"Before the Sergeant does that Captain..." Ysabell broke in, looking from Lucius to Augustian then finally the armsman "..this would seem like a reasonable time to clear up a slight confusion from earlier. With your permission?"

Lucius looks over at Ysabell and nods his head. "Of course, what is on your mind?".

"Preventing confusion in the chain of command , particularly if we're going to be recruiting from the Navy. Put simply.. " she gave Augustian a wry smile "..we have too many Captains and aboard a Naval vessel that's a problem."

Ysabell paused to ensure both the Vorhees were following then plowed on.

"To make matters worse, you are both 'Captain Vorhees'. Fortunately, however, your cousin is not a Navy Captain which presents a simple solution as the Navy has a protocol for such situations. You would remain Captain Vorhees, your cousin would be given a courtesy promotion to Major, equivalent to my own rank of Lieutenant Commander."

She held up a hand to forestall any interuption, looking over to address Augustian directly.

"I realise you're technically retired from the Guard. However, I believe you are still entitled to your rank and whilst the Navy may not always show the greatest respect to the Guard.." again, she gave him a smile ".. I think you'll find it's rather more than you'd get as a civilian."
"I

Sergent Grax does put in his two thrones at this point. "Beggin' your pardon commander but if the navy cadets don't get the chain of command as the captain lays it down there's always the lash or the airlock. I mean no disrespect and of course as captain you can name your staff to whatever rank you'd like, and designate whatever chain of command you like. But I read up a little bit on the DI, the library here has reams on it, and if there's one thing the clan-kin won't take kindly too it's naval style discipline. Of course that brings us back to the lash or the airlock. I guess what I'm saying is a lot of folks who sign on with a Rogue Trader, me and mine for example, do so because it's the only real chance at freedom we got. I think if you get too caught up on protocol you do that."

He grins his friendlies grin at all of you with a nod of respect to Ysabell and Lucius. "I guess that's one other disclaimer you should know about me and my squad, we're loyal killers thro' and thru but we're kinda opinionated gits. If you don't like that I'd rather know now so I can stay here. Secondly please don't hire and commisars or ex-commisars, getting the stains outa the carpets is terrible."

He looks to Lucious. "As you may of figured out what I did for your uncle is kill people, quiet or noisy, subtle or messy, it doesn't make no difference. You want a dapper gent or lass with polished buttons, shined boots, and the ability to balance a tray properly at a banquet I bet yer uncle can recommend some. You need someone killed or need a guard that will pull himself up a spear shaft he's impaled on to kill the bugger trying to kill you you want me' an mine. We don't work for Guard rates anymore, but we're still a bargain for what we do. I can explain more on that later if you like, we've got a long trip to wander even by ship's time."

Lucius looks over to sergeant Grax and gives him a vicious smile. "Now your the kind of people I want by my side here. Parade troops are nice and all, but I don't want some brat with polished buttons scared to get his uniform dirty. And I want all the 'higher' crew to be able to voice their thoughts, the command crew here, our heads of security"with that he motions to Grax and his team,"and the higher ranked officers.".

He then looks over to Ysabell and nods to them. "I standard military and navy structure will be the best for the officer corps perhaps, but in all honesty, you are both going to be having more responsibility than the titles you suggested." He seems to think it over for a moment before shrugging. "It seems that you Ysabell will be the helmsman or a similar title, honestly, you can choose it for all I care. Or you can go for first mate, since your going to be piloting the ship and have the most ship experience, it would make sense."

Turning his head over towards Augustian he smiles. "And for your rank cousin, honestly it doesn't matter what you want to use. Vizer, Chancellor, Seneschal, Major, aslong as it fits you and everyone is able to say it, it should be fine.".

He then looks at the rest of the group assembled that haven't already left. "All things told, like Grax said, these aren't going to be people that are going to listen to orders mindlessly as they are beaten and whipped, nor are those the crew we want. We want crew that will be loyal not because they fear the whip or we press ganged them in the mid of night, but because they are as dedicated to the ship as us. People who will work and fight for it because it is there home. If we are able to swing getting some naval officers to resign and sign up with us, we have to make sure to recruit those that mirror our crew's beliefs. Those that may be considered mavericks, that may go do thinks not by the book, those that actually give a damn about the crew below them. We want officers who will care about the ship and its crew, just as much as the crew care about the ship.".

With that he gives a quick cackle, "Or atleast as close to that perfect fit as we can get at short notice.".

Ysabell flashed Lucius a quick grin before replying. "As your newly appointed First Officer, crew requirements will fall under my purview. Your cousin and I are going to have to sit down and go through our crew requirements, decide what we're going to need now and what can wait if we can't find that perfect fit right away. Infact, Major.." Ysabell gave Augustian a quick glance "..I think we'll be spending quite a bit of time between now and our arrival at Port Wander working on the logistics of this little escapade."

She turned back to look in Grax's direction before continuing. "As to my earlier comments, they have far less to do with discipline or the chain of command as they do with clarity. I don't know if any of you have been on the command deck of a warship as she's headed into battle, it's one place where there's absolutely no room for confusion.

That said, we do need to consider the issue of discipline. I'd suggest appointing the sergeant here Master-at-Arms. I'm sure he's more than capable of dealing with any little issues that might occur."

Towards nightfall the next day Alejandro meets you at the shuttle pad outside the family estates. Waiting on the launchpad is a military transport variant of the renowned Aquila Lander sporting house Vorhees Colors. As a last parting gift before your departure Alejandro presents Lucius with a Lord Captain's baton and Augustian with a less ornamental device. Both bear the house crest as well as the Divine Inspiration's name and launch date.
“The Divine has sophisticated cogitator circuitry on the bridge that may be in lock down waiting for the proper authority on the bridge. This will help you identify your authority to the ship itself. Baring that I would trust in your tech-priest to circumvent the system if he has to. These should also get you through any sealed doors on the vessel. Their gene-coded to our line. Incidentally Augustian that one was mine when I served as first mate and it does make me proud to see you take it up. I know you will take good care of it.”
With that he bids you farewell and your group plus Sgt. Granx's squad pile into the shuttle. It's design is sleek and efficient giving what would normally be private crew quarters over to increased seating and storage space so all of you can pile in with space to spare. The downside of this becomes apartent after Ysabell takes you out into orbit the hive's light dimming under an ever present layer of environmental pollution before you leave the atmosphere. It takes a little over an hour to reach where the merchant flotilla is waiting. As previously arranged Synthia sends a short range astropathic message to the flotilla and is responded back in kind with a berthing location on the flottila's flagship. Once your shuttle has nudged into dock aboard the much larger cargo ship you can disembark. According to protocol a bosun's mate and an honor guard are there to meet you along with Captain Teech. You can't help but note that this berthing seems mostly used by landers and shuttles in for overhaul or being scrapped for parts so it will see little traffic. Teech introduces himself politely clearly not wanting to offend representatives of his patron but quickly makes his apologies as the hours before departure are busy indeed. Sgt Granx proposes keeping half his squad detailed to watch the shuttle bay and the other half will either be sleeping or standing guard inside the door to your quarters common area.
Your quarters are adequate clearly selected for seclusion rather then luxury. They appear to be junior maintenance officers quarters a series of personal hab units just large enough to containt a bed and a desk/dresser around a communal area.
Activity on the ship reaches a fever pitch before the departure. It takes a little under a week to get to Scintilia's jump point. When the departue finally comes into the blackness of the warp it is suprisingly smooth save for the klaxon announcing the jump. The merchant navigator uses only the most well documented and well mapped warp routes (Mordechai is confident he could do the same journey in half the time with only slight chance of horrible warp born mishap.). On the plus side the passage is uneventfull save for some unsettling dreams on the final leg of your journey before approaching port wander. As arranged you load into the shuttle and depart without fanfare soon after crossing into the system itself. With two days travel to the Divine Inspiration the downside to this efficient transport becomes more apparent as you are now bunking in shifts in the shuttles sleeping area. Still other then Granx's squad all having a slight earthy tone to them that becomes aparent in the recycled air no matter how much they shower you make good time approaching the Divine Inspiration. As you approach Zacharais and Augstian mark out small craft flying patrols in the vacinity of the vessel. Zacharais adjusts the dial and suplicates the machine spirit to refine it's inquiries to confirm that they are mostly gun cutter class ships whose transponders identify them as flying for the Thousand Blades mercenary company. He also on long range scanners is able to identify two docking beacons on the Divine Inspiration. One is a launch bay near what you presume from the auspex is the barracks area. The other is closer to the hab units and appears to be an outward facing airlock with lamprey clamps. As Zacharais reflexively reads off the standard prayer of welcome played by both beacons Mordochai points out a hidden subtext in the one for the Hab areas indicating welcome to the heirs of House Vorhees in the house cant he had to master to access some of the Vorhees navigation charts.

You now have a choice on where to dock first. Ysabell is certain that by sticking to the surrounding debris field she can slip past the scout craft without them even being aware of your existence should you so choose.

OOC: I took the liberty of rolling some appropriate piloting and tech use tests for folks.

"Well, as much as I would like the mercenaries to be behind us, the hab door is sending us a welcome message. I think that we should try and slip in unnoticed, as surprising the mercenaries will be beneficial. The code is not one easily faked, and so I think that is our best bet going in."

Mordechai has strapped a giant ax to his back, and those listening closely hear a slight clank of metal with each of his steps. He has changed back into his formal robes, and he seems to have relaxed since leaving orbit.

"Regardless, we should decide quickly as the longer we sit out here the higher our chance of detection becomes. I tire of waiting, and long for the navigator's chair again. It is so close that I can feel its cold metal embrace."

Lucius smiles at Mordechai and fingers the safety of his trusty, and much abused, plasma pistol to ready, ensuring the laser sight is properly secured to it and he has the spare plasma flasks on his person. Donning his greatcoat and strapping his powersword to his waist for easy access he looks over at the rest of the command cadre, a look of amusement on his face.

"I would have to agree with our navigators appraisal. Be best to have some allies before we try for the rest of the ship. What do you all say?". He then gives each of you a glance, looking for your opinions of the situation.

Hakkonen looks out a port at the looming starship, momentarily oblivious to the conversation. He begins to pray, his servo-skull chanting counterpoint in Techna-Lingua.

"Ave Machina. Blessed be the Omnissiah and His works. Blessed be the machines that empower His servants. Blessed be the weapons that bring death to His enemies. Blessed be the ships that bear His word, blessed be the Titans that are His fists, blessed be the tanks and the powered armor and the bolters and the lasguns. Blessed be cog and gear and circuit. Blessed be the Machine. Ave Machina! Hail the Machine!"

He bows his head and makes the sign of the cog over his breast, then turns to the assembled company. The Magos is wearing a bright red Selenite-pattern void suit bearing the skull-and-gear emblem of the Adeptus Mechanicus on the front of its torso; the same blazon adorns the back of the helmet slung from his hip. His Omnissian axe is slung across his back, and he carries a hellgun close to his body with the ease and familiarity of long use. A large case containing the remainder of Hakkonen's belongings dangles from a hook on the underside of the servo-skull.

"If Lord-cap-captain Alessaunder is confident in the authenti-ticity of the hab area beacon code, then I recommend we-we land there. It seems the best chance of linking up with the Vorhees per-personnel already aboard."

Markus one of Granx's soldiers slips over to you and bows his head while waiting for Hakkonin s to finish your prayers. Once the tech-priest have done so and he judges it not rude to approach he proffers a dataslate, mindful of the ever present and slightly off servo skull. “Magos da sergent be wonderin' if you can put in the prayers to set up a command channel that all can vox to and and listen to but keep it seperate from the main. So we can do our grunt stuff and you can do your important people stuff without triping over each other, but all can talk on the main chan if you got something important to say to all.” He indicates the dataslate reverantly going through a prayer of tactical enlightenment to bring up his squads position and a augered layout of the shuttle. “Sergent also be wonderin if you wanted to plug the command cadre into the tac display, for when and if this goes pear shaped. In the guard we had the cogbo...errr tech priests to do this, so I apologize if this is below your magnificence.”

(Hakkonen's rolls)


Granx approaches the Lucius and Agustian. “How do you want to handle the deployment skipper? Since this is a supposedly friendly meeting I recommend we put you out in front flanked by the padre” he indicates Cornelius “....and the lady” he nods to Synthia. “The symbol of the faith usually garners a lot of respect in places like this, and if it doesn't we'll know we might have other problems. Myself and Mercer will take up the far flank. We've got some modified naval shotguns in addition to our las's the tech-priest probly shouldn't see em but they'll lay down a lot hate very quickly in an enclosed space, won't do more then scare the grox piss out of hard targets but anyone else will be mush.” He waves where the female member of his squad is doing checks and rites over the pintle mounted door gun. “I've put my girl Athena on the door gun to cover us and hold the way to our ride, she's the most level headed of all us not prone to panic or anything which is exactly what you want on that meat grinder in such an exposed space. I reckon if she calls to hit the deck you may want to give it some mind, incoming fire has the right of way regardless of rank an' all. Snappa' will bring up the rear of the command contingent, Bose will remain behind at the shuttle to help cover Athena. Did you have any changes you wanted to make?”




((Once final preperations have been made.

Ysabell's rolls))


Ysabell breathes deep at the control panel to the shuttle, all eyes are upon her now, better not screw this up. With a nod to the rest of the crew that they are ready and belted in she sets the small craft into a hard barn towards debri wall that through the outer hull looks like the remains of an ork ships armored prow. With grim patience she keeps the vessel on it's colision course until executing a series of controlled burns. The tiny craft actually impacts the ork trash hard enough to be felt through the ship and the scraping on the armored hull is somewhat unsuttling. But what's worse is the way it sends the view through the armorcrys spining and sets the grav plates thruming as they try and compensate for a “down” that is changing every few second. Ysabell pays the rapidly spining no mind instead settling herself to guide by auspex and some precalculated notes she's inputed on the display by the pilots chair. With precise timing she sets up a series of burns that slow and adjust your trajectory just slightly until as you almost impact the hull of the Divine near the port she sets hard burn behind a screen or wreckage floating near the area. The method to her madness becomes clear, to all but the mos dedicates auspex operator your craft would like like just one more piece of debris that impacted another and went spinning off in a new direction.

As the craft is nosed in to the docking position you can see through the forward armorcrys into a much smaller armorcry viewing port in the opposite hull. It's a large chamber appearing as a town square or mustering area catwalks run across it at each level of the upper decks allowing crossing between the quarters units up above. In the open space a group of 40 are gathered with two standard bearers holding house Vorhees banners on either side. Behind the orderly group there is what would perhaps be called a mob held in check by forms in security detail combat armor. The mood of the mob is easy to read at this distance their eager to see what's going on and the press they do towards the security officers is one of inquiry not aggression. The security officers though they are armed with naval shotguns keep them slung across their back truncheons in hand for only the truly bullheaded offenders. As the his of the pressurizing between the airlocks fills your ship and the chamber within the disciplined group is called to attention by an old hunched figure who appears to be leaning heavily on a command baton and even the mob falls silent. As the hatch the shuttle finally opens the leader figure nods to the man at his right who raises a ornate looking bosuns whistle to his lips. He trills out an ancient naval welcome tune that is said to predate the Great Crusade and calls out in a booming voice. “House Vorhees Ship and Crew of His Divine Intervention welcomes Captain Vorhees to his post.”

[OOC] I configure the tacnet to resist jamming and interference. I figure if we split up or get separated inside the ship, that should buy us some additional distance before bulkheads obstruct the signal beyond usability.

[IC] Hakkonen, never one to take unnecessary chances, walks down the Thunderhawk's ramp with his void suit sealed up and his hellgun close across his body; the weapon isn't exactly pointed at anyone, but it's clear from the red-suited techpriest's body language that he's alert for signs of potential violence. Surveying the crowd and seeing no immediate threat, he lowers his hellgun long enough to check the personal auspex clipped to his suit's left forearm¹. Detecting nothing dangerous in the atmosphere, he breaks his suit's seals with a hiss of equalizing pressure and raises the mirrored faceplate.

"No-no immediate threat," he voxes over the general channel.

Rolls:

OOC:


IC:
Ysabell looked over her shoulder at Augustian and grinned as she entered some last minute instructions into the console in front of her.

"Did you need those sick bags Major?" she asked as she vacated the pilot's chair and straightened her uniform. "I wasn't sure if I was trying hard enough."

Once the seals had been cracked and people had readied their gear she took up postion behind Lucius ready to follow him over to the Inspiration, frowning slightly as she wondered what had possessed the Magos to go first. She imagined the Adeptus Mechanicus would be a little peeved if he managed to get himself killed.

Lucius goes to the front of the ramp and looks down at the Magos with a smirk and a shrug. What is done is done I guess..... he thinks to himself, and with the ship's Lord-Captain baton in his hand, struts down the ramp at a measured pace towards the waiting throng, and the rather old man who has led the welcoming party.

Stopping just short of the mass of people, Lucius walks over to the man leading the assembly and smiles warmly to him, his free hand firmly grasping the man's hand in a strong shake before he promptly puts his arm over the hunched figure's shoulder comradely. "Mind if I speak to the assembled crew before we get to the more formal introductions?", he whispers in the man's ear, the background noise from the crowd drowning out his words after a few inches. Lucius gives the man merely a moment to say anything, to be polite, before smiling and turning before the crowd, raising his hand in signal for the crowd to quiet down a bit more.

His voice soft and low at first, making the assembled crew and armsmen struggle and strain to hear him and having to focus their attention solely on him, he slowly raises his voice to a commanding and authoritative tone learned from years of being an officer on a naval ship. "Crew of the Divine Inspiration... Long have you been on this ship, cut off from the imperium at large, and from the Voorhes line. Long have you waited, rebuilding and repairing tirelessly, faithfully. Long have you stood your lonely vigil for the warrant, for the ship and for your own pride. But now is the time for you to cast off this burden, to stand down from your solitary vigil. The house of Voorhes has sent us to aid you, to assist and lead this ship and its dedicated crew, the families that keep the life-blood of this beautiful ship pumping and alive. Now is the time for us to rebuild together, to take to the stars once more, with pride and in search of glory, fame and to push back the boundaries of the dark with the light of the imperium. Together we will do this, for Voorhes, for the Imperium, for the God-emporer, and for THE DIVINE INSPIRATION!".

Cornelius nodded as Lucius went down the ramp and spoke to the gathered crowd. It seems that it was a good choice for the shuttle to have landed in this bay from the initial outlook. Hopefully these are members who will be amongst the most loyal of House Vorhees. It'll be interesting in what will come in the inevitable dialogue with the mercenaries on the ship, hopefully a long term working relationship can be established with them and no bloodshed will occur. It would be a potential loss of a possible resource for spreading the light of the Emperor, especially when boots and guns are needed on a long lost planet.

Cornelius scans the crowd from the ship windows, seeking to imprint the faces of the individuals gathered into memory for future references.

Back behind the heavy bolter, making no attempt to move at all, a dark cowled figure stands. Mordechai's eyes gleam through the darkness of the hood, looking out at the crowd. Mordechai remains still, not wanting to inflict the horrors that the warp has inflicted on his flesh upon other. He waits for the ceremony to end, watching the sheep that he will very soon shepard through the immaterium. No one can see the smile on Mordechai's face, but it would be dissettling to any who saw it.

((Lucius tests 33 against his needed 68 so his speach is nice and successfull)

The old man shakes hands with Lucius and nods. "By your will Captain." stepping back to one side for Lucius to make his address. The crowd falls silent straining to hear his words, enraptured and remaining attentive as he grows louder and more animated. When he finishes his speech the crowd erupts in cheers even the disciplined officers loose some of their resolve after the old man who you recognize from the picts as mate Dray begins clapping solemnly, clearly pleased by the Captians words but working to keep his enthusiasm in check for the dignity of his office. The greater bulk of the crowd surges, the security detail finally letting them through rather then resort to hard violence to keep them back. The great mass of ratings and non officers moves around the more disciplined block of men and women in front of you falling to their knees and advancing prostrate. On the outer fringes of the crowd a woman thrusts up a baby towards Cornelius.
"Father, my baby, please bless him! He is sick with the rust lung and hasn't yet had the emperor's baptismal, I fear for his soul if it worsens."

An alert claxon sounds over the holds speakers filling it with a slightly echoing warble. The crowds mood changes quickly from celebration to one of waryness as the press of humanity starts to peddle away from the newcomers. Dray immediately takes order. "Section chiefs get your families back into their homes and barricade the door until the all clear is given. Walk with purpose for your Captain, he will deal with the cold men." As the peoples terror is given a name many flash the sign of the Aquilla bowing their heads in acknowledgment before quickly backing away. The woman who was begging for a blessing for her child remains and one of the ships security detail grabs her by the arm trying to drag her to her feet without upending the baby.
"The padre will protect me!" She almost shrieks a look of determination on her face as she shrugs him off coming to stand and looking at Cornelius hopefully. ""I will not have my baby denied the emperor's light."
Granx is there at Cornelius side protectively while Mercer keeps an eye on the rest of the group. Granx looks from the woman to the missionary while holding the muzzle of his shotgun pointed down as if asking instructions while he scans the outside area for targets.

Back at the shttule with it's greater view of the surroundings Mordechai and Athena can see side passages open in the back walls and upper decks of the hold discharging dark blue robed figures who clothing bears the heraldry of the Divine Inspiration in ancient somewhat worn thread. They move silently and efficiently locking in a formation as they advance on the quickly retreating crowd, the newcomer and Mate Dray and his son Mekkan who has remained behind.
"Possible hostiles sited, shall I splash 'em?" Asks Athena over the command channel.

"By your leave Captain, please follow me." Mutters Dray his son taking his arm to assist him move more quickly to an ancient cogitator bank built into what looks like it might have been a small fountain in happier times depicting the emperor in power armor gazing at the sky. Where Dray bends and unfolds a ancient pict screen and runeboard from it's housing the machine coughs and hums to life although it's display indicates it's in some kind of fautl. "Oh Cog spirits, why do you hate me now." Mutters Dray as he starts to fuss at it. As he folded the access housing out a small hole opens near the emperors feet that looks the right diameter for the base of a captains baton. In response to the presence of the aperture a spring loaded mechanism produces a small blade towards the head of the batons in Dray, Lucius and Augustian' possession as they come near. "We need to prove who you claim to be to the ship otherwise it thinks your intruders. For what it's worth i believe you and think you are who you claim, but we've had problems in the past. The cold men have dealt with it, but the crew fears them because there have been.....misunderstandings."

At the sight of the intruders, Hakkonen retreats into the cover of the Thunderhawk, bringing his hellgun to his shoulder with the unthinking quickness of the veteran soldier as he backs up the ramp in a half-crouch and goes to one knee beside Trooper Athena and her heavy bolter.

"Cold-cold men?" he asks under his breath, as if to himself. "Prove to the shi-ip..." His eyes suddenly widen in a burst of realization, and he grounds the butt of his hellgun on the deck of the Thunderhawk's bay. His fingers fly over the runes glowing on his auspex unit¹, causing data to scroll past on the display at a startling rate.

Rolls:

Lucius nods to Dray quickly and places his Lord Captains baton into the slot that was opened up for him. As he does so he looks over at Dray and gives him a serious look.

"What is going on here? I need you to tell me EXACTLY what has been going on, what misunderstandings and why the klaxons are sounding.".

He states the last with a firm determination, his serious face giving no room for manoeuvring and no sense of forgiveness should Dray try to deceive him. As he puts the baton in, his hand goes to the side of his micro and he keys the channel for the whole team.

"No, hold and set to overwatch, wait for overt hostile actions first. I won't have first blood on our hands while we try to deal with this. If they draw weapons, we all wait and set for best use of cover. If they fire, we fire back with full prejudice, eliminating them to the extreme.". After he says this he puts his hand near the hilt of his plasma pistol and waits for the batons' codes to work its techno-magic.

Hakkonen's auspex rapidly scrolls informtion to him. The cold men are servitors of a pattern it cannot identify but from the blades and stubbers concealed under their robes it's easy to deduce they are some form of combat or murder servitor. More evidence of the latter is given by the fact that they all show the signs of long term cryo freezing and indeed the cold seems to waft off them as they draw nearer explaining their name. While such servitors are often very simple machines behaving as their individual controling cogitator and remaining repurposed brain matter dictates these units seem to be acting in close concert. Acting on a hunch you identify a frequency they are being broadcast to and directed on in some advanced form of technolingua. You can surmise that the signal must be coming from some operator or truely massive and well programed cogitator deeper within the vessel. You could likely break in and force a stand down and return order if you can get the frequency right.

(I will need a Hard -20 Tech Use Test to break in an issue a stand down order. A successful Logic -10 test can stage it down to just -10. Failing the Tech-use test may have consequences depending on degree.)

As the Captain's Baton is inserted into the aperture the blade formerly recessed in the hilt begins to whir and spin menacingly as does a painful looking mechanism to seal the wound it makes. Dray turns to Lucius.

"The cold men are the ship murder servitors shortly after the battle with the orcs they went into a defensive mode which normally by their nature they are completely unsuited for. Despite everything i know about deployment and tactics for them they've shown admirable restraint even helping to keep the mercenaries in line. However occasionally a member of the crew or the mercs has been killed by them when they were out wandering alone outside the hab and barracks areas. Additionally about 20 years ago we had a ship dock claiming to be representatives of the vorhees. They left members of their party here in the hab units while the bulk of their force headed towards the bridge. I don't know what happened to the ursurper but I have a good guess. The servitors came into the hab units and started murderering all the newcomers and any members of the crew that were too close or unable to find cover before I could drive them away and force them to accept my command authority. Since then they have not come into this area, acknowledging my authority. They havn't started trying to kill us yet which means their curious about you. I suggest you prove your authority quickly cap'n

((I'll need a challenging willpower roll to press your flesh to the Command Baton and allow it to do it's grim work. You could try and convince someone else to do it with an intimidate or charm test depending on how you wish to word the request.))

The soldiers respond acknowledged to your orders. The cold men close the circle around you as the last of the crew exit this particular chamber moving into their dwellings. As they draw closer tightening the circle towards the fountain and the airlock you can feel the unnatural cold and see the cold men straining almost imperceptibly. Like hounds wanting off the leash.

Hakkonen works quickly to retune his vox unit to the ship's command channel, and begins emitting a squealing, clicking stream of Techna-Lingua into his micro-bead¹ as his servo-skull hovers nervously in the shadows of the Thunderhawk's bay. The little servitor's combi-tool clicks and whirs, betraying its machine spirit's agitation.

Rolls:

Cornelius sighs at the situation. Not the most ideal of circumstances, but what is he but a servant of the Divine Emperor. What the Emperor wills. He nods to Granx and takes the woman to his side.

"What is your name and your child's name?" He begins the blessing while giving the proper annointment for a baptismal. All the while keeping attention to the unfolding events around them, particularly if the cold men begin attacking. Cornelius calmly during his ministrations also unlatches the straps with one hand for his chainsword so that it can be readily drawn and fired up.

Mordechai moves calmly and efficiently to cover the Magos with the hand cannon that has appeared between the hands of the Navigator. The hood of the robe is back, and Mordechai's face has the calm of one who has seen many battles. Anyone looking at the Navigator's face quickly looks away, as the legends of what the third eye can do in combat come to mind.

Looking down at the whirling blade and its promise of excessive pain and possible mutilation, Lucius jumps up and raises his voice. "Holy shit ork scum!!! What the hell is that thing?". He looks over at Augustian accusingly. "What the hell was your father thinking when he put this in the damn thing rather than a simple needle? Was he crazy or just having a morbid string of ideas?".

He seems to calm down a bit, but is still hesitant to even put his hand near the spinning blade or the even more painful looking cauterizer. "Well isn't that thing messed up," he quickly looks over to the magos while priming his plasma pistol and power blade, "does it just need my blood or does it have to pierce my flesh itself?".

Hakkonen leaves the cover of the Thunderhawk, confident now that the murder servitors aren't going to slaughter them. As he approaches the statue of the Emperor with the Lord-captain's baton sticking out of its pedestal and the whirring blade promising painful mutilation, he scans the device with his auspex¹.

"I-I'm no Magos Biologis, but it does-does seem needlessly grisly. Alas, the machine's design-ign is obscure, and the details of its oper-peration are hidden from me."

Rolls:

Lucius sighs and closes his eyes, his hand going towards the blade slowly. "Well looks like no pain no gain....".

With that, he pulls his left hand up to the blade and allows it to cut him. "Warped spawn hell!". He yells out loud, the blade whirring into and slicing his hand.

"Painful, shit-eating, son of a whore, ork spawned, choas loving...." the obscenities continue and get worse as the cauterizer gets warmed up to start it's work, Lucius' eyes bug out a bit.

Hakkonen cocks an eyebrow. "I would have cho-chosen a site on the forearm, given the deli-licacy of nerves and tendons in the hand proper-per, but to each his-his own."

Lucius, amid the screaming that is thankfully being muffled by his wrist that he is biting down on, looks over at the magos in a way that would flay his skin if looks could do that.

As the plasma fed cauterizer finishes it's grisly job he finally lets out a sigh and smiles grimly.

"Well my good magos, I would have had to take off my coat, the arm segment of my armouring, and then either ripped off the sleeve to a very, and I mean very expensive shirt, or finish taking off all of my upper carapace armour and then take off the shirt, since it can only roll back to just above the wrist, and I would rather have a small cut and maybe a slightly hurt nerve than lose the whole hand.".

He finishes his sentence with a grim grin and looks to the rest of the crew. "Well that was rather unpleasant, if someone could please remind me to talk to Alejandro about how this baton works when I see him next, I would be much abliged....".

The cold men hesitate as if unsure what commands to follow, the ones issued by the channel or the ones eminating from the Magos. As you finally manage to blot out the other signal they acknowledge that they are returning to Cryo-storage and start to break ranks before filting one at a time through concealed compartments leading out of the chamber. Signa, the woman who insisted on the mid-crisis baptismal, cries out. "Praise to the emperor for sending such a mighty captain and wise officers! They've gone and driven off the cold men." There is a hurrid flutter from the catwalks and living areas up above as crew families open their doors to check before similar shouts of praise for the emperor and yourself rain down. She clutches the baby Blinkin to her seeming relieved at his baptismal. The quick antibiotic wipe down and nutritional paste you threw in as part of the ritual will ensure that the newly anointed babe gets over his ailment to serve the emperor.

(You passed a medicae test, i don't recall by how much as I rolled it a few days ago)

Mate Dray nods sympatheticly to his Captains plight. "It's not something that needs to be repeated often. I've only had to do it four maybe five times since I've served for you. Once rod's are attuned to you they seem to remember you as long as they can remain near you. The rods themselves are as old as the ship. Truely are ancestors were amazingly tough or masochists."

The display has puttered to life and is scrolling text that an antiscribe is printing below on aged paper.



Ships Operation Litany version 1.50 stable release
Security Alert: Possible Intruders in Crew Quarters Main Common Area Activate Murder Servitors and Purification Protocol
Lamentation!: Purification Protocol not found
User override by username: <REDACTED per ship directive 5> real time control of servitors active.
Lamentation!: Stand down order being issued with Magos command prayers of unknown authenticity. Servitor real time control no longer possible. Servitors returning to standby.
Cult intervention warrants enhanced cognition protocols. Initiating....................................complete. Sub-Optimal Enhanced Processing Medium Online
VORHEES DNA Confirmed. Enabling enhanced cognition.....it's already awake, skipping

Incoming message from user: A Vorhees, interesting and about damn time. Whoever you are you should make your way to the bridge at your first opportunity. I look forward to meeting you and discussing a transfer of power. Further I would caution you to bring only those you feel you can trust with a secret or who are disposable enough that you won't mind killing later. Also I wouldn't pay Dray much mind, he's a simpleton but a useful one. I would absolutely ignore the Astro-priest. I'm not a demon, demons skitter away in fear at my passing. I am waiting for you on the bridge....Captain.

Hakkonen peers over Lucius' shoulder at the message, arching an eyebrow as he absorbs its content. He turns to Lucius and speaks in a low tone directly into the Lord-captain's ear.

"Clear-clearly we are expected. I reco-commend we assume this... enti-tity is hostile until proven other-therwise. Storm the bridge, and-and effect this 'transfer of power-er' at gunpoint. The posturing in-in the message indicates a poten-tentially unbalanced mind. 'Daemons skitter away in fear,' in-indeed."

Mordechai advances out of the thunderhawk, looking at the screen intent on seeing what is scrolling there.



Mordechai curses under his breath as his inhuman gait causes his cowl falls further over his face completely obscuring his vision. He decides to leave it there, as he hears the unmistakable sound of doors open and a crowd gathering. He makes the aquila and hopes that the crowd does not decide to investigate who this new figure is.

He quietly wispers so that only Hakkonen and Lucius can hear. "My lords, as much as it might benefit us to stay here and bath in the acclimation of the crowd, we should move on to try and secure the ship and her bridge. Our labour should be focused on taking the ship, and then making those on her our allies.

Lucius nods towards the Tech-Priest. "Well I may have to agree with you on that one my good Magos. We should all leave for the bridge at haste, but we should try the whole diplomacy thing, before we go in guns blazing. I do think we should all go up though. Plus he said ignore, nothing about not bringing them, so it looks like we should gear up and move out.".

He then looks to the rest of the command crew and Granx's men and smiles. "Looks like we are going to the bridge, we need full control of the ship I think. Lets just be ready should there be any unexpected 'suprises'.". With that he wlaks over to to Granx and pulls him aside for a moment so that only he can hear him talk.

"Sarge, looks like there may be a chance we could be walking into either a trap or there could just be a disagreement that ends in blood. I also need to know that you and your men can keep their silence about things, can I count on all of you?"

Dray looks to the screen after the rest of you have had a chance to view it. "I would presume the Astropriest it refers to is Atropath Lanius. He has claimed many times that a demon or something worse stalks the halls of the ship. To be fair it's not entirely an unfounded belief. He used to act as the minister for the crew here, but for the better part of the last year he's locked himself in the astopathic choir chamber and refused to leave."

Cornelius has become quite the center of attention as many crew members come down to receive the benediction of or just see a true priest of the cloth. It seems this place has been dreadfully lacking in the ministorum's attention. A sad but not entirely unheard of fact of life given the bedraggled appearance of those present. A place like this would never support a full temple context in tithes, but it is odd a few missionaries haven't been sent.

Granx clasps forearms with his Captain. "You've m' word and that of my squad Cap'n, we'll be ready for what may come and we'll take what we learn to our graves" GHe cocks his head to one side as if something has just occured to him, making the sign of the aquilla and hastily adding. "barring really weird stuff like you read about in the bad pulp slates a loyal soldrt of the emperor following his commanders after they've made pacts with the enemy. So as long as you don't do somethin' totally barmy like sell your soul to a demon we's good."

"Well put, Se-sergeant. Lord-captain, I-I recommend we decamp for-for the bridge without delay. Our pre-presumed adversary has had Om-Omnissiah knows how many years to prepa-pare; let us not give him additional hou-ours."

The techpriest removes the charge pack from his hellgun, checks the contacts, and slaps it back in with a decisive clack; the weapon whines on a rising note as it powers up, then beeps three times to indicate full readiness. Hakkonen's air of martial zeal is slightly undermined, however, by the approach of his servo-skull returning from stowing his bag in a nearby locker. The ludicrously aggressive little machine extrudes a variety of tools from its undercarriage as if they were weapons: an arc welder, a miniature chainblade, even a pair of wire cutters with which it snaps at the air in an absurd display of ferocity.

Hakkonen gives the tiny servitor a long, steady look, then rolls his eyes and makes a sighing noise through his voxcoder. "Omnissiah pro-protect me."

After Granx's squad gets themselves together you prepare to head out. Athena seems non-plussed to leave her beloved storm bolter but as Granx and the other men are quick to point out it will be poorly suited to the ship's close quarters. She acquiesces after a few moments of quiet conversation with Granx and Mercer and in the process it's easy to pick up that the social arrangement amongst the squad is closer to a family or tribal structure then that of a proper military formation. Athena is very much team mom a position she holds by being the alpha female it become clear on the ship ride hear that she is Granx's wife or at least what passes for it amongst their people. It takes both her lover and sergent and her brother (Mercer) to talk her out of anything once she sets her mind to it. Having done that they fall into formation with you. A security detail from the ships crew pledges to guard your shuttle until you return and Dray further vouches for them. He also offers up his son Mekkan to guide you through the ships corridors as he knows them as well as anyone. Mekkan is a hardy fourty something man in the faded uniform of the imperial navy, he shoulders a naval shotgun with the casual indifference of one who's used the weapon but never taken any pleasure in it. "I can lead you to the bridge, i've been further into the ship then any man yet living save former crew men." He leans closer to your group.

"As an aside I also want to come with you to find what the hell is going on. There's something wierd about this ship, I was born and raised here but did a turn over service in the navy and there's no other vessel like her that i've even heard of. I know my father keeps secrets about this vessel from me and I figure going with you is the best way to finally get answers."

After the blessings had been done for the various folks who wanted it. Cornelius walks up to the group with his gear.
"I am ready to join you for the trip up to the bridge." He quickly does a quick prayer for the group asking for protection against the Warp and to resist corruption.
When given a chance, Cornelius will take Lucius to one side and speak privately, "I will take your lead and will not hold judgment if we must converse to whatever could be up in the bridge. I will refrain from acting impetuously as it matters most that this ship be returned back to the operational status. Just remember my door is always open for confessions and advice if you need it and remember to steel your soul from the taint that we may be exposed, for even words and knowledge can bring corruption."

Cornelius turns to Mekkan and asks him, "Mekkan, so what are the major factions on this ship. Do you know how many the mercenary group fields? Are there issues with any mutations, or of any rumors of darker dealings in the far flung levels? I'm just curious since we're still assessing the situation. Also do not leave out any little stories, even if it is children's bedside stories. Also when was the last time the ecclesiarchy sent a missionary to this ship?"

Hakkonen sidles closer to Mekkan and Cornelius, interested in any information that might be forthcoming.

Looking around at the group assembling around Dray's son Makken, Lucius saunders over there casually, drawing and checking the charge on his plasma pistol. He pushes the side of his microbead, opening up the team's channel.

"I want all weapons checked and ready, expect hostilities.".

Mordechai quickly advances to the rest of the group, and in midstride unslings his Ax from his back and hefts it. There is an odd gleem in his eye when he reaches the group.

"Ready sir. Lets go to the bridge. There are too many people here, and while they might seem friendly right now all it takes is one dressed like the rest to put a knife in your back. In a hallway, we are better protected, and also on the bridge we will gain control, having troops, even ineffective assassin servators, is better than nothing. I stand by for your command to move out."

Hakkonen's synthesized voice sounds over the tactical channel, "I am-am prepared to give battle-tle in the Omnissiah's n-name."

Mekkan briefs on the move as you make your way out of the cavernous quarters area. Rather then the berthing sections for a proper starship the quarters almost like apartment blocks and other structures often seen in the hive cities, floors and even whole buildings housing extended clans of people living there. Signs outside the doors proclaim the names of the families while simple pict's display the tasks they perform on the ship from the muscle symbol of the menials, the black cross of the doctors and medics, to the scrub brush of the sweepers and cleaners. As you pass through the impromptu squares formed by the convergance of these buildings the crew remnants come out and cheer your passing or crowd close only to be kept at bay by the security detail.

Mekkan busies himself to answering the missionaries question. "We have some mutation but not a lot I suspect because we're not underway and going through the warp. We take pains to get new blood in where we can from the lowlies of port wander, not too many our food situation being what it is, but enough to prevent a problem with inbreeding. For the rest the medicae reports all mutations amongst the live births or crew as they grow and we employ twist catchers to scour the under decks. By tradition any mutant born amongst the crew or developing in life is sterilized and allowed to go about their business bringing service to the god emperor. It's still somewhat of a mark of shame but previous captains felt that if the clans were less inclined to hide their mutations out of loyalty to their blood it might prevent problems. It seems to have worked. Mostly our mutants are slight and integrated into the rest of the populace. The obvious exception being the few psykers we've had pop up who we've either spaced or turned over to the authorities on port wander depending on how stable they seemed for transport. We don't have the facilities here to hold them for the black ships." As he nears the final bulkhead leading out of the crew area he stops to insert his own command baton into a console punching in the rune for the bridge. The bulkhead slowly open and beyond you can hear grinding and feel a slight shaking in the deck plates as the panel of the maze shfit to present a corridor fringed in blue lumens.

Once your out past the crew quarters Mekkan speaks more freely. "The mercs are highly transitory as they use the ship as a base of operations and waystation. I'd say they have as many as a thousand men on the ship permanently or semi permanently with another 500 or so moving in and out at any given time. Their supposed to pay a fraction of a ration to us per head lodged here but in practice i think their badly under-reporting. Still they know they've got us over a barrell as their the only reliable source of food we have outside of what our meager facilities here can provide." He makes the sign of the Aquila. "As to darker things chaplain I dunno, I heard there was a bit of a problem with some group of malcontents about ten years ago while I was still serving in the navy. Astropath Lanius found it and wanted to call in the ecclesiarchy." His face takes on a pained expression. "Please understand padre, captain, my father isn't the most pious man, he don't read the scripture so good and he don't pray as often as he should, but he's as loyal to the emperor as any man in his own way. He didn't want the agents coming down and scything through the crew. He hunted up some chosen men and the astropath and set off to take care of it. The crew still passes out a few bottles of amasec amongst them once a year to celebrate their victory. I know that since then father and Lanius have hardly spoken since. So i guess if you wanted a rundown of how things are setting powerblock wise you've got my father, you've got the mercs, and you've got lanius and his few remaining astopaths and missionaries locked up in the chior chambers. The crew mostly lean towards my father but that might be because Lanius has never tried to force a confrontation. Lanius does have a hold on some of the more devout members of the crew, I think he's building a private core of the faithful, but I don't know to what purpose. He doesn't leave the chorus chambers anymore, anyone wnating a meeting has to go to him.

((I'd like everyone to give me a +20 scrutiny check)

He indicates a doorway in a bulkhead up ahead where sounds of discussion and the whir of cogitators can be heard from within. "This is main augury, it's the most far forward any of the crew goes on a regular basis from here on out where kind of on our own."

Rolls:
Scrutiny 60 vs 44 (Perception 48 - untrained 24 + 20): 1 degree of failure

Roll:
1d100=5

5 vs 40 (40 per -20 untrained +20) 3 degrees of success.

roll:
Scrutiny (untrained) vs Perception (so 33/2= 16 + 20 => 36...)
Got a 95! vs. 36 (16 + 20) = 5 degrees of failure!
huh? wha?

Mordechai stops short and his ax comes to a combat ready position.

"My lord, Meekan's story makes no sense at all. From the dataslates that we received on the Divine Inspiration, they were receiving a full complement of supplies, equal to that of a ship underway. So someone is lying. Either Meekan's father has been compiling false reports, or Lanius has been falsifying the reports. Or something else. Whatever the truth is, it comes not from this boy's mouth. There is no reason from what we have that there should be any trading of supplies for space."

Mekkan turns around slowly his features tensing and his hand going casually to the hilt of his chainsword in a motion that leaves no question that he can draw it very quickly. He looks to Mordechai with what can properly termed as a look of disgust but looks on to meet his gaze without flinching, an impressive feet considering the reputation of the navagators warp eye. "Mark my words well navigator, I am Mekkan Dray of the house of dray. My family has served the house of Vorhees and His Holy Navy for generations going beyond written record. I was a commander in the navy on track to receive my own ship but I resigned my commission to honor my families oath to the Vorhees and bring gelt and experience to a stricken ship I had been born on. I tell you all this so that you'll know exactly why I'm going to kill you if you suggest I or my father lie again." His knuckles on the hilt of the chainsword have turned white his anger starting to get the best of a naval officers carefull poise "Do you really think in your mutation addled brain that we chose to live like this? To live off corpse starch rations and barely reclaimed water? To see our charges die of cold and radition with only the promise of better days ahead and the glories of long past to urge them on? Do you know what it's like to come upon a childrens creche and find it empty, plundered of our most precious resource by the shipmates one bulkhead over so they can feed their own children. Do you know what it's like to huddle to the funeral pyre of your own dead to keep warm because the heat exchangers int he hab units stopped functioning? No i don't suppose you would. " He turns to Lucius.

"I am very pleased to find that our master had not in fact forgotten us to save some throne gelt as I and other members of the crew had long feared. If there is a party responsible for our state that is not of your family I hope i'm there to watch them die. But captain if your man doesn't keep a civil head in his tongue I'll have to kill him, or you'll have to kill me." He strikes over and wraps on the bulkhead. "Attend ye lads, officer on deck! Your captain Allessaunder Lucius Voorhes proceeds to his bridge and need to knows what transpires between here and there." There is a hurried shifting in the chamber beyond and a lad in void varers clothes with an ensign's pips hastily tacked on comes out and slautes smartly profering a data slate which he offers to Mekkan who glances over it briefly before handing it to the rest of your party. The would be officer lad gives the verbal to go along with.

"Sir! The maze is reconfiguring itself to allow you more clear passage to the bridge. Most of the bulkheads have shifted properly but a few may be malfunctioning and will need to be moved by brute force. Atmosphere in that area is at 60% of optimal which puts it as filthy but not harmful to humans. We've got some readings of movement along your path and all the coldmen are currently accounted for so they may be twists or greenskins. The auspex's on the bridge have stopped working since your arrival, we've tried the prayers over and over again but the machine spirits just won't respond. Sir!"

There is a loud clatter of metal striking metal, and you all realize that Mordichai has thrown his ax away. Turning to face him, you see him fumbling with his cloak clasp, and then it falls to the ground.

What is revealed................is not human. You do not know quite how to describe the legs you see, perhaps birdlike in that the knees have been reversed. A sickly feeling rises in your stomach, but you manage not to vomit upon the deck floor.

"Indeed Mekken, I now know who lies. If you wish to strike me down, please tell me so that I may remove my armor, so that death may come that much quicker. However, those who trevel through the warp are a rare breed, so think carefully before you make your choice. You have been most admirable in your loyalty to House Vorhees, and far be it that a simple mutant such as myself stands in the way of doing your duty the the house."

"Yet how will you carry the warrant of trade out to serve the emperor's will without a navigator to guide your ship through the heel that is the warp. As you can see, the warp itself has changed me into a mockery of humanity itself, and I must live knowing the each day it calls out trying to consume my soul. Indeed, it appears as if a choir must be cleansed for us to be certain that there is no treachery afoot. I am sorry dear Meekan that I have suggested that your family has been anything but true, but I am here to point out all possibilities to out lord Vorhees. Now the choice is yours as to what happens next. I would move towards the bridge through this maze, but my life is in your hands, as so many others have been in your hands before. What is your choice?"

Hakkonen briefly regards the mutation-riddled Navigator with a coolly dispassionate gaze before turning away from the brewing confrontation to the master augury console. Muttering catechisms under his breath and occasionally gusting incense over the console with his utility mechadendrite's integral censer, he invokes the Omnissiah's blessing to reactivate the bridge's internal auspex,¹ but whoever - or whatever - is on the bridge has successfully locked out remote access.

Rolls:

(OOC: Dice roll: untrained scrutiny + 20 = 36 1d100=45) Fail one degree)

Lucius looks at the confrontation between Makken and Mordechai with a cool indifference, and takes in Mordechai's disfigured form with nary a second glance. "Mordechai, your mutations are lesser than the worst of the subs and twists I have worked with in the past, do not worry about your appearance around me. Except the eye, I do like my soul being anchored to my body.....".

He then passes his gaze to Makken. "None of us are doubting the loyalty and sacrifice of you or any of the crew. Mordechai is just pointing out the differences we had been told, the problem, not the cause. I'm more worried about those movements you talked about. Are they between us and the bridge?".

He sighs inwardly after the statement. Wish I had picked up a rebreather or some plugs.....