Coupled with the fact that several other ordinary houses were hunting for her head with all possible zeal, further stay on Necromunda became too dangerous for Otto, even by her own, rather liberal interpretation of the concepts of personal safety… It was roughly around this time that the Rogue Trader of House Eyvor arrived at the hive world to recruit new mercenaries from House Van Saar.
He had long-standing ties with the head of that house.
A regular client who bought loyal, capable fighters for a good sum.
And at that moment, she appeared.
Taumi came to him herself, offering her services for, of course, a gigantic price, but the Rogue Trader, with his trained eye, immediately understood that the woman (if such a definition could even be applied to a Tech-Priestess) was fleeing the wrath of the houses, and therefore negotiated a significantly lower sum.
Cornered, Otto had no choice but to agree to the stated amount.
And so she appeared aboard the Kraken.
Mindful of his years as an Inquisition acolyte, Alrik’s first move was to make inquiries about his new traveling companion.
The “track record” of the fugitive Tech-Priestess inspired a strong desire to applaud the woman standing up.
Seriously, even among the personnel of the Holy Ordo Xenos, Eyvor could hardly recall a couple of specialists of this level, and, as everyone knows well — only the very best work under the wing of the Agents of the Golden Throne.
In fact, the very fact that throughout her entire “criminal career” Alrik was honored to be one of the few who saw Taumi “in person” already spoke volumes about her outstanding abilities, but he soon witnessed the capabilities of his new Retinue member firsthand when, during expeditions into the hulks discovered by the trading fleet, Taumi skillfully unlocked any door and downloaded every last scrap of useful information from cogitators (sometimes even despite scrap-code infection).
A rarest of personnel, a valuable member of the Retinue, and an irreplaceable asset of the trading fleet.
Surprisingly, despite her extremely controversial background, the former Tech-Priestess turned out to be a fairly easy-going “person.” Her dark past didn’t prevent the woman from establishing herself as a loyal and reliable ally.
Over time, their relationship became more trusting and even friendly in a good way.
Therefore, having gone through many scrapes with Taumi, even a man as “corrupted” by service in the Inquisition as Alrik could, not without reason, call Otto his second trusted person, besides Ingard.
All the other people in the bridge were not members of his Retinue, but nevertheless played a significant role in his plans: A stately man in an admiral’s uniform, but in the colors of House Alrik, with a thick gray beard — Liron van Hunst, captain of the Star Kraken and admiral of the entire trading fleet.
He was over three hundred years old, since when the Kraken was still under the command of its “previous owner,” the captain was ALREADY 350.
Old, but extremely wise, he had no intention of retiring.
The captain had devoted himself entirely to the Kraken, as he liked to joke, a skillfully rolled collector’s cigar clamped in his teeth: “Only the God-Emperor himself can take me from my captain’s throne by order.
In all other cases, I’ll leave, but only together with my ship, going down to the bottom!” But Alrik wasn’t even thinking of sending him off to an honorable pension.
Liron had hundreds of victorious battles to his name, thousands of ships of traitors, pirates, and xenos smashed into space dust.
He was a true well of knowledge about space, ships, and space battles.
And in this situation, he was his best ally.
The old captain sat down at the table, waiting for further instructions.
At the other end of the table sat another female figure, wrapped in many fabrics.
She was incredibly thin and old, and on her forehead was a red bandage covering her main feature — a third eye.
The Chief Navigator, Alaida.
She, like Liron, had served Inquisitor Phobis even before Alrik.
Incredibly intelligent and calm, she had supported Alrik’s forays beyond the Imperial zone, far from the Astronomican, with suspicious enthusiasm, and as is known, Navigators are like blind kittens without it… But nevertheless, she handled her task more than successfully, which speaks to her talents and strength of spirit.
But now, without the light of the Astronomican, Alaida was in despair and apathy, crying about the end of the world.
But at least she wasn’t trying to kill herself, like some others.
Another important person sat near the Squats.
Ernest Haeckel, an official sent by the Adeptus Terra from the High Lords of Terra themselves, overseeing the condition and supply of the colonists.
It was he who kept count of civilian losses after the passage of that terrible Warp Storm on the “whales” and reported to Eyvor.
Haeckel was just as much a pain in the ass as Melis, but while Lowne was an important member of the retinue, Haeckel was just a fat dickhead under Terra’s protection who thought far too highly of himself.
But now, with Terra no longer at his back, nothing prevented Alrik from arranging an “introductory walk” for the “high-ranking guest” out of an open airlock without a spacesuit, should he start throwing his weight around again… Besides the aforementioned people, there were about a dozen more senior officers of the Kraken on the bridge.
They were all split into small groups, discussing what had happened to all of them.
When Alrik entered, everyone fell silent, waiting for his word.
He swept his gaze over them all.
Everyone who knew about the xenos on board was here now, not counting a few officers necessary for the ship’s operation on the bridge.
But he didn’t want to think about that now.
A much more pressing matter was at stake.
“Greetings, ladies and gentlemen.” He nodded to all those present and sat down in his place by the table.
“I take it you’ve familiarized yourselves with the report from the Council of High Lords of the Crusade?” “We have.” The admiral approached the table.
Everyone else just nodded, confirming his words.
“I don’t understand what they’re counting on.
Our forces are already stretched thin.
We have almost thirty million civilians at our backs, and they’ve dumped reconnaissance, contacts with local xenos and humans, and the search for suitable worlds on us?” “And what will they be doing themselves?!” someone from the crowd of officers asked angrily.
Everyone else buzzed with indignation, venting their emotions.
Eyvor wasn’t angry at this display of willfulness.
Their minds were vulnerable now, susceptible to the fear of the unknown.
After all, it wasn’t every day you ended up in a completely alien galaxy, with no visible way back.
It scared Alrik too.
But over countless years, he had learned to wear a mask of fearlessness.
He understood that in moments like this, people gravitated towards such a fearless leader, trying to find protection in him.
And fortunately, Alrik could provide it.
“Quiet!” He didn’t say it loudly, but authoritatively, after which the emotional tension subsided, and the bridge fell into a ringing silence.
“The question now is not what they will do.
The question now is what all of us will do.
And in the Emperor’s name, pull yourselves together!
Here and now, opportunities of incredible scale are opening up before us!
Thousands of worlds lie before us, all their wealth is just lying on the surface — just reach out your hand.
And what, are we going to miss such a chance just because of our cowardice, dishonor, and faint-heartedness?!” It was a rhetorical question, of course.
Alrik even stood up, getting carried away by his own speech.
Most of the people in the bridge shamefully lowered their heads, unable to look their master in the eye, who had never deceived them.
“Or will we take fate into our own hands and cover ourselves with glory and wealth for the rest of our days?!” “Yes!” several voices answered him, inspired by the Trader’s speech.
Now only enthusiasm could be felt in their voices, not bitterness.
“Will we fight, or will we give up, letting the unworthy do it for us?!” “Fight!” “Then to work, gentlemen.” He sat back down in his chair.
“I want to hear a plan of action and sensible proposals from each of you here.” “First of all, you need to know all the reliable information available at the moment.” Ingard was the first to speak.
Even though the Catachan and Eyvor were on friendly terms, that was in their personal time, over a mug of strong recaf.
In an official setting, “in full dress,” in front of the officers, Ingard addressed his master exclusively as “you.” One had to keep up appearances.
If only Lowne adhered to a similar set of simple rules, life would be incomparably easier… The son of Catachan touched the table with his fingers.
An image of a galaxy immediately appeared.
Not the Milky Way, that was clear at once.
“An approximate image of the galaxy we’ve ended up in.
Obtained using long-range ultra-sensitive auspexes.” The Rogue Trader’s right hand cleared his throat slightly before continuing his briefing.
“We’ve also been sent all the data about this galaxy that was captured from the natives as trophies.
It also includes rough models of translators for the local languages…” Like a lecturer at the Schola Progenium, Ingard armed himself with a pointer and prepared for the upcoming “lesson.” “According to the data obtained, this entire galaxy is divided into zones.
The Core.” He traced an almost perfect circle with his finger near the galaxy’s core.
“The Inner Worlds.” A small circle right after the core.
“The Colonies.
The Inner Rim.” This time the circle was larger and uneven.
“The Expansion Region.” Another crooked small circle.
“The Mid Rim and Outer Rim.” The Mid Rim also turned out to be very large, and for the Outer Rim, he simply pointed to the territory immediately beyond the Mid Rim.
“Besides this, the galaxy is also divided into quadrants, sectors, arms, and so on.” “I’ll ask an obvious question… Is the governance of these ‘zones’ structurally similar to how we divided the Imperium into Segmentums, or does this galaxy practice… a more centralized system of governance?” The first, and it should be noted, sensible question, oddly enough, came from Haeckel.
“Our intelligence, obviously, does not have complete data, but according to the analysis of the information we obtained, distant zones like the Outer and Mid Rim are considered wild, and lawlessness reigns in most of them,” Ingard explained the situation.
“Hmm, so if logic exists at all in this galaxy, then the largest populated worlds are closer to the core.
Where our goals will lead us.” Eyvor fell deep into thought.
The range of tasks had unexpectedly tripled.
They had no reliable detailed maps, no guides, no agent network… No-thing.
And now they needed to find, obtain, and establish all this somewhere, otherwise they wouldn’t get far on their own with just one Navigator.
“Where are we now?” “Here.” Ingard pointed to one system, in the galactic west, on the territory between the Mid and Outer Rim.
Immediately after, he drew an irregular shape on the map, which in real scale would be hundreds of light-years long.
“The locals call this Hutt Space.
Territory of pirates, bandits, and other scum.
There’s no centralized power here, only numerous criminal communities that hold their zones of influence.
And the Hutts are the most vile and powerful among them.
But our expansion is gaining rapid momentum.
Already about a dozen systems and nearly a hundred planets have come under our control.
On my initiative, I’ve already requested data on the state of the planets.
Here’s what we received.” He ran his hand over the galaxy again.
Data on seventeen planets appeared.
They were all quite close to us, and each had its own climate.
“Excellent work, Ingard.” Alrik nodded and gave his deputy a warm smile.
He had once again proven that he held this position for a reason.
“Haeckel?” Alrik addressed the official.
The man stood up, proudly lifting his nose, his demeanor showing he was ready to listen.
“Since so many tasks have been placed on us, you will handle the needs of the colonies alone…” “But…” Ernest unceremoniously interrupted Eyvor, which infuriated the latter.
His face showed he was extremely displeased.
“No buts, Haeckel!” Alrik also unceremoniously interrupted him, slamming the table.
Everyone present in the bridge, except for the imperturbable Lowne, stepped back.
Alrik rarely showed such anger, but when he did, everyone understood — it was best to stay away from him.
“I speak — you listen!
I command — you obey!
And I will not tolerate willfulness when we are one step away from oblivion!
If you resist, I will throw you out the airlock right now!” Alrik’s face was the very picture of rage.
The man cowardly sank into his chair, staring at the Trader with fear.
The main thing was, the man, though arrogant, was by no means stupid.
Haeckel understood perfectly well — there was no Terra here, nor anyone who could protect him.
Which meant he would have to roll up his arrogance into a tube and shove it deep into a place where the sun never shines.
This, of course, was if he truly didn’t want to tragically die before his time… “I apologize for interrupting you.
Please continue.” “You will take the rest of my fleet to protect the ‘whales’ and head to the marked destinations.
First and foremost, we need agricultural, production, and industrial worlds.
And you need to work at maximum speed so that by next year we can already receive supplies and equipment.” “I’ll do everything in my power.
But you must understand, this is a very difficult task, almost impossible.” “The Crusade Command has given your mission priority importance.
You can request any resources from any of the Adeptus.
But the result must be in a year.
If anything goes wrong, you’ll answer with your neck not only before me, but first and foremost before the Inquisition.” Eyvor added special effects to his voice for emphasis, and then continued in a quiet whisper.
“We’ll all answer together…” Ernest, expressing his agreement, gave a curt nod.
Alrik could literally physically hear his thoughts: “And how, pray tell, am I supposed to do this?!” “Good.
Next point.
Reconnaissance.
Anyone have any ideas?” Having said this, he looked meaningfully at Alaida.
She, seeing his gaze, lowered her head.
Her gray strands fell over her withered face.
“I cannot guide you through the Immaterium.
The Veil that is there is too dense.
The light of the Astronomican doesn’t reach here.
I will barely have enough strength to reach the nearest system, but no further.” Her voice was very dry.
It felt as if the words came to her with difficulty.
“Even without that, we have enough problems.” Liron said after a moment of silence.
“We need maps.
Of the entire galaxy, all systems, and preferably trade routes too.” “And what’s the problem with taking them from captured ships?” Philip asked an obvious question.
“Surely they must have them, if they’re pirates.” “It seems the Mechanicus hasn’t found them yet.
At least, nothing like that has come to me.” Ingard answered the statement.
“So, we’ll make a request.
We’ll ask our dear tin cans about the map.” “Maybe it’s better to request a fully functional ship?” Ingard asked.
When Alrik looked at him questioningly, he immediately answered.
“After all, we have people who, I have no doubt, can figure out these technologies.
And use them.” Ingard was unambiguously hinting at Alrik’s furry xeno servants.
Undoubtedly, Jokaero’s talent in technology was unparalleled, but this solution was fraught with several problems.
And Melis didn’t miss the chance to voice them.
“Gentlemen, does any of you wish to go to the stake?
I’m sure our ‘friends’ among the witch hunters would be happy to arrange a couple for us,” the acrid sarcasm seeping into her words skillfully emphasized all the risks that such a proposal carried.
“I’m not even talking about the Mechanicus, who would most likely insist on our collective servitorization.” “Nevertheless, the proposal is sound,” Alrik said, interrupting the potential argument.
“We’ll take the ship.
But we’ll handle it ourselves, without involving the Mechanicus.
Ingard, you’ll be in charge of this.
Find a suitable vessel among the captured ones.
And make sure our ‘furry friends’ don’t get too carried away.” “As you command,” Ingard nodded.
“Now, about our immediate plans…” Alrik turned his attention back to the holographic map.
“We need to establish a foothold.
A base of operations.
Somewhere defensible, with resources.
Any suggestions?” “The system we’re in now is a dead end,” Liron said, shaking his head.
“No worthwhile planets, the star is unstable.
We need to move deeper into the Mid Rim, or even towards the Inner Rim.
There are more developed worlds there, with infrastructure we can use.” “That’s a long way, with an unknown route and a half-blind Navigator,” Haeckel interjected, his earlier fear seemingly forgotten.
“We could get lost, or run into something worse than pirates.” “Which is why we need to move carefully, and gather information as we go,” Alrik replied calmly.
“We’ll send out scout ships, probe the nearby systems.
We need to find a world we can claim, fortify, and use as a springboard for further expansion.
The Crusade won’t wait forever, and neither will our enemies.” A murmur of agreement rippled through the assembled officers.
The plan was risky, but it was the only one they had.
Alrik looked around the room, meeting the eyes of his people.
They were scared, uncertain, but they were also determined.
They had survived the Warp Storm, the displacement, the chaos.
They would survive this too.
“Then it’s settled,” he said, his voice firm.
“We have our course.
Let’s get to work.” “But didn’t they give us full carte blanche to carry out the operation?
Do you understand what that means?” Ingard replied in an equally aggressive tone.
Their gazes locked, promising each other a painful death.
The rest of the retinue rolled their eyes, as if to say, “Not again?” “But even that much freedom of action doesn’t give us the right to openly fall into heresy!” Lowne, with a short sigh, adjusted a strand of hair that had escaped her hairdo.
“The God-Emperor… such things should be done away from prying eyes, and YOU decided to send a request… Why not just send a letter of confession to the Inquisition right away?
I’m sure the Agents of the Golden Throne will appreciate your zeal…” “First, that would only happen if they even find out about the presence of xenos, which I highly doubt.
Second, do you have any other ideas?” At this statement, Melissa merely snorted angrily and, proudly frowning, turned away, preserving her sense of dignity.
Everyone gathered on the bridge knew about the presence of xenos on board.
Trusted individuals with whom the Rogue Trader had gone through dozens of risky expeditions.
Among them, only Alrik understood some of the error in Ingard’s judgments, considering that Bloodmoor was already aware of the xenos on board.
But there was no need to fear him — he was too invested in the matter.
“Ingard is right.
We have a limited timeframe, so we’ll leave the conventional methods of space travel behind.
If what they say about this hyperdrive is true, we’ll complete the task in the shortest possible time.” “And if the Mechanicus asks why we suddenly needed a sample of local ‘xenotechnology,’ what are you going to tell them?” the noble daughter of House Lowne asked in an innocent voice.
“I’ll tell them it’s none of their damn business.” Melissa was a smart and capable girl.
Despite being a bitch the likes of which you’d have to search for.
But sometimes she really did test other people’s patience.
Although Alrik knew that it was the ruthless chief in her playing out, one who tolerated no other opinions and demanded only obedience.
Aristocratic blood isn’t water, you can’t just wash it out… At this statement, she only smiled meaningfully.
You didn’t need to be a telepath to read her thoughts, which could be succinctly described by the expression “Sure, sure.” “Contacts with the local humans?” “Again, judging by the languages, in this galaxy human society has assimilated very heavily with the local xenoids, of which there are a great many.
There probably isn’t a single major world that doesn’t have a pair of a human and a xenos.
So there are no purely human states here.
But there is a certain Chancellor Palpatine, a human who seems to be considered the head of the Republic, the main state of this galaxy.
If we’re going to negotiate with anyone, it’s with him,” Ingard laid out the logical chain.
“Not necessarily.” Melissa interjected, casting a contemptuous glance at Ingard.
Sometimes their behavior simply drove Alrik out of his mind.
“There are bound to be plenty of other planets where humans dominate.
After all, there must be some kind of human associations.
We can gather allies little by little, build an agent network gradually.
Much later, I believe, we’ll be able to influence the local petty kings as well.” “All of that is sophistry.
We don’t know how the local humans think or how they’ll react to us.
And in any case, it would take a very long time.” Ingard leaned on the table and looked at the map.
The gears in his brain were now turning at an incredible speed.
“But this way we can buy time and not provoke an unwanted war with our thoughtless actions,” the noble lady shrugged and spread her hands.
“The locals are hardly going to be thrilled that we’ve barged into their home and started teaching them how to live.” “If you haven’t noticed, we’ve already done that,” Ingard almost ground out through his teeth.
“Of course,” Melissa readily agreed with her interlocutor.
“Our ships barbarically attacked systems that are under the control of criminal syndicates, pirates, and other rabble.” The Catachan didn’t really know what irritated him more — the unmistakable sarcasm oozing from her words, or the slight half-smile on the aristocrat’s face.
“I’m afraid that for this kind of ‘crime,’ the local natives will only thank us, but when it comes to their core worlds… They’re hardly going to be able to turn a blind eye to that.” In essence, Melissa was absolutely right.
Fighting an entire galaxy with the forces of a single Crusade was, to put it mildly, a frankly suicidal endeavor.
The optimal strategy was to play the cards you had correctly and first establish a solid foothold in this unknown galaxy before starting to wage full-scale wars with its inhabitants.
“But, in principle, I don’t see another option.” Taking a deep breath, the Catachan admitted his ‘defeat.’ “Unless it’s a preemptive strike, but those decisions are no longer within my competence.” He looked at Alrik, waiting for his final word.
But the former interrogator’s gears were working no slower.
He was thinking about where to start.
The Lords of the Crusade demanded results.
They needed worlds with existing resource bases, not wastelands in the middle of fucking nowhere.
They needed worlds populated by humans, where they could recruit new soldiers, followers, and so on.
And Alrik understood that he had to succeed in this task.
Otherwise, due to failures, an inspection would quite likely come for him.
And knowing Bloodmoor, that inspection would definitely be led by Del Shin… And then you really wouldn’t escape the pyres.