Early 36th Millennium, dawn of the Plague of Unbelief
Abalus
Gediminas District of Mancuso Hive
Provost Office within the Astropathic Choir Chambers

A bright, but soft, white light filled the high-ceilinged room, lessening the contrast between light and dark, smoothing out the shadows. The room bore no marks of age as it had been fashioned, along with the entire structure, only a few years prior by the Mechanicus at the behest of Provost Chele Masina of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica. A golden staff leaned against the enormous desk of dark wood which had a chair of similar material placed behind it. Both desk and chair had been imported from some planet or other within the reach, a tremendous commodity upon the world where any acreage capable of supporting woodlands had long before been usurped to build the planet's hive cities. Its presence meant wealth and power.

A lone figure stood in the room, glancing at the desk. Her head was shaved and she wore red one-piece meshweave suit that clung tightly to her form, outlining her voluptuous build, with a "V" neckline that dropped nearly to her navel. Provost of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica within the Abalatian Reach was the title known by the masses which Chele Masina held, but that title's power paled when compared to that of her secret title within the Imperium of Man, Inquisitor of the Holy Ordos. Masina had long been an Inquisitor, shifting the balance of power within the Imperium in secret but, in the aftermath of the High Lord Goge Vandire's Reign of Blood, the Inquisition had not only formalized its Ordo Hereticus charged with eliminating heresy among the citizens and organizations of the Imperium but made that Ordos' existence public. She had remained in the shadows, orchestrating events behind the scenes, while then apprentice Inquisitor Basil Cadmus had been thrust forward as the public "face" of the Inquisition.

Soon, I will have a new title, Masina laughed to herself. Lord of Chaos. If only they knew, all three of the Ordos would march after me right now.

She glanced to the wall on her left. It was covered by an enormous mural of the Emperor, dressed in golden aurumite armour. His magnificence shone brightly, radiating from a golden halo surrounding the red plume atop his helmet. He was mounted upon a great black steed and his silver spear, still in hand, was buried deep in the side of an enormous green reptilian monster with scales and a tail that wrapped round nearly the entirety of the mural.

She said it was the God-Emperor defeating the Dragon on Holy Terra when she painted it, smirked Masina. And that He later imprisoned it under Mars itself, Masina added. Ignorant fool woman. He is now little more than a corpse sitting on the Golden Throne, a rictus howling into the Warp, but He was never a god, I know that now. The smile disappeared from her face. Why did I ever want to see Him resurrected? Returned to us? The smile returned to her face. But what I learned while searching for how to accomplish that nonsense…

A rapping sound broke her train of thought, a knock on the wooden door. Fabricator Manumisa? Masina asked herself, fuming that the adept outside had not announced who was present. She snatched hold of the Warp and her force staff glided into her hand. Not the Fabricator, Masina decided. He will be here shortly but would not knock so. She girded her thoughts and prepared for battle.

"It is Sirsay," came a voice from without. "I sent your adept away as we need to speak in private."

Careful, Masina told herself. She has been fully ordained as an Inquisitor now, but has not held the title long. Be sure to keep her in her place. She cleared her mind and telekinetically unlocked the door, then removed the guarding ward. "Come in, my child," she answered. The door swung open, revealing Sirsay on the other side dressed in green robes of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica, eyes burned from her head but replaced with cybernetic ones. Some habits die hard, Masina decided. Hopefully she remembers the respect I am due as Provost while wearing those green robes here. Sirsay stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind her, then waited patiently. Masina quickly wove a ward to prevent eavesdropping.

"Things are degenerating in the local systems," Sirsay said. "I have a few scattered agents, and we have captured many anarchs and rebels, but more keep appearing every day." She paused before continuing. "And among them are more than a few unsanctioned psykers. That has made the pacification much more difficult."

"We must keep vigilant," Masina answered. "I have seen your results…and they are not good enough."

"But," Sirsay interjected.

"But nothing," Masina snapped. Keep her off her toes and on her heels, Masina told herself, then continued. "I have read your reports. Three hundred thirty dead and seven hundred sixty injured with an unknown number escaping in Marcuso hive. In the first engagement of twenty-seven, yesterday alone. Your report does not even give intelligence regarding how many more unreported uprisings may be occurring."

"My apologies, Mistress Masina," Sirsay answered. "It will not happen again. It's like they knew we were coming, time and again, as if they had been tipped off."

"That is what happens when unsanctioned psykers join the rabble," Masina answered. "But, do not worry, I have taken care of it." A questioning look appeared on Sirsay's face. "You do know that a flotilla from the League of Black Ships is docked for repairs over Abalus, do you not?" Without waiting for Sirsay to answer, Masina continued. "I have arranged for troops from the League, as well as most of the few Sisters of Silence stationed onboard their vessels, to move planet-side and help gather whatever psykers are still running loose."

"Thank you, Mistress Masina," Sirsay answered and gave a small curtsy that nearly drew a smile from the face of the bald Inquisitor.

"Now, begone," Masina snapped. "I have more important work to do than pick up the pieces of what you have dropped."

Sirsay gave a deep curtsy and turned to the door, leaving without uttering another word, but without closing the door behind her.

Insolent whore, Masina began, but stopped with her sentence still half-formed in her head for a figure quickly filled the doorway. A figure too large to actually fit through the wooden frame. "Fabricator Manumisa," Masina said with a warm smile. "What a pleasure to see you."

Fabricator Manumisa, the ruler over Forge World Vichka, looked at Masina through his cybernetic eyes and gave forth a remarkably human huff for one that had retained so little of his humanity. An enormous chassis of Mechanicus Implants was built onto his once human frame. He had four articulated mechanical legs where his human legs used to be as well as four mechanical arms sprouting around his torso from his spine. An entire nest of mechadendrites, some smaller and others larger, also extended from his chassis. The smaller mechadendrites continually moved about, touching each other and the walls, as if fidgeting. His still mostly human face glanced from side to side at the entrance which was much too small for him and then back to Masina.

"What is the meaning of this, Provost Masina?" asked a mechanically produced voice that came from his torso rather than his face. "Chambers constructed to…approved plans. This entrance…does not match…construction records." A hint of anger was detectable in the generated voice. The nest of small mechadendrites moved about a little more quickly.

"I made a small change," Masina answered with a laugh. For being so devoted to becoming like a machine, he is easily set off-balance, she laughed to herself. "Very few members of the Astra Telepathica have any cybernetic enhancements at all, much less an entire chassis of implants." She smiled. "Unlike you, we remain too human and still receive pleasure from simple things. Things like a door sized appropriately for us," Masina added. "I will weave a ward to protect the outer area from eavesdropping, and then we will begin where we stand."

"Escort vessels FWV-F03-EV03…FWV-F03-EV07…and FWV-F03-EV13…are underway to the worlds you proscribed," Manumisa said. "AR-AC-017…AR-AC-026…and AR-AC-043," the Fabricator added.

"Excellent, my dear Manumisa," Masina answered with a smile.

The Fabricator stared at Masina through his cybernetic eyes without moving. "I have…reservations," said the voice generated in Manumisa's torso. "My subordinates constructed the chambers…to your specifications…and those specifications were payment enough." He paused. "My subordinates armed rebel forces at your request…in return for xenos artefacts. Easily hidden. The plan to bombard specific locations on some worlds inhabited by the Aeldari faction known as Exodites will merely be doing the work of the Imperial Creed, though it stretches the limits of the vessels I have available. But…"

"But you are not so willing to turn your forces loose to take control of the vessels they are repairing, vessels from the League of Black Ships," Masina interjected. "Take control so that you can release the psykers within," she added.

"Yes, that is it," responded the Fabricator, his broken tone quickening. "I know you hold the power of the Inquisition at your fingertips, but I need more to move against the League."

"Of course, you do," "Masina laughed. "And you will have it." His cybernetic eyes stared at her without blinking. "I know you have an obsession with knowledge regarding the nature of the Warp and I intend to reward you with such knowledge."

"Go on," the Fabricator said. His nest of mechadendrites continued to fidget.

"Long ago, in His battle with the Arch-Traitor Horus, the God Emperor was nearly killed," Masina said. "Ever since, He has been nothing more than a corpse sitting on the throne of Holy Terra. There are those among us in the Inquisition, colloquially referred to as the Resurrectionists, who wish to save the Imperium by seeing the Emperor reborn. I am one such Inquisitor." Masina glanced to the Fabricator. He had become completely still, every mechadendrite frozen in place, and had not spoken a single word.

"The Chambers you fashioned are a part of the plan to see him reborn," she added. "As these uprisings increase, so too will the blood spilled and the psychic energy released. A psychic rite will be conducted to gather that energy in the Chambers you constructed to my specifications. And then your subordinates will release the psykers contained within the flotilla. Release them from their null cages. Their lives will be snuffed and psychic energy refocused to bring about the rebirth of the Emperor. The energy for the refocusing will be gained from the psychic energy released by the deaths of the inhabitants of the four planets- Abalus, Voron, Ryazon, and Maxell. Released when the virus-bombs I have had hidden planet-side are detonated."

The Fabricator stared at Masina for a long moment and then uttered a strange sound, a natural laugh emitted from his natural mouth. "My knowledge regarding the Immaterium is greater than most," he said in a crackling but natural voice. "And there is zero chance of this endeavour succeeding as you have described." A look of worry came over Masin's face, fear she had guessed wrong. "But I will help you regardless. I am stranded here now after taking the opportunity to do research on the periodic closings of the Pass through the Chimaera's Breath Warp Storm." A strange smile grew upon the remaining human portions of his face. "I will be pleased to document the scope of the psychic phenomenon that you will create and release."

"Excellent," Masina answered. "You will witness greatness created before your eyes," she said. The Fabricator began to slowly back his body down the corridor and away from the Provost Office. Greatness in the form of me becoming a Chaos Lord, Masina laughed to herself.