Icy Handshakes (Celcia, Esalis)

[Naomi Lang]

Everyone seemed to have their own myths about the Inquisitoriate, most of them stories to scare children into behaving; the usual stuff, bogeymen that came in the night, wraiths that would appear out of nowhere to prey on bad little children who disobeyed their parents. And of course the descriptions of the demon’s lair lined with skeletons and filled with horrors.


They’d be surprised how normal the reception center for the Inquisitorial Citadel really was. Maybe the only sinister thing about the place was the looming obsidian spires of the seven towers over head, but that wasn’t really anything odd on Imperial Centre. From the main entrance, broad steps led up to the central atrium level. The entire area seemed to be a mid-sized park with the flora from the many worlds of the Imperium. Massive arches reached overhead on either side for several floors filled with restaurants and offices. People, humans and aliens alike, threaded every were, eating lunch and discussing business, maybe news from the rim worlds, or even last evening’s game of blitzball. Everything seemed like perfectly normal government administration building, albeit a good deal more extravagant and aesthetic.


Of course this was only a few levels of a single towers and the public wasn’t allowed in many other areas, at least not under strict supervision. Even within the atrium a trained eye might pick up the cameras hiding at every pillar and even some of the trees. Every dark corner had a fully armed Inquisitorial soldier keeping vigilant attention on every newcomer. And if one look very closely, several of the ‘civilians’ had a greater than normal paranoid awareness of their surroundings. The Inquisitoriate was very protective of their secrets, especially from other Imperials.

But every now and then information needed to be shared, and this might very well have been one of those days.

[Celcia]

Central Atrium - Level One

The man's name was Drok, though such information was of little importance. To be quite realistic, the twenty-year old man was as insignificant as any other unknowing civilian that sauntered by. In any case, the male humanoid was on his way to lunch after a hard day at work. He was intending to meet an old acquaintance there and have the usual. A traditional, prosaic, and incredibly unfascinating situation that people seemed perfectly happy to land themselves in.

Those common brown eyes wandered his surroundings, taking in the new plants that had been added on account of the shifting seasons. They were the only things that really changed, unless someone decided to open up a new restaurant. Those never really did well as the inhabitants of this slate toned Citadel tended to hate breaking their routine. It was strange when he thought about it, strange that he was just another one of those denizens.

Tearing his gaze away from the decorative flora, he drew in a deep breath before focusing his sight back to the path before him. No more than two feet away there was a uniformed figure. Just as he had begun to let the air escape his lungs, he was forced to suck it back in. One foot tangled with the other and all the sudden he was falling.

-----

The tight sullust leather of her gloves contricted gently around her nimble fingers as they wrapped themselves about the man's wrist. Having side stepped before the man could barrel into her, she made a brief scan of his features and then began processing the information available to her from the civilian database program. This all took but an instant.

Applying enough haul with her arm to successfully bring the man forward, something behind the sunglasses adorning her face flickered, noticably.

Database Search: Drok Alen'kir.

No threat, inconsequential. The rest of the information would have been unessential to her current objective, he was merely a disturbance. His rushed breathing fanned across her flawless face and she determined that the sensation was unavailing.

Her other hand, which had remained stationary at her side, rose to her face and her index finger and thumb pried gingerly at the coal hued arm of the sunglasses. Their gazes locked, vivid white tearing into the informal brown, and her jaw set. Both structural movements were an indication of what she thought of the man. She was sensitive to the understanding dawning across his own facade.

She pulled him closer, the tips of his shoes scraping against the ground as their disregarded confrontation dragged on. Her pale lips parted and her moderate grip on his limb became demanding. Harsh. Like the unyielding glow of her photoreceptors.

"You should watch where you are going, citizen." Her voice, like tinted glass, was dark and smooth. She released his arm. "You never know who you might run into."

He didn't even bother to apologize. Rather, he scampered swiftly in the opposite direction. She couldn't quite decide if this break in routine was a good thing or...

[Naomi Lang]

Across from the path another humanoid watched the exchange with a smile gracing her lips. Agent Naomi Lang had been watching Celcia since she had entered the building. The black-and-crimson clad officer crouched down near a freshly plant and sifted her hand through the loose dirt as she continued to watch.
<o></o>
It was always interesting to observe those in the atrium, and it was quite the rare opportunity that Naomi actually traveled to the public tower; her career often required her in the Cathedral or military spire.
<o></o>
Still this wasn’t quite the leisurely trip she’d wish. Naomi let out giggle as the civilian scurried away like a scared gizka. Celcia was an intriguing specimen. Agent Lang had seen her in the Citadel before, but only knew of her from what was on paper; something of a liason between the Department of Intelligence and the Office of the Inquisitoriate.
<o></o>
“That was a bit cold don’t you think?” Naomi ran a hand over the vibrant azure petals of freshly planted flowers. Cold, professional, and a definite attitude in her step, Celcia certainly fit right at home with the Inquisitoriate. Though the records explicitly stated she was not to be allowed anywhere outside the public sectors.
<o></o>
The Inquisitors didn’t like outsiders, especially ones labeled as ‘liason’ from another department…which made Naomi’s current orders rather unusual.
<o></o>
Agent Lang turned her gaze to the flowers. “Ithorian Roses. I love these flowers, reminds me of a garden my family had a long time ago.”

[Celcia]

Before Celcia turned to address this female humanoid, she replied to her vocalized thought on how she handled the man from before. The tone of her voice was anything but histrionic and yet at the same time it could not be called monotonous.

"It is deemed a rude action to bump into someone without saying 'excuse me'. As I informed him, he should have watched where he was going and the event of our confrontation would have never happened. What you call cold, my superiors label as standardized protocol."

She pivoted then, the movement swift and quite direct, and singled out the woman with her ideal positioning. Celcia's eyes, however, had begun to wander the cerulean verdure. In particular, the white eyed liason tracked the activity of her hand against the rose's petals.

"Ithorian roses are an azure flora from the rainforests of the fourth planet in the Ottega System. They are favored for their unique hue and sweet aroma. The information concerning your family is irrelevant." She paused, the ghost of an unpracticed smile twisting her lips. "However, so is the elaboration on the flowers."

[Naomi Lang]

Naomi smiled, more cruel than amused, as she ran her hand to the base of one of the flowers, careful not to prick herself on one of the thorn. She snapped the precious flower at its stem and raised it to her face. The dead planted had a honey-sweet smell. Naomi turned her eyes up to the other woman.
<o></o>
“Relevance is dependent on context.” Naomi rose to her feet, cradling the rose in her hands. “Every other plant in that garden mutated and died.” The Imperial squeezed the stem and a sticky ichor seeped from the severed end. “Ithorian roses secrete a fluid to break down nearby nutrients. Completely harmless.”
<o></o>
She tossed the blue flower to Celcia. “But in the presence of certain mineral concentrations, say anything that doesn’t have Ithor’s natural soil, the secretion acts as a catalyst that forms a toxic substance that destroys other flora from the inside out.”
<o></o>
Naomi pointed at the rose in the liaison’s hand. “That is what outsiders are capable of, a blight that eats away internally, unnoticed. Which makes me wonder, are you an Ithorian rose in foreign soil, or are you quite at home?”

[Celcia]

Celcia minded the young woman's expression, noting that the smile was anything but amiable. The tight leather wrapped about her hand let out an audible protest as she clenched her fingers inward into a tight fist.

Relevance is dependent on context.

As she spoke, the boot adorning Celcia's right foot slowly slid across the walkway their confrontation was taking place on. It paused eventually and her loose stance seemed to instantly tighten. Her hand, which was not clenched, came to rest at the small of her back.

The vice grip she had formed loosened just in time for her to catch the flower and yet she did not take her eyes from the woman. She processed each word being said and even though the implication was slightly caustic, her expression remained solidly remote.

"I am what my superiors authorize, which is certainly no outsider."

[Naomi Lang]

Naomi raised an eyebrow, she’d expected a more…emotional…response. Of course there was the fact that this wasn’t really a talk between two people. The Agent was honestly slightly confused on multiple fronts, though she didn’t show it. “Apparently my superiors believe the same.”
<o></o>
No response was expected, strange as most human replicas were programmed to simulate human emotion as close as possible. Naomi liked this new kind, emotions only got in the way on the job. It was a duality that everyone in the Inquisitoriate had to cope with; trading humanity for sanity.
<o></o>
“I am Agent Lang. I will be your guide through this facility…all of it.” As long as it didn’t compromise security or the Inquisitoriate's deepest secrets, but there was no need for that addendum.

[Celcia]

The white hue of her eyes hardened into sterling silver, the rippling irises seeming to rotate for a moment or so after the woman had finished speaking. At that time, a smile that seemed badly out of practice, curved her plush lips. Despite the obvious lack of feeling put into the expression, it was pleasant.

Lifting her hand slowly, she replaced the pitch black sunglasses back upon her face. A blue glow flickered behind them.

"Agent Lang, how sufficient of you to be my guide." She paused, her stance growing slightly more lax but still ever rigid under the scrutiny of this woman, of this world.

[Naomi Lang]

And in a flash, Lang’s demeanor shifted to one of almost childish excitement. It wasn’t often that non-Inquisitoriate were allowed into the towers, and despite being part of the Department of Intelligence, the two sections kept largely to themselves. Naomi was starting to understand the thrill Victor got out of doing stuff like this.
<o></o>
The agent clasped her hands. “Excellent. Let’s get started, shall we?” Oh, hell she was even starting to sound like that nutcase. “This way if you please.” Naomi gestured a path towards a simple door marked inconspicuously as “Employees Only”
<o></o>
“That stance you took, martial arts?”

[Celcia]

Celcia tilted her head and locked her eyes, which peered intently through the lenses in front of them, upon the young woman. To change her comportment so swiftly, it was almost daunting. Excitement? The human replica droid drew back on her lip with her teeth and nibbled at it; Not that the fraction of a gesture really did anything for her anyway.

"I am proficient in many styles fundamental to my primary programming." She replied, hard pressed to respond in kind to her enthusiastic tone. Passing through the door the Agent had opened, her eyes took in everything that was to be seen, which wasn't much yet.

"Do you know martial arts as well, Agent Lang?" She asked, for the sake of conversation.

[Naomi Lang]

Lang shut the door behind and several clunks followed as multiple locks slid into place. The room she had led them in wasn’t very large and led only to a second barrier, this one several layers of reinforced durasteel.
<o></o>
“Some, K’tara and a bit of Echani, but my specialty is in a different field.”
<o></o>
Naomi steped towards the door and put her back to the control panel. She drew her hair away from the back of her neck with a hand.
<o></o>
“I prefer more technical oriented duties.” Anything involving explosives and chemicals it, Naomi was the chief demolitions expert for Project Nightmare and probably the best in the Inquisition.
<o></o>
Whhiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrr-CLICK

A data reader shot from the wall panel and latched into port at the base of Naomi’s skull. The agent didn’t even wince at the sensation of the device sealing into place.
<o></o>
“But it seems that life never caters to our preferences so peripherals are useful.” The heavy blastdoor hissed opened and the reader detached and shot back into the wall paneling, the security system content that Agent Lang did actually belong.

[Celcia]

The stark white irises of Celcia's eyes rotated behind the lenses again as she attempted a closer inspection of the data reading machine. A slick tongue darted out from the red recesses of her mouth and wetted the pale lips that had been set into an unfaltering line. Interesting.

"Technical..." She murmured as her 'mind' ran through the information regarding K'tara and Echani combat styles. Celcia adjusted her gloves for the span of a few seconds and then cupped her hip with one palm.

Processing...

Echani Tiers operational. K'tara programming operational. One hundred thirty-four related data files. Proceed?

Unnecessary.

Affirmative. Search terminated.

"Very interesting..." She added.

[Naomi Lang]

Naomi raised an eyebrow the odd mannerisms, the eye thing was especially unnerving in a way…that and the shifty hand-on-the-hips thing. Granted the people she worked had odd quirks that spooked the hell out her. But this was something different; maybe it had something to do flawless doll-like appearance. HRDs came in two forms, flesh and blood, and wires and hydraulic fluid. Naomi was guessing that Celcia was of the later variety.


She shrugged off the slight lapse in reaction. “Not really, everyone specializes in something. Agent Jerrard could offer a better martial arts display.” Naomi motioned the liaison into the dark corridor beyond. “But if you want to see something interesting...”


The chamber that followed did not brighten any further than its current flickering glow mimicking archaic torches. The walls themselves were of dark obsidian material arching overhead as if hewn from solid stone. The blast door rumbled shut behind the pair, its interior blending into the wall, and the deep sound echoed down the passage way.


“Welcome to the Citadel.” Naomi’s mirthful voice, like that of a child being perfectly at home, clashed with the dark catacombs.

[Celcia]

"A most interesting design, Agent Lang." Celcia told the woman, her voice lacking the fluctuating tone to signify her enthusiasm over the matter. She scanned the solid obsidian stretch of corridor, a gloved hand lifting to remove the opaque lenses from her stark white optical sensors. Placing the sleek, black glasses atop her head, she allowed her photoreceptors to more vividly capture the material make-up of the Citadel without her background processes in the way.

Still, the informative voice rang through her head. She felt a surge through her servomotor but still, she gestured the woman forward.

"After you..."

R₇_Bo3Kr_{2 levels are at prime. Searching...}

[Naomi Lang]

Alright, the emotionless tone was really starting to creep her out. Naomi should have been used to anything be this point. Inquisitor Helghast alone took a hardened mind to deal with if not the job itself. Most people in her shoes would have eaten a laser or gone insane within weeks. But for some reason this HRD really set her off.

"The Citadel is composed of some of the oldest buildings on Imperial Center dating back to archaic times.” Naomi trailed a hand along the wall as if she could feel the ages in the stone. “Additions, destruction, and modification have change the structure over the millennia and only few of these sections are still intact. When the Inquisitoriate took over we took pains to preserve these sections and use them to our needs.”

Darkness and shadow were the core of the Inquisitoriate. Naomi felt it in these corridors, the pulsing of rigorous doctrine, malice seething from the walls, and an indomitable air of iron will.

“Only the Cathedral is unchanged from its original form."<o></o>

[Celcia]

Archaic times.

Though it was utterly unnecessary, as most parts of their conversation had been thus far, the human replica droid drew in a startlingly sharp breath. Pale lips drew back into another one of those grossly fake smiles as the stinging sensation crawled across the synthetic flesh she had been fitted with. As if her innards, all wires and fluid, were hard pressed to release the filtered oxygen, she exhaled with a noticable slowness that was most unnatural.

"You don't say." She finally spoke up, that unreadable smile still sitting half heartedly on her lips.

Vaguely informative.

[Naomi Lang]

Well alright, then.
<o></o>
Naomi turned around and led on in silence. She was well on her way to being disturbed, an amazing feat in itself. Even the most stuck up officers in the Inquisitoriate had some life to them, forced or real. Even Inquisitor Helghast had some measure of humanity……….kind of.<o>

</o> So the agent refrained from the small talk, what use was it speaking to something that didn’t even elicit a response she could work with. Perhaps Victor would have been a better choice for this assignment, but he was off toying with his own pet projects.
<o></o>
Naomi moved along the labyrinth twists and turns with seemingly no concern for direction. The path led the two from catacomb to catacomb and past intricate carvings and statues sculpted directly from the stone, occasionally passing by another uniformed operative. It seemed that anyone could get lost in the warrens. In truth, Naomi had little need to travel this route. But the link from her neural implant to the Citadel’s central AI eased all doubts she may have had about the proper route.<o></o>

“Here we are.”
<o></o>
The pair turned around a final bend before grinding to a halt. Directly in front of Naomi and Celcia loomed a heavily reinforced door. And standing guard at the front, four Centurion droids each at well over two meters in height.<o></o>