Editing Commissar Techpriestess love story (section)

=== Chapter 16 ===
“To this end, I also put myself forward for a full evaluation to ensure the purity of my own soul.” He said, smiling with satisfaction to himself, before he continued, “I shall, as it would seem to benefit both my own and the Inquisitors work, also investigate the Magos, Radigan, Caelistis, to ensure that no possibility of taint exists. If there is anything else Sir Inquisitor requires, please do not hesitate to ask. Working in the name of Him on Earth, Commissar Hephastus, Rogal, of the battalion.”
His Dataslate chimed once more, signalling its completion of its task. The Commissar reread his datacast, making a couple of changed manually, poking at the screen based keyboard with his good hand, before sending the datacast. He pushed the slate away, and sat back in his chair, taking a long draught from his juice bottle, before setting it down, and waiting. Minutes past, and the commissar sat, running over the information he had received. Caelistis and Tiberius, he mused happily, that explained everything. His friend’s strange behaviour about Octavia’s presence at the Vehicle pits, the strange presence of oil on his uniform. The other behaviour was normal, Tiberius usually was bruised from one woman or another, and his charming nature meant he was never at a loss for someone to give him a bit of a bruising, but, the commissar reasoned, Caelistis was perfect for the job. Pulling her file up, Rogal began to read as he waited for a reply from the inquisitor. As he read, his smile just got bigger, his gut instinct about the slender priestess of the Mechanicum confirmed by what he read. He laughed as he read some of the lesser [REDACTED] files that his commissarial position allowed him to access, glad to know that his friend was in good hands and mechadendrites.

His primary dataslate hummed at him, a blinking rune indicating his new datacast. A few taps and the message filled the screen, Rogal leaning over to read the response.
“Commissar. In light of your prompt response to our enquiries, we have redacted our suspicions of heretical behaviour. However, we do ask that you unofficially and as clandestinely as possible interrogate the magos. We ask you to do this as we wish to avoid any potential cross jurisdictional friction between us and the Mechanicum. We also ask, however, that both the lieutenant and yourself report to your unit’s sanctioned psyker for a delta level psychsweep. He has already been briefed, and will take the necessary actions required. We hope you understand this is merely a formality, not an accusation of heresy. May His Light be your guide, Inquisitor Geergori.”
Rogal sighed, closing the message. He hated psychsweeps, they gave him headaches and left him with a metallic taste in his mouth for hours. Tapping his earbead, he patched into the voxnet, a warm, sultry voice filling his ear, “How can I help, Commissar,” The voice purred,
“Cleo, is Tiberius there?”
“No sir,” disappointment tingeing her voice, “I really can’t do anything for you?”
Rogal sighed, every voxgirl treated him like this, which is why he preferred to let Tiberius handle his communications. “Cleo, listen, I need to get in contact with Tiberius, can you please patch me through using the following vox id?”
“I suppose I can, Sir,” She purred happily, “Right, go ahead,”
Rogal rattled of the vox id code, and was rewarded by the quiet beeps of it being entered and connecting. The ringing tone of connection sang quietly in the commissars ear as he paced his tent, waiting for his friend to pick up.
The rousing strains of The Hero’s March, second movement, filled the inside of the chimera, its two occupants pausing, staring at the crumpled pile of clothes on the floor.

Disentangling himself from his mistresses grip, Tiberius scrambled, fishing in his pockets for his dataslate. He tore the thin metal slab from his jacket pocket, before jamming his earbead in and pressing the connection rune. Caelistis pouted, her mechadendrites coiling back towards her, as she sat down on one of the seats inside the APC.
“Rogal?” Tiberius croaked, “This better be urgent,”
The slender techpriestess adjusted the tight leather around her chest, but paused, seeing her lover tense, the lean corded muscles in his back bulging. The biospex feed in her vision registered his elevated heart rate, the flooding of O2 in his system, heightened adrenaline, and various other anomalies, before she whispered, “Is everything okay Tiber?”
The vox officer waved at her to be quiet, as he listened to his commissarial friend. The slender techpriestess stood, moving closer to her troubled lover, her mechadendrites reaching out to gently stroke his back, tracing over the welts and bruises that covered him like red and blue striped camouflage. Tiberius nodded, “I understand, I’ll see you soon. You’re one of the Emprah’s own, you know that right?”
Caelistis heard a muffled voice from the earbead in Tiberius’s ear, as he tapped it, turning to face her with wide, worried eyes. Concern entered her face, as she raised a hand to the vox officers bare chest, “What’s the matter, my little fleshbag?”
“The Inquisition.”
Caelistis felt her artificial blood go cold, “The inquisition?”
The Vox officer nodded, as he refastened his trousers, shrugging to reseat his suspenders over his shoulders. “You know my little, issue. Well, this happens every so often, usually when a new guy comes on the beat. Rogal says the rosette carrier wants us to just go see Hjarl and let him give us a deltasweep.”

The slim priestess cocked her hip to the side, crossing her arms, a mechadendrite throwing a stray cable back over her ear, “So, because some heresyhound doesn’t like our… affectionate nature, he wants you to have your mind groped by some half crazed, all creepy aether sniffer?”
The Vox officer nodded, wincing as he sat, smiling despite himself. “That’s it,” He said, groaning as he leaned forward to grab his boots. He felt cold tendrils coiling by the side of his face, lifting his head to look at his leather clad love. “You better come back taint free, or I’ll never talk to you again. I’d threaten to kill you or make you wish you were never born,”
“But I like that,” He said, a small chuckle spilling from his lips as he continued to tie his boots. The slender priestess of the Mechanicum bent at the waist, leaning down and kissing Tiberius on the forehead.
“Just come back, okay?”
He nodded, standing and embracing the leather clad servant of the Omnissiah, “I will. I’ll make it up to you, dinner at mine tonight?”
Caelistis nodded into his neck, “I’ll bring the amasec,”
He kissed her roughly before turning on his heel and slipping from the chimera’s hatch, leaving his barely dressed sweetheart alone with her thoughts. Shaking her head, Caelistis returned to her own pile of clothes, her mechadendrites releasing the black leather strap from around her chest, the cool air colder against sweaty skin. She sighed, running a hand over her cyber mantled stomach, the small scale like plates rippling under the pressure. Pulling her red with black trim dress over her head, a mechadendrite doing the zipper up behind her back, she forced her breathing under control. The inquisition wouldn’t risk confronting the Mechanicum over her. The system of checks and balances maintained by the servants of the Omnissiah severely reduced the capacity for conventional heretical acts.

Rogal sat in the air conditioned lobby of the Administratum bunker, leafing through an old quartermasters ordering manual, as he waited for his friend. Hearing the double set doors hiss open, he looked up, Tiberius looking like he always did, handsomely disheveled. The Hulking commissar stood, offering his hand to the vox officer,
“Here we go again, old friend.” He said softly, the same reassuring words he said every time the had to do this. Tiberius nodded, shaking Rogal’s huge hand, “Once more into the breach.”
The pair walked up to the secretariat at the main desk, the commissar commanding her attention with a small cough. Looking up from her dataslate, she nodded,
“You boys must be here to see Hjarl,” She said, tapping at a few keys, Rogal nodded, “Just a moment, sirs.”
The secretariat tapped her headpiece, whispering quietly, looking at her slate once more. Behind her, an elevatus chimed, and she smiled, looking back at the huge commissar and his lean friend,
“The elevates already knows where to go, just step inside. The Emperor protects.” 
The pair did the sign of the eagle, before circling around the main desk to enter the elevatus chamber. Stepping inside, the pair turned, years of training putting them at parade rest, as the doors slid shut with a hiss and a click. With a hum, the elevatus began to descend, the numbers clicking down. Rogal took his hat off and ran a hand through his hair, before he spoke,
“So, looks like I’m not the only one who’s got a taste for metal,”
“With all due respect sir, shut your mouth. I’m about to have old Hjarl grope my cortex, I do not need him seeing detailed versions of what I’ve been up to.”
Rogal laughed, “Come now, it’s Hjarl, he’s seen worse.”
A grin split Tiberius’s face, “Oh, yeah, whole screaming maw of the empyrean, right. Did you hear he found a lady?”
Rogal shook his head, “Administratum has its own Commissar, not my jurisdiction,”

Tiberius stifled a laugh, “Right, so you didn’t know?”
“No. What’s she like?” the hulking commissar asked, gingerly pulling himself up to his full height. His head hit the ceiling, and he sighed, hunching over and leaning against the wall.
“From what I hear, she’s rather, normal, for someone in her line of work.”
Rogal laughed, “So, still a few shots short of a charge pack,”
Tiberius nodded, “But he’s happy, which is what counts, Emprah smiles on his happy children and all that,”
The commissar nodded, as the elevatus chimed, coming to a stop with a slight jerk. The doors opened with a quiet hiss, a bespectacled secretariat waiting for them. 
“Gentlemen, follow me.”
Rogal tilted his head, Tiberius sighing as he lead off, the burly commissar ducking as he left the elevatus. A low hum filled their earbeads, the vox officer tapping his out of habit. The Secretariat looked over her shoulder, “I will ask you to please deactivate your earbeads, the shielding down here renders them useless anyway, but please observe protocol.”
Tiberius rolled his eyes, tapping his earbead, Rogal following suit, as they continued down the stark white hallway. The secretariat stopped outside a door, turning on her heels, which clicked smartly on the tiled floor. The pair looked at the heavily armoured hatch, the faint light of protective sigils seeming to glow from under the metal. Their host swiped her passcard, the door rumbling as it receded back, before its locks disengaged with a cascade of clicks and thuds. Ice cold air assaulted the trio, as the secretariat bowed politely, “The Hjarl will see you now.” Tiberius nodded, folding his arms against the cold, as he stepped across the threshold, Rogal putting his hat to his chest in protocol mandated thanks, before following his friend into the frosty darkness.