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"It is in the crucible of war, the seething cauldron of death and woe, that one finds glory and the measure of his fellow man."
-Attributed to Lord Solar Macharius
In the faraway future of the 41st Millenium, our vessel, a Universe-Class Mass Conveyor, slowly but surely passes through the sleek black of the void. We are in deep space, having just completed the drop-off of a large cargo of foodstuffs in a deal of negotiable legality, but good profit.
We introduce our major crew members:
The alarm had just started sounding when the man's hand shot out to stop it. He was already awake. He'd been awake for a while now, just listening to the sounds of the ship.
The man rolled out of his bunk and stood. The deck floor was cold, as usual, but he didn't mind. He rubbed his shoulder and neck to ease the stiffness, the mechanical arm hanging lifeless. The normal rituals upon waking followed. A shave, a stare into the mirror as if his other self would suddenly explain to him how he got here, and finally the uniform. As always, he started with a token on a chain. A piece of the ships hull molded into the form of the Imperial Eagle. Then followed the other trappings, the pressed shirt and pants of a ship officer. The old Ceres-pattern bolt pistol lay low on his right hip, the Mordian power sword on his left. The man turned to leave his quarters. He stopped at the hatch and placed his hand to the bulkhead and listened. It was the same every day. The same pattern, without fail.
The walk to the command deck was short and he saw few people moving about at this hour. As he entered the command area a junior officer announced, Commander Kage, on deck. With a nod, the man walked the room to make sure everything was in order.
Everything smooth after that last drop-off. Still have to inspect the section A port drive, but that can wait. Let's hope our next run passes equally as uneventfully as the last.
The cargo chamber is quiet despite the host of deckhands packed into it. The usual smell of oil and sweat has been masked by incense spread by hooded acolytes. Standing over it all on a pile of now-empty cryo-crates Jeramiah Lux addresses the masses:
"And so this is the thought I leave you with: What can be more satisfying and more noble than the brief pause between hard labours, savoured like the reward it is. Better that than the sickly sweetness of endless, purposeless leisure. Go now, return to your tasks, and know that the Emporer smiles upon you for the great work you have just accomplished"
With that, he descends the ladder held by his lesser preachers and begins the long journet back to the command deck. It is a hour's mag-rail ride to the command decks from the holds. The missionary is tired but satisfied. He has addressed the greater part of the vessel's cargo crew over the last week and a half, letting them know that the command staff and the Emporer both appreciated their efforts. The unloading of a Universe class was a mighty undertaking and invaribly cost lives of some of the less experience members of the hauling clans.
Jeramiah rides the mag rail with the petty officers, foregoing the private commander's car pulled by every train. Once it has followed the twisting path up the numberless decks it only takes him a short time to reach the bridge, armsmen patrols standing to attention as he silently passes. Finally, he enters the bridge. His robes are plain next to the uniforms of the bridge crew but his bearing make it clear he is their superior. He nods to his fellow senior officer
"You were, as ever, correct Eli. Those in bay ninety three were most in need of my ministrations. I saw to it that their faith was restored. The remainder of the cargo crew are taking appropriate pride in their work."
The figure walks down the hall. No running or striding for this man, nothing to remind him of his weak flesh, not if he can avoid it. He trudges as a man who has found no better method of locomotion, or has not yet implemented it.
Another job well done. The machine spirits have been appeased and the ship is running efficiently. There have been complaints about some of the drives but I will deal with that.
Crewmen scramble to remove themselves from the man's path. Whether out of fear or respect he cares not, but they have learned that he does not stop moving for them if he even notices them at all. To him they are becoming nothing more than the flesh and bone which pumps vitality into the ship, much like the blood and oil that moves through his own body.
Arriving on the bridge he approaches Commander Kage.
"01000011011011110110110101101101011000010110111001100100011001010111001000 10000001001011011000010110011101100101, I am reporting for duty."
The voice is cold and modulated, crackling with static coming as it does from vox speaker where his mouth used to be. His body cowled and his face hooded, the susurrus of his robes is covered by the whine of servomotors when he moves.
Over to one side in the command bridge, Iacton Havelock stands like a grey spectre.
He appears to be fully involved in reading through a date slate that contains all the information about the latest deal that was made.
"Hmmm...We were forced to accept a less than perfect deal..."
Iactons face remains impassive, and his voice is stead as he slowly makes notes and mutters to himself.
To the casual observer, it would appear that he is so deeply involved in his work that he does not notice his surroundings, but if you look careful, one can see that for each second his eyes observe the slate, they also observe the bridge for three.
"We lost our alliance with house Cawdor...but they are fickle, if we show profit again, they will return to the fold...hmm..."
As Iacton overhears Jeramiah's comment he nods curtly to himself and makes a note on the slate.
While his face remains impassive, one can see certain tautness in his jaw and around his eyes, a sign indicating that he has a lot on his mind, and not a lot of it good.
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Lord-Captain Tristan Alessaunder Fortunus Casmirre was also in the bridge, sat at the head of the grand conference table set in the centre of the spacious chamber. While around him petty and junior officers worked on the ship's systems and a pilot cadet oversaw the ship's flight (a simple enough task even for such an incompetent man as he) Tristan sought to clear his mind, focusing on the myriad of data slates and maps set before him. The thirty eight year old Battlefleet veteran was still adjusting to this monstrosity of a vessel that was his legacy and the simple trading run he had just completed felt beneath his talents. Still, it had given him a chance to assert his authority over the flagship and the dynasty; using the Astropath's talents to tell all the holdings of the dynasty that he was now in control. Glancing up at Havelock standing nearby muttering to himself, he commands in a soft tone-
Seneschal Iacton; I need a full audit of our financial capability. It has been many years since I was involved with the dynasty and I am uncertain how far it has declined with the tragic loss of my family. I know I can count on you to get this done in short order.
Moments later, the Explorator entered the bridge. Tristan snapped his fingers, interrupting the conversation between him and Eli.
Explorator, you are the voice of the Adeptus Mechanicus on this vessel and a living example of their greatness. If you are to report to anyone for orders, be sure it is I who you report to. But it is good you are here; you have pre-empted my summons.
Eli my friend- gather the other senior officers. I wish to address all of you and discuss the direction of the Casmirre dynasty. Ah, I see you are here already Missionary Jeramiah. Come, sit with me and let us speak of the saints of the Calixis Segmentum once more while we wait.
Nodding at his Captain's words, Eli responds precisely, Understood, Lord-Captain. The man walks over to the vox ship communicator and his words ring out amongst the crew, All senior officers to the command deck.
He scans the deck, noting which officers are absent and takes note of the time. Let's see how efficient these men are. Standing amidst the bustle on deck, he begins to read the incoming daily reports, checking off each one as he scans them.
Iacton puts one fist to his heart and bows at the waist towards the captain.
"I have already put together a list of what has changed with the dynasty my lord. A detailed report is availed on data slate, however, I can tell you the main points right now."
Iacton takes a place to the left and slightly behind of the captain.
"After the change in leadership, the three major houses that previously had entered alliances with us have all withdrawn from said, citing "unforeseen hindrances" as the cause, of the minor houses, we retain 30% of our alliances and writs of subservience."
Iacton clears his throat, unused to speaking for any length of time.
"We can estimate that 65% of the minor houses that reneged on previous alliances would return to the fold once they see us turning a handsome profit, within a year at most."
Stroking his neatly trimmed beard Iacton continues.
"House Cawdor is the main concern, we still have substantial investment in the area they control, and they are described as "sharks", if they smell blood, they will not hesitate to take the remaining resources from us by force."
Iacton puts a single data slate on the table, well away from the piles that already occupied the tabletop.
He asked me for the details, but seeing his workload, he would not wish to be bored beyond this I believe.
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Tristan listened intently to his advisor's report, nodding in satisfaction at its end.
Excellent. Most concise. The merchant houses scatter like flies, fearing the fallout of the xenos attack that claimed my family. They will scurry back once we make our fortune doing the Emperor's work in the Koronus Expanse.
"As you say my lord, at the end of the report is a small summary of business opportunities currently available."
Havelock once more clears his throat.
"There is some concern; our resources are now at a mere 20% compared to at the height of the dynasty’s power. A lot of respect would be gained if we can turn extra profit from low profit ventures; we would then be offered more dangerous but potentially more profitable ventures."
Iacton steels himself as he prepares to deliver the part of his report most likely to be construed most negatively.
"My lord, it is not coin we lack, but trust, and that is the commodity we need to gain most urgently..."
Iacton once more puts his fist to his heart and bows, having expected the reaction his report got.
He slowly straightens up and stands slightly behind and on the left of the captain, waiting for his skills to once more be in demand.
The man who speaks the truth when the truth is not pleasant is often appreciated, but seldom liked. I shall do my duty and let the captain appreciate my skills, even if he appreciates nothing else.
...
Impassively, Iacton goes back to observe the rest of the officers so far present.
Iacton observes Jeramiah, since he himself was a devour servant of the emperor, he had no reason not to get along with the man.
Eli was skilled and competent, yet not so aware of his skills as to be arrogant with them, a good man to have around.
Macharius was...hard to read, but by all reports very skilled in his field.
As Seneschal it was in part his duty to keep tabs on the other members of the senior staff and report to the captain. Happily, so far he had no reason to report anything but “Ship functioning within acceptable parameters”.
Waking three hours before his shift begins, Lucius goes through his morning ritual of rigorous physical exercise. Nearly done with his morning 10 km run, when he hears the call for all senior officers to report to the command deck, he swears before roaring at the various crewmen who at their daily tasks to get out of his way as he sprints the remaining kilometer and a half back to his bunk, his long legs eating up the distance quickly. Once in his private quarters he quickly throws off his sweat-stained clothes and begins to rapidly dress himself in his uniform. Halfway done, he stops and a quick thought of That's right, this captain is used to stuffy upper-class folk, I can't enter smelling like this. Damn protocol. passes through his mind before he rips off his half-assembled uniform and practically leaps into his shower.
Less than fifteen minutes later, he quickly marches toward the command deck, still fixing the last few buttons and pins on his uniform. Pausing a second in front of the door to the deck to finish, he strides on to the deck, his uniform seemingly in order (though it would likely not hold up to a close inspection). Standing at attention when he knows he is in the Captain's line of sight, he speaks in a strong baritone voice. "Apologies for my tardiness Lord-Captain; I was caught unaware by the summons."
Explorator, you are the voice of the Adeptus Mechanicus on this vessel and a living example of their greatness. If you are to report to anyone for orders, be sure it is I who you report to. But it is good you are here; you have pre-empted my summons.
"My apologies: 010011000110111101110010011001000010110101000011011000010111000001110100011 000010110100101101110 :I did not see you there:: I will be more attentive in the future::"
Listening as the reports are given and officers report to the bridge
This Captain is a tough man. Hard. But is he tempered? He speaks of this God-Emperor, but will that strengthen the alloy?
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Tristan watched the Master-At-Arms wordlessly, locking eyes with the man, letting him become uncomfortable under his steady gaze. Casually, almost conversationally he said-
In the Navy, when an officer was late for a summons, it was punishable by death.
Tristan looked casually at a data-slate, allowing his words to set in. He spoke again in the same, light hearted manner.
Then again, in the Imperial Navy death is almost the only penalty in the rules book. Tardiness? Death. Falling asleep on watch? Death. Insubordination? Death. Failure to maintain firearm? Death.
Tristan smiled disarmingly.
But then, most good captains I served under or alongside knew when to exercise mercy and throw out the rulebook. The Grand Admirals of the Imperial Navy like to think the men in the ships are ruled merely by fear, but the best I saw mixed fear with respect and earnt their mens loyalty. Too much punishment cripples initiative and individual brilliance among officers. Too little encourages lax behaviour- and such behaviour could get men killed if the behaviour was emulated on battle stations.
Tristan chuckled, and his voice finally lost its dangerous edge.
We are not in the Navy, Master-At-Arms, so please take a seat. Just remember, attackers are also likely to take us unaware- and from what the bridge crew have told me you are the best man to have around in a fight. I'd not like to keep the chaos and xenos scum waiting for your arrival! What state of readiness can our armsmen be considered in?
Seeing Jarvis enter, Tristan winced at the lack of protocol shown by the psyker. Still, they were unstable at best and best treated with a kindly voice and demeanour, until they went mad. Then they were to be shot, quickly.
Sadly, my father was fond of all kinds of jackals and hangers on, Choir-Master. If only he had developed greater ties with the Ecclesiarchy and Adeptus Mechanicus instead of fickle merchant houses. He glanced over at the Confessor and Enginseer Prime and nodded slightly at them before turning back to Jarvis. Has your blessed choir finished informing our holdings of the change in command?
Tristan did not wait for a reply, having seen the blind old man react to something. Astropaths were used frequently on Imperial Navy ships and he recognised that the Emperor-touched psyker had sensed something. He hoped it was good news.
Eli nods curtly in acknowledgment as the Master-at-Arms enters. Not too slow given the nature of the summons. Good enough. Still, we wait upon the Navigator alone. Given the size of this vessel, I'm surprised the others arrived so quickly. The man continues reading the various data slates being handed to him by junior officers, looking as if he has all the patience in the universe.
Iacton gives Jarvis a short nod, confident that his sightless eyes will still somehow note the gesture.
Iacton liked dealing with Psychers, strange as that might seem.
He knew well enough to guard his secrets from them, but found their ability to discern things unseen most useful, not to mention that it cut down on needless talking.
"The list has been compiled and submitted to the captain, your help was invaluable as always master Atercarina."
"Your outlook is wise, captain. After all, did not the Emporer find each of his twelve primarchs immersed in the teachings of heathens, and did he not twelve times over offer his forgiveness and give due praise for what feats they had accomplished in His absence? Ruling through fear and punishment alone denies the righteousness inherant in every man..."
Jeramiah's tone of approval trails off. He watches Jarvis stare out into what looks like featureless blackness with mounting annoyance.
"Yes, none of us can see whatever you've spied in the void. Care to share it with us?"
Certain of a reprimand, once Tristan began to speak in a less official manner, Lucius infinitesimally relaxed himself before speaking. "Considering that they haven't seen any action in a while, they are as ready as can be expected. Dummies, simulations, and training versus your comrades goes only so far; in my experience I have found that to keep one's skills sharp, they need to be tested in rigorous conditions. But I suppose there are worse situations to have than a lack of violence." Taking his seat, he thinks to himself, Huh, maybe not as stuffy as I had been expecting.
We but miss the senior navigator now, but they are wont to appear late, tis a simple freedom they take for their unique "gifts"
Standing in his position behind the captain’s seat, Iacton lets his grey eyes sweep over the rest of the senior staff, inclining his head a little to each of them.
Unproven on his ship, but proven nonetheless, each one an expert in his field, but as individuals. We must work together strongly to succeed. The real test begins now.
Iacton pulls out a fresh data slate, ready to take notes as soon as the meeting begins in earnest.
Jarrion sits within his chamber, the lights low starring at the sleeping whore in his bed. He wasn't really seeing her, she was a mere diversion from his duty. Yes that duty found him here on this Oversized barge, it was an impressive vessel but one difficult to maneuver.
Yes, his duty to his House brought him here, sadly the House Nostravi seems to have backed the wrong Dynasty yet again. Still something might be salvaged, if this new Lord-Captain was successful. Maybe he would put someone of Jarrions skill to use, The Emperor alone knows his Underlings were far from competent.
He heard the summons, but ignored it for a moment, lost in his own thoughts. But at last he stands and dresses himself, taking pride in his robes. Yes he may be stuck with this weak house for now, but they can grow, he was one of the blessed, he would see to it.
As he leaves he motions to his Guard,"When she awakes, find me another, she bores me" he says as he makes his way to the train his staff clanking upon the deck.
He sits in silence as he rides toward the bridge, taking in the vastness of the vessel. Upon reaching the brides, he first checks in with his Navigators. Seeing they seemed to be acting somewhat competent he turns his attenuation toward the center and the assembled group around the table.
"Forgive me for my tardiness Lord-Capetian I was otherwise engaged."
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Jarvis, you begin to receive an Astropathic communication - it appears to be a plea for aid. The text is as follows:
_____To all available Imperial and affiliated Rogue Trader vessels within range. Being a loyal system to his most Holy Majesty the Emperor of Man, Governor Kapak requests the aid and succor from Imperial assets against the Xenos-threat known as the Ork.
_____Damaris is preparing to resist an impending invasion by the wretched greenskins who are massing outside of the system. We ask for any assistance in the form of ships, supplies, manpower, arms, and expertise so that we may protect one of the Emperor's worlds from the depredation of this horrid and unclean horde.
_____Governor Kapak, in his most magnanimous foresight, promises to reward any such aide with the wealth of his planet. Know that Damaris is a rich planet, and will reward her allies greatly.
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"Forgive me for my tardiness Lord-Capetian I was otherwise engaged."
Tristan has finished toying with Lucius, and nods at Jarrions arrival.
Worry not, we're hardly at battle stations. Now that I have you all here...
It is at this moment that Jarvis makes his announcement.
Failure by many degrees.
With a sombre look on his face, Tristan shakes his head.
I'm not familiar with the planet- anyone else? Recite the full message please Choir-Master, we will not leave our Imperial brothers without aid. My unplanned summons will have to wait until we're flying to help.
Also a failure
"I'm afraid I know nothing of the world. Though if they are in need of aid the nature of their enemies is as important as their own. No man should pass the oppertunity to smite the Emporer's foes."
"01000011011000010111000;"
No, I must remember this one.
"Captain:: I do not know this world: I will check the cogitator banks::"
Still reading reports on data slates, Eli looks up briefly when Jarvis speaks. He shakes his head when the Captain asks about the planet, but remains silent. I'd ask for details, but I expect the Astropath is simply waiting until he has the attention of all of us.
"In addition to helping our imperial brothers, there are opportunities to be had here. A wise man can turn a profit from any situation, be it monetary or otherwise."
Knowing nothing of the world in question, Iacton folds his hands behind his back and assumes an attentive expression.
Now things will get interesting...
Looking up from his seat, Lucius adds another voice to chorus of "no"s. "I am afraid that I have not heard of Damaris either," he states simply before going back to the dull, routine work of guard schedules and munition supplies, all while keeping an ear open for the growing situation.
"An Imperial-held world? We will be passing back through the maw then, there are no governed planets in the Expanse that I know of. If they are seeking to hire Rogue Traders the navy must be unable to protect them. We may be heading into dangerous voids, gentlemen, but we have as men of means we have a duty to aid in the defence of the Emporer's realms."
He glances over at the cogitator readouts listing cargo hold status. They make it clear that the Steadfast is near-empty after their last deal.
"We will be passing by Port Wander. We should take the oppertunity to fill our holds with as many fighting men and war materials as we can afford. If we find Damaris is a barren world supplies to battle starvation will be as vital as lasguns to battle the xenos."
"Even men of little experience can be of value when guided by a strong hand. Port wander is likely filled with desperate wastrels willing to risk death for a chance of a better life."
Iacton begins to once more take notes on a date slate.
"Moving a large number of troops would require an equally large amount of supplies, guns on the other hands do not eat..."
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The message said Orks are massing outside the system- they have yet to descend on the planet it seems. Gentlemen, we have neither the influence or the purchasing power currently available to arm and recruit men- and a shipful of extra hands will make little difference on a conflict of the scale hinted at by the message. Nay, we head straight for Damaris. What we have is a warp capable ship, an astropathic choir and fine leaders of men like yourselves. These will be far more useful than the men we could recruit from the scum and prisons of Port Wander and the delay it would cost us. The sooner we reach this beleagured bastion of the Emperor's Light the more we'll be able to do to help, I am certain.
Turning to address Jarvis-
Choir-Master, would you be kind enough to send a reply? Use the choir chambers, we have no way of knowing how far the signal travelled. Tell them we're coming and to provide further information when possible.
Addressing Jarrion once again-
I don't suppose you know where Damaris is do you? Consult the charts if necessary but any information you can recall may be valuable to us.
"The captains word is law, and the captain has spoken."
Jarrion thinks for a moment " No Lord Captain" He says shacking his head "I do not, I shall consult the navigation charts my Lord" He says with a bow, heading toward the navigation table. "You Initiate, bring me the charts we have a planet to find" he says, paying no heed as his underling moves to carry out his command.
Rolls
Scholastic Lore (Astromancy)(Int)(39)
Navigation (Stellar){Int)(39)
Commander Kage slaps a data slate back into the chest of the midshipman standing before him. Stop your mouth-breathing, boy. You heard the Lord-Captain, get moving. We've still got dozens of inspections to get through today, and they aren't going to wait on a snot-nosed kid who goes bug-eyed whenever Orks are mentioned. He pauses his rant for a moment, and before the young officer can compose himself and rush to his duties, he yells, Move! The boy takes off with a shot.
The man surveys the deck and finds the Explorator. Enginseer Prime, I'll be accompanying you on your inspection of that port side drive. I have a feeling that it might be more than a simple mechanical failure. And if the Cournic Clan thinks it's going to slow us down, I'd like to have a word in with them. Continuing to read data slates as they're handed to him, he looks back up for a moment to remark, At your convenience.
Macharius Sarvus, cogitator banks indicate that you are to respond to the title Enginseer Prime.
"As you wish 010000110110111101101101011011010110000101101110011001000110010101110010: and by the Captain's leave::"
"The decision is made then. I focus my attentions on the gunner-clans. It has been some time since they have been asked to actively seek out and destroy the emporer's enemies, they will likely need help rekindling their fervor to smite the Xenos. Captain, may I take the liberty of spreading the word of our new mission amongst the common crewmen?"
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Choir-Master, would you be kind enough to send a reply? Use the choir chambers, we have no way of knowing how far the signal travelled. Tell them we're coming and to provide further information when possible.'The choir can be ready within the hour, will you require additional time to compose your reply?'
Tristant shakes his head in response.
The Confessor shall be the one to compose the message and tell them we are coming.
Rising to his full height, Tristan makes an announcement, speaking clearly and confidently.
I'll keep this shorter than I had originally planned. I do not know each of you as well as I would like, but I would like to take this moment, our first successful endeavour, to commend and thank you all for your loyalty to the dynasty. Make no mistake, it has fallen from grace. But under my leadership, nay, our leadership- we shall make this dynasty rise from the ashes of its past failures and into a glorious future.
Tristan allows his gaze to travel over his seven senior officers.
I have watched each of you and learnt as much as I can about your abilities. I could not ask for a finer group of commanders on which to lean on and build our legacy. Know that I am a fair captain and though I hail from the Navy, I will not bring all of its doctrines to this vessel, our flagship. I am devoted to bringing the glorious Imperium out into the Koronus Expanse- and I make no secret that one of my principal aims is to found a new colony as soon as we have the means and a suitable planet.
Tristan produces a data slate from inside the breast pocket of his fine jacket, briefly revealing the flexible carapace armour he wears underneath. Dropping it onto the desk, he gestures to it-
These are your new ranks. Even on a transport such as this, the command hierarchy must be respected. I hope you will find them suitable. Now I shall waste no more of your valuable time; we must make haste for Damaris. I long to meet the Ork's in glorious naval battle!
Tristan takes a bow and continues to review the dataslates he had been studying to familiarise himself with the dynasty.
Tristan nods his assent.
Feel free, Confessor. I have pointed our course to Damaris, I trust you all to work autonomously in our efforts to get there.
______Mass Conveyor Steadfast, flagship of the Casmir rogue trader dynasty, responding to general request for re-enforcements from Damaris
______Setting course for Damaris system, eta presently unknown pending navigator's estimate (await follow-up transmission)
______We can assist with orbital defence though our bulk keeps us from bringing the fight to the Xenos. Our primary strength lies in our capacity to transport re-enforcements - we recommend requesting aid from nearby imperial garrisons that would not otherwise be able to transport forces to the Damaris system.
______Let it be known that the temptations of wilderness space have not weakened the Casmir dynasty nor make it forget it's divine duty to shield the domains of Him on Earth
______"We shine light in the darkness for the darkness hates the light"
"Jarvis, please send the following response to Damaris. How long can we expect to wait for the navigator's estimate Jarrion?"
Iacton nods and makes a series of notes about the various ranks assigned. He then turns to Tristan and clears his throat.
"If you have no further use for me Lord Captain, I will resume my duties. I still have to collect and compile a complete list of our current supplies. Rest assured, I will finish it promptly."
Iacton bows to the captain in his usual manner and waits to either be dismissed or assigned additional tasks.