A Lifeboat Adrift (Stellaris x Warhammer 40k)

[ATP]

Good.We have Tau,now Eldar join....dwarves when?

 

[Trisurya]

Rogue Trader. Two words that meant so many things to so many people. For the common masses of the Imperium, they were trailblazing pioneers that brave the dangers of the galaxy to bring the Emperor's Light to yet-undiscovered worlds. To planetary governors, either a source of endless headaches and nightmares of frivolous demands or a rival power, to be judged, measured, and tested as seen fit whether to be grouped as an enemy or an ally. To the Inquisition and its members, a useful disguise oft used to the point of seeming parody and even flipped on its head with Rogue Traders in turn pretending to be Inquisitors to get out of trouble. To Gallianus van Boltaneus, it was a life of unending misery and bad fortune one after the other.

He sat now on his command throne, the supposed seat of his power, the symbol of his worth as a Rogue Trader, and yet the glories had passed him by. Where once it was the peak of comfort and luxury, no sign of that former glory could be seen now, with its bare padding and no decorations bare with the littlest padding and no decorations save those made by the Adeptus Mechanicus centuries ago, when the frigate Desperate Luck was brand new and part of Boltaneus grand trade fleet. Of course, even the name his flagship now bore was a far cry from its previous iteration, but Gallianus didn't think Rightful Glory fit the means of a man heading towards destitution.

They were on their way to this system's Mandeville Point, whose name currently escaped the Rogue Trader. For what purpose, one might ask? Why, for the Cold Trade of course, that illegal black market of goods of xeno-make and stranger things. Gallianus found it all as hard as he thought it would be to make it in the business and more. He's made his ends meet, yes, but turning a profit was harder than convincing a Jokaero to listen to you. He's even had to make a break for it once because the Arbites pulled a sting and arrested everybody present. Not that Gallianus himself would get arrested, of course, but it's just a bad look to be caught at all while dealing the Cold Trade, makes one look less reliable to the other Rogue Traders.

"Lord Captain, the Choirmaster humbly requests for your presence at the Astropathic Choir. He says there is a priority message for your ears only." His ship's Vox Master, a newbie whose name he hasn't bothered remembering yet, said as he approached the command throne, steadfastly avoiding Gallianus' gaze out of habit. Almost everyone on the bridge behaved so, since most of them were only recently elevated to their positions due to an… unfortunate accident that befell their predecessors.

Only the Navigator, the Master Helmsman, and the Choirmaster had survived that particular trip through the Warp. The only silver lining was that they'd made excellent time, earning a bonus from the client since the Desperate Luck arrived one week in the past before it went on its journey. Confessor Alamatus has proclaimed it to be a sign of the Emperor's favor upon the ship, which helped somewhat to smooth things over with the lower decks scum and the middle deck peasants. As for the top-decks and officers, well, they know better than to wag their tongues.

But idle hands are the means by which heresies might plant roots, and so they were off soon enough, carrying all the usual cargo a Rogue Trader of his station was used to, as well as something 'extra'. Gallianus had put a good show then, making a fuss about his duty to the Golden Throne and the responsibilities of one that bears the sacred Warrant, while letting his Seneschal, Vagant Korialus, to handle the Cold Trade negotiations on his behalf.

These thoughts and many others accompanied Gallianus as he made his way to the Astropathic Chapel accompanied by several Enforcers and his current beau, a sharp little smuggler with a penchant for knives and and cuts. Her grabby hands made for a pleasant distraction from the tedium of travel, especially with her pleasant little trills and giggles when the Rogue Trader touched her back. None paid the couple much mind, the Enforcers already used to Gallianus' many dalliances with the lesser members of the Imperium. The only saving grace has been that so far, their Lord Captain had seen fit to only take human companions instead of abominable xenos scum.

Entering the Astropathic Chapel has never been a comfortable experience, and this time around was no different. As the venerable elevator descended, a change could be felt as the group passed some invisible threshold. The smuggler attached herself tighter to the Rogue Trader, her teary eyes trying to find comfort in her lover's own. But Gallianus could only offer a shrug and a small smile, patting her head as one might pat an adorable pet.

After a little while more, the group finally reached their destination, the speeding elevator decelerating well beforehand so the group felt hardly a bump as it stopped. The familiar smoke of burned myrrh and frankincense greeted them, candles made from corpsewax burning mournfully as around small shrines for the God-Emperor. Some praying chapel servants saw Gallianus, and the Rogue Trader simply made the sign of the Aquila at them before moving on.

The Choirmaster of Desperate Luck was seated upon a modest organ, slowly playing a piece that seemed to warble and warp the air in ways that made minds itch. His name was Suzurar Gospelmark, a creepy old man not known for making conversation, even with fellow Astropaths. His head turned around even before Gallianus could speak up to announce his presence, Suzurar' empty blindfolded eyes appearing to bore into the Lord Captain. Neither liked the other, but work was work.

The Enforcers had already dispersed around the room, taking up defensive positions to protect their master, which left only the smuggler, attached like a limpet to the Rogue Trader' side, trying her best not to stare at the Choirmaster' empty eye-sockets and failing. With the only way out contingent on her beau' presence, the small woman took measure of herself and gave a small smile at Suzurar, who did nothing but wait for the next part of the ritual to be commenced by Gallianus.

"I am here, Choirmaster. If your tongue will wag secrets into my ears, then be swift about it. I have duties to attend to." The Rogue Trader spoke with the natural haughtiness of one who was born into privilege and expected nothing else. "Oh, yes. Little thing, do be a good dear and hang about somewhere else, but not too far. Your master requires his privacy." With a dismissive wave, he unstuck the smuggler from his side and shooed her away, staring at woman until she gave a small nod and scurried away to orbit the closest Enforcer instead.

"There, now we can begin." Gallianus spoke, readying himself for the message, only to see the Choirmaster shook his head at that, gesturing to the other Astropaths locked in their chairs and chapel servants going to and fro for their duties. With a tight smile, Gallianus let himself be led into a small room off to the side of the central chambers. His Enforcers followed close behind, their eyes scrutinizing the Choirmaster' actions as well as everyone else' with newfound suspicion, though they dared not act unless the situation demanded it or the Lord Captain ordered them.

Inside the small, cramped room, there was only enough space for two chairs and a small table, upon which a cluster of short, fat candles burned on with a slight acrid tinge to its smoke. A slight contaminant disturbing the pure odor of death. Suzurar put out the offending flame with a casual pinch, his thick skin staving off the heat long enough to prevent the burn.

"Impressive. You should be an Infernus." Gallianus remarked.

"In another life perhaps. In this one, I am His devoted servant, blessed by sight beyond sight. But enough idle chatter. A message has come from a nearby Inquisitorial Black Ship, requesting your presence immediately." The Rogue Trader frowned, the beginnings of cold sweat dripping down his neck. Do they know?! His mind almost screamed in panic, though his face remained aloof as ever.

"I see. Where shall we meet them then? Metalica? Chromyd? Duralim? I doubt His Inquisitorial Highness would want to meet way out in the middle of nowhere." As if his words were a cue, a rumbling that was beyond sound clawed at the edges of Gallianus' soul. All around him, his Enforcers shifted uneasily as they too felt the disturbance caused by a hole in reality; a gateway to the Warp torn open nearby. Even as a non-psyker, the Rogue Trader knew what it meant.

While Gallianus panicked, at the Mandeville Point where Desperate Luck was to exit the system, the enormous Inquisitorial Black Ship known as the Libertatis Excommunicatio punched its way out of the Immaterium, followed soon by a fleet of Inquisitorial Cruisers and Escorts. It was a formidable entourage, enough firepower to decimate most foes of the Imperium and lay waste to worlds, and it was all about to bear down on one Rogue Trader' ship.

---

Inquisitor Nantz Palemar sniffed as he entered the hangar bay opened up for his shuttle and retinue to enter the Rogue Trader's ship. Every voidship had their own peculiar smells and tang to it, almost like a fingerprint, and this one smelled of fear. The Rogue Trader's Seneschal had came out to greet them, along with several squads of Enforcers as a kind of honor guard. His name was Rassilas Osmic; a silent, short man by stature, but broad by width, creating the impression of a wall of iron muscles and steel bones. On one of his wrists was a tattoo of the Imperial Aquila, decorated with some cogs of the sacred Adeptus Mechanicum and a serial number scratched out by way of a jagged scar, so old it was nearly invisible. There was a story there, perhaps one Nantz would unravel in due time, but for now, he was more interested in the Seneschal's master.

Accompanying him was one of his Acolytes, Shem Al Saladat, who had graduated from the Scholastia Psykana two decades ago and entered the Inquisitor's retinue five years past. The bald, deeply-tan man bore the sigil of the Inquisition proudly upon his head, distracting most from catching sight of his entirely deep blue eyes Shem bore as heritage of his blood. At times, his mouth would move to mutter several words or phrases in Kolistiach, the ancient tongue of his homeworld that stubbornly persisted despite efforts to engrain Gothic into the populace. He carried a staff found from a dead Imperial world, its previous owner having used the mighty psychic foci within to defy the xenos scum that invaded their worlds one last time. Curiously, a pair of laspistols also hung in holsters tied to a belt, their worn grips evidence of frequent use while their polished sheen spoke of regular care.

There was also Nantz' personal bodyguard, the Death World Veteran Pipo, whose abrasive exterior hid a sharper interior. He was fully encased in jet-black armor reminiscent of the Lucifer Blacks, with the only distinction between him and those fearsome warriors being the Inquisitorial symbols that adorned his armor. A Bolt Pistol was clipped to his right side, while a Power Sword hung from a scabbard on his right. Though he appeared to gaze straight ahead, his eyes were always watching about, judging, evaluating, planning, and preparing for combat.

Magos Archos Uxiln strode close but apart, bearing the red robes of the Adeptus Mechanicum with clear pride even as his many legs clinked against the metal floor like the skittering of a mechanical insect. His mechandendrites were at ease, though the crew didn't know it, content to simply perch atop the Magos' back like vipers coiled to strike. Four technomats trailed after the venerable Magos, their enhancements considerably lesser by comparison, but by no means less unnerving to look at as they glared at any errant peasant that dared to keep their heads up for too long.

And rounding up the group was the only woman, towering over the rest save for the Magos, holding up a Bolter before her like a woman carries her child. She was clad in Power Armor, bedecked in the symbols of her Order; the Order of the Holy Word. There was the burning Aquila, sitting upon the brow of a human skull, jaws open wide to reveal a single three-petaled black lily with gold streaks on each petal; a reminder that all knowledge must be tempered by faith and conviction in the God-Emperor, so that his Sacred Light may burn away the hidden deceit that traps the unwary and blinds the faithful. Her name was Sister Kata.

These people and many others were the bedrock upon which Inquisitor Nantz Palemar could tread upon with no fear in his duties as an Inquisitor, uncovering sinister plots hatched by heretical cults and traitorous elements led astray either by their own shortsightedness or more insidious external forces. And now he will make use of one more pawn, one more piece upon the board that will set the stage for the Imperum of Mankind's final confrontation with the T'au Empire. A holy force of righteous extermination, grand enough to rival even the Macharius Crusade in scale.

With one final elevator ride, the Inquisitor and his retinue finally arrived at the bridge. Immediately their presence was noted, with many eyes turning to catch the sight of a lifetime, though those same wandering gazes were also quick to look away in fear once they remembered what an Inquisitor's presence meant upon their voidship. Another group was waiting at the foot of the steps leading to the Rogue Trader's command throne, the one at its head dressed in resplendent noble attire only befitting a man of his station.

"Lord Inquisitor Nantz Palemar, it is an honor for us all to welcome you to my humble ship. To what occassion do we have the pleasure of hosting the Inquisition upon this bridge?" Gallianus van Boltaneus spoke in words thick with praises and hollow with sincerity; a common feature amongst the more reckless Rogue Traders. "I apologize for not preparing a more suitable reception area, but I understand the Inquisition has better things to do than be dogged down by trifling matters. Shall we get down to business then?" Gallianus beckoned towards a simple small table set behind him, two chairs already out and waiting for them both. Nantz, feeling diplomatic for once, gave a curt nod and took a seat to the right, while Gallianus naturally took what the left.

"I see you've received my message in good time. It would have been unwise for you to depart to parts unknown without waiting for my permission to do so." Nantz began talking, putting both elbows on the table and letting his hands rest. "Tell your crew to vacate the premises. Magos Archos will ensure your ship's systems will not come to harm in their operator's absence." Gallianus nodded, giving the order at once while at the same time deactivating most of the obvious recording devices present on the bridge. It was a risky move leaving even one still active with a Magos present, but what is life without a little bit of danger?

Once the last of the officers vanished from sight behind the elevator door, Inquisitor Nantz allowed himself a moment's reprieve from duty. His tight shoulder's relaxed, his grim-set jaw opening to let a small breath free, and his eyes, usually set at an intensity that could melt adamantium, was now set to simply vaporize plasteel instead. Those who were members of the Inquisitor's retinue noticed the change immediately, but for Gallianus, it was far from a reassuring gesture. Inquisitors do not rest.

"I have a request that only you can fulfill, Rogue Trader. One that requires the privileges afforded only to those bearers of the sacred Warrant of Trade." Gallianus' mind whirled as he tried to guess which privileges Inquisitor Nantz meant. "I will be expecting you to make a trip in the near-future towards T'au space, to make contact with one of my informants there. As an incentive, here is a list of what you'd get should you accept my proposition, Gallianus van Boltaneus." Sister Kata stepped forward and handed a data slate to the Rogue Trader, who accepted it graciously and began reading its contents. Several minutes passed as Gallianus' eyes widened more and more until they looked like they were about to pop, before he shook his head and casually slid the data-slate into his person.

"This is…ahem, I mean, of course, Lord Inquisitor. I live to serve, forevermore." The Rogue Trader bowed his head, unaccustomed to such a gesture.

"Thank you, Gallianus van Boltaneus. The God-Emperor protects." Everyone present made the sign of the Aquila at the same time, with members of the Inquisitor' retinue turning around and making their way back to the elevator, save for one. Sister Kata remained by the still sitting Inquisitor, her red eyes boring into Gallianus with judgement that found the man wanting. The Rogue Trader willed himself to look straight into Inquisitor Nantz' eyes and found in them, to his eternal shock, something that could only be described as amusement.

"One last thing. Sister Kata will remain here to help you navigate the treacherous waters of the xenos mind and remain pure from corruption. You may command her as you would one of your own, and she will obey your will in as so far that it does not contradict mine. She is a skilled warrior, an excellent shot, and between you and me, a great cook." Sister Kata had stood up straighter and prouder with every word coming out of Inquisitor Nantz' mouth until the last one, where she was caught off-guard and looked almost embarrassed.

"Thank you, Lord Inquisitor. Your generosity knows no bounds." Gallianus flashed his two remaining guests a brilliant fake smile, while inside the Rogue Trader was screaming in horror at the thought of having a Sister of Battle aboard his less than reputable ancient tub. His dreams of rising to the top of the Cold Trade had always been a distant goal, but now they were downright impossible. As Inquisitor Nantz stood up and nodded at the Rogue Trader before leaving, Gallianus van Boltaneus thought to himself,

God-Emperor, give me a break, please.

 

[ATP]

Poor dude.But...if he survive,he would be rich!