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!

 

[Trisurya]

Gallianus van Boltaneus finally stirred from his slumber, his head still pounding from last night's bout of drinking. Memories of yesterday were trickling in like petitioners in an Adeptus Administratum building, and the Rogue Trader scowled as he remembered saying yes to the Inquisitor's request. Well, what was I supposed to do? Say no and get myself investigated by the Inquisition? Not to mention that payout upfront. A wicked smile graced Gallianus' face, his mind whirling with endless possibilities of what he could do with his newfound riches.

Occupied as he was with his fantasies, Gallianus paid no heed to his now rousing bed-companions; a pair of pale, well-endowed, white-haired waifs he'd procured from the local populace of the orbital his ship was docked at. At a glance, one might mistake them for twins, though neither knew the other. With a dismissive wave, he bade the two goodbye as servants hurriedly scurried out of their hidden places and carried the Rogue Trader's brief flings out of his life. If only most problems in my life could be whisked away so easily. Gallianus idly thought while scratching his belly.

Since his encounter and subsequent employment by the Inquisition, Gallianus has kept himself busy. He's made a slim profit from the Cold Trade cargo he was carrying at the time, but given the circumstances, the Rogue Trader couldn't find it in himself to care about such a petty thing. Once he's resupplied on provisions, fuel, and crew, Gallianus will depart to the frontiers of Imperial space, braving the lawless wastes before eventually reaching one of the many outposts the T'au had made on the periphery of their empire. Not that a loyal servant of the Imperium would ever know of such things of course.

Loyalty is it's own reward. Gallianus repeated a popular quote oft attributed to Lion'El Johnson, one of the God-Emperor's Divine Sons. He was more partial to Sanguinius himself, given the Great Angel's reputation as a noble soul and kind heart to mere mortals, but no one can deny that the Lion, first and foremost, embodied duty and honor like no one else. Except maybe Rogal Dorn, but it's just splitting hairs at this point. With that errant thought out of the way, Gallianus van Boltaneus let his servants carry him through his usual morning routine, opting for a light meal of delicious soup and stew with exotic meat procured from trusted suppliers, with occasional sips of a wine bottle aged two centuries and possibly more, if one counts time spent in the Warp.

After choosing what he wanted to wear, Gallianus let his servants dress him while his mind wandered again to other tangents. Everyone in the Ultima Segmentum had heard about the T'au Empire, about the Damocles Crusade which would have scoured the xenos clean were it not for the untimely arrival of the Tyranids threatening the Realm of Ultramar. Afterwards, the blue-skinned bastards kept on expanding, encroaching upon Imperium worlds with lies on their tongues and pulse rifles on their arms. Some small, stubborn part of Gallianus that held his faith in the God-Emperor frothed with righteous fury, demanding immediate extermination of the vile xenos scum and their traitorous human helpers. That thought brought a smile to the Rogue Trader, since at least in that regard, he agreed with the Imperial Cult wholeheartedly. The alien are not to be trusted.

Once he was satisfied with his appearance, Gallianus moved on to his personal armory, wherein servitors worked day and night guarding and maintaining his store of lethal weaponry. He walked by a whole assortment of weapons typical of the Imperial Guard, as well as some more exotic fare. But his focus was on a pair of laspistols, placed upon a plush cushion threaded with gold. Lucky 38 for his right hand, and The Joker for his left—entered their holsters without trouble. Gallianus slipped in some throwing daggers, making sure they were concealed well, but ready to be pulled out at a moment's notice. A few vials of poisons and their antidotes made their way to discrete, padded pouches for possible use, and lastly, an Elucidator to make sure the Rogue Trader would never be caught unaware of hidden schemes spoken in plain sight by duplicitous actors pretending to be allies.

But pray, what occasion would warrant the presence of one Gallianus van Boltaneus? There were hardly anyone even remotely close to a Rogue Trader's status in the orbital station, which clung to its status as Imperial property by a thread. No, he would not tread upon such a filthy place, and indeed he has yet to set foot proper into the decaying death trap, reserving that burden to his Seneschal and other officers. What brought pep into his step, and gave him respite even as the Warp gnaws at him of past nightmares and lost dreams, was the chance to spend some time with Sister Kata and her fascinating experiences as a member of the Order of the Holy Word. Certainly Gallianus didn't appreciate her company for other reasons. Perish the thought.

The Sister of Battle was still doing her warm-ups by the time Gallianus reached the training hall he had set aside for her personal use. She had dressed down to just the armored bodyglove layer of her usual ensemble, which clung to her body like a second skin. Every movement made was done with the utmost control, with nothing left to waste. Sometimes Gallianus would see echoes of the fighting styles he himself made use of, incorporated in ways that never crossed his mind. It was a beautiful and entrancing sight, enough so that the Rogue Trader forgot to make his presence known as he entered the training hall.

He waited for the sister to recognize him, seconds turning into minutes which grated at the impatient man. Her routine engraved into her body through countless years spent in service meant that all distractions were nothing to the sister. In some ways it was refreshing to see that his status as Rogue Trader did not immediately render some people into breathless imbeciles eager to curry favour with him, but Gallianus felt that after at least a few days together, she'd remember to greet the Master of the Ship when he was around.

Gallianus turned the small ember of anger over and over in his mind before sighing and snuffing the flames out. It would not do to lash out at his guest for a tiny breach in etiquette, especially from one of the defenders of mankind. Not to mention Sister Kata was also a part of Inquisitor Nantz' personal retinue, which spoke volumes to her skills and loyalty to the Imperium. While the Rogue Trader grappled with his thoughts, the Sister of Battle had finished her exercises and became aware of someone else in her vicinity.

"Lord Captain." Sister Kata spoke evenly, her body language remaining ready as ever to jump into combat. "I apologize for not greeting you. I was in the middle of my stretches. Do you require my assistance with something?" A series of unbecoming requests flickered through Gallianus' mind before he forcefully put a stop to it. He wasn't a young buck anymore, even if his appearance said otherwise. Now was not the time for juvenile thoughts.

"I would like to invite you to lunch later, if you're not occupied. I have more questions in mind for the task ahead, and I'd rather be fed as I digest the answers." Sister Kata nodded, which would normally mean she'd accepted his invitation. But after one time waiting for the Sister of Battle to arrive, only to then be informed that the Sister was in the middle of a deep trance praying to the God-Emperor in the main shrine used by top-deck voidsmen and officers, Gallianus no longer trusted such gestures. It was either verbal confirmation or nothing at all.

"Of course, it is why I am here. Thank you for the personal invitation, Lord Captain." A great shudder ran through the floors at that moment, the lumens dying as the training hall lost power and surrounding areas lost power. Gallianus frowned and stood up a little straighter, his stance changing into one that would enable him to pull out his laspistols at a moment's notice. Similarly, Sister Kata began putting the rest of her outfit back on, soon safely ensconced within the power armor she wore most of the time. Her weapons, a Bolt Pistol and a Chainsword, were already in her hands, with her gaze locked on towards the training hall's entrances in anticipating of a fight.

"Lord Captain, we are unable to contact the bridge." The Enforcers that had come with Gallianus rushed to his side, their arms ready and poised for combat. "Some kind of disruption has befallen the voxcasters. The elevator was similarly disabled." A string of profanities left Gallianus' mouth. A voidship of any size, even a frigate like the Desperate Luck, was in essence a flying city in all but name. No one knew the full extent of its interiors, save perhaps for the Adeptus Mechanicum directly involved with the frigate' construction. The only stroke of luck so far was that the training hall was situated in the upper-decks, which meant there should be a way to get to the bridge, if the group can find it.

"Which one of you knows the way to the bridge?" Gallianus' voice boomed, shaking the Enforcers from their momentary lapse to fear. The Enforcers looked at one another with uncertain gazes before a young woman raised her hand.

"I know how to get to the bridge, Lord Captain." She shrank before the combined attention of her peers and superiors, but was reassured by another Enforcer giving her a brief nod. "It's a bit far from here, but it's safe and it's also known to the Master-at-Arms." That last bit sealed the deal for Gallianus, who then put on his best smile and flashed it at the young lass, who proceeded to blush a storm and avoid her Lord Captain's gaze.

"What's your name?" Gallianus asked, which was received by a dumbfounded look for a second before the reply came.

"Enforcer Temperance Virtue, my lord." Some small snickers came at that admission, which made the lady Enforcer' ears turn even redder. Sister Kata frowned, but said nothing, choosing instead to keep her eyes open for upcoming threats.

"Alright, lead the way, Temperance. I want to know who's stupid enough to attack us at port." With no more words said, the young Enforcer took the lead, followed by Gallianus and the other Enforcers, with Sister Kata taking the rearguard position. Without lumens, a voidship' inherent darkness became amplified, with what little light shining their way coming from built-in searchlights on the Enforcer' uniforms and the softer light of candles burning everywhere. At times they would stumble upon servitors still following their directives without light, while other times they would meet groups of stumbling upper-deck voidsmen and officers, trying to find their own way through the dark. These latter encounters usually had Gallianus ordering the crew to return to their stations and prepare for battle, which was reluctantly followed as the Enforcers brandished their shock batons.

More tremors came after the first, sometimes weaker, sometimes stronger, but that moment of horror as the Desperate Luck was sheared open to the void never came, which only made Gallianus more worried. A xenos fleet would not hesitate to crack open an easy target like a docked frigate, and pirates would practically salivate at such a catch. The only thing that came to mind that could affect a voidship so much was of some space phenomena or more chillingly, an internal problem with the machine spirits that governed the critical systems like life support or the sacred reactor core. Gallianus prayed that wasn't the case, as repair costs alone would ruin him for many years after.

After long hours skulking in the dark, the group finally saw red light coming from the hallway before them, a sign that this section of the upper-deck had access to the emergency power generators. Further exploration led them to a group of Enforcers safeguarding access to an elevator, with confrontation avoided as soon as the Enforcers recognized Gallianus and Sister Kata. With profuse apologies upon their lips, the elevator guards made way for the Rogue Trader's retinue into the elevator, informing their Lord Captain that his Seneschal had taken temporary command of the voidship until Gallianus' return.

Few of the Enforcers that accompanied Gallianus entered with him, with only four following their master while the rest stayed behind. Temperance Virtue counted amongst these trusted four, her bearing no longer one burdened by shame or nervousness, but one buoyed by professional pride in her profession and renewed loyalty in her Lord Captain. As the elevator ascends, only one thing was shared between the thoughts of everyone aboard the Desperate Luck.

The God-Emperor Protects.

---

The situation proved to be even worse than he thought. By the time he had reached the bridge, the Desperate Luck had already disengaged itself from the decrepit orbital port and was now fleeing towards the closest Mandeville Point, with other ships similarly scattering with the same agenda in mind. With a perfunctory nod towards his Seneschal, who gave a quick bow in turn, Gallianus took his seat at the command throne and asked the most important question of all,

"What happened?"

"There was a raid, Lord Captain." Rassilas Osmic began to speak as befits his station as Gallianus' right hand. "Xenos scum, appearing out of nowhere and catching us off-guard. It was only by the God-Emperor's blessings that we were able to escape their notice while the xenos reaped their toll on the other ships at dock." A great groan filled the bridge as warning sirens blared to life, officers shouting at each other and barking orders to their subordinates through vox-receivers.

"Voxmaster, status update!" Gallianus shouted, his face grimacing.

"Port-side void shields have failed, Lord Captain. There are reports of breach in Decks 50 to 70. A munitions depot have caught fire and are threatening to blow. Magos Dipolian reports that he and his technomats are working on bringing the void shield back online, but it will take around five minutes." The Rogue Trader clenched his fists tight until blood was drawn, his usually calm demeanor now replaced with righteous fury. But then that moment passed, the blood haze dispersed with a deep sigh as the more calculating parts of Gallianus van Boltaneus took charge.

"Our first priority now is to reach the Mandeville Point. Voxmaster, patch me through to the Navigator Sanctum." A brief lull came as the voidborn practiced his craft, with the result coming through a few seconds later. A vox receiver was brought before Gallianus, who immediately began speaking into it. "Navigator Oriolas, how soon can we make the jump? I'm afraid my ship can't take much more punishment from the xenos scum."

"Lord-Captain." A voice like crumbling parchment spoke through one of the vox casters installed in Gallianus' command throne. "I have already begun preparations for the Warp Jump, but I'm afraid I cannot do anything more. The Warp is becoming treacherous with the deaths of so many mortal souls, and I'm afraid I must cut communications soon 'lest the crew become compromised."

Gallianus, holding on to the faint hope of perhaps enacting a short-ranged warp jump to close the gap to the Mandeville Point, visibly deflated for a second before shaking off his disappointment. "Understood Navigator. Our lives are in your hands. The God-Emperor protects."

"The God-Emperor protects." The vox caster went silent, with the Voxmaster taking the device back before looking at Gallianus for his next orders. For one long second, the Rogue Trader considered the unthinkable; to give up and let the xenos scum destroy his ship, to be scattered apart into atoms and forgotten forevermore, the Boltaneus dynasty' becoming yet another casualty of the never-ending war between humanity and everything else. And then warning sirens came as xenos guided missiles came and missed its mark by several kilometers, the ensuing explosions jolting Gallianus out of his self-loathing thoughts, reminding him that even if he dared to act in a manner that suggested surrender, the righteous arm of the Ecclesiarchy would already be on hand to deliver the only gift a traitor deserved.

Sister Kata might have been assigned to Gallianus to guard him and his against the machinations of the xenos, but she was also a Sister of Battle at heart. Her faith was as much her shield as it was her weapon, to be wielded against the weak of hearts and those that doubt the God-Emperor's plans for all. With the scales of what was at stake now properly balanced in his mind, Gallianus made his next move.

"Bring up the surrounding augur scans, I want to see what's around us!" The data quickly came in the form of holopict screens attached to a servitor which dropped down from its alcove above the command throne. Gallianus used what he saw to quickly sketch out a three-dimensional profile of the void around the Desperate Luck in his mind, the signature profiles of the xenos ships appearing as blinking lines lurking at the edge of sensor range. There was nothing in the immediate vicinity, but several dozen ship-lengths away, there appeared to be an lightning storm in full power, large enough to engulf a system fleet. Gallianus had made use of such phenomena in the past to either recharge his void shields or disable his enemies' own, but it also came with the cost of his frigate' weapons systems being disabled while they were in it.

"Master Helmsman, make way to this heading, but don't make it too obvious to the xenos scum. Voxmaster, Call the Engineerium. Let the Engineseer Prime know that I need him and his fellow Magos to draw out more power from the engines, as much as they dare to." The Voxmaster obeyed, quickly enmeshing himself into the ship' various communications systems before patching Gallianus directly to the red-robed tech-priest of Mars.

"Lord-Captain Gallianus. You are treading on a dangerous path. But your request is accepted. May the Omnissiah saves us all." With that last ominous prayer in mind, the connection was cut.

"Voxmaster, I wish to make a ship-wide announcement." The voidborn nodded, making the necessary arrangements until once more, a vox receiver was reverently held out to the Rogue Trader. Gallianus took it, only now realizing that in all his years spent in the frigate, he never had cause to make such a announcement before, or at least not to the same extent. How poetic then that my first might be my last. Gallianus thought before opening his mouth.

"My loyal servants, heed my words! It is I, Gallianus van Boltaneus, bearer of the sacred Warrant of Trade, and faithful servant of the God-Emperor! The xenos threat assault us now, but we will endure! We shall prevail, for it is Humanity's destiny to rule the stars forevermore! Give unto me, unto the Imperium, all that you have and more! Endure, for it is with the martyr's blood will we be purified from the sin of doubt! Burn the heretic! Kill the mutant! Purge the xenos! The God-Emperor protects!" A roar of righteous zeal washed over the bridge, echoed with several corresponding affirmations coming in through the vox casters. Sister Kata joined in at the exclamation of faith, pounding her fist against her chest in a gesture of religious fervor.

With morale secured, Gallianus could now focus his mind on the task of survival. He grimaced as an automated voice boomed from every vox caster, warning of 'emergency burn', followed by an intense pressure upon his whole being which forced the Rogue Trader back into his seat. Several officers and voidsmen which didn't buckle down in time screamed as they were flown back across the bridge and hit the back wall with speed, every bone in their body broken and their innards crushed. After a while, the inertial dampeners finally re-engaged back in the bridge, freeing Gallianus from the shackles of physics.

The xenos ships steadily closed the gap, with one sending in scores of strike crafts which the Desperate Luck replied in kind with a wall of las-flaks saturating any approach vectors with fiery death. They were not enough however, as a three slipped through the defensive screen and unleashed their payloads upon the frigate. The starboard void shields caught the brunt of the blast, screaming mutely as layers failed one after the other, leaving only one final barrier between life and death for the occupants of the frigate.

Another xenos ship unleashed a lance of energy, the alien weapon a paradox of shadow contained within light, aimed at the frigate's vulnerable port side. Just as it was about to hit home, the Desperate Luck' void shields re-engaged, sacrificing half its strength at once but persevering regardless. The timing couldn't have been better, as a few seconds later, Gallianus' ship entered the raging space storm.

A cacophony of warning sirens filled the bridge, brilliant streaks of Motive Force arcing against the frigate' adamantium plates like welding torches. Various systems on-board were overloaded beyond their capacity, with the capacitors in turn being forcefully filled to the brim, with tech-priests, technomats, and servitors doing their best to avoid redirect excess power to those systems that can handle it, such as the void shields and the ship's engines. With a series of roars that shook the entire ship, the Desperate Luck pushed itself to the limit, leaving behind the xenos ships and the space storm behind just in time for the Navigator to finally engage the Warp Drive.

There was no subtlety to what happened next, as the Materium was wrenched open, spilling forth the eldritch energies of the Warp. No mortal eyes were meant for such a sight, and indeed the xenos scattered before the baleful gazes of Hir smiling at their approach. The Desperate Luck noticed none of this as it plunged into the eye of horror and left sanity behind, the warp portal slamming shut as soon as the frigate passed the threshold, leaving nothing behind.

---

The Water Caste had many protocols and policies in place when it came to interacting with the many xenos races in the galaxy. The Kroot, for one, as one of the T'au' oldest allies, enjoyed a level of autonomy and political power which saw them preserving their necrophagic culture intact and even accommodated for in exchange for Kroot warriors and Warspheres. The Nicassar were free to roam the stars in their caravans in exchange for becoming T'au scouts, and the Vespid colonized planets that were incompatible for T'au to live in. Not to mention of the humans who forsake the Imperium, becoming the Gue'vesa and an important source of labor, infiltration units, and diplomats that espouse the superiority of the Greater Good over the dehumanizing horrors perpetrated by the Imperial Cult in the name of a deity as far removed from humanity as it was to the T'au.

It was simple enough to understand and categorize the teeming masses, as though they claim to have no castes, there were still clear classes of stratification amongst each other, divided by blood, wealth, order of birth, gender, and countless other trivial categorizations meant to divulge one from the other, as though uniqueness was a trait valued by the cosmos. Their individuality was a problem, but not one that cannot be solved in-time, as has been proved time and time again in the oldest of the human populations absorbed into the T'au Empire.

One particular example of excessive individuality that the T'au Empire encountered often were those exhibited by the group of people known as Rogue Traders. These vagabonds, sometimes traders, sometimes preachers, often zealots and always pioneers had plied their trade between stars since before the T'au had even left their homeworld, and it showed. They were always quick to boast of their particular dynasty' lineage, of how prestigious and enduring it was, at the many accomplishments done by ancestors whose deeds outlasted any memory of them as a person. And of course they would always talk about the Warrant of Trade at length, at how it elevated them before all others to pierce the unknown regions of space not yet touched by the God-Emperor's Light.

The T'au, pragmatic as ever, treated Rogue Traders as an element to be taken advantage of, and only sometimes to be destroyed, which suited the vagabonds just fine. And so when the deep-space sensor buoys of Kiakassa System of Fal'Shia Sept detected what appeared to be a Warp Portal, the T'au made ready for war. One of the patrol ships that guarded the system ran then to alert the rest of the Fal'Shia Kor'Vattra of the intrusion, while the rest stayed behind to assess the situation and engage as necessary.

The hole in reality yawned wide as forks of not-real lightning zapped out in errant ways, ready to sunder voidships apart with their strikes. Tendrils of seeming intelligence tested the bounds of the tear, hissing as the Materium fought to assert its rules and logic against things that had neither at their core. With a violent thrust, a voidship broke through the scar-tissue scabbing over the Warp Portal, many of its parts glowing red-hot from fresh wounds upon adamantium plates and venting atmosphere into the vacuum of space. Reality asserted itself then, pulling taut the cosmic curtain over the horrors of the Warp.

The T'au waited for the rest of the invasion fleet to come, everyone aboard the patrol ships more than ready to give up their lives for the Greater Good. But when no more Warp Portals opened, and the lone frigate continued its hasty flight without seeming care of where it was going, remaining where they were seemed unwise as two choices appeared before the Captain of each patrol ship. They could remain where they were and stay vigilant for any further intruders and let the wounded Imperial ship escape. It was the safest option and tactically the most sound as well. But for Captain Mirrorstrike, in command of the Protector-class Cruiser, the Subtle Blade, that would not do at all.

It was time to get some answers at last.