WH40K Rogue Trader: Blood and Bolters, IC Thread: Chapter 1 Reclaiming What is Ours Options

[LurkerOutThere]

Mekkan looks over the navigator with barely concealed rage but at your offer to take off your honor and your invocation of duty he visibly deflates his hand moving away from his blade hit. "Your pardon Navigator, lord-captain, the percieved insult is trivial and I apologize for my loss of face. The notion that someone has cut us off from the suplies that our patron house provided us somehow. I have no words, a moment to collect myself I beg of you." He turns quickly and moves off to one side leaning against a wall, trying to cover the fact that he is clearly on the verge of hitting something or retching or maybe both, yet still keep a sense of the naval decorum so heavily drilled into his caste. As he moves away Granx nimbly steps away from Mordecai and removes his hand from the hilt of the machete like blade on the bag of his tribal festooned armor. He soon gives up the ruse of scratching and scans the dataslate when and if it's passed to him."

The young cadet who reported keeps staring at Mordichai before catching himself and closing his mouth. "Maybe captain but I think their just twists or gretchen, neither of which will attack a party like yours except to filch. Once in a while there's a bigger greenskin down in the holds but mate Mekkan and the purifier expedition just went down below last month with flamers so I doubt any have had a chance to get that big yet unless their really crafty."

[Drace]

Lucius nods to Mekkan, giving him leave to collect himself while ildy passing the slate to Grax for him and his men to read, if they can. He looks over at the junior cadet and smiles in a paternal way. "Thats good to hear son, but even if it is just a few grots or twists, we should still hurry with all haste to the bridge to get it up and running, so we can do repairs and deal with the situation of the extended 'visitors' to our beloved ship.".

He looks over to Mordechai and smiles. "If you wouldnt mind closing your robes and coming along, I think you could be of use to us all on the bridge, and for deciding how you want your sanctum set up.". And with that he continues to walk in the direction earlier indicated, allowing the cadet and Makken, with their more extensive knowledge, to take point and lead the way.

[agustaaquila]

Mordechai puts his robes back up, and takes his ax back up. "As you wish my Lord. I will follow along through this maze."

[LurkerOutThere]

Granx lips moves when he reads but he does seem to scan the dataslate intently before passing it back to the ensign. He claps a cupped hand to his side of his armor getting the attention of his squad before pointing to Mercer and Athen before gesturing ahead to the darkened passage with a tiptoeing motion. Both soldiers unsling pistols and knives and move out with suprising stealth. "Dey'll report in if they find anything ahead of us, otherwise we'll hear de' shots."

Soon Mekkan joins you again once again making apologies and he heads off. Several times you catch up to the advanced scouts as they have to stop at bulkheads that are unlocked but to damaged by time and neglect to move properly under their own power. With the combined might of your party they do prove no great challenge in the long run. After a half hours travel you come on the signs of ancient battle, dead and dessicated orc corpses that look like they have been purfied by flame slump here and there as well as more recent, but thankfully not within the last few days signs of Ork passage. after nearly another hour of slow going your approaching the bridge when Mercer calls you up more quickly over the com network. Up until this point you've had no good look at your surroundings save for the occasional pools of light given off by the ships lighting or that which you broguht with you. Up ahead however is a well lighted highly vaulted chamber an armor crys dome set in the cieling shows the blackness of space lit by distant stars. Chandeleers cast light on thousands of pieces of elegant brass and gold finery. Clearly this was a meeting and social space in happier times as well as housing navigational resources inscribed in the very walls and floors. All over the chamber small servitors, cherubim float here and there cleaning, dusting, polishing and repair, restoring the place to splendor after years of neglect. Over to one side a set of combat servitors stand watchfull guard as a neat stack of fresh gretchen and mutant corpses are hauled off by a work servitor with a small card. A servo skull, it's ancient pale white form gilded with brass and steel floats down near you the torch and sword emblem of the Divine Inspiration displayed proudly on the grill of it's small speaker.

"Greetings good captain and company, I am putting the ship in as much order as I can. I am even attempting to locate some Amasec or tea but time ahs not been kind to the ships larders. In any case before you proceed to the bridge and claim your destiny I have a question. What is the difference between Heresy and Blasphemy?"

The floating skull clicks and whirs waiting for an answer.

[agustaaquila]

Mordechai bows his head, and mumbles to himself. His head snaps back up.

"Well, if a equals 1, than the difference is negative 36. I doubt that is the answer you were looking for however."

[Drace]

Chuckles and looks up at the servo-skull smiling. "Well Heresy is belief in something contradictory to the faith, while blasphemy is an act that goes against or in the face of it.". He then looks around and shrugs. "Or atleast thats how I like to see it.".

[Tanegar]

Hakkonen's servo-skull darts toward the newcomer, chainblade whirring, clearly bent on the other servitor's destruction... before Hakkonen's manipulator mechadendrite once again whips forward over his shoulder and snatches his servitor back. He spits several clicking, squealing phrases in Techna-Lingua, clearly annoyed with his artificial minion, as the belligerent machine thrashes in his grasp. After a moment, it goes limp, and when released allows itself to drift at the whim of the air current.

With a final, faintly disgusted look at his servitor, he turns his attention to the ship's servo-skull, still waiting patiently. "Her-heresy is treason of the-the mind. Blasphemy is treason-son of the tongue."

[PBTHHHHT]

Cornelius perks up at the question presented by the servo-skull and holds his tongue. Taking in the answers that what his companions provide to the servo-skull.
Interesting things that I must witness on this ship, I wonder what the speaker follows, blasphemy or heresy? I hope those around me are strong enough to resist the dark influences that I know we will face.

[LurkerOutThere]

The servitor skull clicks and whirs as if processing your answers or as if the person ont he other end is doing so before bobbing slightly as if nodding. "Interesting if very general answers. I note that your priest does not answer. In any case come along then, my reserve of theatrics is nearly exhausted and I am eager to see my watch resolved one way or another."

The skull floats towards the bulkhead partitioning off the bridge which starts to unlock and yawn outward in response to it's presence the massive doors each a good four inches thick of solid metal.

Inside the bridge area is a configuration you haven't seen before. A series of command and control balconies and pulpits ring up and down the walls of the large open space connected by catwalks and crash webbing. Rather then at the highest point of the bridge like on many ships the command throne is at the lowest point, surrounded on all sides by the support stations with the holodisplay to the front. The room is immaculately clean and cherubim whirl about on cleaning and other repair tasks. Signs of long ago battle are present but quickly being expunged. The captains throne is occupied, a desicated corpse is wired into it by long golden strands and other complex leximechanical fillaments that bears an unsettling resemblance tot he Emperor's card from the tarot. The corpse is dressed in a finely laid out uniform colored by age and decay. Even in death it has a noble bearing to it. With a start you realize that even with much of it's flesh dessicated away there is still a slight weezing rise and fall to the Captain's chest as it sits on the throne. The main display screen flickers to life it's surrounding cogitators siring the air as it flicks on. The ships heraldry symbol a torch in front of a representation of a globe comes to life and a mechanical voice comes forth from the vox speakers. Perversely as the words echo forth the corpse on the throne mouths them with drawn and almost skeletal lips.

"Greetings good captain. I am the Horsehead pattern ships cogitator Divine Inspiration! Bound to serve your family and the the cause of the master of mankind by ancient and honorable leximechanic incantations. I exist to bring the Imperial Truth to the heathen stars and expand the Master of Mankind's reign to the stars. By the way this is usually the point where your tech priest goes for his melta if he has one."

[Tanegar]

The tech-priest in question cocks an eyebrow at the cogitator's pronouncement, then calmly walks over to the withered corpse-thing on the throne and examines it closely.¹

Rolls:

[ Spoiler ]

¹Tech-Use 4 vs. 50: 4 degrees of success

[Drace]

Honest, hearty laughter bursts from Luciens lips at the impetious and straightforward speaking of the ship cogitator. "Well it is quite a good thing Magos Hakkonen does not have said Melta now isn't it."

He then proceeds to holster his pistol and reclasp the strap on his power sword with a broad smile, looking about the whole room. "So where should I be looking when I address you?".

He then looks back at Mekkan. "And when were you going to tell me that the ship's machine spirit was this aware? Or was it going to be another little surprise?".

[agustaaquila]

Mordechai ignores the figure in the chair, claps his ax to his back, and begins to examine the navigator's chair.

He pulls out his Tarrot cards, and places them around the chair, he then begins to turn them over.

[ Spoiler ]

test psyciscience v. 53 (43+10 routine)
1d100=94
5 degrees of failure
fate point 1d100=55
1 degree of failure

"The cards are silent as to how the warp is around here. I could take a look, but I would rather hold off until we are ready to get the Inspiration moving.

[LurkerOutThere]

Hakkonen:

[ Spoiler ]

From the look of the corpse it is meshed in with the ships control throne. A technology that allows a captain greater control and awareness of his ships at some minor risks of mental degeneration and damage. That the ability to create new ships with this configuration has been lost to all but lathe worlds with the msot experience in both ship building and leximechanic construction you are familiar enough with the concepts (partially due to your own implanted enterface) to note that this seems more invasive. The normal connection jsut dumps data into the brain this conenction seems two way and if from what you can see through cracks int he skull is any indication the ship is actually using the brain as well.

It should also be pointed out that the creation of this level of cogitator is strictly proscribed while examoples of it dissapear into the vaults of factors for carefull and hushed study. Aritificial Intelligence, as this appears to be, is heresay to the brotherhood. Yet this one, despite it's quirks so far at least claims subservience and deception is not normally something machines are capable of.

In a flash it becomes clear to you. The ship all these years has been conducting repairs on itself and directing the crew in same. Such a feat would not have been possible even for blasphemously powerfull cogetators without the inclusion of this human brain here. If the body on the throne were to finally expire or be destroyed the ship would loose quite a bit of it's mental abilities becoming closer to a far advanced servitor.

"It does not matter captain, here on the bridge I am all around you although my primary logic banks exists partially here and partially in the engine room. I am glad that you are here to take over from your brother, although I dare say I would advise against using my neural interface as he did. Desperate times and desperate measures and all that."

Granx seems to have somewhat relaxed although he mumbles slightly to one of his squad that he was hoping for a demon as he hasn't got to kill one yet. Mekkan examines the consoles hand stroking over the polished brass reverently.

[Drace]

Lucien looks over at the corpse and chuckles. "No, no I don't think I would use that unless it was a dire emergency. Thanks for advice my good ship.".

With that Lucien glances at Granx and nods to the rest of the cabin. "Have your men check the rest of the bridge for me, while we talk to our new... acquaintance...".

As he gives that order, he looks over at the rest of the crew, trying to figure out their reactions to the whole situation.

[PBTHHHHT]

Cornelius looks at the scene before him impassively. The situation was a bit much, but then again... there does not seem to be any demonic, mainly the use of possible forbidden technology. If that is the case, it belonged more in the techpriests responsibilities in determining if it is useful for the Imperium.

"Interesting... I hope things work out for everyone."

[agustaaquila]

Mordechai continues to ignore the captain's chair, and examines the navigator equipment. He moves down to the navigation table, and looks at various other stations on the bridge.

[LurkerOutThere]

Granx and his troops begin checking the surroundign area inspecting darkened corridors and looking near access areas.

"Captain I am your servant but there are things you and your crew must know about me if you are to make use of me. The most pressing is you will need to decide if you want to destroy me. As I am I represent a great threat to you from both the Cult of Mechanicus and the Imperial Creed. For the former because they ill understand my workings and will covet me if they learn of my existance. For the latter because I speak the highest sort of blasphemy, the truth. A rejection of the emperor's divinity is hard wired into my systems enshrined in the deepest of my logic banks, I can no more cease to believe or profess it then you can discontinue breathing. Obviously you can see how such a belief will usually cause a missionary to turn all sorts of fascinating colors. As inconvenient as this truth may be it is my loyalty to the emperor that guides my mind and I cannot put it aside. Your ancestor Crovax Vorhees was a runepriest of some skill. When he reclaimed me he entered subservience to your family as an equally high directive. This was a mixed blassing as it allowed me to continue to function in imperial society and space. But it is the duality of my primary directive to spread the Imperial Truth as it was codified by the emperor and my duty to continue serving and therefore be subtle with my deliefs that is causing me greater and greater levels of mental instability and degradation. Interface with your brother has cleared up much of that as well as idle time spent giving the matter some serious thought, and trust me, I have had little else to do while I waited for your return."

OOC:
Mordechai and other you find the navigators equipment in good working order although most of it is of a very old standard that while servicable is mostly kept as a curiousity now especially by your forward thinking houses. Of particular note on the navigation table you find a gilded multicompas of a strange pattern.

[agustaaquila]

Mordechai looks at the multicompas, knowing from experience that picking such things up could be dangerous.

[ Spoiler ]

test v. scholastic lore (astromancy)
1d100=44 v. 43 (1 degree of failure)

test v. forbidden lore (navigator)
1d100=79 v. 43 (3 degrees of failure)

"I feel as if i should know what this is, but it continues to elude my mind. I shall think on it later."

[Tanegar]

"Lord-cap-captain, regardless of your deci-cision as to the ultimate fate of the ship's cogitator-tor, I recommend we immediately remove-move your ancestor's corpse from the neural inter-terface."

[Drace]

Lucius looks over at the magos with a raised eyebrow. "Sounds fair, is there a reason for the rush though?".

Before he finishes waiting for an answer though he looks up at the command console, trying his best to be polite as he directs his comments to the ship. "The only two real question here are simple Divine Inspiration, can you help us with repairing you in a timely fashion and more importanty can you keep your mouth shut?".

[Tanegar]

"Well, ap-apart from the fact that it will render-der the machine less intelligent and therefore less of-of a threat, there is also the minor-nor point that there is a preserved cor-corpse on the command throne."

[Drace]

Seeming to think about it for a few drawn out moments, Lucius nods his head. "You are right, we should get it off, even though I do think it fits the ambiance of the room....".

As he starts to pace the deck for a few moments, he slowly makes his way to the Magos. "This isn't in itself a normal occurrence is it Magos?".

[Tanegar]

"The ex-existence of the cogitator itself? No, lord-captain-tain. It is an hereti-tical device, banned by order of the Fabri-ricator-General. Fortunately, my posi-sition as an Explorator grants me-me some leeway in theolog-logical matters. I must warn you, however-ver, should any orthodox techpriest learn of-of the device's existence, they will consider themselves duty-ty-bound to confiscate or destroy-oy it."

[Drace]

Smirking, Lucius looks over to the skeletal corpse. "You hear that? No running your mouth off to any other techpriests. Or priests for that matter....".

He looks back at the Magos, a serious glint in his eye. "So how rare is it for a cogitator to turn like this? And how much can you learn from it?".

[Tanegar]

"I have never seen or even-ven heard of such a thing out-outside of ancient records. As I said, they are rigid-idly proscribed by the Priesthood of Mars-Mars. If any other such machines are currently ex-extant, they are being kept ver-very much under wraps... or potentially are keep-keeping their own existences secret. As to-to how much I could learn..." The red-robed techpriest spreads his hands. "That will depend very much-much on how much time I-I have to study the machine-chine, and on how cooperative it-it chooses to be."