Editing Of Techpriests and Telepaths (section)

==Epilogue==

Callidon frowned at the vidcaster, the image of a certain psyker and techpriest sharing a bed displayed upon it.
 
"I was so damned sure one of them was going to explode before this was all over."
 
This earned him a hearty slap on the back from Regis
 
"I warned you not to bet against me, Percival! I never lose! Though, it would have been nice to see SOMETHING happen between those two. "
 
"One could call this whole affair quite anticlimactic, milord."
 
Callidon found himself the recipient of yet another friendly slap from Regis.
 
"Masterful wordplay, Percival! Perhaps you can give them some direction for next time!"
 
Callidon shuddered at the thought.
 
"I do believe you would be better suited in that department, milord."
 
"Quite right, Percival, quite right. Oh, and do enjoy all that red tape, friend. It is such a bore placing a new Planetary Governor in power. Especially one of those simpering puppets the Inquisition loves so very much. Much too much paperwork involved, I always say."
 
"Yes, milord." Callidon stated with a sigh.
 
"Oh, dear cheer up, Percival, I'm sure you’ll do better next time!"
 
"Next time?"
 
A sly grin crept onto Regis’ face.
 
"Why of course, Percival! Next time. You see, a certain lady Inquisitor friend of ours has decided that I need a little 'spiritual guidance' and has instructed me to take a missionary onto my crew. And seeing as I was already planning a quick stop by Carlos McConnell once this Obsallis business was all said and done, I figured we should see how well one of those Sororitas ladies gets on with an abhuman."
 
"You cannot be serious, milord."
 
Regis’ grin only widened.
 
"So what do you say, Percival? Double or nothing?"
 
Callidon mulled it over a glass of amasec. Summoning his resolve, he downed its contents in one swig and eyed his Lord-Captain.
 
"If I win, you have to call me by my name. It’s Callidon, dammit!"
 
Regis sipped at his own glass.
 
"Don’t I always, Percival?"
 
----
 
 
Waiting in Lord-Captain Regis’ private shuttle for their last venture to Obsallis, a stormtrooper leaned over and whispered to the Arch-Militant.
 
"Hey boss, you think we should we tell her?"
 
"Who?"
 
"The psyker. She’s wearin’ cogboy robes."
 
He looked over at Akadia, clad in red, grease-stained robes that were a few sizes too large for her and apparently rather itchy.
 
"No need to embarrass the girl. ’Sides, those two still think they're bein' sneaky about it."
 
"Hey boss, how do think they–"
 
"By Him upon the Throne, I hope I never find out."

[[Category:stories]] 
[[Category:Stories/Warhammer 40,000]] 
[[Category:Warhammer 40,000]]