
That means the Joes watched classic 90s like Power Rangers and X-Men The Animated Series.
Funniest option, the Joes assume the Imperium will be homophobic because of the whole fascist space empire thing and hide, while the Imperium actually couldn't care less.
The Joes are already hiding from their homophobic actual government, unfortunately.
Well, from some of their governments at least.
A Game Of Knights (Part 1)
"And the thing is, Cybertronians undeniably have souls," Menlo explains. "It's not something anyone takes on faith, they're just as quantifiable as… well, as the human ghosts from that 'Phantom Brigade' Cobra had."
"That Cobra briefly had," you say with a smirk. It was early in the war - probably the first brush G.I. Joe or Cobra had with magic. Cobra Commander tried to summon the ghosts of long-dead warriors to fight for him. Worked for a while… except that unlike his usual troopers, these guys weren't hopped-up on Cobra indoctrination, and it only took a small dose of Joe diplomacy to get them to turn on the big snake.
"Right," Menlo fidgets. "Anyway, in the long run, I want to adapt that - I don't mean I want to build these things with their own souls!" she hastily clarifies, "but I want the human-operated armors to interface with the operator's soul."
"Wwwwwhy?" you ask. "What's the advantage? Would it give finer control than a neural interface?"
"N-no, it would exist in, in parallel to the n-neural interface," she says. "But in theory, it would protect both the operator and the armor from subversion."
You consider. It sounds believable… Autobots and Decepticons weren't strangers to using mind-control on each other at times, but the very fact that it wasn't a standard tactics shows how hard to hack Cybertronians are. Even so… "This sounds like… very advanced stuff."
"Yeah," she sighs, "it's why this is all a long-term project. I don't see it being finished in time to help us in Galagrim."
"Then let's focus on our other pie-in-the sky project," you say, returning to your joint side-project - trying to make heads or tails of Cybertronian combiner technology.
Because, well. Combiners are so much more than the sum of their parts, it's crazy.
And both you and Menlo have a day off after a month spent clearing up three different regions of Lamedor territory from Tyranid infestation, so you might as well work on something fun (as opposed to something you expect to finish fast enough to help in the war effort).
All in all, G.I. Joe's actions over the past month have allowed Lamedor and his vassals to recover territory the size of Arizona, so in his generous magnanimity, Tyrant is unofficially implying that your debt has been repaid. How nice of him.
To be fair, the whole "Titanfall" thing hasn't really been letting up. Tyranicus actually sent you a video from a tavern outside of Lamedor territory…
*****************************
The bard grinned charmingly at his audience as he began singing the recently-popular ballad.
"He has a powerful weapon
He'll bring down each villainous plot
Among Red Priests, the best of the lot
The Man With The Golden Shot
Fighting the xenos out in the wild
Or slaying a corrupt Oath-Blade
His weapon shall find their armor's weak spot
The Man With The Golden Shot
Hymns were required each time that he fired
They came just before the kill
No-one can top him, no villain can stop him
And his Omnissian skill!
One golden shot means another evil scheme
Has come to a glittering end
With one hit he'll bring evil to naught
The Man With The Golden Shot!"
***************************************
You still shudder thinking about that video, but Striker had a good laugh with it.
"I must say, my friends, I do truly look forward to laying my eyes upon Starhill," Rolande declares with a big smile.
"Have you ever been there before?" you ask.
"Only once, right before my departure for Cavitus. But what a city it is - the beating heart of Devoir!"
So, yeah. G.I. Joe has been invited to the capital city. General Ivanov's request.
Hopefully it's not gonna be a problem. Last time G.I. Joe was summoned to a planet's capital city, you had to fight a whole underhive gang and infiltrate the royal palace.
"I understand you'll be joining us, Dame de Jean-Stone?" says Kaltberg.
"I keep telling you, fair Commissar, just call me Rolande! And let it be known that I hold the firm intention of following G.I. Joe in its noble quest for as long as my liege-lord will permit it!"
"I'm surprised he does permit it," you say. "I figured Tyrant would want to keep all his Knights fighting on his territory."
"He does," Poker Face says even as she exchanges documents with Menlo, "but he's being political about it. By which I mean, he'll be extracting favors and concessions from whoever Rolande ends up helping."
"Ah," you nod. "OK, that sounds more in-character."
"I mean," Menlo says (a bit louder than usual for her, because she needs to be heard over the din of the Valkyrie carrying you), "I figured, you both left the Church when you grew up, so, that's something in common?"
"Nnnnnnot really," Paladin replies. "My old church is mostly good people. I may not be a believer anymore, but I'm still friends now with the people I was friends with then. I still attend Christmas mass there with my parents, and have a good time. Alicia's church scarred her for life; one of her life-goals is to never again talk to anyone from there or her mother, and those are goals I completely approve of."
"No kidding," Menlo mutters, barely audible over the noise.
"So, no, it's not really a thing we have in common," Paladin shrugs. "In fact, it's something I avoid bringing up because I don't want to make her jealous. When we want to talk about things we have in common, we have other topics. Like fantasy books. She enjoys telling me I have shit taste for liking Tolkien," she grins.
You're not sure who they're talking about (is this Alicia a Joe, or a civilian?), but… "Right, Paladin, you're big into fantasy and renfaires, right?"
"It's a big part of how I got the codename," she chuckles.
"Then how do you feel about actually being on this planet? Since it's, well…"
"It's not really a dream come true, if that's what you're asking," she shrugs. "I enjoy the occasional tale of fantasy monarchy - where the good monarch is a source of stability, a code of honor guides the nobility, and the knights protect fair maidens. Devoir is… closer to historical monarchy. Where aristocrats fight never-ending wars over who gets which crown, the nobility are violent schemers, and knights are brutal leg-breakers who serve power." She pauses. "I knew this teacher in college who actually looked all over medieval records to find just one instance of a knight rescuing an abducted woman, and… well, let's just say it's not really a thing that happened in real life."
You pause to consider. "I mean. I could totally see Rolande rescuing a fair maiden."
Menlo blushes.
"She would, as long as doing so didn't go against a power structure she felt obligated to uphold," Paladin replies. "In that regard… I actually feel sorry for her."
Then the Valkyrie begins dipping, and you take a glance outside.
Starhill.
As the name implies, Starhill, capital city of Devoir, is indeed built on a hill.
But the thing that really jumps at you is what lies atop the hill. Because, well, the medieval castle… you were expecting that. The medieval castle built over the ancient rusting remains of a spaceship larger than the Empire State Building… that took you by surprise.
"OK, wild guess," you mumble. "That ship is how colonists originally came to this planet?"
"That's the generally-held belief," says Paladin. "Obviously the AdMech's gone over the thing with a fine comb a million times."
"They would," you nod. "Ancient giant robots, ancient crashed spaceship, and the population is at a medieval tech level. Feels like the Imperium taken to its logical conclusion, in a way."
"The hull of the ship is probably more durable than the stone walls they added for the castle," says the other man in the Valkyrie. One of the newer guys, like you. His codename is Hitter. You once saw him enter a Cobra surveillance center and knock out all five Televipers inside with his bare hands so fast none of them was able to raise the alarm.
"Maybe," says Killshot - the sniper from the IDF - "but the stone walls add better position to shoot attackers from."
"Always about the sniper nests with you," Hitter smirks.
"Still salty about the last training exercise?" she smirks back.
"Why would I be salty? I still got you beat 10-5 in spars." So much smirking.
"You ever think I'd let you win less spars if you were less pretty?" she counters, and when in the conversation did they get closer?
"Then I guess I better keep being pretty."
"Damn straight."
Ugh. These two.
As you get off the Valkyrie, you glance at the welcoming committee.
The Imperial Guard force led by a Captain is almost easy-to-miss next to the ten figures in heavy power armor.
And you've seen this type of power armor before.
Sororitas. Sisters Of Battle. The super-elite military arm of the Ecclesiarchy.
Much as you'd love to examine these power armors up close (and maybe figure out cool tech to incorporate into your own designs)… you gotta wonder why there are Sororitas waiting for you.
The Imperial Guard leader salutes. "General Hawk. Captain Azarov of the Revelation 22nd Drop-Trooper Regiment. I'm here to take care of your regiment's lodging and escort you to your meeting with General Ivanov."
"At ease, Captain," says General Hawk. "And you are…?"
"Palatine Angeloff, of the Order Of The Argent Shroud," says the obvious Sororitas leader, her face framed by a helmet that could probably shrug off lasgun shots. "I require some of your time as well, General."
OK. OK. Don't swallow your own tongue.
"General, if I may be so bold," you step forward, "I assume it would be poor form to make the supreme commander of Imperial Guard forces on Devoir wait, but perhaps someone else ought to liaise with the Adepta Sororitas rather than just asking for their patience?"
"Are you volunteering, Ironhide?"
"Yes sir."
The Palatine's making a face. "I'm sorry, but I don't think a mere regimental Engineseer is an appropriate liaison."
"Tech-Priest Ironhide is no mere anything," General Hawk replies without raising his voice. "This man is a full member of G.I. Joe, and has both my complete trust and deeds to his name that could easily earn any honor the Imperial Guard ever awards. He was part of the team that slew the Ork Warboss plaguing Cavitus. He has saved human lives beyond counting. If there is to be a liaison, then he is as fit for the role as anyone in my regiment."
The Palatine's expression is hard to read, but she pauses. "…Ironhide? Is that the Titanfall?"
"It's not what I call myself," you chuckle, "but I've been called that, yes."
She remains silent for a moment. "Very well. Follow me, Titanfall."
You follow the armored women (and Snake Eyes follows you just to be safe, but they don't need to know that). You notice everywhere they go, people quickly get out of their way… but you're seeing far more reverence and respect aimed at the Sororitas than fear. If nothing else, the people of this city (this planet?) seem to think highly of the Sisters Of Battle.
"You fought the Titan in trial by combat," the Palatine says.
"That is a thing that happened," you nod.
"The rumors claim that you had no armor, no weapon beside a sling."
"That's simply not true," you shake your head. "I had no armor, yes, but beside the sling I also had two daggers."
One of the Sororitas turns her head to give you a look. The others just keep going. Well, you think you're funny.
"Why did you challenge him to trial by combat?" the Palatine asks again.
"I didn't. He demanded trial by combat when some innkeeper accused him of raping his daughter and killing his son," you reply. "I volunteered to act as the innkeeper's champion because, well, he would have died if I hadn't, and his daughter was already having the worst day of her life without getting orphaned on top of it all." …And G.I. Joe quietly helped the family relocate outside of Lamedor territory, just to be safe.
They walk in silence for a while. "Without armor, with inferior weapons, you defeated one of Devoir's most feared Oath-Blades. Many see you as blessed by the God-Emperor - or the Omnissiah, as your order says."
That's a somewhat non-committal way of phrasing it. Like she's testing the waters. Trying to see where you stand.
"If the God-Emperor was personally handing out justice rather than leaving it for us mere mortals to handle, I can think of many, many people who would be a lot deader than they currently are, and a lot of dead people who'd be currently alive. If the Emperor was going to put his thumb on the scale of battle to take Grand-Shield down, he wouldn't have wasted his favor on me - he would have allowed that little boy to successfully kill the oversized bastard in defense of his sister.
"Trial by combat doesn't determine who's right, only who's left," and you'll mangle that quote about war (by whom again? You want to say Bertrand Russel…) as many times as you want, thank you very much, "and the sort of people who call for trial by combat damn well know it. If Tyrant Lamedor believed trial by combat represented the will of the God-Emperor, he wouldn't rely on scum like Grand-Shield to act as his champion - he's find some saintly devout person and make them his Oath-Blade, with or without any skill at arms."
"Well said." This time there's some steel to the Palatine's voice. "Trial by combat as practiced on Devoir is a perversion of the faith. The Greater Houses cynically pretend that it represents the will of Him On Earth. It's blasphemy in the name of political expediency."
OK, definitely something she feels strongly about. But then she stops talking.
…OK, these ladies don't seem to be sworn to silence, but they don't talk much, either. And that's not good. You like people who talk a lot - they let slip so much useful intel.
But hey. At least you appear to be making a good first impression.
Over the next fifteen minutes, as you follow the Sororitas through the city, you don't say anything.
But you observe.
There's only so much you can learn about a piece of advanced technology by just looking at it from the outside… but you happen to be damn good at armor technology. And so a lot of things jump at you.
Based on a lot of things including how loud it sounds when they step on the ground, these suits of power armor are mostly ceramite - but this isn't the same quality of ceramite you see in flak and carapace armor. This is the good stuff.
There's an energy reserve, but no outward recharging mechanism - it gets recharged by the suit's own energy generator, which is an impressively small fusion device. You suspect these suits will succumb to wear and tear before they run out juice.
The model used by the Palatine is different from the ones worn by the other Sisters. You think it would be better at handling oversized weapons, but you're not sure. What you are sure is that it has an extra layer of protection in the form of a force-field generator.
These suits are very, very good at following the wearer's movements without slowing them down. Having achieved similar results with your own Marauder Armor, you know the sheer complexity of the algorithms this requires.
With that said… you are fairly confident your Marauder Armor would be far better able to withstand most forms of armor-piercing ammunition than the Sororitas' armor. Against your design, one would be better served by going straight for actual anti-tank weapons.
As exciting as this tech is (and much as it might be giving you ideas for G.I. Joe's arsenal)… you shouldn't forget the mission.
"Palatine Angeloff, if I may ask, why is it that you wanted to talk to General Hawk?"
"I don't," she replies. "I hadn't heard of him until today. A great servant of the God-Emperor wishes to speak to him, however."
Huh. "…Who?"
"You will see."
That's hopefully not the ominous kind of 'you will see'.
"I'll confess, I've never actually spoken to Sisters Of Battle before," you try a different tack. "I'll confess to not knowing as much as I would wish to about your order."
"The Order Of The Argent Shroud is among the Orders Militant of the Adepta Sororitas," Angeloff replies, not slowing down one bit. "We are the sword of the Ecclesiarchy, sworn to lifelong service to Him On Earth. We fight his enemies on whatever battlefield they desecrate - the xenos, the mutants, and the heretic."
It takes some prodding to go further - apparently, the Argent Shroud is big on deeds speaking louder than words, and encourages its members to embrace laconism. The Sector has something on the order of fifty thousand (a hundred thousand?) Sororitas, with their base of operation being on Revelation. They're an elite force that specializes in launching fast surgical strikes on hard targets - taking out fortifications, enemy leaders, that sort of thing.
Palatine Angeloff, from the sound of it, leads a force of about one thousands Sisters who were sent to Devoir. Which… isn't a lot, you think? Granted, that's bigger numbers than G.I. Joe, and they all have power armor, so you shouldn't judge too hastily…
Regardless… that's definitely the royal palace you're entering.
Much like Lamedor's Radiant Fort, the royal "Starkeep" has modern tech incorporated into its defense, with laser and bolter turrets, and a significant number of guards who have Lasguns and Chainswords.
The guards don't let anyone in without checking them, however. Not even the Palatine, apparently, who has to name every single member of her group and say who you are before she's allowed inside. From her tone, you're guessing this is something that annoys her greatly but isn't at all new.
Obviously you don't know the Starkeep's layout… but even so, you can tell she's not taking you to the central area, but a side wing.
OK, so probably not here to see the King.
Instead, you are led to a chamber guarded by… two Tempestus Scionis. Interesting.
A bit before you reach the door, however, something gives you pause.
Something feels off.
Something feels wrong.
Something feels like… like every part of your personality is suffocating.
"Wait," you tell the Palatine. "I think there's something going on. I'm not sure what, but I feel some kind of wrongness."
"You are perceptive, but your concerns are misplaced," she says.
"…Do you know what this is, th-" You pause. The effect is gone. You feel like you can breath again. And that coincided with some girl dressed in black walking further down the hallway.
Was she the source of this feeling?
Well. You step through the doorway.
Inside the room, sitting at a table and working with multiple dataslates, is a man with bionic eyes. He looks up at the Sororitas (…probably. Harder to tell without pupils).
"Sir," Angeloff makes the sign of the Acquilla, "this is Tech-Priest Ironhide, of the 1st Organitron Expeditionary Regiment. Here as General Hawk's representative."
"Palatine Angeloff, I specifically asked for General Hawk. I did not ask for a representative."
"The General did not view my summon as being of higher priority than General Ivanov's orders. With respect, I am a battlefield commander, not a trained emissary."
The man sighs. "Very well. Apologies, Tech-Priest," he gets up and moves closer, "welcome to my current office." He shakes your hand and- Ow!
…That's a genescanner he just used to draw blood from your hand.
He stares at the device as he goes on. "Ironhide… That would be the 'Titanfall', yes?"
"Not what I call myself, but, yes."
The device clears you of any suspicion of infection. The man nods. "Well then, I suppose it would be rude to not give my name as well. I am Shinichi Kuroda, Interrogator of His Most Holy Inquisition."
In the immortal words words of Douglas Adams, don't panic.
Sure, you just met a member of the Inquisition, an organization that is to the Imperium at the higher levels what the Commissariat is to Guardsmen - dangerous fanatics with a license to kill.
You can manage, surely.
"A pleasure, I'm sure," you say. …Programming the Marauder Armor with retractable gloves seemed like a brilliant idea at the time - retracting them outside of combat situations has made it easy to tinker and pilot vehicles without removing the armor.
"Apologies for the prick," the Interrogator adds, "but in my profession, you cannot be too careful where Genestealer Hybrids are concerned."
"Yes, those are quite insidious," you say. "May I scan you as well?"
There are a couple gasps from the Sororitas. The Interrogator raises his eyebrows (You're glad he still has those, they make him more expressive).
"Would you believe," he says, "that in the twelve years I have spent here, you are only the second to say that? Everyone else was too foolish to think of it or too afraid."
He hands you the Genescanner.
You pull out your own. (Yeah, you're supposed to hide that you have a lot of those, but having a couple is easy enough to explain - and why would you scan someone with their own scanner? It'd be way too trusting!)
He seems to actually be a little amused, but he complies.
Not a Tyranid. Good to know.
"…Who was the other guy?" you ask.
"King Aurelien Helldrake," he replies with a shrug. "The man treads a thin line between commendable paranoia and just plain paranoia."
Hm. You suppose that's useful intel on the King. Still, you wonder what was up with…
"Forgive me for the swerve," you say, "but, that girl outside-"
"She works for me. She's a headache, but she's loyal," Interrogator Kuroda says with a tone of finality. He then turns his attention to the chief Sororitas. "I don't think we're going to get ambushed here, Palatine Angeloff; you and our guest can both remove your helmets."
You decide it's wiser to comply, and you make your helmet retract back into your armor. She seems to hesitate for a second, and you find yourself wondering the comfort level of these things. You went to a lot of trouble to make sure the Marauder Armor could be worn all day without driving you nuts, but d-
Her helmet comes off.
Those…
Those are definitely cat ears.
OK, not what you were expecting.
She gives you a look.
"Oh. Uh, my apologies, ma'am," you say. "I didn't mean to stare rudely. Not a lot of abhumans back on Organitron, so this is somewhat new to me."
"Felinids are rare in the Xanadu Sector," says Kuroda, "even compared to Ogryns and Ratlings, but they do exist."
"Right, I've actually seen some on Cavitus, in the-" you pause, as something occurs to you. The helmet would definitely be uncomfortable on the cat ears, but what about the…? "…They had tails," you say. "Where do you even fit it inside this power armor?"
"It did not fit," the Palatine replies. "I had it excised."
Your jaw falls. "You mutilated yourself to fit inside the armor?!"
"A small price to pay," she replies, "for the opportunity to serve Him On Earth. There are many, Titanfall, who have sacrificed far more than I, for far less. You of all people should understand that."
You pause to take it in. "…The Felinids I glimpsed on Cavitus," you say, "were trapped inside the underhive. Like I said, we don't have a lot of abhumans on Organitron… and I'm getting the impression the Xanadu Sector at large does not always treat them fairly."
"Tech-Priest Ironhide," the Interrogator says, "humanity is besieged from every direction by the Ork, the Tyranid, and even darker Xeno threats yet - without even getting into the Ruinous Powers. It is the height of foolishness for the servants of the God-Emperor to fight each other. And yet, we do. I have seen far too many loyal spirits blessed with great talent, only to be shamefully wasted for one imbecilic reason or another. Angeloff here," he sits down, "was given the opportunity to join the ranks of the Adepta Sororitas. The cost was a non-vital organ. Quite frankly, a choice with only one answer even worth considering."
You turn your gaze to her. "And you've ascended the ranks to become a Palatine. I can only assume you're brilliant at your job."
"You're too kind," she replies, not returning your gaze.
So she's part of an ethnic minority that tends to get the short end of the stick, and still managed to achieve a high-ranking position in an elite organization (and one that's highly religious even by the Imperium's standards at that). Definitely someone worth getting to know.
…But you shouldn't let that distract you from the actual agent of the Inquisition in the room, because that guy can doom Organitron with the stroke of a pen.
Actually… Might not be a bad idea to ask some questions of your own…
"Forgive me, Mister Kuroda… Well, actually I'm not sure what the correct form of address is…" He raises an eyebrow with what looks like faint amusement, so you go on: "Since I understand that gathering information is a central part of your job… dare I ask if you know the story about the Witch of Collinerouge?"
He pauses. Angeloff twitches when she hears the word "witch" (and so do her ears. …Something this cute on someone this heavily-armed is a tad disturbing). "Collinerouge… Collinerouge…" He checks one of the dataslates on his desk. "Ah. A rogue psyker was arrested by the Ecclesiarchy in Lamedor lands - specifically the Jean-Stone fief - and executed two years later, having summoned Daemons in prison."
"Excuse me, but… two years?" you say. "Under what set of circumstances does one hold a psyker in prison for two years before executing them?"
"The official version is that she was only suspected of witchcraft at the time of her arrest, and kept in prison until the day a Black Ship reached the system - unlikely as that would be to happen within her lifetime - and that her execution came from her revealing her true nature by summoning the creatures of the Warp," says the Interrogator. "I haven't examined the case personally - rogue psykers, while dangerous, are generally not my business - but a cursory look suggests to me that she was being kept in chains for political reasons, was not a heretic at the time, but gave in to despair after two years without seeing the sun and accepted to serve the Ruinous Powers for a way out. Of course," he waves dismissively, "that's an educated guess."
"Wait, so your hypothesis," you say, "is that she wasn't a heretic, but imprisonment and harsh treatment turned her into one?"
"There is no excuse for consorting with the Ruinous Powers," Palatine Angeloff says in a harsh tone. "There are people who have suffered far worse and didn't throw away their soul to the foul horrors of the Warp."
"I'm not trying to excuse anything," you reply. "I'm just saying it sounds like the way the matter was handled was inefficient. It made the problem worse."
"That may be so," she concedes, "but there aren't good, clean ways of handling Psykers. They are born with their powers at random, represent a dangerous threat to people around them even when they have the best intentions and a far worse threat when they don't, and the only way to handle them safely is through the Black Ships bringing them to the Adeptus Telepathica on Sol. It's a flawed system, but the best available."
You think back to Meridian Septentrion and the horrific abuse he has suffered - on the Black Ships in the Adeptus Telepathica in Sol, and in service to the Imperial Guard.
Then you immediately stop thinking about it, because letting yourself become angry is a bad idea right now.
"That aside," says Kuroda, "why did you ask? This all predates your arrival on Devoir by years."
Hm. Best not mention Olivier - you're not sure if this could get him in trouble or not. "I heard the tales while in the Jean-Stone fief, and it seemed odd," you shrug. Hopefully he buys it.
"I see," Kuroda nods. "Excuse me for a moment…" he gazes intently at one of his dataslates.
Hm. Perhaps you-
…Something's off.
Not in the same way as before. No, different sort of off. This feeling of being watched. It's like-
It's like when you and the rest of G.I. Joe, before you left Organitron, went through some quick training where a telepath tried to read your mind and you had to keep them out.
A Psyker is trying to read your thoughts. …"Trying" being the operative word, because you don't think they're getting there. Is it the Interrogator? Someone working for him? Someone else?
OK. OK. Think.
It's possible, though unlikely, that the person trying to read your mind is some third party. Much likelier is that they're either the Interrogator or someone who works for him.
Do they know you know they just tried to mind-read you? Because if they know you know, and you say nothing, that's suspicious on your part.
On the other hand… where would Ironhide, loyal Tech-Priest of the Omnissiah, have had any prior experience with mind-readers? You shouldn't know what telepathy feels like.
So instead you just look around with a confused expression.
"…Is something the matter?" says Kuroda.
"Didn't you feel that?" you say. "I felt… something," you point at your head. "Not… Not the same thing as with that girl in the hallway. Like being watched, but…"
"I didn't feel anything," Angeloff says, but she looks around, as if searching for a hidden enemy, her hand on the hilt of her Power Sword.
Kuroda has the slightest twitch.
Then he moves on. "Anyway… Tech-Priest Ironhide, you're probably wondering why you're here…"
"Not really," you reply. "I'm here because General Hawk was busy answering General Ivanov's summon. I am wondering why you wanted Hawk here."
The Interrogator and the Sororita let your gratuitous smartassery pass without comment. "Ironhide, as you are clearly more than aware by now, the Tyranid Hive-Mind is not just a military threat - via the use of Genestealers and Hybrids, it is also capable of inserting spies, infiltrators, and cultists within the Imperium. Those spies keep the Hive-Mind apprised of our troop movements, sabotage our war efforts to the Tyranids' benefit, and in the most extreme cases even manipulate Imperium politics to weaken entire sectors. This combination of espionage, sheer numbers, and rapid growth, makes the Tyranids the single greatest threat to the Imperium today.
"My mission - the reason I have spent the past decade on this planet - is to combat the Genestealer cults and ensure they are unable to find purchase. It is a frustrating job - every time I destroy a cult, another one pops up, and I am all too often left guessing as to how many are currently operating under my very nose.
"And then, one month ago, I received a report about a minor cell being destroyed in Lamedor territory… by a regiment that had only made planetfall days earlier.
"You understand my curiosity."
"A Genestealer. A Hybrid. Six cultists. I understand you were personally involved with the incident, as it so happens, so I might as well make good use of this stroke of luck and ask you for an actual report on what happened."
There is a very slight reaction from the Palatine - an ear twitch and a raised eyebrow. You think she's surprised to hear you fought the infiltrator cell.
Still, how should you play this…
The full story is, G.I. Joe wanted to check if there were Tyranid spies in the town, so you and Menlo were sent to go around town, seemingly alone and vulnerable, until you were approached by someone trying to lure you into a trap. You Uno-reversed the trap on them with Snake-Eyes' help.
You don't think anything in this story would be bad… would it?
Alternatively, you could give a different version - well, the same version of events, except drop the part where you were deliberately acting as bait.
"We'd only made planetfall earlier that week," you say, "but we'd tried to learn as much as we could about Tyranids before even reaching Devoir. We talked on Cavitus to people from regiments that had fought them before, we asked our Commissars, and of course called upon the knowledge of Dame de Jean-Stone."
"Right, the Knight Helldrake sent to fight on Cavitus in exchange for a shipment on Lasguns. She seems to have formed quite the bonds of camaraderie with the Organitron 1st."
"Well, we've fought side-by-side a lot on Cavitus, and won many victories," you grin. "Anyway, we knew Genestealer cults were a thing, and we were wondering if there were any spies inside the town, possibly giving away our movements. So, to be on the safe side, we set up a trap-"
******************************
"…And that's the whole story," you conclude.
Palatine Angeloff, who's been listening silently until now, stares at you, her left ear twitching. "You fought a Genestealer in melee and won?"
"Not a lot of things survive a plasma shot in the neck," you wink at her.
Kuroda leans back in his chair. "He told you he had to sell the cow."
"During a lean year, yeah."
"In all likelihood, he had to get rid of the cow so it wouldn't go mad with terror living above a Genestealer's hiding spot and alert the neighbors with its terrified screams."
"…That makes sense, yeah."
"Still, this is a remarkable show of initiative on your regiment's part," he says. "I try to lay this sort of traps myself every now and then, but I can only do so much on my own…"
"It's G.I. Joe," you shrug. "It's made up of Organitron's best, and we're not selected for our lack of initiative."
"Noted." Kuroda steeples his fingers. "It is a known fact that the regiments of the Imperial Guard are not all equal. Some are elite - and telling which are and which aren't can, at times, be a frustrating exercise, given how self-serving and self-congratulatory after-action reports usually are.
"Some of the reports I've read - both from Cavitus and from Devoir - suggest G.I. Joe is able to achieve truly spectacular results on a strategic level. The war for Cavitus had ground to a thirty-year slog, yet the tide quickly turned when you joined the fray. A single month on Devoir, and a significant percentage of Tyranid forces in Lamedor territory have been routed. I'm inclined, by now, not to dismiss it all as fabrication, Tech-Priest.
"So, do kindly explain to me - why is it that G.I. Joe is able to accomplish so much?"
Oh dear. You need to answer in a way that doesn't get G.I. Joe in trouble, but you don't have a good enough read on this guy to be certain what would get you in trouble…
"It's… a lot of things," you say. "We're an all-volunteer regiment - everyone in G.I. Joe chose to be on the worst of the frontlines, so that's good for both morale and initiative. Said initiative, and adapting to however the situation evolves, is encouraged by a command structure that's less centralized than most. The regiment includes very different people with diverging mindsets, so when faced with a difficult problem you can usually count on at least one of us to come up with a good idea for dealing with it. And, above all else… it's made up of the very best of the best. The planet's best snipers, the planet's best tank drivers, the planet's best jungle fighters, and, of course, the planet's best equipment and relics."
Kuroda nods. "Speaking as an agent of the Inquisition, I am familiar with this general principle of operation." He sighs. "I am just about certain that, were I to order the regimental commanders of the Imperial Guard to start setting up traps like you did, it would backfire very quickly."
"Because they'd handle it like morons, or because the Genestealer cults would adapt?"
"Both. No matter how clever an idea is on paper, once it's been given to a colonel, who'll delegate it to the nearest captain, who'll delegate it to a lieutenant, who'll order around a bunch of soldiers and maybe a sergeant if they're lucky… Well. By the end of it, you probably end up with a bunch of Guardsmen being told to wander around alone in dark alleys at nights without the people giving them those orders having any idea that they're supposed to be watching their back."
"That does sound like something the Imperial Guard would do," you concede.
"Now, I'm not exactly a military thinker," you say, "but my understanding is that back on Organitron, military theory stresses the importance of non-commissioned officers - your sergeants and corporals and what-have-you - as the craftsmen of war, who tell the soldiers what to do based on actual practical knowledge and know how to immediately react to situations with or without the orders of the actual officers." Or at least, that's NATO military doctrine. You think the former Warsaw Pact militaries have a more top-down approach to it. "G.I. Joe is arguably the pinnacle of this approach."
"And it does seem to reflect Kiboutan's military prowess as well," says the Interrogator. "But I fear whipping the Imperial Guard into shape is outside of my remit. I'm here, ultimately, to hunt down xenos spy rings, and be the person even the most powerful noble or general can't refuse to submit to a genescan from."
"…Is that an issue often?"
"Infuriatingly so. People too used to being obeyed get offended if you want to test them in any way. I've already had an instance of a regimental commander turning out to be infected - and several instances with Knights. Hence the need for frequent tests."
"Yes, I… imagine that'd be a major issue," you understate. "So King Helldrake and General Ivanov…"
"Are put through genesecans regularly," he says. "So is every head of a Greater House. So is the crown prince. And Magos Kruger. And Bishop-Praetor Bondieu. And every Sister Of Battle."
"Good. That's good." You pause. "There's about a thousand Sororitas on the planet, right?" you address Angeloff.
"Yes," she replies. She does not elaborate.
"They were brought to Devoir about three years ago, at the Bishop-Praetor's request," Kuroda picks up the slack. "Their mission is to combat the Brownrobes."
"…Is that really the highest priority on Devoir?" you say dubitatively.
"Heretics have to be purged," the Palatine says with a furious expression… which shifts into a tired one. "…but you are not wrong. My sisters and I prioritize fighting the vile xenos whenever possible."
Hm. This is a potential minefield… but you suppose you need to find out. And as an official member of the Adeptus Mechanicus, you get some degree of leeway on this most Joes do not.
"About those Brownrobes. I know that Bishop-Praetor Bondieu calls them heretics. I assume they have equally harsh words for him. However, I remain a newcomer to the whole situation," you say. "I was wondering what your position is."
Palatine Angeloff tenses a bit and looks away. Interrogator Kuroda strokes his chin for a bit, as if lost in thought, before speaking: "For all the Ecclesiarchy's attempts at standardization, there is no denying that the worship of the God-Emperor takes many, many different forms across the Imperium, even if you only count the officially sanctioned ones. The rise of the Brownrobes is clearly motivated in large part by protest against the way the Ecclesiarchy of Devoir handles its business.
"There is a very long history of protest movements across the Imperium - justified and otherwise - getting coopted by the Ruinous Powers. It's one of the reasons the Imperium moves so quickly to crush them.
"But that's outside my field of expertise," he admits. "While I have dealt with a few cultists of the Ruinous Powers in my day, there are others far more suited for it than me. Ultimately, what truly bothers me about the Brownrobes is that they are bringing Devoir to the brink of civil war. One that could divide humanity's forces while they're already struggling to contain the Tyranids."
"So you're not calling them heretics and you're not calling them not heretics, you just think they're trouble whether or not they're faithful servants of the God-Emperor because of the war."
"That's one way to sum it up, yes."
You glance at the Felinid, who is still looking away. "Meanwhile, I understand the Sororitas are the bolter-holding hand of the Ecclesiarchy…"
"We serve the Emperor in all things," she says, and her tone suggests she won't say more on the matter.
"Well," you say, "I hope I was able to answer your questions to your satisfaction, and I thank you for answering mine - I realize it's not your job to reciprocate," you wink at that, "but unless you have any further requests, or have a message you need passed to General Hawk, I probably ought to get back to my regimental duties."
"I do actually have one more request," the Interrogator replies. "Since you are by all accounts a highly skilled Tech-Priest - as more than evidenced by a Knight allowing you to work on her steed - I figure I ought to take advantage of your skills." He pulls out a device you don't recognize. "You don't find a lot of people outside actual Forge-Worlds who know how to repair these; I figured I wouldn't be able to get it fixed before I reported to my superior and was able to call upon the services of the Magos in their retinue, but since you are here…"
"…I'll try," you say, as you take the device in your hands.
Hm. Curious device…
Optronic circuits. The computing system isn't crazy-advanced like the "Recordus Magnificus" Magos Gama was keeping, but definitely ahead of most Imperial cogitators.
Huh. This thing has a high-quality holographic projector, and some very good sound projectors - not that loud, but with incredible sound quality. You're starting to think this thing is some kind of portable 3D movie projector. Though it seems to have a lot of other functionalities - like it's supposed to be connected at all time to the Noosphere, except, the communication protocols are very different from the Noosphere you saw on Cavitus. It also looks like it's programmed to instantly react to the user "touching" the holograms, so they could in fact act as a user interface. You could do some amazing videogames with tech like this!
Also… you don't think anything's wrong with it. It's not broken, the only issue is that it ran out of power. You figured out within the first few minutes it recharges via electromagnetic conduction and got some juice in, so that's simple enough.
If nothing else, you're enjoying the challenge of working with an unusual piece of tech-
…
It is unusual. It's got some standard Imperium tech in there, but there are specific parts that are nothing like what the Imperium uses. They make sense, scientifically speaking, but the design choices are all different, some technological choices are distinct from what the AdMech does, like it's…
Like it's a fusion of Imperium technology and some form of xenotechnology.
Did you already give yourself away as Knowing Too Much just by correctly recharging this thing? Is it some kind of test? Should you pretend you don't know how fix it?
…This guy sees through lies for a living. There's a lot of lies you have to tell him, but each one you add to the pile is another gamble.
You finish reactivating the device-
-and it opens a holographic music video. If you were to guess, it's picking up what it was doing when it ran out of juice - right in the middle of the video.
You don't recognize any of the instruments. Catchy beat.
You don't recognize the species in the video. Four legs, two arms with four fingers on each hand, long neck and a face like a massive chihuahua. One of them is singing in the background, while a bunch of others look like they're having some kind of emotional melodrama in the foreground.
Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't this.
And apparently neither was Kuroda, whose stoic demeanor gives way to an actual jaw drop as he sees it.
"How-" he begins, before stopping himself.
Ah.
Somehow, you doubt watching alien music videos is high on the Inquisition's priority list. If this thing ran out of battery while doing this… then you'd bet it ran out of battery before the Inquisition got its hands on it, and odds are, because of the xenotech element, no-one knew how to repair (read: recharge) it.
And if the Inquisition could never get it to work, and likely had no idea what it was, why was an Interrogator carrying it around?
Well. Possibly for trade purpose. But also possibly to test the mindset of Tech-Priests he needs to interact with - give them xenotech to play with, see how they react - if they want to destroy it, if they want to study it, the works.
He did not expect you to fix it.
Palatine Angeloff, meanwhile, stares in confusion. "…What manner of xenos… What is this?"
Kuroda closes his jaw. "…Tech-Priest?"
You press the 'pause' button on the holographic interface. "As far as I can tell, it's an all-in-one electronic device. Probably meant for the convenience of xeno civilians, playing music, playing holos, voxing each other…"
"This is xenotech?!" the Felinid stares at the device like it's about to try and bite her.
"Some bits and pieces are," you reply, "though about 75% is fairly standard Adeptus Mechanicus technology."
Kuroda seems to have recovered from his shock. "…And you were able to repair it so easily."
"I didn't repair it," you reply. "I just recharged its power core."
"But…" Angeloff stares at you, looking confused. "How were you even able to handle xenotech…?"
Kuroda has the briefest flinch of annoyance. He probably didn't want her to ask that question so unsubtly, but you're guessing she isn't in the mind-games business like the Interrogator is.
"Technology is technology," you say, giving a shrug to convey some calmness you don't actually feel. "Once one has familiarized oneself with the basic working principles, extrapolating from them to understand new patterns is just a question of skill. When I see some technology I've never seen before, it only takes some educated guesses to recognize the patterns involved."
"But," says the Felinid, "surely the foul work of hereteks…"
"Is foul and heretekal, but it doesn't actually break away from the same basic principles that govern all technology." You pause. "…Unless they bind Daemons into it. Then it's an entirely different set of principles and I'd have no idea how that works." Because supposedly that's a thing the Tech-Priests of Chaos do, according to G.I. Joe's research.
Angeloff says no more. Kuroda stares at you, and at the device. "…A moment." He then activates a small vox. "Fordison, please come in."
You wait.
And then, two minutes later, a Tech-Priest comes in, saluting you in Binaric. They've got so many bionics, you couldn't begin to guess their gender.
"Ironhide, meet Fordison, my retinue's Tech-Priest. Fordison, meet Ironhide, regimental Tech-Priest of the Organitron 1st Expeditionary Regiment. He was able to fix this device just now-"
Fordison's mecha-dendrites hit the wall, and floor, and ceiling in shock.
"-and so, I would request that he explains it fully to you."
Which also means explaining fully, within Kuroda's earshot, how this device works and what it does, without him having to admit to you it has been little more than a heretical paperweight the whole time it's been in his possession.
Two hours later, you are mostly done guiding Fordison through this pocket omnitool thing. It has an integrated GPS (…that presumably relied on alien satellites to work; now it's useless), a function that answers question by asking an online encyclopedia (again, not actually useful away from the world of these aliens), a translator between the aliens' language and Gothic, holographic videogames (which, to your eternal regret, you can't try now), some holographic alien porn (which, to your eternal regret, you are now aware of), and more.
You're going over what looks like a speech-to-text functionality when the door opens, and, to your immense relief, you recognize the figure stepping forward.
"General Hawk, Sir!" you stand up and salute.
"At ease, Ironhide," says General Hawk. "I came as soon as I could," and you see now there's another Sister Of Battle accompanying him - probably showed him the way here once his meeting with General Ivanov was over. "To whom do I have the pleasure?"
You assume he already knows. Because you do have comms that use Cybertronian tech and have been broadcasting this entire meeting to Dial-Tone all along. But he can't admit to that, so he needs you to tell him.
"Sir," you nod, and begin presentation. "Interrogator Shinichi Kuroda, of the Inquisition. Palatine Angeloff, leader of the Sororitas expedition on Devoir. Tech-Priest Fordison, of Interrogator Kuroda's retinue."
General Hawk raises an eyebrow when you present the Interrogator (because it'd be suspicious if he didn't react). "Thank you, Ironhide. Now, what is this about?"
************************************
Well, you're dismissed, and it's General Hawk's turn to answer the Interrogator's questions. And you guess Angeloff's presence was no longer required either, because she excused herself, and is now accompanying you out of the Starkeep.
And you see two familiar faces waiting for you at the gate: Bleu-Blanc-Rouge and La Vipère.
"Friends of yours?" Angeloff quietly asks.
"Soldiers in G.I. Joe," you shrug as you step through the gate and salute them.
"Ironhide," says Bleu-Blanc-Rouge. "Ran into any trouble?"
"Some unexpected developments, but that's for the higher-ups to worry about," you shrug. "We heading back to the barracks?"
"That's the idea," says La Vipère, "since the city doesn't have convenient maps."
"Wait, wait," says La Vipère as you walk through the streets of Starhill (and try to ignore the stench of a medieval city whose sanitation system can be summed up as "build on a slope and let the rain wash filth down"), "so this device was clearly for xeno use, had a xeno-to-Gothic translator, and was mostly made of Imperium tech? How does that even happen?"
"We can only speculate," says Bleu-Blanc-Rouge, "but if I were to guess, a human enclave and neighboring xenos must have peacefully coexisted for a while, long enough to trade and exchange technology."
Palatine Angeloff frowns, but says nothing.
"Makes sense to me," you nod. "The digital systems were superior to Imperium standards, but the materials were standard stuff the AdMech mass-produces. They probably figured combining the two was the best of both worlds."
And the kid whose hand is in your pocket probably figured you wouldn't notice, but, well, he figured wrong.
Now, how do you want to handle this…
"By the way," you say, maintaining a steady pace, "you should try the lower pocket on the other side. Got some coin there. Only thing in the pocket you're searching is some tools that wouldn't do you much good."
"Thanks, bud," the boy actually has the nerve to say as he switches to the other pocket.
"Happy to help," you reply.
La Vipère grins. Bleu-Blanc-Rouge watches with mild interest. Angeloff, however, stares in shock. "You would rob a priest of the Omnissiah in broad daylight?!"
"It's too dark at night to find the pockets," he replies.
"He's got a point," you say.
"That is not-" Angeloff addresses the kid. "It is a sin against the God-Emperor to take that which does not belong to you!"
"'t's only a sin if you take from someone who has more 'an you," the kid says, pulling a few coins - one golden coin and some silver, enough to feed a large family for a month. "Just ask around! People who already have lots, they can take whatever they want from those who have less, and no-one tells them it's a sin!"
"That… is not proper doctrine," she says, clearly struggling to speak calmly.
"Ya ever go hungry?" the kid tells the power-armored woman fearlessly. "Not the kinda hungry where you're in the mood for a nice roast. The kinda hungry where you can't think straight no more."
"I…" Angeloff considers. "A few times, at the Schola Progenium, to develop our resolve."
"Right. Well, imagine going like that most days. I seen some parents that would have died for their kids, who got so hungry they'd steal food from their kids' bowls. Well, not mine, they wouldn't feed me anyway," he chuckles mirthlessly, "but even good parents. Hunger breaks people's brains.
"So, my doctrine is: People shouldn't go hungry. Nice an' simple."
"You could have simply asked Tech-Priest Ironhide for his charity!"
"I've tried that a few times," he shrugs. "It don't work too often, and when it does, it's usually people who ain't got enough fer themselves who give a bit, and people who got plenty who keep it all fer themselves. I'm done with charity, and I got lots of pals I gotta feed."
"Forgive me," you interrupt, "but I don't think we've been properly presented? I'm Tech-Priest Ironhide, of G.I. Joe. To whom do I have the honor?"
"I'm street-rat Gavpierre, of the Saint Macharius slum." He pauses. "Ironhide, huh. Feel like I heard that somewhere."
"Some people have taken to call him 'Titanfall'," Bleu-Blanc-Rouge helpfully provides.
"…Huh." Gavpierre looks at you with what looks like actual respect. "Honor's all mine, then."
"So, they tell stories about you," Gavpierre says, walking next to you through the streets. "They say you're this big hero. 'Xcept, usually, the big heroes they talk about, they kill monsters, they burn heretics, they protect churches, they save nobles, or they avenge nobles. Your story goes, you avenged some common folks an' killed a raping-murdering noble. Ain't lot o' stories like that."
"The stories make a lot of shit up, but that part is true," you shrug. "Well, except it was less about avenging, and more about protecting the commoners who were still alive. I mean, justice is important, but you gotta prioritize the living over the dead, y'know?"
"Aye, I know." He counts the coins he took from your pocket. "One gold and three silvers, that's… 104 Crowns, aye?"
"That is correct," you reply. "Sorry there's not more, Devoir has strict laws against bringing in gold and silver from off-world."
Which is fairly understandable, from an economics perspective. While the nobility of Devoir will use Imperial Thrones when trading with off-worlders, the internal economy of the planet is largely based on gold, silver, and copper coins… and the rarity of gold and silver becomes very contextual when civilization is capable of asteroid mining. In theory, someone like the Archmagos of Vectorime, an enterprising Admiral, or an aristocrat of the Navis Nobilite, could completely crash Devoir's economy by dropping a couple megatons of gold into it.
As such, the law is clear: No gold or silver can come in, except for specific purposes such as regimental aquilae, personal effects of regimental commanders, and so on - all of which have to be recorded upon landing and accounted for.
Regiments that land on the planet have to trade their Thrones for local currency, and-
"Smoke from over there," Bleu-Blanc-Rouge points a few streets in the distance. "Is that normal around here?"
Gavpierre stares in that direction. "Frak!" he shouts, then he starts running toward the smoke.
Naturally, you follow.
It's just a couple streets down, but, this part of the town is clearly a slum. And when you get there - people parting before you when they see the power-armored Sororita - you see a burning shack.
Gavpierre rushes toward a bunch of kids watching the fire. "Guys! Anyone we know in there?"
"I wuz in there, Gav!" the smaller child says. "Barely got out-" then he sees the rest of your group. "Uh, who are your friends, Gav?"
Gavpierre ignores the question. "Why did you go in there, you daft sod?"
"They offered soup! I ain't had a bite in forever!"
"You're not supposed to-" Gavpierre stops himself. "Never you mind. Why's the place on fire?"
"Well, me an' several others, once we got inside, they turned on us real quick, you were right, that house ain't safe. They wuz doing some real scary shit, like, we thought we wuz done for, then suddenly-" the kid stops. He (you think it's a he?) stares at you. And at Bleu-Blanc-Rouge. And at La Vipère. "You got the patch!"
"The what now?" you and Gavpierre say at the same time.
"The patch!" he points the G.I. Joe insignia on your armor. "I saw the same patch on the soldiers who barged in and rescued us from-"
There's a laser blast obliterating one of the walls of the shack that wasn't on fire yet, and out of the newly-formed exit burst several figures.
Bifrost, holding some young woman in a fireman carry. Kaltberg, chainsword in one hand and hellpistol in the other. Paragon, heavy laser in hand. Barbecue, carrying an old man.
"Oh, hey guys," you wave. "Need a hand?"
"Eh, except for the fire, I think we're good," Barbecue replies.
You help put out the fire and administer first aid to the victims, but really, there's not that much to do - your fellow Joes on the scene already got 90% of the job done before you got there.
"Are you telling me," an incensed Angeloff tells Gavpierre, "that you and your friends knew there was a den of heretics in service to the Ruinous Powers in there, and you kept it a secret?!"
"No, I'm saying we knew they wuz trouble," Gavpierre replies. "Weren't sure wot their deal wuz. Coulda been heretics, coulda been xeno cultists, coulda been catchers sellin' people to the nastier brothers or, worse, to the red priests. No offense," he adds in your direction.
"None taken," you reply while testing blood samples of the rescuees.
"So, we basically told folks to give that place a wide berth. Wut was we supposed to do, call the Ecclesiarchy?"
"Yes! That is exactly what you were supposed to do if you suspected there were dangerous heretics in there!"
"Lady, priests in fancy robes don't listen to street rats. An' that might be for the best, because if they listened, it'd be even worse."
"Worse?! What do you mean worse?!"
"If I may?" Kaltberg awkwardly approaches Angeloff. "Palatine, as these children have explained to us earlier, if the temporal or spiritual authorities had believed a cell of heretics was present in the slum, their response - based on similar past incidents - would have erred on the cautious side of overkill, with phosphex, Knights, and likely many hundreds of deaths. From the short-term perspective of the slum residents, the likely response to the heretics was far deadlier than the heretics themselves, and thus it went unreported - in this way, the traditional way of handling such incidents has proven counterproductive."
"See?" says Gavpiere. "The lady with the purple hair gets it!"
Kaltberg gives Palatine Angeloff an apologetic look.
"Wait, you actually met an Interrogator in there? A living, breathing agent of the Inquisition?" Now that you've explained how your day's been going, or at least started to, Kaltberg's geeking out.
"Yeah, he was curious about the cultist-hunt we did a few weeks back. I'm still not sure if that's what he wants to talk to General Hawk about. But… how exactly did you guys end up finding and destroying a cell of Ruinous Powers cultists?" Everyone is gonna get a thorough checkup at the Joe medical facility, but Bifrost is saying her rainbow magic doodad cleared all the dark magic bullshit those guys had.
"Well," Paragon says, "we wanted to get a closer look at what the city's like, and we figured the slums probably don't get as much attention as they deserve. We were taking the sights, when we noticed this kid crying in a corner, and one thing led to another. Before we knew it, we were killing a bunch of disease-worshipping serial killers."
"So, really, just another day at the office," Barbecue adds.
Palatine Angeloff subtly leans closer to Kaltberg. "Is this… how things usually go with this regiment?"
"You have no idea," Kaltberg gives her a thousand-yard stare. "I have been commiserating this regiment for over a year."
"That is not what that word means-"
"I know." Kaltberg grabs her by her armored shoulders. "Not two days on Devoir, and this asshole," she points at you, "gets into a trial by combat with one of the deadliest Oathblades on the planet. One short visit to the slums, and this jerk," she points at Bifrost, "tracks down a cell of worshipers of Decay. One quick jaunt to the local tavern, and this whackadoodle," she points at Paragon, "somehow ends a multigenerational feud between two mercenary companies." Oh, yeah, you heard that story, when Paragon-
"I… see," says Palatine Angeloff, looking at the Cadet Commissar with some concern.
"You guys are somethin' else," Gavpierre laughs. "Well, me thanks fer savin' my pals back there. You're all right."
"And you're quite the brave defender they have," says Bifrost. "But they do need to come to the base so Doc can check them up, and it honestly wouldn't be a bad idea if you come along. I promise, at the very least you'll all get a halfway decent meal out of it."
"Well, normally, I'd say no on account of general caution," says Gavpierre, "but you guys have made one heckin' impression today, so I reckon I'll take my chances with you lot."
You hope he maintains that gratitude when he gets his vaccine shots.
You finish your report nervously. "And… that's about it, sir."
"Thank you, Ironhide," says General Hawk. "It was a tricky situation, and you've handled it as well as you could."
"We had Septentrion Meridian try to snoop," says Duke. "Emphasis on 'try'. He says there's a Blank in the area - someone whose presence suppresses psionics."
"That must have been that girl in black," you reflect.
"Confirmed," says Flint. "We had Snake Eyes shadow her for a while, and that oppressive feeling you describe is always centered on her. He also noted that most of the time, she gives Kuroda a wide berth. If, as we suspect, Kuroda himself was the psyker who tried to read your mind, then that makes sense - the presence of Blanks is far more hurtful for psykers than to most people."
"If I may, sir, what did he want from you?" you ask.
"Much like with you, he was dancing around the issue and trying to interrogate me without looking like he was interrogating me," General Hawk says. "I suspect it's a combination of curiosity regarding Organitron, and wondering if G.I. Joe can be a useful tool for his shadow war against the Genestealer cults. Admittedly, he also seemed curious about our Tech-Priests' ability to analyze xenotech."
"…Sorry about that."
"What's done is done. We have him under our own brand of surveillance now, so hopefully we won't be caught off-guard by whatever he ends up doing."
Ah, the wonders of ninja commandoes.
"And… what about General Ivanov?"
"Much like our friend from the Inquisition, he seemed to be probing, testing the waters - trying to figure out what sort of man I was, and what I could and couldn't be trusted with. Well, he did that between angry rants about the faithlessness of almost everyone in the Devoir system and about Admiral Isabella, whom he claims is the main reason this planet hasn't been retaken yet. It sounded like a fairly intense feud."
Ah, the joy of the Imperial Guard and Imperial Navy being at each other's throats.
Astropaths - the Sanctioned Psykers who made instantaneous interstellar communication possible - were one of the most precious resources of the Imperium. Without them, everything would crumble to dust. Individual planets, the Administratum, the Adeptus Mechanicus, the Imperial Navy, the Imperial Guard, the Ecclesiarchy… everyone always wanted as many of the very few Astropaths available as possible.
So, naturally, as an agent answering directly to an Inquisitor, Shinichi Kuroda had an Astropath in his retinue, allowing him to communicate as privately as he wanted with people whole sectors away (and, in theory, a whole segmentum away - though that tended to be harder on the Astropath).
Thankfully, his mistress hadn't left Segmentum Pacificus in all the years he'd known her. Rarely more than a couple sectors away, if even that.
The image of Inquisitor Valentine Imperia coalesced, and he bowed. "Inquisitor. I thought it prudent to report."
"Then report, Kuroda," she said. As always, astropathic communications were to be kept short.
"The usual suspects keep pushing for Plan Aurora, and the King's madness keeps him receptive. Some recent military victories give me hope that the plan may yet prove unnecessary. More surprising, however, is the Organitron 1st Expeditionary Regiment."
"Organitron is an enigma," Inquisitor Imperia nodded, "just not one we have the time to investigate."
"I don't mind their unconventional tactics or command structure," he said. "However, you recall the Gargosian device you gave me?"
"Obviously."
"I asked one of their regimental Tech-Priests to repair it, without telling him it was xenotech. To observe his reactions, obviously." She nodded with a hint of impatience, and he went on: "He repaired it. Easily. He didn't even seem to consider it an extraordinary feat."
She blinked. "…What was that device?"
"Some manner of portable cogitator with a wide variety of civilian functionalities. Given what it was capable of, I must assume it belonged to a particularly wealthy noble among the Gargos."
"Doubtful. Devices like it were found in large enough numbers in the ruins that, by all appearance, they were common among the populace."
"Emperor preserve," he muttered. What kind of society permitted such immense technological wealth to the general population? "Regardless, the device includes what appears to be a number of Gargosian holovids, and a translator between their language and Gothic."
"Hm. A pity we only get that now," Valentine Imperia reflected. She had been an Interrogator herself when her then-Master had orchestrated the Gargos xenocide. He'd later admitted to her that he regretted it - the troops lost exterminating the Gargos and the human heretics who'd allied with them might have made all the difference against the Ork Waaaagh that overran the subsector two years later.
"I will also note that members of the same regiment have, according to an account corroborated by their Cadet-Commissar and multiple civilians, located and destroyed a small Nurglite cell within the capital city's slums."
"You think it's a case of engineered heroics?"
"The possibility had occurred to me, but… low probability. I'll keep watching."
"Do that."
"I am also not the only one paying attention to them. So is General Ivanov. Probably because of Aurora."
"Understood. Have Gordison give the device his full attention. And remember - no matter what happens, no Tyranid hive-fleet can be allowed to form in the Xanadu Sector."
That almost went without saying. If Inquisitor Valentine Imperia had drilled one thing into him concerning xenos, it was the incredible threat of the Tyranid hive-mind's exponential growth.
"That Cobra briefly had," you say with a smirk. It was early in the war - probably the first brush G.I. Joe or Cobra had with magic. Cobra Commander tried to summon the ghosts of long-dead warriors to fight for him. Worked for a while… except that unlike his usual troopers, these guys weren't hopped-up on Cobra indoctrination, and it only took a small dose of Joe diplomacy to get them to turn on the big snake.
"Right," Menlo fidgets. "Anyway, in the long run, I want to adapt that - I don't mean I want to build these things with their own souls!" she hastily clarifies, "but I want the human-operated armors to interface with the operator's soul."
"Wwwwwhy?" you ask. "What's the advantage? Would it give finer control than a neural interface?"
"N-no, it would exist in, in parallel to the n-neural interface," she says. "But in theory, it would protect both the operator and the armor from subversion."
You consider. It sounds believable… Autobots and Decepticons weren't strangers to using mind-control on each other at times, but the very fact that it wasn't a standard tactics shows how hard to hack Cybertronians are. Even so… "This sounds like… very advanced stuff."
"Yeah," she sighs, "it's why this is all a long-term project. I don't see it being finished in time to help us in Galagrim."
"Then let's focus on our other pie-in-the sky project," you say, returning to your joint side-project - trying to make heads or tails of Cybertronian combiner technology.
Because, well. Combiners are so much more than the sum of their parts, it's crazy.
And both you and Menlo have a day off after a month spent clearing up three different regions of Lamedor territory from Tyranid infestation, so you might as well work on something fun (as opposed to something you expect to finish fast enough to help in the war effort).
All in all, G.I. Joe's actions over the past month have allowed Lamedor and his vassals to recover territory the size of Arizona, so in his generous magnanimity, Tyrant is unofficially implying that your debt has been repaid. How nice of him.
To be fair, the whole "Titanfall" thing hasn't really been letting up. Tyranicus actually sent you a video from a tavern outside of Lamedor territory…
*****************************
The bard grinned charmingly at his audience as he began singing the recently-popular ballad.
"He has a powerful weapon
He'll bring down each villainous plot
Among Red Priests, the best of the lot
The Man With The Golden Shot
Fighting the xenos out in the wild
Or slaying a corrupt Oath-Blade
His weapon shall find their armor's weak spot
The Man With The Golden Shot
Hymns were required each time that he fired
They came just before the kill
No-one can top him, no villain can stop him
And his Omnissian skill!
One golden shot means another evil scheme
Has come to a glittering end
With one hit he'll bring evil to naught
The Man With The Golden Shot!"
***************************************
You still shudder thinking about that video, but Striker had a good laugh with it.
"I must say, my friends, I do truly look forward to laying my eyes upon Starhill," Rolande declares with a big smile.
"Have you ever been there before?" you ask.
"Only once, right before my departure for Cavitus. But what a city it is - the beating heart of Devoir!"
So, yeah. G.I. Joe has been invited to the capital city. General Ivanov's request.
Hopefully it's not gonna be a problem. Last time G.I. Joe was summoned to a planet's capital city, you had to fight a whole underhive gang and infiltrate the royal palace.
"I understand you'll be joining us, Dame de Jean-Stone?" says Kaltberg.
"I keep telling you, fair Commissar, just call me Rolande! And let it be known that I hold the firm intention of following G.I. Joe in its noble quest for as long as my liege-lord will permit it!"
"I'm surprised he does permit it," you say. "I figured Tyrant would want to keep all his Knights fighting on his territory."
"He does," Poker Face says even as she exchanges documents with Menlo, "but he's being political about it. By which I mean, he'll be extracting favors and concessions from whoever Rolande ends up helping."
"Ah," you nod. "OK, that sounds more in-character."
"I mean," Menlo says (a bit louder than usual for her, because she needs to be heard over the din of the Valkyrie carrying you), "I figured, you both left the Church when you grew up, so, that's something in common?"
"Nnnnnnot really," Paladin replies. "My old church is mostly good people. I may not be a believer anymore, but I'm still friends now with the people I was friends with then. I still attend Christmas mass there with my parents, and have a good time. Alicia's church scarred her for life; one of her life-goals is to never again talk to anyone from there or her mother, and those are goals I completely approve of."
"No kidding," Menlo mutters, barely audible over the noise.
"So, no, it's not really a thing we have in common," Paladin shrugs. "In fact, it's something I avoid bringing up because I don't want to make her jealous. When we want to talk about things we have in common, we have other topics. Like fantasy books. She enjoys telling me I have shit taste for liking Tolkien," she grins.
You're not sure who they're talking about (is this Alicia a Joe, or a civilian?), but… "Right, Paladin, you're big into fantasy and renfaires, right?"
"It's a big part of how I got the codename," she chuckles.
"Then how do you feel about actually being on this planet? Since it's, well…"
"It's not really a dream come true, if that's what you're asking," she shrugs. "I enjoy the occasional tale of fantasy monarchy - where the good monarch is a source of stability, a code of honor guides the nobility, and the knights protect fair maidens. Devoir is… closer to historical monarchy. Where aristocrats fight never-ending wars over who gets which crown, the nobility are violent schemers, and knights are brutal leg-breakers who serve power." She pauses. "I knew this teacher in college who actually looked all over medieval records to find just one instance of a knight rescuing an abducted woman, and… well, let's just say it's not really a thing that happened in real life."
You pause to consider. "I mean. I could totally see Rolande rescuing a fair maiden."
Menlo blushes.
"She would, as long as doing so didn't go against a power structure she felt obligated to uphold," Paladin replies. "In that regard… I actually feel sorry for her."
Then the Valkyrie begins dipping, and you take a glance outside.
Starhill.
As the name implies, Starhill, capital city of Devoir, is indeed built on a hill.
But the thing that really jumps at you is what lies atop the hill. Because, well, the medieval castle… you were expecting that. The medieval castle built over the ancient rusting remains of a spaceship larger than the Empire State Building… that took you by surprise.
"OK, wild guess," you mumble. "That ship is how colonists originally came to this planet?"
"That's the generally-held belief," says Paladin. "Obviously the AdMech's gone over the thing with a fine comb a million times."
"They would," you nod. "Ancient giant robots, ancient crashed spaceship, and the population is at a medieval tech level. Feels like the Imperium taken to its logical conclusion, in a way."
"The hull of the ship is probably more durable than the stone walls they added for the castle," says the other man in the Valkyrie. One of the newer guys, like you. His codename is Hitter. You once saw him enter a Cobra surveillance center and knock out all five Televipers inside with his bare hands so fast none of them was able to raise the alarm.
"Maybe," says Killshot - the sniper from the IDF - "but the stone walls add better position to shoot attackers from."
"Always about the sniper nests with you," Hitter smirks.
"Still salty about the last training exercise?" she smirks back.
"Why would I be salty? I still got you beat 10-5 in spars." So much smirking.
"You ever think I'd let you win less spars if you were less pretty?" she counters, and when in the conversation did they get closer?
"Then I guess I better keep being pretty."
"Damn straight."
Ugh. These two.
As you get off the Valkyrie, you glance at the welcoming committee.
The Imperial Guard force led by a Captain is almost easy-to-miss next to the ten figures in heavy power armor.
And you've seen this type of power armor before.
Sororitas. Sisters Of Battle. The super-elite military arm of the Ecclesiarchy.
Much as you'd love to examine these power armors up close (and maybe figure out cool tech to incorporate into your own designs)… you gotta wonder why there are Sororitas waiting for you.
The Imperial Guard leader salutes. "General Hawk. Captain Azarov of the Revelation 22nd Drop-Trooper Regiment. I'm here to take care of your regiment's lodging and escort you to your meeting with General Ivanov."
"At ease, Captain," says General Hawk. "And you are…?"
"Palatine Angeloff, of the Order Of The Argent Shroud," says the obvious Sororitas leader, her face framed by a helmet that could probably shrug off lasgun shots. "I require some of your time as well, General."
OK. OK. Don't swallow your own tongue.
"General, if I may be so bold," you step forward, "I assume it would be poor form to make the supreme commander of Imperial Guard forces on Devoir wait, but perhaps someone else ought to liaise with the Adepta Sororitas rather than just asking for their patience?"
"Are you volunteering, Ironhide?"
"Yes sir."
The Palatine's making a face. "I'm sorry, but I don't think a mere regimental Engineseer is an appropriate liaison."
"Tech-Priest Ironhide is no mere anything," General Hawk replies without raising his voice. "This man is a full member of G.I. Joe, and has both my complete trust and deeds to his name that could easily earn any honor the Imperial Guard ever awards. He was part of the team that slew the Ork Warboss plaguing Cavitus. He has saved human lives beyond counting. If there is to be a liaison, then he is as fit for the role as anyone in my regiment."
The Palatine's expression is hard to read, but she pauses. "…Ironhide? Is that the Titanfall?"
"It's not what I call myself," you chuckle, "but I've been called that, yes."
She remains silent for a moment. "Very well. Follow me, Titanfall."
You follow the armored women (and Snake Eyes follows you just to be safe, but they don't need to know that). You notice everywhere they go, people quickly get out of their way… but you're seeing far more reverence and respect aimed at the Sororitas than fear. If nothing else, the people of this city (this planet?) seem to think highly of the Sisters Of Battle.
"You fought the Titan in trial by combat," the Palatine says.
"That is a thing that happened," you nod.
"The rumors claim that you had no armor, no weapon beside a sling."
"That's simply not true," you shake your head. "I had no armor, yes, but beside the sling I also had two daggers."
One of the Sororitas turns her head to give you a look. The others just keep going. Well, you think you're funny.
"Why did you challenge him to trial by combat?" the Palatine asks again.
"I didn't. He demanded trial by combat when some innkeeper accused him of raping his daughter and killing his son," you reply. "I volunteered to act as the innkeeper's champion because, well, he would have died if I hadn't, and his daughter was already having the worst day of her life without getting orphaned on top of it all." …And G.I. Joe quietly helped the family relocate outside of Lamedor territory, just to be safe.
They walk in silence for a while. "Without armor, with inferior weapons, you defeated one of Devoir's most feared Oath-Blades. Many see you as blessed by the God-Emperor - or the Omnissiah, as your order says."
That's a somewhat non-committal way of phrasing it. Like she's testing the waters. Trying to see where you stand.
"If the God-Emperor was personally handing out justice rather than leaving it for us mere mortals to handle, I can think of many, many people who would be a lot deader than they currently are, and a lot of dead people who'd be currently alive. If the Emperor was going to put his thumb on the scale of battle to take Grand-Shield down, he wouldn't have wasted his favor on me - he would have allowed that little boy to successfully kill the oversized bastard in defense of his sister.
"Trial by combat doesn't determine who's right, only who's left," and you'll mangle that quote about war (by whom again? You want to say Bertrand Russel…) as many times as you want, thank you very much, "and the sort of people who call for trial by combat damn well know it. If Tyrant Lamedor believed trial by combat represented the will of the God-Emperor, he wouldn't rely on scum like Grand-Shield to act as his champion - he's find some saintly devout person and make them his Oath-Blade, with or without any skill at arms."
"Well said." This time there's some steel to the Palatine's voice. "Trial by combat as practiced on Devoir is a perversion of the faith. The Greater Houses cynically pretend that it represents the will of Him On Earth. It's blasphemy in the name of political expediency."
OK, definitely something she feels strongly about. But then she stops talking.
…OK, these ladies don't seem to be sworn to silence, but they don't talk much, either. And that's not good. You like people who talk a lot - they let slip so much useful intel.
But hey. At least you appear to be making a good first impression.
Over the next fifteen minutes, as you follow the Sororitas through the city, you don't say anything.
But you observe.
There's only so much you can learn about a piece of advanced technology by just looking at it from the outside… but you happen to be damn good at armor technology. And so a lot of things jump at you.
Based on a lot of things including how loud it sounds when they step on the ground, these suits of power armor are mostly ceramite - but this isn't the same quality of ceramite you see in flak and carapace armor. This is the good stuff.
There's an energy reserve, but no outward recharging mechanism - it gets recharged by the suit's own energy generator, which is an impressively small fusion device. You suspect these suits will succumb to wear and tear before they run out juice.
The model used by the Palatine is different from the ones worn by the other Sisters. You think it would be better at handling oversized weapons, but you're not sure. What you are sure is that it has an extra layer of protection in the form of a force-field generator.
These suits are very, very good at following the wearer's movements without slowing them down. Having achieved similar results with your own Marauder Armor, you know the sheer complexity of the algorithms this requires.
With that said… you are fairly confident your Marauder Armor would be far better able to withstand most forms of armor-piercing ammunition than the Sororitas' armor. Against your design, one would be better served by going straight for actual anti-tank weapons.
As exciting as this tech is (and much as it might be giving you ideas for G.I. Joe's arsenal)… you shouldn't forget the mission.
"Palatine Angeloff, if I may ask, why is it that you wanted to talk to General Hawk?"
"I don't," she replies. "I hadn't heard of him until today. A great servant of the God-Emperor wishes to speak to him, however."
Huh. "…Who?"
"You will see."
That's hopefully not the ominous kind of 'you will see'.
"I'll confess, I've never actually spoken to Sisters Of Battle before," you try a different tack. "I'll confess to not knowing as much as I would wish to about your order."
"The Order Of The Argent Shroud is among the Orders Militant of the Adepta Sororitas," Angeloff replies, not slowing down one bit. "We are the sword of the Ecclesiarchy, sworn to lifelong service to Him On Earth. We fight his enemies on whatever battlefield they desecrate - the xenos, the mutants, and the heretic."
It takes some prodding to go further - apparently, the Argent Shroud is big on deeds speaking louder than words, and encourages its members to embrace laconism. The Sector has something on the order of fifty thousand (a hundred thousand?) Sororitas, with their base of operation being on Revelation. They're an elite force that specializes in launching fast surgical strikes on hard targets - taking out fortifications, enemy leaders, that sort of thing.
Palatine Angeloff, from the sound of it, leads a force of about one thousands Sisters who were sent to Devoir. Which… isn't a lot, you think? Granted, that's bigger numbers than G.I. Joe, and they all have power armor, so you shouldn't judge too hastily…
Regardless… that's definitely the royal palace you're entering.
Much like Lamedor's Radiant Fort, the royal "Starkeep" has modern tech incorporated into its defense, with laser and bolter turrets, and a significant number of guards who have Lasguns and Chainswords.
The guards don't let anyone in without checking them, however. Not even the Palatine, apparently, who has to name every single member of her group and say who you are before she's allowed inside. From her tone, you're guessing this is something that annoys her greatly but isn't at all new.
Obviously you don't know the Starkeep's layout… but even so, you can tell she's not taking you to the central area, but a side wing.
OK, so probably not here to see the King.
Instead, you are led to a chamber guarded by… two Tempestus Scionis. Interesting.
A bit before you reach the door, however, something gives you pause.
Something feels off.
Something feels wrong.
Something feels like… like every part of your personality is suffocating.
"Wait," you tell the Palatine. "I think there's something going on. I'm not sure what, but I feel some kind of wrongness."
"You are perceptive, but your concerns are misplaced," she says.
"…Do you know what this is, th-" You pause. The effect is gone. You feel like you can breath again. And that coincided with some girl dressed in black walking further down the hallway.
Was she the source of this feeling?
Well. You step through the doorway.
Inside the room, sitting at a table and working with multiple dataslates, is a man with bionic eyes. He looks up at the Sororitas (…probably. Harder to tell without pupils).
"Sir," Angeloff makes the sign of the Acquilla, "this is Tech-Priest Ironhide, of the 1st Organitron Expeditionary Regiment. Here as General Hawk's representative."
"Palatine Angeloff, I specifically asked for General Hawk. I did not ask for a representative."
"The General did not view my summon as being of higher priority than General Ivanov's orders. With respect, I am a battlefield commander, not a trained emissary."
The man sighs. "Very well. Apologies, Tech-Priest," he gets up and moves closer, "welcome to my current office." He shakes your hand and- Ow!
…That's a genescanner he just used to draw blood from your hand.
He stares at the device as he goes on. "Ironhide… That would be the 'Titanfall', yes?"
"Not what I call myself, but, yes."
The device clears you of any suspicion of infection. The man nods. "Well then, I suppose it would be rude to not give my name as well. I am Shinichi Kuroda, Interrogator of His Most Holy Inquisition."
In the immortal words words of Douglas Adams, don't panic.
Sure, you just met a member of the Inquisition, an organization that is to the Imperium at the higher levels what the Commissariat is to Guardsmen - dangerous fanatics with a license to kill.
You can manage, surely.
"A pleasure, I'm sure," you say. …Programming the Marauder Armor with retractable gloves seemed like a brilliant idea at the time - retracting them outside of combat situations has made it easy to tinker and pilot vehicles without removing the armor.
"Apologies for the prick," the Interrogator adds, "but in my profession, you cannot be too careful where Genestealer Hybrids are concerned."
"Yes, those are quite insidious," you say. "May I scan you as well?"
There are a couple gasps from the Sororitas. The Interrogator raises his eyebrows (You're glad he still has those, they make him more expressive).
"Would you believe," he says, "that in the twelve years I have spent here, you are only the second to say that? Everyone else was too foolish to think of it or too afraid."
He hands you the Genescanner.
You pull out your own. (Yeah, you're supposed to hide that you have a lot of those, but having a couple is easy enough to explain - and why would you scan someone with their own scanner? It'd be way too trusting!)
He seems to actually be a little amused, but he complies.
Not a Tyranid. Good to know.
"…Who was the other guy?" you ask.
"King Aurelien Helldrake," he replies with a shrug. "The man treads a thin line between commendable paranoia and just plain paranoia."
Hm. You suppose that's useful intel on the King. Still, you wonder what was up with…
"Forgive me for the swerve," you say, "but, that girl outside-"
"She works for me. She's a headache, but she's loyal," Interrogator Kuroda says with a tone of finality. He then turns his attention to the chief Sororitas. "I don't think we're going to get ambushed here, Palatine Angeloff; you and our guest can both remove your helmets."
You decide it's wiser to comply, and you make your helmet retract back into your armor. She seems to hesitate for a second, and you find yourself wondering the comfort level of these things. You went to a lot of trouble to make sure the Marauder Armor could be worn all day without driving you nuts, but d-
Her helmet comes off.
Those…
Those are definitely cat ears.
OK, not what you were expecting.
She gives you a look.
"Oh. Uh, my apologies, ma'am," you say. "I didn't mean to stare rudely. Not a lot of abhumans back on Organitron, so this is somewhat new to me."
"Felinids are rare in the Xanadu Sector," says Kuroda, "even compared to Ogryns and Ratlings, but they do exist."
"Right, I've actually seen some on Cavitus, in the-" you pause, as something occurs to you. The helmet would definitely be uncomfortable on the cat ears, but what about the…? "…They had tails," you say. "Where do you even fit it inside this power armor?"
"It did not fit," the Palatine replies. "I had it excised."
Your jaw falls. "You mutilated yourself to fit inside the armor?!"
"A small price to pay," she replies, "for the opportunity to serve Him On Earth. There are many, Titanfall, who have sacrificed far more than I, for far less. You of all people should understand that."
You pause to take it in. "…The Felinids I glimpsed on Cavitus," you say, "were trapped inside the underhive. Like I said, we don't have a lot of abhumans on Organitron… and I'm getting the impression the Xanadu Sector at large does not always treat them fairly."
"Tech-Priest Ironhide," the Interrogator says, "humanity is besieged from every direction by the Ork, the Tyranid, and even darker Xeno threats yet - without even getting into the Ruinous Powers. It is the height of foolishness for the servants of the God-Emperor to fight each other. And yet, we do. I have seen far too many loyal spirits blessed with great talent, only to be shamefully wasted for one imbecilic reason or another. Angeloff here," he sits down, "was given the opportunity to join the ranks of the Adepta Sororitas. The cost was a non-vital organ. Quite frankly, a choice with only one answer even worth considering."
You turn your gaze to her. "And you've ascended the ranks to become a Palatine. I can only assume you're brilliant at your job."
"You're too kind," she replies, not returning your gaze.
So she's part of an ethnic minority that tends to get the short end of the stick, and still managed to achieve a high-ranking position in an elite organization (and one that's highly religious even by the Imperium's standards at that). Definitely someone worth getting to know.
…But you shouldn't let that distract you from the actual agent of the Inquisition in the room, because that guy can doom Organitron with the stroke of a pen.
Actually… Might not be a bad idea to ask some questions of your own…
"Forgive me, Mister Kuroda… Well, actually I'm not sure what the correct form of address is…" He raises an eyebrow with what looks like faint amusement, so you go on: "Since I understand that gathering information is a central part of your job… dare I ask if you know the story about the Witch of Collinerouge?"
He pauses. Angeloff twitches when she hears the word "witch" (and so do her ears. …Something this cute on someone this heavily-armed is a tad disturbing). "Collinerouge… Collinerouge…" He checks one of the dataslates on his desk. "Ah. A rogue psyker was arrested by the Ecclesiarchy in Lamedor lands - specifically the Jean-Stone fief - and executed two years later, having summoned Daemons in prison."
"Excuse me, but… two years?" you say. "Under what set of circumstances does one hold a psyker in prison for two years before executing them?"
"The official version is that she was only suspected of witchcraft at the time of her arrest, and kept in prison until the day a Black Ship reached the system - unlikely as that would be to happen within her lifetime - and that her execution came from her revealing her true nature by summoning the creatures of the Warp," says the Interrogator. "I haven't examined the case personally - rogue psykers, while dangerous, are generally not my business - but a cursory look suggests to me that she was being kept in chains for political reasons, was not a heretic at the time, but gave in to despair after two years without seeing the sun and accepted to serve the Ruinous Powers for a way out. Of course," he waves dismissively, "that's an educated guess."
"Wait, so your hypothesis," you say, "is that she wasn't a heretic, but imprisonment and harsh treatment turned her into one?"
"There is no excuse for consorting with the Ruinous Powers," Palatine Angeloff says in a harsh tone. "There are people who have suffered far worse and didn't throw away their soul to the foul horrors of the Warp."
"I'm not trying to excuse anything," you reply. "I'm just saying it sounds like the way the matter was handled was inefficient. It made the problem worse."
"That may be so," she concedes, "but there aren't good, clean ways of handling Psykers. They are born with their powers at random, represent a dangerous threat to people around them even when they have the best intentions and a far worse threat when they don't, and the only way to handle them safely is through the Black Ships bringing them to the Adeptus Telepathica on Sol. It's a flawed system, but the best available."
You think back to Meridian Septentrion and the horrific abuse he has suffered - on the Black Ships in the Adeptus Telepathica in Sol, and in service to the Imperial Guard.
Then you immediately stop thinking about it, because letting yourself become angry is a bad idea right now.
"That aside," says Kuroda, "why did you ask? This all predates your arrival on Devoir by years."
Hm. Best not mention Olivier - you're not sure if this could get him in trouble or not. "I heard the tales while in the Jean-Stone fief, and it seemed odd," you shrug. Hopefully he buys it.
"I see," Kuroda nods. "Excuse me for a moment…" he gazes intently at one of his dataslates.
Hm. Perhaps you-
…Something's off.
Not in the same way as before. No, different sort of off. This feeling of being watched. It's like-
It's like when you and the rest of G.I. Joe, before you left Organitron, went through some quick training where a telepath tried to read your mind and you had to keep them out.
A Psyker is trying to read your thoughts. …"Trying" being the operative word, because you don't think they're getting there. Is it the Interrogator? Someone working for him? Someone else?
OK. OK. Think.
It's possible, though unlikely, that the person trying to read your mind is some third party. Much likelier is that they're either the Interrogator or someone who works for him.
Do they know you know they just tried to mind-read you? Because if they know you know, and you say nothing, that's suspicious on your part.
On the other hand… where would Ironhide, loyal Tech-Priest of the Omnissiah, have had any prior experience with mind-readers? You shouldn't know what telepathy feels like.
So instead you just look around with a confused expression.
"…Is something the matter?" says Kuroda.
"Didn't you feel that?" you say. "I felt… something," you point at your head. "Not… Not the same thing as with that girl in the hallway. Like being watched, but…"
"I didn't feel anything," Angeloff says, but she looks around, as if searching for a hidden enemy, her hand on the hilt of her Power Sword.
Kuroda has the slightest twitch.
Then he moves on. "Anyway… Tech-Priest Ironhide, you're probably wondering why you're here…"
"Not really," you reply. "I'm here because General Hawk was busy answering General Ivanov's summon. I am wondering why you wanted Hawk here."
The Interrogator and the Sororita let your gratuitous smartassery pass without comment. "Ironhide, as you are clearly more than aware by now, the Tyranid Hive-Mind is not just a military threat - via the use of Genestealers and Hybrids, it is also capable of inserting spies, infiltrators, and cultists within the Imperium. Those spies keep the Hive-Mind apprised of our troop movements, sabotage our war efforts to the Tyranids' benefit, and in the most extreme cases even manipulate Imperium politics to weaken entire sectors. This combination of espionage, sheer numbers, and rapid growth, makes the Tyranids the single greatest threat to the Imperium today.
"My mission - the reason I have spent the past decade on this planet - is to combat the Genestealer cults and ensure they are unable to find purchase. It is a frustrating job - every time I destroy a cult, another one pops up, and I am all too often left guessing as to how many are currently operating under my very nose.
"And then, one month ago, I received a report about a minor cell being destroyed in Lamedor territory… by a regiment that had only made planetfall days earlier.
"You understand my curiosity."
"A Genestealer. A Hybrid. Six cultists. I understand you were personally involved with the incident, as it so happens, so I might as well make good use of this stroke of luck and ask you for an actual report on what happened."
There is a very slight reaction from the Palatine - an ear twitch and a raised eyebrow. You think she's surprised to hear you fought the infiltrator cell.
Still, how should you play this…
The full story is, G.I. Joe wanted to check if there were Tyranid spies in the town, so you and Menlo were sent to go around town, seemingly alone and vulnerable, until you were approached by someone trying to lure you into a trap. You Uno-reversed the trap on them with Snake-Eyes' help.
You don't think anything in this story would be bad… would it?
Alternatively, you could give a different version - well, the same version of events, except drop the part where you were deliberately acting as bait.
"We'd only made planetfall earlier that week," you say, "but we'd tried to learn as much as we could about Tyranids before even reaching Devoir. We talked on Cavitus to people from regiments that had fought them before, we asked our Commissars, and of course called upon the knowledge of Dame de Jean-Stone."
"Right, the Knight Helldrake sent to fight on Cavitus in exchange for a shipment on Lasguns. She seems to have formed quite the bonds of camaraderie with the Organitron 1st."
"Well, we've fought side-by-side a lot on Cavitus, and won many victories," you grin. "Anyway, we knew Genestealer cults were a thing, and we were wondering if there were any spies inside the town, possibly giving away our movements. So, to be on the safe side, we set up a trap-"
******************************
"…And that's the whole story," you conclude.
Palatine Angeloff, who's been listening silently until now, stares at you, her left ear twitching. "You fought a Genestealer in melee and won?"
"Not a lot of things survive a plasma shot in the neck," you wink at her.
Kuroda leans back in his chair. "He told you he had to sell the cow."
"During a lean year, yeah."
"In all likelihood, he had to get rid of the cow so it wouldn't go mad with terror living above a Genestealer's hiding spot and alert the neighbors with its terrified screams."
"…That makes sense, yeah."
"Still, this is a remarkable show of initiative on your regiment's part," he says. "I try to lay this sort of traps myself every now and then, but I can only do so much on my own…"
"It's G.I. Joe," you shrug. "It's made up of Organitron's best, and we're not selected for our lack of initiative."
"Noted." Kuroda steeples his fingers. "It is a known fact that the regiments of the Imperial Guard are not all equal. Some are elite - and telling which are and which aren't can, at times, be a frustrating exercise, given how self-serving and self-congratulatory after-action reports usually are.
"Some of the reports I've read - both from Cavitus and from Devoir - suggest G.I. Joe is able to achieve truly spectacular results on a strategic level. The war for Cavitus had ground to a thirty-year slog, yet the tide quickly turned when you joined the fray. A single month on Devoir, and a significant percentage of Tyranid forces in Lamedor territory have been routed. I'm inclined, by now, not to dismiss it all as fabrication, Tech-Priest.
"So, do kindly explain to me - why is it that G.I. Joe is able to accomplish so much?"
Oh dear. You need to answer in a way that doesn't get G.I. Joe in trouble, but you don't have a good enough read on this guy to be certain what would get you in trouble…
"It's… a lot of things," you say. "We're an all-volunteer regiment - everyone in G.I. Joe chose to be on the worst of the frontlines, so that's good for both morale and initiative. Said initiative, and adapting to however the situation evolves, is encouraged by a command structure that's less centralized than most. The regiment includes very different people with diverging mindsets, so when faced with a difficult problem you can usually count on at least one of us to come up with a good idea for dealing with it. And, above all else… it's made up of the very best of the best. The planet's best snipers, the planet's best tank drivers, the planet's best jungle fighters, and, of course, the planet's best equipment and relics."
Kuroda nods. "Speaking as an agent of the Inquisition, I am familiar with this general principle of operation." He sighs. "I am just about certain that, were I to order the regimental commanders of the Imperial Guard to start setting up traps like you did, it would backfire very quickly."
"Because they'd handle it like morons, or because the Genestealer cults would adapt?"
"Both. No matter how clever an idea is on paper, once it's been given to a colonel, who'll delegate it to the nearest captain, who'll delegate it to a lieutenant, who'll order around a bunch of soldiers and maybe a sergeant if they're lucky… Well. By the end of it, you probably end up with a bunch of Guardsmen being told to wander around alone in dark alleys at nights without the people giving them those orders having any idea that they're supposed to be watching their back."
"That does sound like something the Imperial Guard would do," you concede.
"Now, I'm not exactly a military thinker," you say, "but my understanding is that back on Organitron, military theory stresses the importance of non-commissioned officers - your sergeants and corporals and what-have-you - as the craftsmen of war, who tell the soldiers what to do based on actual practical knowledge and know how to immediately react to situations with or without the orders of the actual officers." Or at least, that's NATO military doctrine. You think the former Warsaw Pact militaries have a more top-down approach to it. "G.I. Joe is arguably the pinnacle of this approach."
"And it does seem to reflect Kiboutan's military prowess as well," says the Interrogator. "But I fear whipping the Imperial Guard into shape is outside of my remit. I'm here, ultimately, to hunt down xenos spy rings, and be the person even the most powerful noble or general can't refuse to submit to a genescan from."
"…Is that an issue often?"
"Infuriatingly so. People too used to being obeyed get offended if you want to test them in any way. I've already had an instance of a regimental commander turning out to be infected - and several instances with Knights. Hence the need for frequent tests."
"Yes, I… imagine that'd be a major issue," you understate. "So King Helldrake and General Ivanov…"
"Are put through genesecans regularly," he says. "So is every head of a Greater House. So is the crown prince. And Magos Kruger. And Bishop-Praetor Bondieu. And every Sister Of Battle."
"Good. That's good." You pause. "There's about a thousand Sororitas on the planet, right?" you address Angeloff.
"Yes," she replies. She does not elaborate.
"They were brought to Devoir about three years ago, at the Bishop-Praetor's request," Kuroda picks up the slack. "Their mission is to combat the Brownrobes."
"…Is that really the highest priority on Devoir?" you say dubitatively.
"Heretics have to be purged," the Palatine says with a furious expression… which shifts into a tired one. "…but you are not wrong. My sisters and I prioritize fighting the vile xenos whenever possible."
Hm. This is a potential minefield… but you suppose you need to find out. And as an official member of the Adeptus Mechanicus, you get some degree of leeway on this most Joes do not.
"About those Brownrobes. I know that Bishop-Praetor Bondieu calls them heretics. I assume they have equally harsh words for him. However, I remain a newcomer to the whole situation," you say. "I was wondering what your position is."
Palatine Angeloff tenses a bit and looks away. Interrogator Kuroda strokes his chin for a bit, as if lost in thought, before speaking: "For all the Ecclesiarchy's attempts at standardization, there is no denying that the worship of the God-Emperor takes many, many different forms across the Imperium, even if you only count the officially sanctioned ones. The rise of the Brownrobes is clearly motivated in large part by protest against the way the Ecclesiarchy of Devoir handles its business.
"There is a very long history of protest movements across the Imperium - justified and otherwise - getting coopted by the Ruinous Powers. It's one of the reasons the Imperium moves so quickly to crush them.
"But that's outside my field of expertise," he admits. "While I have dealt with a few cultists of the Ruinous Powers in my day, there are others far more suited for it than me. Ultimately, what truly bothers me about the Brownrobes is that they are bringing Devoir to the brink of civil war. One that could divide humanity's forces while they're already struggling to contain the Tyranids."
"So you're not calling them heretics and you're not calling them not heretics, you just think they're trouble whether or not they're faithful servants of the God-Emperor because of the war."
"That's one way to sum it up, yes."
You glance at the Felinid, who is still looking away. "Meanwhile, I understand the Sororitas are the bolter-holding hand of the Ecclesiarchy…"
"We serve the Emperor in all things," she says, and her tone suggests she won't say more on the matter.
"Well," you say, "I hope I was able to answer your questions to your satisfaction, and I thank you for answering mine - I realize it's not your job to reciprocate," you wink at that, "but unless you have any further requests, or have a message you need passed to General Hawk, I probably ought to get back to my regimental duties."
"I do actually have one more request," the Interrogator replies. "Since you are by all accounts a highly skilled Tech-Priest - as more than evidenced by a Knight allowing you to work on her steed - I figure I ought to take advantage of your skills." He pulls out a device you don't recognize. "You don't find a lot of people outside actual Forge-Worlds who know how to repair these; I figured I wouldn't be able to get it fixed before I reported to my superior and was able to call upon the services of the Magos in their retinue, but since you are here…"
"…I'll try," you say, as you take the device in your hands.
Hm. Curious device…
Optronic circuits. The computing system isn't crazy-advanced like the "Recordus Magnificus" Magos Gama was keeping, but definitely ahead of most Imperial cogitators.
Huh. This thing has a high-quality holographic projector, and some very good sound projectors - not that loud, but with incredible sound quality. You're starting to think this thing is some kind of portable 3D movie projector. Though it seems to have a lot of other functionalities - like it's supposed to be connected at all time to the Noosphere, except, the communication protocols are very different from the Noosphere you saw on Cavitus. It also looks like it's programmed to instantly react to the user "touching" the holograms, so they could in fact act as a user interface. You could do some amazing videogames with tech like this!
Also… you don't think anything's wrong with it. It's not broken, the only issue is that it ran out of power. You figured out within the first few minutes it recharges via electromagnetic conduction and got some juice in, so that's simple enough.
If nothing else, you're enjoying the challenge of working with an unusual piece of tech-
…
It is unusual. It's got some standard Imperium tech in there, but there are specific parts that are nothing like what the Imperium uses. They make sense, scientifically speaking, but the design choices are all different, some technological choices are distinct from what the AdMech does, like it's…
Like it's a fusion of Imperium technology and some form of xenotechnology.
Did you already give yourself away as Knowing Too Much just by correctly recharging this thing? Is it some kind of test? Should you pretend you don't know how fix it?
…This guy sees through lies for a living. There's a lot of lies you have to tell him, but each one you add to the pile is another gamble.
You finish reactivating the device-
-and it opens a holographic music video. If you were to guess, it's picking up what it was doing when it ran out of juice - right in the middle of the video.
You don't recognize any of the instruments. Catchy beat.
You don't recognize the species in the video. Four legs, two arms with four fingers on each hand, long neck and a face like a massive chihuahua. One of them is singing in the background, while a bunch of others look like they're having some kind of emotional melodrama in the foreground.
Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't this.
And apparently neither was Kuroda, whose stoic demeanor gives way to an actual jaw drop as he sees it.
"How-" he begins, before stopping himself.
Ah.
Somehow, you doubt watching alien music videos is high on the Inquisition's priority list. If this thing ran out of battery while doing this… then you'd bet it ran out of battery before the Inquisition got its hands on it, and odds are, because of the xenotech element, no-one knew how to repair (read: recharge) it.
And if the Inquisition could never get it to work, and likely had no idea what it was, why was an Interrogator carrying it around?
Well. Possibly for trade purpose. But also possibly to test the mindset of Tech-Priests he needs to interact with - give them xenotech to play with, see how they react - if they want to destroy it, if they want to study it, the works.
He did not expect you to fix it.
Palatine Angeloff, meanwhile, stares in confusion. "…What manner of xenos… What is this?"
Kuroda closes his jaw. "…Tech-Priest?"
You press the 'pause' button on the holographic interface. "As far as I can tell, it's an all-in-one electronic device. Probably meant for the convenience of xeno civilians, playing music, playing holos, voxing each other…"
"This is xenotech?!" the Felinid stares at the device like it's about to try and bite her.
"Some bits and pieces are," you reply, "though about 75% is fairly standard Adeptus Mechanicus technology."
Kuroda seems to have recovered from his shock. "…And you were able to repair it so easily."
"I didn't repair it," you reply. "I just recharged its power core."
"But…" Angeloff stares at you, looking confused. "How were you even able to handle xenotech…?"
Kuroda has the briefest flinch of annoyance. He probably didn't want her to ask that question so unsubtly, but you're guessing she isn't in the mind-games business like the Interrogator is.
"Technology is technology," you say, giving a shrug to convey some calmness you don't actually feel. "Once one has familiarized oneself with the basic working principles, extrapolating from them to understand new patterns is just a question of skill. When I see some technology I've never seen before, it only takes some educated guesses to recognize the patterns involved."
"But," says the Felinid, "surely the foul work of hereteks…"
"Is foul and heretekal, but it doesn't actually break away from the same basic principles that govern all technology." You pause. "…Unless they bind Daemons into it. Then it's an entirely different set of principles and I'd have no idea how that works." Because supposedly that's a thing the Tech-Priests of Chaos do, according to G.I. Joe's research.
Angeloff says no more. Kuroda stares at you, and at the device. "…A moment." He then activates a small vox. "Fordison, please come in."
You wait.
And then, two minutes later, a Tech-Priest comes in, saluting you in Binaric. They've got so many bionics, you couldn't begin to guess their gender.
"Ironhide, meet Fordison, my retinue's Tech-Priest. Fordison, meet Ironhide, regimental Tech-Priest of the Organitron 1st Expeditionary Regiment. He was able to fix this device just now-"
Fordison's mecha-dendrites hit the wall, and floor, and ceiling in shock.
"-and so, I would request that he explains it fully to you."
Which also means explaining fully, within Kuroda's earshot, how this device works and what it does, without him having to admit to you it has been little more than a heretical paperweight the whole time it's been in his possession.
Two hours later, you are mostly done guiding Fordison through this pocket omnitool thing. It has an integrated GPS (…that presumably relied on alien satellites to work; now it's useless), a function that answers question by asking an online encyclopedia (again, not actually useful away from the world of these aliens), a translator between the aliens' language and Gothic, holographic videogames (which, to your eternal regret, you can't try now), some holographic alien porn (which, to your eternal regret, you are now aware of), and more.
You're going over what looks like a speech-to-text functionality when the door opens, and, to your immense relief, you recognize the figure stepping forward.
"General Hawk, Sir!" you stand up and salute.
"At ease, Ironhide," says General Hawk. "I came as soon as I could," and you see now there's another Sister Of Battle accompanying him - probably showed him the way here once his meeting with General Ivanov was over. "To whom do I have the pleasure?"
You assume he already knows. Because you do have comms that use Cybertronian tech and have been broadcasting this entire meeting to Dial-Tone all along. But he can't admit to that, so he needs you to tell him.
"Sir," you nod, and begin presentation. "Interrogator Shinichi Kuroda, of the Inquisition. Palatine Angeloff, leader of the Sororitas expedition on Devoir. Tech-Priest Fordison, of Interrogator Kuroda's retinue."
General Hawk raises an eyebrow when you present the Interrogator (because it'd be suspicious if he didn't react). "Thank you, Ironhide. Now, what is this about?"
************************************
Well, you're dismissed, and it's General Hawk's turn to answer the Interrogator's questions. And you guess Angeloff's presence was no longer required either, because she excused herself, and is now accompanying you out of the Starkeep.
And you see two familiar faces waiting for you at the gate: Bleu-Blanc-Rouge and La Vipère.
"Friends of yours?" Angeloff quietly asks.
"Soldiers in G.I. Joe," you shrug as you step through the gate and salute them.
"Ironhide," says Bleu-Blanc-Rouge. "Ran into any trouble?"
"Some unexpected developments, but that's for the higher-ups to worry about," you shrug. "We heading back to the barracks?"
"That's the idea," says La Vipère, "since the city doesn't have convenient maps."
"Wait, wait," says La Vipère as you walk through the streets of Starhill (and try to ignore the stench of a medieval city whose sanitation system can be summed up as "build on a slope and let the rain wash filth down"), "so this device was clearly for xeno use, had a xeno-to-Gothic translator, and was mostly made of Imperium tech? How does that even happen?"
"We can only speculate," says Bleu-Blanc-Rouge, "but if I were to guess, a human enclave and neighboring xenos must have peacefully coexisted for a while, long enough to trade and exchange technology."
Palatine Angeloff frowns, but says nothing.
"Makes sense to me," you nod. "The digital systems were superior to Imperium standards, but the materials were standard stuff the AdMech mass-produces. They probably figured combining the two was the best of both worlds."
And the kid whose hand is in your pocket probably figured you wouldn't notice, but, well, he figured wrong.
Now, how do you want to handle this…
"By the way," you say, maintaining a steady pace, "you should try the lower pocket on the other side. Got some coin there. Only thing in the pocket you're searching is some tools that wouldn't do you much good."
"Thanks, bud," the boy actually has the nerve to say as he switches to the other pocket.
"Happy to help," you reply.
La Vipère grins. Bleu-Blanc-Rouge watches with mild interest. Angeloff, however, stares in shock. "You would rob a priest of the Omnissiah in broad daylight?!"
"It's too dark at night to find the pockets," he replies.
"He's got a point," you say.
"That is not-" Angeloff addresses the kid. "It is a sin against the God-Emperor to take that which does not belong to you!"
"'t's only a sin if you take from someone who has more 'an you," the kid says, pulling a few coins - one golden coin and some silver, enough to feed a large family for a month. "Just ask around! People who already have lots, they can take whatever they want from those who have less, and no-one tells them it's a sin!"
"That… is not proper doctrine," she says, clearly struggling to speak calmly.
"Ya ever go hungry?" the kid tells the power-armored woman fearlessly. "Not the kinda hungry where you're in the mood for a nice roast. The kinda hungry where you can't think straight no more."
"I…" Angeloff considers. "A few times, at the Schola Progenium, to develop our resolve."
"Right. Well, imagine going like that most days. I seen some parents that would have died for their kids, who got so hungry they'd steal food from their kids' bowls. Well, not mine, they wouldn't feed me anyway," he chuckles mirthlessly, "but even good parents. Hunger breaks people's brains.
"So, my doctrine is: People shouldn't go hungry. Nice an' simple."
"You could have simply asked Tech-Priest Ironhide for his charity!"
"I've tried that a few times," he shrugs. "It don't work too often, and when it does, it's usually people who ain't got enough fer themselves who give a bit, and people who got plenty who keep it all fer themselves. I'm done with charity, and I got lots of pals I gotta feed."
"Forgive me," you interrupt, "but I don't think we've been properly presented? I'm Tech-Priest Ironhide, of G.I. Joe. To whom do I have the honor?"
"I'm street-rat Gavpierre, of the Saint Macharius slum." He pauses. "Ironhide, huh. Feel like I heard that somewhere."
"Some people have taken to call him 'Titanfall'," Bleu-Blanc-Rouge helpfully provides.
"…Huh." Gavpierre looks at you with what looks like actual respect. "Honor's all mine, then."
"So, they tell stories about you," Gavpierre says, walking next to you through the streets. "They say you're this big hero. 'Xcept, usually, the big heroes they talk about, they kill monsters, they burn heretics, they protect churches, they save nobles, or they avenge nobles. Your story goes, you avenged some common folks an' killed a raping-murdering noble. Ain't lot o' stories like that."
"The stories make a lot of shit up, but that part is true," you shrug. "Well, except it was less about avenging, and more about protecting the commoners who were still alive. I mean, justice is important, but you gotta prioritize the living over the dead, y'know?"
"Aye, I know." He counts the coins he took from your pocket. "One gold and three silvers, that's… 104 Crowns, aye?"
"That is correct," you reply. "Sorry there's not more, Devoir has strict laws against bringing in gold and silver from off-world."
Which is fairly understandable, from an economics perspective. While the nobility of Devoir will use Imperial Thrones when trading with off-worlders, the internal economy of the planet is largely based on gold, silver, and copper coins… and the rarity of gold and silver becomes very contextual when civilization is capable of asteroid mining. In theory, someone like the Archmagos of Vectorime, an enterprising Admiral, or an aristocrat of the Navis Nobilite, could completely crash Devoir's economy by dropping a couple megatons of gold into it.
As such, the law is clear: No gold or silver can come in, except for specific purposes such as regimental aquilae, personal effects of regimental commanders, and so on - all of which have to be recorded upon landing and accounted for.
Regiments that land on the planet have to trade their Thrones for local currency, and-
"Smoke from over there," Bleu-Blanc-Rouge points a few streets in the distance. "Is that normal around here?"
Gavpierre stares in that direction. "Frak!" he shouts, then he starts running toward the smoke.
Naturally, you follow.
It's just a couple streets down, but, this part of the town is clearly a slum. And when you get there - people parting before you when they see the power-armored Sororita - you see a burning shack.
Gavpierre rushes toward a bunch of kids watching the fire. "Guys! Anyone we know in there?"
"I wuz in there, Gav!" the smaller child says. "Barely got out-" then he sees the rest of your group. "Uh, who are your friends, Gav?"
Gavpierre ignores the question. "Why did you go in there, you daft sod?"
"They offered soup! I ain't had a bite in forever!"
"You're not supposed to-" Gavpierre stops himself. "Never you mind. Why's the place on fire?"
"Well, me an' several others, once we got inside, they turned on us real quick, you were right, that house ain't safe. They wuz doing some real scary shit, like, we thought we wuz done for, then suddenly-" the kid stops. He (you think it's a he?) stares at you. And at Bleu-Blanc-Rouge. And at La Vipère. "You got the patch!"
"The what now?" you and Gavpierre say at the same time.
"The patch!" he points the G.I. Joe insignia on your armor. "I saw the same patch on the soldiers who barged in and rescued us from-"
There's a laser blast obliterating one of the walls of the shack that wasn't on fire yet, and out of the newly-formed exit burst several figures.
Bifrost, holding some young woman in a fireman carry. Kaltberg, chainsword in one hand and hellpistol in the other. Paragon, heavy laser in hand. Barbecue, carrying an old man.
"Oh, hey guys," you wave. "Need a hand?"
"Eh, except for the fire, I think we're good," Barbecue replies.
You help put out the fire and administer first aid to the victims, but really, there's not that much to do - your fellow Joes on the scene already got 90% of the job done before you got there.
"Are you telling me," an incensed Angeloff tells Gavpierre, "that you and your friends knew there was a den of heretics in service to the Ruinous Powers in there, and you kept it a secret?!"
"No, I'm saying we knew they wuz trouble," Gavpierre replies. "Weren't sure wot their deal wuz. Coulda been heretics, coulda been xeno cultists, coulda been catchers sellin' people to the nastier brothers or, worse, to the red priests. No offense," he adds in your direction.
"None taken," you reply while testing blood samples of the rescuees.
"So, we basically told folks to give that place a wide berth. Wut was we supposed to do, call the Ecclesiarchy?"
"Yes! That is exactly what you were supposed to do if you suspected there were dangerous heretics in there!"
"Lady, priests in fancy robes don't listen to street rats. An' that might be for the best, because if they listened, it'd be even worse."
"Worse?! What do you mean worse?!"
"If I may?" Kaltberg awkwardly approaches Angeloff. "Palatine, as these children have explained to us earlier, if the temporal or spiritual authorities had believed a cell of heretics was present in the slum, their response - based on similar past incidents - would have erred on the cautious side of overkill, with phosphex, Knights, and likely many hundreds of deaths. From the short-term perspective of the slum residents, the likely response to the heretics was far deadlier than the heretics themselves, and thus it went unreported - in this way, the traditional way of handling such incidents has proven counterproductive."
"See?" says Gavpiere. "The lady with the purple hair gets it!"
Kaltberg gives Palatine Angeloff an apologetic look.
"Wait, you actually met an Interrogator in there? A living, breathing agent of the Inquisition?" Now that you've explained how your day's been going, or at least started to, Kaltberg's geeking out.
"Yeah, he was curious about the cultist-hunt we did a few weeks back. I'm still not sure if that's what he wants to talk to General Hawk about. But… how exactly did you guys end up finding and destroying a cell of Ruinous Powers cultists?" Everyone is gonna get a thorough checkup at the Joe medical facility, but Bifrost is saying her rainbow magic doodad cleared all the dark magic bullshit those guys had.
"Well," Paragon says, "we wanted to get a closer look at what the city's like, and we figured the slums probably don't get as much attention as they deserve. We were taking the sights, when we noticed this kid crying in a corner, and one thing led to another. Before we knew it, we were killing a bunch of disease-worshipping serial killers."
"So, really, just another day at the office," Barbecue adds.
Palatine Angeloff subtly leans closer to Kaltberg. "Is this… how things usually go with this regiment?"
"You have no idea," Kaltberg gives her a thousand-yard stare. "I have been commiserating this regiment for over a year."
"That is not what that word means-"
"I know." Kaltberg grabs her by her armored shoulders. "Not two days on Devoir, and this asshole," she points at you, "gets into a trial by combat with one of the deadliest Oathblades on the planet. One short visit to the slums, and this jerk," she points at Bifrost, "tracks down a cell of worshipers of Decay. One quick jaunt to the local tavern, and this whackadoodle," she points at Paragon, "somehow ends a multigenerational feud between two mercenary companies." Oh, yeah, you heard that story, when Paragon-
"I… see," says Palatine Angeloff, looking at the Cadet Commissar with some concern.
"You guys are somethin' else," Gavpierre laughs. "Well, me thanks fer savin' my pals back there. You're all right."
"And you're quite the brave defender they have," says Bifrost. "But they do need to come to the base so Doc can check them up, and it honestly wouldn't be a bad idea if you come along. I promise, at the very least you'll all get a halfway decent meal out of it."
"Well, normally, I'd say no on account of general caution," says Gavpierre, "but you guys have made one heckin' impression today, so I reckon I'll take my chances with you lot."
You hope he maintains that gratitude when he gets his vaccine shots.
You finish your report nervously. "And… that's about it, sir."
"Thank you, Ironhide," says General Hawk. "It was a tricky situation, and you've handled it as well as you could."
"We had Septentrion Meridian try to snoop," says Duke. "Emphasis on 'try'. He says there's a Blank in the area - someone whose presence suppresses psionics."
"That must have been that girl in black," you reflect.
"Confirmed," says Flint. "We had Snake Eyes shadow her for a while, and that oppressive feeling you describe is always centered on her. He also noted that most of the time, she gives Kuroda a wide berth. If, as we suspect, Kuroda himself was the psyker who tried to read your mind, then that makes sense - the presence of Blanks is far more hurtful for psykers than to most people."
"If I may, sir, what did he want from you?" you ask.
"Much like with you, he was dancing around the issue and trying to interrogate me without looking like he was interrogating me," General Hawk says. "I suspect it's a combination of curiosity regarding Organitron, and wondering if G.I. Joe can be a useful tool for his shadow war against the Genestealer cults. Admittedly, he also seemed curious about our Tech-Priests' ability to analyze xenotech."
"…Sorry about that."
"What's done is done. We have him under our own brand of surveillance now, so hopefully we won't be caught off-guard by whatever he ends up doing."
Ah, the wonders of ninja commandoes.
"And… what about General Ivanov?"
"Much like our friend from the Inquisition, he seemed to be probing, testing the waters - trying to figure out what sort of man I was, and what I could and couldn't be trusted with. Well, he did that between angry rants about the faithlessness of almost everyone in the Devoir system and about Admiral Isabella, whom he claims is the main reason this planet hasn't been retaken yet. It sounded like a fairly intense feud."
Ah, the joy of the Imperial Guard and Imperial Navy being at each other's throats.
Astropaths - the Sanctioned Psykers who made instantaneous interstellar communication possible - were one of the most precious resources of the Imperium. Without them, everything would crumble to dust. Individual planets, the Administratum, the Adeptus Mechanicus, the Imperial Navy, the Imperial Guard, the Ecclesiarchy… everyone always wanted as many of the very few Astropaths available as possible.
So, naturally, as an agent answering directly to an Inquisitor, Shinichi Kuroda had an Astropath in his retinue, allowing him to communicate as privately as he wanted with people whole sectors away (and, in theory, a whole segmentum away - though that tended to be harder on the Astropath).
Thankfully, his mistress hadn't left Segmentum Pacificus in all the years he'd known her. Rarely more than a couple sectors away, if even that.
The image of Inquisitor Valentine Imperia coalesced, and he bowed. "Inquisitor. I thought it prudent to report."
"Then report, Kuroda," she said. As always, astropathic communications were to be kept short.
"The usual suspects keep pushing for Plan Aurora, and the King's madness keeps him receptive. Some recent military victories give me hope that the plan may yet prove unnecessary. More surprising, however, is the Organitron 1st Expeditionary Regiment."
"Organitron is an enigma," Inquisitor Imperia nodded, "just not one we have the time to investigate."
"I don't mind their unconventional tactics or command structure," he said. "However, you recall the Gargosian device you gave me?"
"Obviously."
"I asked one of their regimental Tech-Priests to repair it, without telling him it was xenotech. To observe his reactions, obviously." She nodded with a hint of impatience, and he went on: "He repaired it. Easily. He didn't even seem to consider it an extraordinary feat."
She blinked. "…What was that device?"
"Some manner of portable cogitator with a wide variety of civilian functionalities. Given what it was capable of, I must assume it belonged to a particularly wealthy noble among the Gargos."
"Doubtful. Devices like it were found in large enough numbers in the ruins that, by all appearance, they were common among the populace."
"Emperor preserve," he muttered. What kind of society permitted such immense technological wealth to the general population? "Regardless, the device includes what appears to be a number of Gargosian holovids, and a translator between their language and Gothic."
"Hm. A pity we only get that now," Valentine Imperia reflected. She had been an Interrogator herself when her then-Master had orchestrated the Gargos xenocide. He'd later admitted to her that he regretted it - the troops lost exterminating the Gargos and the human heretics who'd allied with them might have made all the difference against the Ork Waaaagh that overran the subsector two years later.
"I will also note that members of the same regiment have, according to an account corroborated by their Cadet-Commissar and multiple civilians, located and destroyed a small Nurglite cell within the capital city's slums."
"You think it's a case of engineered heroics?"
"The possibility had occurred to me, but… low probability. I'll keep watching."
"Do that."
"I am also not the only one paying attention to them. So is General Ivanov. Probably because of Aurora."
"Understood. Have Gordison give the device his full attention. And remember - no matter what happens, no Tyranid hive-fleet can be allowed to form in the Xanadu Sector."
That almost went without saying. If Inquisitor Valentine Imperia had drilled one thing into him concerning xenos, it was the incredible threat of the Tyranid hive-mind's exponential growth.
The Tyranids just wanted to go for enthusiastic walks and were just asking everyone if their health plans were apparently great.
StarSingerBlue
Zenryoku Zenkai !
- Location
- The City of Lights
- Pronouns
- They/Them
It's just a really fancy smartphone...
darkstarling
Brilliantly Crazed
- Location
- Columbus, Ohio
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I love Kaltberg just shaking Angeloff trying to communicate how insane GI Joe is. I can almost imagine her getting like Twilight investigating Pinkie Sense.
Exactly. Far too much power for the standard citizen!
- Location
- in between
.... Is... Is that a semi-sane Inquisitor?
HOW DID WE GET THAT LUCKY!? Those aren't exactly omnipresent.
HOW DID WE GET THAT LUCKY!? Those aren't exactly omnipresent.