The Ctan
05-07-2006, 23:00
A shard of what seemed to be black glass moved through the void, a dark speck of material that reflected a fraction of the dim light that hit it. Its location, a thousand light years from Sol. It was an easily recognisable craft, a grave class assault shuttle, though this one bore different markings – raised on its hull, instead of the usual symbology of the necrontyr government was the cog-wheel and the half-augmetic skull of The Ancient and Honourable Order of Tech Priests.
In the sub-sapient craft’s cockpit, a white and red robed figure sat at a chair, although he didn’t need to in order to fly the ship, the view was still quite worthwhile. He was Magos Gentor Dakar Roselle, one of the more senior members of the order.
It was commonly listed that the Necrontyr Empire had no indigenous religion. While technically true, the Order of Tech Priests was certainly close enough to qualify in most people’s minds. An organisation, parts of which had come with the C’tan from their future-past, which was, in its present form, almost unrecognisable to its predecessors. The Order’s mission statement was to develop, discover, preserve and make available knowledge for ‘humanity’ a term in this context interpreted rather liberally; in accordance with what was the previous eleventh Universal Law, the various species within the necrontyr empire were considered ‘humanity’ as were many others. However, the Order had its nationalistic aspects as well, and a certain condescension in its viewpoint led to it limiting the knowledge it disclosed to ‘outsiders’ who could not be ‘trusted with responsibility’ of the cult’s full, exhaustive knowledge – its knowledge was only marginally behind that stored by the necrontyr/Menelmacari state itself.
Dakar leaned his chromed, cybernetic head back a little as one of his two companions entered the cockpit. Towering over even him, she was a Pariah, in this case, in the form that designated her as one of the military cyborgs of the necron state, fully nine foot in height, polished white and silver. She, unlike Dakar, normally used an avatar – a creation that looked externally human. But this time, a more… intimidating guise had been chosen.
“We have arrived?” she asked.
“We approach the Mesa System. I predict an ETA to their outer monitoring sphere of one minute.”
“Excellent. We should send the message.”
“Yes,” Dakar agreed.
---
To: The Mesa Corporate Conglomerate.
From: Jassar Nedisa, Purchasing Agent, Lossë-elen company.
Subject: Business Dealings.
It has come to our attention through various sources that you may be a valuable source of what I believe is termed the ‘Free Labour Market’ I am a purchasing agent for a major concern, and we may be able to do a very high volume of business with you. If you could please allow us to land somewhere, I would relish the opportunity to discuss the matter further at your convinience.
---
Message sent, Dakar cut the small (which is to say, one hundred ten meters) craft’s engines and overall output to minimum and disabled its stealth systems to minimal power.
In the sub-sapient craft’s cockpit, a white and red robed figure sat at a chair, although he didn’t need to in order to fly the ship, the view was still quite worthwhile. He was Magos Gentor Dakar Roselle, one of the more senior members of the order.
It was commonly listed that the Necrontyr Empire had no indigenous religion. While technically true, the Order of Tech Priests was certainly close enough to qualify in most people’s minds. An organisation, parts of which had come with the C’tan from their future-past, which was, in its present form, almost unrecognisable to its predecessors. The Order’s mission statement was to develop, discover, preserve and make available knowledge for ‘humanity’ a term in this context interpreted rather liberally; in accordance with what was the previous eleventh Universal Law, the various species within the necrontyr empire were considered ‘humanity’ as were many others. However, the Order had its nationalistic aspects as well, and a certain condescension in its viewpoint led to it limiting the knowledge it disclosed to ‘outsiders’ who could not be ‘trusted with responsibility’ of the cult’s full, exhaustive knowledge – its knowledge was only marginally behind that stored by the necrontyr/Menelmacari state itself.
Dakar leaned his chromed, cybernetic head back a little as one of his two companions entered the cockpit. Towering over even him, she was a Pariah, in this case, in the form that designated her as one of the military cyborgs of the necron state, fully nine foot in height, polished white and silver. She, unlike Dakar, normally used an avatar – a creation that looked externally human. But this time, a more… intimidating guise had been chosen.
“We have arrived?” she asked.
“We approach the Mesa System. I predict an ETA to their outer monitoring sphere of one minute.”
“Excellent. We should send the message.”
“Yes,” Dakar agreed.
---
To: The Mesa Corporate Conglomerate.
From: Jassar Nedisa, Purchasing Agent, Lossë-elen company.
Subject: Business Dealings.
It has come to our attention through various sources that you may be a valuable source of what I believe is termed the ‘Free Labour Market’ I am a purchasing agent for a major concern, and we may be able to do a very high volume of business with you. If you could please allow us to land somewhere, I would relish the opportunity to discuss the matter further at your convinience.
---
Message sent, Dakar cut the small (which is to say, one hundred ten meters) craft’s engines and overall output to minimum and disabled its stealth systems to minimal power.