First things first, listen to watch?v=2mwm1yCYiLc&t=56s
Also, this is quite good, watch?v=VaXrtOru0i8
He sits with his back to the crackling force field, eyes closed to the darkness of his cell.
In such an absolute blackness, eyes, he had noted with some sarcasm, are a rather redundant organ to have. A man was blind either way.
But Sevatar was no man.
And he did not need his eyes to see.
He could sense it all, his sixth sense, now a free talent, let him perceive not only the inside of his cell, but what lay around it, outside the walls. He estimated he maybe had a reach of perhaps fifty metres, though his circumstances had forced that number lower.
He had to spread his presence thin, so it would not be detected. Whilst he could feel none nearby, he knew one could easily approach and sense his wandering focus. And even if not, there were other ways to keep watch over a person.
He needed to be careful.
For now, he focused his efforts inwards, observing his right hand open and close, open and close, as his unnatural abilities let his hand slip faster and faster.
He had been doing that motion now for a period of hours. He should have felt something in his muscles, but when he stopped, it was like his arm was freshly rested, and had not been clenching and flicking open six times a second for the past three hours, sixteen minutes and thirty one seconds.
He grinned softly, as he perceived the motion of an armoured wall of a figure stir the air into miniature whorls, as he perceived the tremor pass through the metal deck and into his cell. The first time it had happened, he had pressed his air up against the cell wall, listening for the clang of armoured footfalls through the thick metal and stone wall of his prison cell.
Now, he merely followed the Astartes as he passed by his cell, paused briefly, and then strode out of range once more.
Checking up on him seemingly. He didn't seem too worked up, so he must not have found much of interest.
An understandable thing. Jago Sevatarion was many things, but he was careful.
He flipped to his feet, and paced his small zoo enclosure, before starting up his daily ritual of training, to keep himself in form. He did not have his armour or his spear, true. But there were many other ways to train ones own body and mind.
Truth be told, he didn't need to do many of the exercises, his physiology keeping him at the peak of his abilities, but he kept them all the same.
Good habits, he told himself, and all that.
He rolled forward, onto one hand, and raised himself up, feeling his muscles, now working under their own power, unaided by psychic means, heat gently at the motions he put them through.
He slowed, and curled down to the ground as he felt a subtle, but well known presence cross into his cell.
"Jago? Are you still alive?" The voice asked, in easy familiarity.
"I think so Altani, though I may be wrong."
The voice giggled lightly, and Sevatar smiled at the sound.
"Do you think you might be one of your shades, lingering in your cell?"
"Well, all this time in here, in the darkness, I can't exactly see if I still have a body, or if it's sitting in a corner somewhere."
"Can you not feel if you are alive?"
"Perhaps. Or perhaps it may be a figment of my, or your imagination, produced to keep my sanity."
More quiet chuckling.
"I will never understand you, will I."
"No one ever does, little one. It vexes me too. What is it you wish to talk about? Or are you just lonely?"
"I..."
A pause. Almost too small for an ordinary human to notice. But to Sevatar, it speaks a great deal.
"...I'm just so tired."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that little one. Tell me, what exhausts you so?"
"The commune. We've been practically working non-stop in an effort to contact Terra. Every time, the warp stops our progress, and tries to take us. We've already lost three of our choir, one just this morning."
He scowled. He had had an idea about the nature of astro-telepathic communications, and that they carried a portion of risk. Until now, he had joked at it.
But now, with Altani having to deal with such danger, the thoughts left a bitter taste on his tongue, and a sour mood, at his helplessness to assist her, as she had done for him.
"Do you want to keep doing it?" He asked, probing for a response.
"...No." She answered, predictably.
"I see. Now tell me this little one. If you could leave here, no strings attached, and go and live life somewhere else, would you?"
A pause, longer this time.
"Isn't that wrong though?"
"Little one, I'm not asking you to steal from someone, I'm asking you a simple question of what you want. There is no crime in having personal feelings." He said, with a slight chuckle to his voice. His was not a voice that naturally inspired feelings of warmth, but he made the effort.
"But the choir master and the legion say that abandoning your duty is heresy."
He reclined back against the wall of his cell, and let out a quiet sigh.
"Over my years of service Altani, I have met many very wise people. Prophets, iterators, nobles. Even Primarchs Altani, Primarchs. Do you know who one of the wisest was?"
"No." she said, in that soft, low, curious voice of hers.
"He was a pit fighter, from a legion of gladiators. He spoke to me about the nature of duty once to me. Do you know what he said?"
"No, I don't."
"Duty, is another word for chains. Duty, is the term made, for people to shackle others into doing their bidding for their own ends. Some willingly submit to it, for ideals of their own. Some rebel against it, only accepting the authority of those they respect. Duty is a fine thing in and of itself, little one. But it is not worth suffering over if the heart is not willing. Now tell me. If you could leave this ship, leave this war behind, no strings attached, would you want to?"
This time, she answers.
"Yes."
"Good. Very good. Now, where would you go?"
They stay like that for hours, talking, before she pulls away. To rest, Sevatar assumed.
And he was free to let his mind work.
He had a rough idea of how long the Invincible Reason was, and a good memory of where his previous expedition had taken him. It would have ended at the ancillary hanger deck, seemingly a ferry port for shuttles for all kinds of transport. An acceptable exit plan, and an obvious one. Most likely guarded, and if he was to bring the girl with him, precautions would likely be taken before they arrived to mitigate the psychic abilities she might bring to bear.
Second option, spacewalk. He did not have his weapons, or his armour, and would need to retrieve it in any case. He did not know much about atmospheric suits designed for smaller occupants, but he supposed that some form must exist. The directional thrusters in his backpack were perfectly capable of directing him through space. He could make it to a frigate perhaps. A small craft, something that would not be directly noticed until it was too late.
No, that was silly. He'd need to look for ships departing of other reasons, and hide away on one until he could depart again.
He would need knowledge of the projected ship movements, and to know where his arms and armour were stored.
He would need Altani for both, likely. He wished humans didn't need to rest, but he wasn't about to attempt to rouse her. She spent most of her time asleep, but her mind needed to rest from its exertions.
But it left him time to plan also. He traced the steps he had taken in his mind, lining up a pathway from his cell all the way to where Altani had stopped them, and then the way to the choir chambers. He could use that path length to plot inside the bulk of the Gloriana class battleship, where they were both likely to be.
From there, he could make a guess as to where the armoury was likely to be placed. They were generally well out of the way of potential harm, considering the large amounts of weapons, ammunition and explosives stored within makes for a particularly bad day, when introduced to high enough temperatures, in the form of a macrocannon shot, or a lance battery.
Would his warplate be in the armoury? Would it be in storage somewhere else? He had no idea. More questions to ask the little girl child.
In his plotting, he almost failed to notice the approach of multiple armoured figures. Quickly, he shifted into the same lethargic positioning he had been greeting his captors with, ever since he had been captured.
The same mechanical voice comes from above.
'Illumination'.
He keeps his eyes shut, but can feel the area thrown into sharp light, and the barrier powers down with a crackle again.
"Feeding time so soon?" He says, greeting his captors with the same ugly smile and arrogant bearing. "Truly the service you provide here is the finest I believe I have ever experienced."
He does not need to remember, or even listen to them. He can sense them, standing there. The same two have their bolters aimed at him, as per usual, and the third has his bucket, as per usual.
It clangs to the floor, and he can smell the chemical un-scent of it wash over his nostrils.
"And with such exquisite dining no less. It just keeps getting better and better every time. It's enough to make a man question why the first legion is even in the warfare business at all."
He feels them chafe, but none respond to his bait, and in a few moments, he feels the power field activate, an instant before he hears it cycle up. Sometimes he wonders what would happen, if one were to rise to his bait.
No matter. Feeding time at the zoo. He eats slowly, not savouring the experience, but dragging it out to simply alleviate the boredom.
There was only so much to do inside a cage.
He experimented with the last few globules of the slimy paste, to see if he could somehow convince them to move around, to heat up, but so far, he'd had little luck on that front.
Altani had given some guiding tutorage, but while still being under such tight surveillance, he could not afford to practice openly.
Perhaps he also should rest a little, he thought. Maybe a little half-sleep, to let his brain power down, until Altani comes again.
Sevatar placed his head against the cool stone wall of his cell, and let out a sigh, before pulling his focus back into himself, and let his breathing slow.