Phebia shook her head. "Not on this dustball. Probably doesn't rain more than a handful of times in a year." She tossed her pack back on the truck. "That said I'm sleeping the truck just to be safe."
2005, day 2
" Sounds like a reasonable precaution," Haxta said, still gazing up into the sky. " I suppose we'll continue rotating the watch through the night?"
Haxta nodded. She moved further out into the rest stop and coming to a low rock, sat down on it with a sense of mild distrust, as if she expected the stone to do something. She pulled a ration cooker from her bag and began to set it up. " I don't suppose anyone here is a decent cook?" she asked.
Phebia shook her head negative. "Never learned how. Most of the Veterans would have lashed us if we'd tried to cook our rations anyways." Phebia retrieves a ration pack from her backpack and sits down near Haxta. "I've never even had one warmed up." She looked about the desolate landscape and offhandedly wonders, "Has this world always looked like this? All worlds belong to the Emperor but I can't imagine why anyone would want to build a shrine on this one."
Haxta regarded her own rations for a moment, then shrugged and dumped the package into the cooker anyway. How hard could it be? She considered Phebia's question for a moment before answering. " To add something of worth here?"
" I'm the wrong kind of priestress to answer that," Haxta said, giving the contents of the cooker a stir and peering uncertainly at it. " Certainly isn't logical, but a lot of ways people choose to worship Him aren't."
Pahr holstered his stub auto and silently hopped back down from the halftrack's roof. He sat cross-legged near Phebia and Haxta, setting up his own ration cooker after he prayed.
"Odd, that... Tough to reach." he answered Phebia's question as he deftly stirred some spices into the cooker's contents.
There is only one way of avoiding the war – that is the overthrow of this society. However, as we are too weak for this task, the war is inevitable. -L. Trotsky, 1939
"Such as imagining him as a clockwork automaton?" Phebia prodded.
"I understand the value of making a pilgrim's journey difficult, but this seems excessive, especially for a planet that is already so harsh and... pointless."
Haxta gave Phebia a hooded glance before returning to her dubious cooking attempt. " I suppose," she began slowly, " that to an outside like you, the concept of the Machine God might seem somewhat...odd." She paused to unhook her respirator, wrinkling her nose as she inhaled some of the planet's now unfilter air. " I could try to explain it to you, but I see little point. I doubt you care enough to really try and understand." She tried some of her own cooking, and made a face. Still, it wasn't inedible, so she resigned herself to finishing it.
Phebia chuckled. "Anything would be an improvement. Does it seem odd to anyone else to build the shrine so far from any civilized settlements?"
Trask looked up from his mumbled litany of devotions. "Wouldn't the Adepta Sororitas know more about that than anyone else?" Phebia glanced sharply at Milo, but his face was - for once - entirely free of guile or sarcasm.
I can't stand nothing dull
I got the high gloss luster
I'll massacre your ass as fast
as Bull offed Custer
"Perhaps it's an attempt to establish a new city on the planet?" Marco suggested, sitting down amongst the group with one of his own ration bars.
"You've all been selected for this mission because you each have a special skill. Professor Hawking, John Leslie, Phil Neville, the Wu-Tang Clan, Usher, the Sugar Puffs Monster and Daniel Day-Lewis! Welcome to Operation MindFuck!"
Pahr turned his head to the side, hearing something out of place; the desert was otherwise silent, so it was easy for him to pick out the sound of hoofbeats somewhere nearby. Very close.
"Incoming," He growled, springing to his feet; he leaped atop the halftrack with blinding speed. In less than a second, he had grabbed his rifle and brought the scope to bear on the source of the sound. Four riders were approaching quickly up the road; from what he could make out in the darkness, they were locals, and they were armed.
They didn't seem to be ready to attack, however... Pahr's eye twitched; he wondered whether this was a coincidence, or another attempt to track the group.
He quietly pulled back the rifle's charging handle.
There is only one way of avoiding the war – that is the overthrow of this society. However, as we are too weak for this task, the war is inevitable. -L. Trotsky, 1939
Mikey wrote:Trask looked up from his mumbled litany of devotions. "Wouldn't the Adepta Sororitas know more about that than anyone else?" Phebia glanced sharply at Milo, but his face was - for once - entirely free of guile or sarcasm.
Phebia's snarky reply died on her lips as she looked at Trask's earnest face. "You'd think, but as I said I find it unusual. All the shrines I've seen have been inside cities. The few outside them were rarely so far and in such a desolate landscape.
2008
Phebia dropped her unopened rationpack and stood, bringing her carbine to bear in the direction Pahr had indicated.
Trask put down the bottle he was about to remove from his pack and sprang up at Pahr's warning, backing up against the chassis of the half-track. No matter how long it had been, he was still less than comfortable out in the open as opposed to the corridors of a ship. He pressed one hand to his temple, concentrated for a moment, and said, "No psychic activity, at least. Could these be agents of the Seer... or of the supposed Malleus agent?"
I can't stand nothing dull
I got the high gloss luster
I'll massacre your ass as fast
as Bull offed Custer
