Before they leave Ven says this:
"I'm Ven of House Targot, Rank Sargent of the 2nd Mechanical core, Ash Breathers regiment"
In the room.
"Sargent Targot, reporting for duty Sir" he says snapping a salute and then taking a seat
The Lieutenant waits until Drexel has left the room and closed the door behind him before he addresses the cell any further.
"Lieutenant Harmon Ostellian, at your service. I have been briefed on your identities already.", he says. The man cannot help but glance at Pens when he says this. He acknowledges Ven's salute then looks towards Xipil.
"Straight to business. First, any ship crew going dirtside is at the discretion of myself or the captain. There is certainly no leave allocated here. Our crew is stretched thinner than we would like, and none are Inquisition. That said, if you require armsmen or other support, we can oblige, within our means."
"Second, there have been no hails or astropathic communications from Novabella since we entered the system. Preliminary scans indicate that life seems to be proceeding apace but the locals have not acknowledged our arrival. The captain intends on approaching the planet and enter orbit silently. He can of course adapt this course of action to better suit your requirements."
"Third, the Ship's Master expects that we will achieve orbit in just over 14 standard days. We could shave several days off if we abandon stealth, of course."
"Officially, His Enduring Light is present to 'troop the colours', something that hasn't happened in recent centuries. The captain, myself, and select members of the command staff on board understand that this was ultimately initiated by your master. We understand that you are tasked with investigating the silence of Novabella for these part twenty-odd years. The captain expects that you will inform us if communications or more drastic action will be required from this vessel."
"Understood. It would seem likely that vox technology would be extremely rare on this planet, consequently it would be more efficient if we were loaned a vox as well as times you would be in range. Failing this at least a frequency to contact you on as well as setting up certain code phrases to identify changes in operational status."
"If we openly land on the planet that will attract no small amount of notice and questions regarding us. Would you have a means of deployment onto the planet without making this obvious?"
"Of course Lieutenant. A stealthy approach would be best, in my opinion. This problem, while crucial, is not time sensitive.
What kind of orbital drop capabilities do you have? Shuttles, Fighters, drop pods...
I'd also like a full list of this ships defense and offensive capacities. Do you have any experience in pin point orbital strikes or are you just equip for saturation bombing?"
Ostellian thinks on Xipil and Ven's words for a time, then nods.
"Tech-Priest Xipil, I imagine that you are correct in that regard. I will authorise the loan of a vox-caster for your use, in addition to the assigned Arvus lighter. A Naval rating pilot can be assigned to you if you require their services."
"Sergeant Targot, as a cobra-class destroyer, His Enduring Light is equipped with plasma torpedoes which can be used for precise strikes, by the standards of orbital bombardments. 24 torpedos, up to four per salvo. It also possess Mars Pattern Macrocannons, which have considerably more ammunition available to them but far less accuracy. Our orbital drop capacity is limited to lighters and supply shuttles."
"I imagine that any shuttle approaching Recompense will be seen and trigger a flurry of activity, whether to fulfill their Imperial tithes or to seize weapons. As a young colony world with a limited technology base, an arrival elsewhere on the planet is unlikely to be problematic if you instead wish discretion. Frankly, unless there has huge investment by outside parties in the last two decades, I imagine you could land on most places on Novabella without much fuss."
"I have had the opportunity to research the world's history and customs, at least to what degree a few borrowed tomes allow.", he adds with a half-smile.
"Depending on what approach you seek, you could for example pretend to be labourers migrating to a new village, seeking work. Rogue trader or free captain entourages could work also if you wish a flexible cover."
”Well, whatever we choose, we need a good cover for this...” She waved a hand at the daemonhost.
As he is about to walk out of their bunk, he pauses, then looks to his armored charge. "Pens, grab that chest. Might be handy to hold on to, eh?"
--------------------
Daxio is keenly aware that the hallways they pass through have been emptied, no doubt because of their mission... and their companion. Glancing back at him, the thought crosses his mind, 'Damn, if any ratings see him, they'd be likely to raise the alarm. He's an unsettlin' one. It's going to be hard planetside keeping him under wraps.' Shaking his head, he continues down the corridors until they reach their destination.
Entering the chamber, he snaps to attention and salutes, "Daxio Scavran, Armsman First Class, Twistcatcher's Aide, of the cruiser Dauntless Spirit. At your service." For those who have paid attention to his speech pattern thus far, it is clear Daxio is trying to maintain a far more formal diction than before.
Daxio lets the Guard Sergeant and the Techpriest jump to the lead, he was a man of action, not necessarily words. When the sergeant calls for a full breakdown of His Enduring Light's capabilities, a bemused look sneaks onto his face, and he drops into his more natural speech pattern. "Pardon me, sergeant, but are you a'ready plannin' a full orb'tal assault? Such an order might be 'yond our scope, don' you reckon?"
As Valdear raises her concern, he nods his head. "I doubt many o' us could pass for natives, so claimin' to be laborers movin' won't likely last more 'en a sec. A free cap'ain could make sense, specially given our diverse nature. Maybe we say the big 'un is an ogyrn, servin' as our cap'ain's bodyguard. Doubtful they'd know the diff'rence. An' wit two weeks' time, sure we can come up with some kind of robe or cloak for it."
Pens stands impassively, holding the chest it has been bade to carry. It does not comment on the proceedings but seems to watch intently.
"Agreed, my presence alone would be of note. However if we identify as Free Traders they will wonder where our ship is. We could inform people we are labourers but upon dedicated inquiry state that we're representatives from a free Captain who has sent us to look for opportunities as he is looking to alter his or her trade route. Far less attention than a Rogue Trader or agents of the Inquisition. We can be tight lipped about when we will be picked up and make vague allusions to our discrete trade mission having a medium length period of a few months."
Turning back to the naval officer he adds. "A pilot would be unnecessary. I have conducted operations with the Imperial Navy and am a certified support craft pilot. I would not test my skills in a dogfight against an Imperial Navy pilot but I can set an Arvus Lighter down in a suitable area. An isolated location where it can lay unseen while we trek towards habitable areas might be best."
"Daxio I'm not planning on an orbital assault but the Emperor rarely sends me into predictable situation. Besides you've served, when was the last time the Intel matched the mission scope.
I like the rogue trader idea. It would give us status in their eye's and excuse any eccentric's but I'd like to at least try a stealth approach first. See if we can't blend into the crowd first"
"I like the Tech Priest's idea. Gives us flexibility, allows us to be "caught" if someone catches us offguard. Protecting one lie with another lie is always a good plan, it makes the questioner feel good that they figured things out. There's no arbitrators on the planet so an answer will likely appease whoever is asking." Enoch speaks up from his seat, having been quiet and observant since they left their assigned cabin. "We land somewhere quiet, investigate the locals, see what we can find. I'm decent enough at creating a cover story to cover my ass."
Ostellian adds:
"You five will have reasonable access to the ship sections, to help you acquire what you need for your plans, which approach developed. The sixth will need to remain isolated from the crew, both now and on the return journey. Do you require anything else from me or the captain at this time?"
"I take it the shuttle has standard Imperial Navy markings? Would it be agreeable with the correct supplications to change it's heraldry temporarily."
"It does. I will see if your...brethren will be willing to cooperate before saying one way or the other."
"If it did not have an impact mission efficiency I would not suggest it. I am well aware of frustrations regarding the unexpected logistics regarding sourcing pigmentation. If the interior is not changed the machine spirits honour should be satisfactorily upheld without having to go through reconsecration and re dedication."
Turning his attention back to Enoch he elaborates. "I would seek to promote the ruse of working for a Free Captain rather than a Rogue Trader, a lower profile and harder for them to gather information. Though I am familiar with several dynasties if we do choose that route."
The techpriest is a pilot, seems he can use what he builds, not a bad companion to have. "Like Techpriest Xipil, I too can pitch a lander. Dat said, we might want a pilot - if we leave the ship unattended as we wonder the planet, someone might reckon its for the takin'. An', if'n we need it in a pinch, saves a trip back to where we 'eft it. Make sense?"
Daxio listens to the multi-tiered cover story with reservation. "Confess, I'm wary playin' at native laborers will end in folly. We have no knowledge of the last two decades on this world. And I reckon none of you know the particular sound of their tongue? Not sayin' I oppose it, but we gotta be careful. If our first impression is an easily seen lie, would it not be harder for us to earn their trust?"
After the exchange with his allies, Daxio turns to the leiutenant.
"Leiutenant, by yer leave, I'd request access to the ship's quartermaster. We're all drawn 'ere abruptly, think we each need a bit o' kit to prepare for our mission. Finally sir, as I said 'fore, I was the Twistcatcher's aide, I'd be happy to assist wit any such duties as you see fit while we approach Novabella. Sir."
The techpriest is a pilot, seems he can use what he builds, not a bad companion to have. "Like Techpriest Xipil, I too can pitch a lander. Dat said, we might want a pilot - if we leave the ship unattended as we wonder the planet, someone might reckon its for the takin'. An', if'n we need it in a pinch, saves a trip back to where we 'eft it. Make sense?"
Daxio listens to the multi-tiered cover story with reservation. "Confess, I'm wary playin' at native laborers will end in folly. We have no knowledge of the last two decades on this world. And I reckon none of you know the particular sound of their tongue? Not sayin' I oppose it, but we gotta be careful. If our first impression is an easily seen lie, would it not be harder for us to earn their trust?"
After the exchange with his allies, Daxio turns to the leiutenant.
"Leiutenant, by yer leave, I'd request access to the ship's quartermaster. We're all drawn 'ere abruptly, think we each need a bit o' kit to prepare for our mission. Finally sir, as I said 'fore, I was the Twistcatcher's aide, I'd be happy to assist wit any such duties as you see fit while we approach Novabella. Sir."
"Leave granted, armsman. If you have time to spare, our twistcatcher could use able hands."
Two weeks after entry into the Novabella system
The form of His Enduring Light is not long after entering a stable orbit over the small northern icesheets of Novabella.
The Arvus lighter launches, its pilot sure of their skills. The cell of Inquisition acolytes on board have made their preparations, arranged their cover, and readied their equipment.
The shuttle descends through the atmosphere above a relatively isolated area of Novabella's one true continent. Townships here are at least several kilometres apart from each other, and none are near Recompense.
As the shuttle enters the lower atmosphere, the pilot picks up a faint signal beacon. The displays on the Arvus show wooded areas in between fields of crops. Many of the latter are mixed to create symbols such as aquilas and open eyes. Dotted through the landscape are the small towns of this region of Novabella. Also visible are several tithe-caravans carrying huge loads along wide roads, some towed by throngs of labourers, some pulled by primitive mechanical contraptions, towards a dense collection of buildings tens of kilometres away.
"I would suggest we set down in one of the isolated wooded areas and from there traverse the terrain before meeting up with one of the caravans. The travellers might prove to be talkative and let us gather some information before encountering anyone in an official capacity... though a small settlement would limit the spread of information regarding us."
"I've been able to acquire 3 outfit's of local design. I suggest those of us that are least noticeable wear then so that we can gather information while the main group distracts the local authorities.
I believe myself, Enoch and Daxio are best suited to this task"
And in a cabin far away from any sensitive equipment, Pens removes its helmets visor. The strangely blank form underneath seemed to copy the surface of the mask it had removed, except for those inky black pools of void that served as eyes, those flared now to life as galaxies were born and died in the span of seconds within those orbs. Through it all, the twin warp stars that served as pupils narrowed and the flesh seemed to explode and twist under stress, hard cheek bones jutted out and smoothed as color raced along to replace the dull grey that once was. Eyes formed in sockets, a mouth tore horribly out of blank flesh before taking a more pleasing shape, the nose takes on a more defined look as it lengthens and thins, and long flowing golden hair spills forth from scalp while nearly silver white eyebrows faintly grace the feminine physique. The rest of her body began to take one proportions all at once pleasing and unnatural in their perfection. Muscular definition inflated along every inch of her now toned body as belly flattened and hips jutted. Obvious feminine characteristics sprouted or sunk in and wrapped themselves in a dizzying display of warp taint before assuming natural skin tones and perfect proportions to make tongues lull and heads turn.
The newly minted female form picked up her suit, though her collar was still firmly attached around her neck, and she waited patiently for her keeper to return.
Valdear went to check on the warp-monstrosity that was Pens, and came in to find...a beautiful woman? She looked at it with disgust, and a hint of jealousy. ”You can shapeshift?” She asked, looking at it warily. She gripped her hammer tightly. The animalistic part of her brain screamed at her to brain the monstrosity, but she fought it down. ”If we are to be working together...” She began. ”...what are your powers? What can you do? And what *are* you?” She asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. It felt like she was talking to a creature that had stepped out of the legends that the elders told to scare children into behaving. It made her wonder how much was actually real, and how much was made up. By forcing herself to talk to it, she was trying to establish her bravery.
"Yeah, I'm fine with that Ven, we're the best to go undercover compared to the mutant, the tech-priest, and the obvious muscle." Enoch murmured, checking over his autopistol one last time before keeping it on his hip. The chainsword would be hidden on his back underneath the clothing of the locals; an extra tool just in case things got too close and personal.
"I am Pens friend Valdear of Gregorm, and I am a loyal servant of the Emperor may he reign over Terra for all time. I am called a twist, an aberrant mutation in the human form caused by exposure to corruption. I worked the fields that kept an ancient ship bringing its cargo of souls to holy Terra itself so they could be tested and given to what purposes they could find in service to the Empire." She does not smile naturally, not being a motion she can normally accomplish.
"My soul is tattered from long service against that which is profane friend Valdear, I have forgotten more time then most have ever lived. The Emperor still has use for me, and I will serve till such time as I am found unfit for service or expend my life against the darkness that encroaches upon this great vessel we call the Imperium. And when I die there will be another to take my place... the field must hold."
None of that made sense to Valdear, so she decided to just think of it as being cursed. It seemed easiest that way. ”Were you a woman before you were cursed? And what is it that you can do?” She asked.
Ven throws two rough overalls to Enoch and Daxio.
"Enough with the chatter. Enoch, Daxi put these on. Over armour if you can without armour if you can't. Remeber this is a recon mission first and foremost. If we get scrubbed we abort and retreat to the shuttle and bug out.
Light load outs. If we get into a protracted fire fight we're already f&&+ed.
I think we should start with their Administratum and work from there.
Any other suggestions?"
"I do not remember if it even mattered what I was before I wasn't, let alone what I wasn't anymore. I am Pens now, as you are friend Valdear of Gregorm. I can exercise control of my form when I focus, and I am large and very hard to terminate."
"I would request you acquire a backpack for me. The most obvious part of my appearance is my mechandrites, if I can obfuscate them then at least without close scrutiny then I could theoretically pass unnoticed."
"While you perform social reconnaisance I can make an examination of some of the local flaura and fauna. They might prove useful in construction material, sustenance or as assets such as poisons or medicines. If we have to remove an obstacle who would expect off worlders to use local poisons after all?"
Daxio spent his two weeks in transit on His Enduring Light serving the twistcatcher of the vessel. This earned him more than a bit of respect among the ship's armsmen and some extra thrones, both of which helped to make his efforts to supply himself before their mission far more successful. He also was able to scavenge a few things from the twists he brought in, a common practice in his trade. He spent the his evenings tinkering with the sniper rifle he had been previously working on, stripping it down into a compact, skeletonized version of its former self.
This also allowed him to avoid Pens. Though the creature was his 'charge' now, he had not spent any time with it. He had passed by its cell several times each day to ensure it was still present, but nothing more. Only when the time had come for them to gather and depart for planetfall had he come to summon the beast. Upon pounding on the door and being summoned to enter, he steps through, "Are you ready to -" a look of dumbfounded shock stretches across his face, accompanying in no small part by a boyish mile and a hint of flush on his cheeks suggesting of slight embarrassment. "Um, Pens?"
-----------------------------
Daxio catches the bundle of ragged cloth from Targot, looks down at them, then back up with a raised eyebrow. Holding up the threadbare canvas-like jumpsuit in one hand, he points at the ceramite plates upon the guard sergeant's chest. "Yer plannin' to pull these on over that armor? Doubt these folk be 'avin' bits like these." He knocks on his own reinforced armor. "If it don' rip doin' it, at best we'll look like bunch a malformed grox'erders. No, best be movin' light."
With a sigh, Daxio begins stripping out of his armor and kit. After he does, he pulls on the coveralls, then goes and retrieves a roll from his gear, unties a strap and shakes it out to reveal a faded gray storm coat. Like the coveralls, it is weathered and beaten, but clearly still in serviceable condition. While not a perfect match for the coveralls, it, along with a simple scarf around the neck, adopt better to go with the look than his armor could. For any paying attention, it actually seems as though Daxio now looks more at home in the look, then in the uniform he had previously worn. He tucks a stub pistol into a pocket in the coat, then hoists a small rifle, bundling it up in in a simple sack, which he slings over his shoulder so it hangs across his back.
"I would suggest that with suitable padding the armour could be disguised as obesity. However given the local nutritional intake you would not pass for labourers."
Enoch catches the dirty overalls, examining them for a moment before giving a shrug. It would be a bit of a bulky fit but his armored bodyglove shouldn't get too much in the way of the worker's clothing. Getting dressed, he would secure his chainsword to his back but keep the autopistol upon his side, easily within reach at all times. It seems only natural for Enoch to be in these kinds of clothing, the coveralls fitting loosely to his form.
"Seems right. Let's go mates." Leaving the Lander behind, Enoch would take a deep, long breath of the open air. There was almost a faint smile upon his face as he let his body take it all in. A whole new world. A new sky. New air. New everything. This is what the service was all about. There would be little time for waiting though, before Enoch turned to Daxio and Ven. "You know which way we're going?"
Unwilling to part with his armour Ven puts the overalls on over it. He does take off this helmet though and stows that in the shuttle.
"Hmm, I'm not sure. But I think this way would be a good start"
"This is intriguing..."
Daxio looks on the direction the Guardsman points. He glances across the horizon a bit when his eyes catch something that reminds him of life back home. "Sergean', no' meaning to be disagreeable, but thrashin' through those fields don' seem too clear. Reckon their's a path by that there water tower. Now, stay low an' keep yer tongue tigh'."
Pulling his storm coat close, he makes off in the direction he had identified as likely containing people.
The stealthier trio of Daxio, Enoch, and Ven manage to find their way towards the caravan without excessive delay. At the edge of trees, they see about twenty locals who wear thick weavings of homespun materials, with heavy boots and wide poncho-like coverings adorned with icons to the Harvest-Father. They are gathering crops under the supervision of four individuals who fit the description of Sodality Tithe-Guard and who appear to be waiting for the tithe-caravan that approaches from the distance.
*******************
The more obvious trio of Pens, Valdear, and Xipil have the option of walking in the direction of the tithe caravan.
In his studies, Xipil discovers two points of note.
The first is that can see the surrounding fields are all arranged with mixed crops in an effort to display huge Imperial symbols of the Aquila and Adeptus Ministorum icons, plus several unfamiliar images that resemble huge eyes.
The second is that this effort is partially successful because of the general issue with the crops: they are ill-suited to the local conditions and they are poorly planted. The yield is a fraction of what it could be, even without involving technological assistance.
"Potentially for artistic or religious reasons the locals have arranged mixed crops in the fields to fashion huge Imperial symbols of Aquila and Adeptus Ministorum." He holds up his optical mechadendrite if anyone looks like they are about to interject at this point.
"Why did we not notice them while landing you are thinking. The crops are ill suited to the local conditions using inferior techniques... The yields are a fraction of what they could be. This discovery alone is worth our trip, yields could be increased significantly and aid with the planets tithe to the Imperium as well as facilitate increased nutritional intake by the locals promoting growth in the population and increased productivity."
"Additionally I deduce from this that the advice of the Priest of Mars to this world is likely being ignored or they are dead."
Ven will go up to the locals and begin asking questions about the caravan and where the goods get shipped.
If pressed he'll claim his local seed scribe sent him to double check some details
”Never seen so much food before, just lying around.” Valdear muttered. It made sense that there would have to be places like this, to feed the Emperor’s vast armies. But to see so much food being grown that the locals made art with it? It was hard to wrap her head around. And known that this yield was but a fraction? It was certainly something to think about. She could only begin to wonder at how many laborers it would take to work the land.
Enoch follows the others through the trails, trying to find their way to the caravan. Somewhere along the way though, they ended up instead being at the destination where the tithe was waiting to be delivered. Cursing his first bit of luck since really being free, Enoch follows Ven out into the crowd to help get some questions answered and cover his ass if things go wrong. It always looks suspicious if only one person is asking. If two people are asking, it looks far more official to those watching and those being questioned.
"Please note as already detailed the blessings and processing leads to large amounts of spoilage. So a fraction of the potential yields compounded by ineffectual processing means the Imperium is being cheated by incompetence. I have seen the hubris of the surplus social class but even to me this is surprisingly irresponsible."
Daxio stays loose moving among the laborers, negative thoughts chasing through his mind. 'We look to different, we stand out. Damn this sergeant, so cavalierly asking his questions. This is going to sour, fast.' He took more than a few moments to size up the Tithe Guards, including the nature and quality of their kit and their general attitude toward the laborers.
Pens is silent as they walk, keeping her opinions to herself and allowing the tech priest to drone on about the plant matter. She had no interest in the food stuffs unless they shed light on the question they were sent to answer.
The farmers do look up at the newcomers in surprise but rapidly get back to focusing on their labours.
In contrast, the trio of titheguard turn to face the newcomers. They wear poorly-maintained flak armour and each carry a shock maul and a bolas.
Ven and Enoch approach, asking about the destination of the goods.
One of the titheguard takes the initiative to speak up, in a slightly-coarse local accent.
"Tithe-caravan's heading for Recompense, no stops except for picking up more tithe. It won't be loaded up before the next service though. Who are you anyhow?", the question delivered with an easy air of curiosity.
One of the others nods towards the west-facing road.
"Aldric, there's another three coming."
Daxio gets the distinct impression that these titheguard are surprised and more curious than hostile. These men are not fully honed soldiers but are fit, tough, and armed.
*********************
Walking east, Pens, Xipil, and Valdear see a group of people in the distance - including Ven and Enoch speaking with armed figures.
Xipil made sure to keep his mechandrites still and retracted them under his robe... not that his other augmentations weren't telling but shouldn't be spotted at a distance. His bright blue robes hardly blended in with the crops. "Lets not get much closer. If the locals become hostile we can still render assistance, if they want our help they can signal us. They are the more discrete group."