Lemuel was lifted from his oblivion, a ripple of energy had revitalised his mind; he had expected to have been landed in some dark room, bound and pumped full of whatever sludge his interrogator would have cooked up; he would have divulged everything he knew, and begged for a merciful death.
It was a surprise when images of the officer's quarters had make its way through his eyes; the dim lights and weathered panels, all seems so palatable. He nudged his body, fully expecting a mixture of aches and stiffness yet a calm warmth flowed in his veins. He tried to sit up, and failed when the weight of the cuffs and chains held him firmly on the ground. Small clinks startled him, breaking his moment of relief.
He saw the armoured Astarte, kneeing and cutting away at this infernal chain.
A sickly-sweet stench pushed its way into Lemuel's nostrils, pungent yet subtle in its scent. He turned to locate the source of this smell. He would come to regret his decision.
3 null maiden laying on the cold deck, unmoving and devoid of life; few meters away from them a depression was made in deck floor and within it a disk of meat and metal. he had killed the chosen of the emperor, Lemuel thought as cold sweat rolled down his cheeks. For someone to antagonise those who bore the Aquila mark was death, never mind killing personal guards of the emperor. Lemuel snapped back to the armoured soldier that was disposing their restraint, true fright wormed its way into his mind.
He could not see.
How could he not see? His gift might be suppressed in the presence of blanks, but now he couldn't read the Astarte's aura. Nothingness flowed around him, no signature, motionless and silent. He would have mistaken him for a statue. Finally, the warrior had torn away the last of the chains and stood up, he turns and walked towards him. Lemuel pulled back instinctively, coated in his sweat. The warrior paid no mind to Lemuel's trepidation, the giant gauntlets closed around his cuffs and snapped the link that subdued him. He dragged the former Remembrancer off the floor, stood him up before walking away to free the still bound Camille and Chaiya.
Nervously, Lemuel inched towards the armoured thing as he hacked into the chains around his companions. He seems alright, no intentions of harming anyone of the trio; for now, at least. Lemuel quietly pondered his future, staring at the slumbering Remembrancer and her lover. The chains were done away with, but Camille and Co. remain unconscious; the Astarte rocked them slightly, but to no avail. Finally, he placed his hands above their heads.
A pulse in the immaterium precipitated from the Astarte, and Lemuel was greeted with the same rejuvenating warmth; a gentle wave washed over his strained psyche, he felt relaxed despite the recent turn of events. Yet darker dread remained, a psyker had defeated blanks?! What ludicrous world is this? How could a psyker even find the strength in himself to harm the soulless?! Lemuel was stunned, he didn't even have the capability to ponder about why this Astarte was so short in stature.
The Astartes-esque thing had woken the sleeping duo and then pulled still dazed Remembrancer to her feet. He waited motionlessly as the 3 misfortunate souls hugged each other, Lemuel and Camille exchanging a few nervous glances as they wonder the path before them. The painful truth now clear in their minds, they were fugitives of the throne.
Lemuel and the two turned to face their odd saviour. Staring at his featureless helm not knowing what to say, an awkward silence was cast onto the chamber. It took a while, but finally the ice was broken with a monotonous Vox-call from the Astarte.
"Master Gaumon, Mistress Shivani and, umm, …"
"Chaiya, Chaiya Parvati. Milord."
"you all have been summoned, and the authority that I represent dictates that you all be extracted to answer for recent and possible future events."
Before the 3 confused companions could respond the Astarte walked into them; a scintillating light began to develop around Lemuel, Chaiya and Camille. It was bright, devoid of temperature and shattered the dimness of their surroundings. Gaumon was bewildered by the quietness of it all, how easily reality was rent. Within a split-second, all 4 were spirited away by teleportation.
It was so strange. How weird one might feel comfort at such an act.
Lemuel mused while in transit. The veil of physicality was pierced, them were at nowhere, in no-when; Suspended over a chasm of infinity with kaleidoscopic light flaring all around them. For a moment Lemuel felt cathartic, as if he held a world in his grasp, living a thousand futures whilst bearing insight from a million pasts. The sixth sense. What a gift from the gods. Then the lights dispersed, and here they were, standing on the Teleportarium; the feint tang of Ozone welcoming them back to the real.
Thud.
A sound splattered from behind them, the dull noise of a heavy object striking another. The Astarte collapsed face-first into the platform.
