"Lady Kora, this call means a world to me - quite literally. Cannot afford the Regency council to steal my position from under my freshly decanted nose, not after being that late in announcing the miraculous salvation of mine.", Secunda massaged her temples, slowly remembering the times when she wasn't immune to the concept of migraine. "Meanwhile, you have some time preparing the answer to some of the obvious questions of mine. Starting with... What exactly are you even doing here, Sister? Aside from saving my life, of course. [i]Deploy[/i]."

Secunda did not bother to rise up from the bodies and puddles of blood. Marshall was a strange beast, almost too smart and too old for someone stemming from the Skitarii corps - she never quite figured out what he was, really, but he was most definitely not squeamish. Everyone with two neural pathways figured out that something went wrong, well beyond the reasonable parameters for maneuvering, so outright denying that would be an attempt transparently vain. Let them see the faceless bloody bits and the bolt-riddled machinery. 

Let them see her unharmed against the backdrop of violence. Someone shot the devil and missed. Everyone should figure out what is going to come next for them.

The next for her, of course, would be quite simple and pragmatic. Find the culprit and make them vanish. Then find his immediate allies and make a grim example out of them, so that everyone's curiosity about what hell happened to the culprit spawns a wave of rumours slowly refining into some excessively grim legend she'll never confirm or deny.

As she was speaking to the Marshall, she grabbed the nearest dataslate and started jotting down notes for the Kora to see.

"[i]Whoever killed my bodies:
a) Wanted to make a statement and/or steal my tech. Hence a bolter to capture the place and remove witnesses, not a bomb to level it down.
b) Assumed to be an enhanced human baseline. Xenos would not use a bolter. Astartes would kill both of us. Most other things wouldn't leave blood.
c) Had a displacer field jury-rigged for long-distance jumps. Surprisingly advanced level of tech-heresy to just save one life. Damnation in the long run from sheer exposure - guaranteed. Esteemed ZRK-333 would be furious to learn. Nobody goes to these lengths to save a disposable pawn, so that was no servitor or combat automata. 

Current assumed profile:
Heretek Militant Majoris. Either on Hollzenstein's leash or with someone mad and ambitious enough to make a shot for my place.

Immediate next steps:
Trace the fragger down - his genes, his bolter casings, his armour.[/i]"