Editing The Tales of the Emperasque: Part Nine (section)

==5-040-001-M42==
Vulkan stood on the edge of the landing pad and shielded his eyes. The glare from the shuttle descending towards his position was harsh, but he felt the need to greet it in person. He had been informed by the Sororitas that the Salamanders had dispatched a small ship, crewed by over two dozen Techmarines and the Forgefather, along with certain other higher-ups, to meet him halfway to Prometheus. The Warp currents left by the Emperor’s travels had made the journey lightning quick.

He hefted the bag that carried his few meager possessions, including his beloved chisel, and turned to face the trio of Battle Sisters that had accompanied him to the pad. “Battle sisters, thank you for your vigilance,” he said, as the shuttle neared the pad. “I appreciate your assistance.”

“It was the honor of our lives, Lord Vulkan,” Julia said, beaming. One of the other Sororitas tapped her ear and looked distracted for a moment, then gestured at the perimeter fence.

“That accursed paparazzi is outside again, Sister Maynard. See to him, would you?” she asked.

“Yes, sister,” the third one said, loping off to the fence, brandishing her sarissa. The other Sororitas wandered after her, mumbling about nosy reporters. Julia took a few steps back as the shuttle’s engines kicked up dust. Vulkan effortlessly swung the kitbag over his shoulder and turned to face his erstwhile tutor.
“It’s been an atypically relaxing few days, Julia. Please be sure to thank our host for me, would you?”

“Of course, Lord Vulkan,” she said. Vulkan bowed formally, and made to rise, when he felt her hand grab his shoulder. She planted a kiss on his cheek, and he straightened back up, surprised. She flushed beet red and returned the bow. “I hope we meet again some day.” Without another word, she turned and made a beeline for the manor, glancing back over her shoulder a few times.

Vulkan slowly shook his head and grinned. “Kids.”

The shuttle’s ramp dropped, and a pair of Imperial Navy provosts walked down, coming to parade-ground attention at the bottom. As one, they drew their weapons up to attention and clicked their heels sideways, facing each other. Vulkan took the invitation, walking up the ramp. He spotted a pair of luxuriously-appointed chairs facing one another from either side of the small cabin at the top, one of which was occupied by a Techmarine in Salamanders colors. The Techmarine immediately rose to his feet and saluted. “Lord Vulkan. Welcome back.”

“Good to be back, Techbrother,” Vulkan said, dropping his bag to the floor with a *clank*. “I have missed civilization.”

“I’m sure, Forgefather,” the Techmarine said. He stood at ease as Vulkan nonchalantly shoved the bag under one of the chairs and dropped into the unoccupied one with a sigh. “Chapter Master Tu’Shan is awaiting you on board the Chalice of Fire, with the current Forgefather Vulkan.”

Vulkan stared. “The current what?”

“Ah, the title of the person entrusted with recovering the Artefacts you created is Forgefather Vulkan, Lord, in your honor.”

“Oh. Uh, that’ll get confusing fast,” Vulkan said.

“He’Stan is his name, and he was Captain of the Fourth Great Company before ascending to his current rank,” the Techmarine said.

The Techmarine was loaded for bear, Vulkan noted, with what looked like a needler in his mechadendrite and two pistols in his holsters. He pointed them out. “Expecting boarders?”

“No, lord, but it’s entirely possible that we will be dispatched to the fronts as soon as you’re up to speed,” the Techmarine said, reaching for his helmet. He paused, his hand on the seal, and glanced at Vulkan. Vulkan gestured dismissively, and the techmarine removed the helmet. He had been modified with extensive bionics, Vulkan noted, but that was to be expected from a Salamander Techmarine.

“Any idea how long the flight will be?” Vulkan asked.

“Yes, lord, about two days. The warp currents are amazingly strong.”

“They would be,”Vulkan said, shaking his head again. He glanced over the cabin. “Pretty luxurious for an Astartes chapter.”

“It’s not ours,” the Techmarine hastened to explain. “It’s a loaner from the Navy. They had a vessel at the coordinates where we were going to set up our rendezvous, and we saw no harm in them tagging along.”

“Ah.” The two provosts finished whatever they were doing outside and walked back in, securing the ramp. It lifted and sealed in place, and both men took guard positions at the aft of the cabin.

The ship vibrated audibly as its thrusters kicked in, and it accelerated smoothly into the air. Vulkan felt the familiar sensation of being pressed back into his seat. The cabin rocked a bit as the shuttle pulled free of the atmosphere, and the Techmarine leaned forward to press down on the trap of Vulkan’s bag with the toe of his boot.

Vulkan waited for the rumbling to cease a few minutes later before reaching down and lifting the bag. The Techmarine cocked his head, gesturing to the next room on the tiny shuttle. “Lord Vulkan, the Navy crew prepared a bedchamber if you needed it. Your message said that you had had a very trying experience.”

“Indeed, brother, but several days at a beach resort goes a long way,” Vulkan said drily. He stood back up and stretched, nearly touching the ceiling of the cabin. “Still, I get the feeling that rest will once more be a luxury soon enough.”

“Can’t say I’d know, Lord Vulkan,” the Techmarine said in the same tone, “vacation time isn’t exactly on our list of priorities.