The Swarm. Everyone in Houndclaw knew the horror stories of entire worlds reduced to their bedrock, left dead and barren by whatever horror from beyond the Emperor's light had begun the slow process of devouring the sector. The war against them had been long and grueling, and for a time had torn Lord Armitage's attention away even from the arch-traitor. Ramona's experience with them was of a different shade-- an agri-world gone dark, a woman sent to assess the situation, and multi-armed abominations snarling from the shadows amid a populace gone mad. It had taken years to rebuild the infrastructure and administrative manpower that had, by unfortunate necessity, been burned out along with the infection.

Unsavory business, that.

"You should know that fingers might be pointing you way soon." Ramona made sure that, as she spoke, no errant servo-skulls or eavesdropping cogs were close at hand. Better that their words be as private as they could be, in a place like this. "There's plenty to say that someone of your ilk, wearing your colors, killed the archmagos."

She paused as she puffed her pipe, smoke curling upwards from her nostrils. It was a risk telling Eunicornus this, without knowing where they stood on things, but one she was willing to take given how jumpy ZEN had been. This was a thread worth pulling at, if it meant unraveling untoward plans.

"And plenty that are eager to be done with this sooner rather than later."

Taking in the sights and sounds of the 'temple' was, to Vigrid Brand, a task of obligation, where their duel was an object of pleasure. The subject matter, though, Vigrid found fascinating. A hall of knowledge based solely on understanding the martial means of their enemies? What appeared to be a paradox in their representation of the Enemy, these machines were simulating what could only be described as the very peak of their species' performance in battle. What he wouldn't give to throw down the gauntlet to any one of these simulations to learn and adapt to their battle movements. He glanced at Eunicornus with a touch of jealousy in his eye.

The pipes. Magos Stoll. Vigrid shuddered at the phantom feeling of Stoll's many eyes trained on his back. With a wary glance behind him, the phantom was lifted, still the memories of reassembling machines in the darkness beneath their feet remained. It was a rite of passage, and like any before it, he had become the sum of the milestone. Still, he loathed the idea of returning to Stoll, and with the open question of the Achmagos' cogitators still gnawing at him, he feared his reprieve from the lair of the Necromechanic was soon to end. Vigrid bit his cheek as he focused on his guide's leading.

As his massive steps kept pace with Eunicornus', he made room for Ramona, being conscious of the human beside them. It was this extended consciousness that made him reach slightly toward his weapon as the uncanny figure's gaze fell over him. The hairs on the back of his neck rose--though that feeling was an often relied upon mechanism of his body and meant no special case--as he studied the ungainly creature for a few moments. Then something dawned on him.

Ramona and he had been searching for something that stretched their concepts of what could and could not happen logically in the Archmagos' sanctum. The rules of displacer fields, the size of the assailant, a transfer of paint implicating the Dark Angel. But these creatures, though facsimile, threatened that very notion.

"Have you done battle with all of these simulations, Eunicornus? Would it be plausible for paint from your armor to transfer in such a sparring match?" The wheels continued to turn, "Who is the High Ward of these 'research subjects?'" He turned to Ramona for a moment, "I'd like a full account of all these mechanical creatures at the time of the Archmagos' murder."

He couldn't help it. He threw a glance over his shoulder at the uncanny figure standing over the three Sicarians.

Finally, he returned his gaze to their host. The armor of a Space Marine left everything to the imagination, except that he knew what lay beneath being one himself. The disfigured, flexed, ported, and disproportionate being beneath the plates was not something to display, surely, but when speaking with a Brother, especially when sharing as freely as they did now, there were some... pleasantries to abide. Like looking each other in the eye. It didn't make him angry, but it somehow still gnawed at him, as if the figure before them was sheltering a secret from him. A secret he felt beginning to take seed in his mind.

Hrmm, Eunicornus had moved with such grace and elegance in their duel. Never once did they--yes 'they'--gender themselves when communicating. Vigrid took another hard look, as if expecting to be able to see shapes of eyes through their visor.

"I have battled hundreds of these machines," said Eunicornus. "All automata in this facility are under the personal direction of Magos Passivity-SEA."

*

It is an awful thing to hear a robot scream.

A hundred is so much worse.

The domain of the Datasmith is a nightmare on par with the worst excesses of the Ecclesiarchy. Massive wooden bonfires have been constructed and set alight, with the wretched iron skeletons of howling robots still writhing in their cores. Crucifixes have been constructed of reinforced iron and robots have been stapled in place with enormous piston-driven nails the size of a human arm. Here and there are raised altars where robots have been chained in kneeling positions, their armour stripped down to expose electrical circuit boards, screaming into their knees as they are whipped endlessly by the arc-scourges of Martian priests. When a priest tires they hand off their weapon to a colleague and withdraw, to eat, rest, pray and sleep - so they will be strong enough to continue the torture when their shift next begins.

The screaming. It's authentic, you'll give it that. That's really what it would sound like if you tied down a Tyranid termagaunt and electrocuted it continuously for weeks. The recording session for that sound file must have been - better not to think about it. But - the worst part is that the scream sound files are never more than a minute long. Every minute, at different intervals for different robots, the sound cuts off, there's a second of static, and then the scream continues again from the beginning.

Do the machines feel pain? Or do they just know how to scream like they do?

Such are the secrets of the Omnissiah.

On a raised section of the catwalk, halfway between factory overseer's office and Inquisitorial throne, sits Passivity-SEA, resplendent in ceremonial robes of white and red. She is giving her personal attention to one particular combat automata, twin mechadendrite multi-meltas rising above her head boring minimum-intensity beams into the optical array of a hulking machine the size of a dreadnaught. The beams cease, and a servo skull swoops in close to wrench the semi-molten camera from its socket - and then turn it around so the tortured machine can behold the twisted wreckage of its own face.

Passivity-SEA looks down at it with pitiless human eyes, and then with the casual flick of a remote terminates its scream so that she can look to the two of you.

"Praise Him," said Passivity. "The Master of Machines, the Master of Mankind."

So it was very possible that paint from the Space Marine's armor had transferred to such a contraption as those serving as target practice here. This Magos Passivity-SEA...

That's when Vigrid heard it.

The auditory display that unfolded before the trio of them was of such intensity that it caused Vigrid's face to go stony. His personal feelings about the pursuit of this 'knowledge' were plain to himself, but that opinion did not get expressed aloud. Ever. These were delicate matters of which Vigrid was sure any misstep or miscalculation would cause irreparable harm to the investigation of the Archmagos' murder. Instead, at the greeting of Passivity-SEA, Vigrid bowed his head slightly and saluted with his hand over his chest before replying. "Omnissiah be praised." In this context the words felt like blasphemy. As his eyes darted over the display of the twin mechadendrite, he continued, "May we have a moment of your time, Magos? We are following an investigation pertaining to the apparent burglary of the Archmagos Toros which resulted in her death."

He was still keenly aware of Eunicornus and Ramona by his side, and he took no step forward toward the Magos until her reply. The way she looked, dressed in ceremonial robes still seated upon that throne, made Vigrid wonder if Passivity-SEA was a doer or a planner. Internally, he was building a theory which could be shaken in an instant depending on Passivity's reply to his query. If Passivity-SEA had any motive against the Archmagos, it may have been possible to use any of these devices to perpetrate the heinous act that resulted in the death of Toros. Displacer fields were painfully present in this house of 'worship' and that technology alone was enough to prompt thorough investigation. Whether Passivity-SEA was open to such an investigation was another matter entirely.

The next few moments would tell Vigrid all he needed to know about this Magos...

Sometimes it was impossible to figure out what possible purpose the cogheads could possibly have for doing what they did. This was one of those times.

The screams of mechanical agony that reverberated through the halls were certainly a new experience to Ramona, and while she normally welcomed that for the new insights they might provide, here it was hard to immediately glean anything of use. It brought to mind nothing so much as the aftermath of a chemical fume flashfire deep in the depths, an errant spark too soon after the runoff gates opened setting the air ablaze. The screams afterwards often had the same cadence, if more variety.

Passivity demanded a sugn of faith. Well, Ramona was no heretic, even if the most pious might claim otherwise.

“Glory to Him, and Holy Terra.” Hands briefly crossed over her chest in the sign of the Holy Aquila, memories flickering in the back of her skull— the face of a dead man, a true believer, who had pushed her to be better.

As her hands fell back to her sides, her eyes roamed both Passivity’s metal-and-flesh features, and the surrounding cacophony. Vigrid had asked the question they had come to find an answer for, and the lad had been the one to twig onto the possibility of a machine doing the deed besides. That gave Ramona the opportunity to scrutinize, pick apart, study… somewhere in this blasted factory-cathedral were answers. She just needed a window to turn the screws in.

"You are following the Quest for Knowledge," decreed Passivity-SEA. "And it would be blasphemous for me to fail to assist you. So I shall answer you clearly: My hatred for the former Archmagos was boundless and public. I wished her ill. I threatened to flay her as a heretek. I am hosting this grand celebration -" she gestured at the ghastly display "- in celebration of her termination. I intend to petition the Necromechanic for sole custody of her corpse that I might immolate it and entomb the ashes in a grand vessel alongside this host of corrupted automata so their evil spirits might feast upon the twisted information she allowed into this Cathedral."

[Bullshit Detector] This is a weird one.

You've seen fanatics - wild-eyed preachers on street corners, lunatic bishops of the Ecclesiarchy leading Guard regiments from the front. You have also seen cynics - aristocratic second sons placed into positions of wealth and influence while only mouthing the holy words without conviction. You get the impression that Passivity is both.

The bonfire display - there's too much showmanship here. There's too much here that's choreographed, too much that's just so. Like the eye-burning that Passivity is personally overseeing - there is a blood-like fluid dripping from the eye sockets which looks very impressive and triggers an instinctive biological aversion in you. But thinking about it rationally, that blood was put there. Those machines in the pyres, they're still moving and thrashing even though their circuit boards should have been the first thing to short out. This is not how the Adeptus Mechanicus would do things internally. But at the same time, when you look into that iron eye, you do not get the impression that Passivity-SEA is a simple careerist. To put together a display like this needs an element of sadism and creative effort that you wouldn't get from any aristocrat off the spire.

Getting a solid read on her is a 2 point spend.

"My advice," declared Passivity, "is that once you find the stolen cogitators, burn them. He on Terra sealed the vaults of Mars and forbade them ever be opened. That decree should bind the minds of all forever and ever onwards."

Now this one was a challenge. Spend - 2 Bullshit Detector

Passivity wanted to put on a show, make the entire planet think that she was full of righteous jubilation at the death of the Archmagos. She certainly enjoyed the pageantry of it, that much was clear from how carefully orchestrated it was, but... the ones who beat their chests the loudest often contributed the least. Or were a distraction from the knife coming at you from behind.

Hm.

"We'll keep that in mind." We absolutely will not keep that in mind. "The more immediate concern is what did the deed. Toros was killed by a nearly impossible shot-- unless they had the Emperor's own luck, or mechanical assistance."

She gestured to the many and varied automatons in many and varied stages of being mangled.

"Like your creations, for instance." The cogitators were at the heart of the matter, of course, but this reeked of more than a smash and grab gone wrong. Someone wanted the Archmagos dead, and wanted what was locked away in those mechanical datavaults for themselves. Too many people in positions of power wanted this business dealt with as quickly as possible, and damned be the consequences. That only made her want to dig harder, and deeper.

Something didn't sit well with Vigrid: how did Passivity-SEA know about the cogitators at the heart of the investigation? What did Passivity know about the contents of those cogitators? It was curious for her to offer up her knowledge of the unknowable in such a forthright manner. Though also curious was her 'boundless and public' hatred for Archmagos Toros. This matter was a sensitive one, as it seemed to him that their suspect was too up-front about their position on the victim for there not to be a smokescreen somewhere therein.

"These cogitators," Vigrid began after making sure Ramona's declarative question sank in, "what do you know of their contents? You say they contain twisted knowledge, but of what subject matter? And, forgive my ignorance, but how did you come to know the cogitators had been 'stolen'?"

The particulars of the display before him slipped right past Vigrid as the Space Marine did his level best to pay all attention to the subject Passivity-SEA. Any detail in their demeanor might betray more than this outward expression and it was obvious to him that Passivity's words carried more weight than anything in this room. While Ramona baited, Vigrid went for a more direct approach.

[Bullshit Detector] Alright, so here's the thing: this is a show, but you're not the audience.

So who is it a show for?

It's the servo-skull that tips you off - the subtle one, hovering back and behind you, in the corner above the doorway. You only know to look, Ramona, because you know full well that's where the really good killers and spies tend to hide. And you also know what that =I= means - and who it's likely in service to. Only one name fits the profile: Inquisitor Perrier.

There are Inquisitors in the sector who are subtle creatures, manipulating networks of shadowy agents and severing Heresy with isolated bolt rounds in the dark. And then there is Inquisitor Perrier, the kind of Inquisitor who earned her Rosette by leading the planetary invasion that recaptured it from the hands of the Archenemy. An officer of the Guard, a battle pilgrim of the Ecclesiarchy, and an absolute lunatic by all accounts, Perrier is one of the few figures of importance in the sector who would look at this robotic torture display and think 'Very good, carry on'.

That's the bullshit. Passivity-SEA does not believe in this Ministorum torture ceremony and is happy to put on a show to impress the Inquisitor when she arrives. But the sincerity? Well, you don't become personal friends with an Inquisitor like Perrier without being a doctrinaire asshole yourself. Passivity is dead serious when she says she hated Archmagos Toros, she genuinely believes her accusations of tech-heresy, and she's intent on calling Inquisitor Perrier into this situation because she believes that the purity of faith will spare her the coming conflagration. She's dialed into the Ministorum dialect like it's a second language and you can see her cogitators glowing golden whenever she needs to cite the appropriate scripture.

Maybe she did it, and this is her way to cover her tracks and finish the job. Maybe she didn't do it and this is how she's looking to deflect suspicion from her apparently very public feud with the Archmagos. You can't tell from this alone, but she sure as shit has a clear idea of how things are going to go down next.

It goes without saying that Inquisitor Perrier carrying out a purge of the Isohedron would be a catastrophic failure as far as the Dynasty is concerned.

*

"Precision is one of the gifts of the Omnissiah," said Passivity-SEA with total sincerity. "And luck is how the credulous misinterpret the Emperor's miracles." That part was bullshit. "Perhaps one of the Archmagos' own Skitarii guards decided to execute her for her crimes, and the Master of Mankind guided their shot. Thought For The Day: Question Not How His Will Is Done, Only That It Is Done."

To Virgid, "I shall not speak of the horrors contained within those profaned devices," and she's serious about that. She considers the information somewhere between offensive and dangerous -

[Cop Talk] Oh, but she got that rant in her, aye? She's got that sermon brewing, can't you just feel it? You don't get that out of her by asking, you get that out of her by spittin' on the same ghost she's spittin' on. Kindred spirits in hate and that. [One point spend of Cop Talk to get her to talk about what she saw there]

"As to their absence, I read the Skitarii Marshal's report over the noosphere," said Passivity-SEA. "There is a full quarantine and search of this facility to find the devices being conducted by the Tech Guard. I, of course, will fully co-operate with their investigation. I have nothing to hide."