The moon, where the legless servitor sat at a scriptorium, high in the fourth tower of Thornz Tower and recorded the message that the psychic relay had caputred from the imaterium, did not exist. Not on any imperium maps. It was a stretch of empty space in an out of the way sector, seldom frequented by even the most desperate of rogue traders.
The moon, the base, and the fourth tower of Thorn Tower, were - if you asked any well-meaning and even well-informed member of the Administratum - were all figments of a febrile imagination. It was not on their charts, and so was not worthy of discussion. Which is what made it a perfect place to station the hide out of one of the most feared and deadly of all the Emperor's servants: an Inquisitor.
This one happened to be the field operations hide out of Wodin Grime, Ordo Xenos, currently operating under the blue rosette.
The servitor, an unthinking torso, had once been programmed to write in the finest copperplate, but with the burning out of brain circuits, it now moved the quill with slow and deliberate movements of the elbow, giving a distinctively archaic look to the message on the paper.
It reached the end of the message, and the quill remained suspended over the place where the next letter should start.
Minutes passed. A drop of ink fell from the quill and smudged the last letter.
A bell rang - high and shrill and distant - and ten mintues or so later, a robed figures entered the room and slid the vellum from the scriptorium desk and onto a red cushion.
Another bell rang and someone - or rather something - screamed. A terrifying and bone chilling sound. It came from down below, deep down below. A drop of blood fell from the servitor's nose. Water began to freeze around the room. The scream stopped.
The footsteps receded.
The message was delivered.
