Rogue Trader: Hastier

Go!

Eigneh stood stoic on the bride, his eyes following the sensor logs and comm channels. Ardgutz Longteef, Eigneh's friend and bodyguard of sorts standing eagerly at his side. Haxta commanded the ship's auto pilot controls with a sense of religious love that Eigneh couldn't understand but was thankful for. Regardless of Eigneh's dislike of the constant Imperial drum of Gods, he had to admit there was no substitute for the detailed attention that Haxta focused to the tasks assigned.

"Haxta, dock us and g our resupply protocols. Not that Eigneh expected an answer, Haxta knew how to handle the ship. Eigneh turned to the hatch, opening it with a grinding metal sound. "And then see about fixing this damned door!"

Eigneh activated his comm, engaging the ship's overhead speakers. "Constantine, we're here. Lets see if we can pick up some crew for this hull and maybe some weapons for her while you're at it. Be nice not to get stuck with raiders and be able to do more then die."

“I shall attend to it at once, my Captain.” Constantine responded. He tightened the buckle on his left gunbelt, and then fastened his flowing purple robe with an ornate gilded brooch. Drawing the plasma pistol from the holster on the left, he checked its charge before repeating the procedure with the one on his right hip. All was well; both pistols were fully charged, and ready, should the need arise.

You can never be too careful in a place such as this, he thought as he smoothed back his silver hair. The dingy old mirror wasn’t ideal, but he could see well enough to know that he looked suitably imposing, while simultaneously appearing regal and sophisticated. He slid the sink module back into its wall compartment, and ducked out of his cramped quarters. Again, not idyllic, but he wasn’t on this crew for the luxurious accommodations.

“Any time now, Constantine. I’d like to get some work as soon as we crew this relic.” The Captain’s voice echoed over the vox again. Eigneh had taken some getting used to; after he’d gotten over his initial awe and trepidation, Constantine realized the Captain was the best person to help him in his personal quest. Eventually.

“Aye, sir. Heading for the lighter bay as we speak.” Constantine picked up the pace, heading down the narrow hallway to the lift. He was actually rather excited at the chance to show the Captain what he was paying for; Constantine intended to return with a crew worthy of an epic ballad.

The lift groaned slightly on its way down, but took only seconds to deposit him on the lower deck near the twin hangars. Once inside the boxy transport shuttle, he activated the flight controls and fired up the main engines.

“Shuttle one, ready to depart, sir.” He reported, hands gripping the controls. He was perfectly capable of piloting the craft, but truly detested the idea of docking at a crowded port in a bucket of bolts such as the worn Arvus Lighters the Captain had purchased along with the ship.

“Clear,” the Tech-Priest’s disturbing voice grated over the vox. The bay doors opened, and Constantine accelerated away, toward the ponderous, looming shape of Void Station 427.

***

As he walked amidst the throng of humanity aboard the bustling station, Constantine was reminded again of how much he missed civilization. The stench of so many unwashed and sickly wretches was almost enough to make his eyes water. How he’d managed to thrive on a Hive World for nearly six years was still a mystery to him, though at least there, he’d had servants to run errands for him, and rarely left his penthouse.

“Here we are,” he mumbled, spotting the sign for the ‘Den of Enchantment’ club; the meeting place his advert had listed for all interested parties. Upon entering the establishment, Constantine was less than enchanted. All manner of hoodlums, brigands and thieves populated the dimly-lit cesspool, and the haze of lho smoke hung in a stagnant cloud near the low ceiling. Not that he minded the smoke; he’d cultivated a taste for it himself some years ago. It was the defeated, desperate appearance of the denizens that gave him cause for concern. If these were the best that answered his carefully-worded advert, he thought he might have better luck simply asking random people back on the promenade.

Gathering his voice in the way he had been taught in his youth, he projected his words across the entire club, “I am Lord Constantine, here on behalf of Captain Eigneh, of the Voidship Hastier. Who here has come in answer to our request for brave and able crewmen?”

He is here, my queen Taura. An edgy voice whispered from the depths of her mind, echoing out from the cavernous and ruptured halls of her psyche.

The one with money. Those robes. Such elegance! Surely they are wasted on a corpulent wretch like him.

"Be silent!" Taura whispered to herself before standing up. She stood up slowly, turning among the crowds toward the man with a face of thunder. And a face that looked like it was ready to vomit.

"A lord Constantine was it?" She called out across the room, her voice a mechanical thunder. In the process of her sanctioning her vocal chords had been utterly ruined, and she was left at the mercy of the mechanical aid that made her sound much like an elder. "My lord Constantine. Such a name of pomp and circumstance," She continued as she walked along a path being forged out of the throng of bodies.

Go on, kill him. No-one will miss him; the rich and the favoured are hated here.

"Serve on the voidship Hastia? Hmm, Hastia. Full bodied name. Without pretence or overcomplication, not like the modern imperial ships. She must be old. Very old. How did a rotten cleric such as you get aboard a ship like that?" Must have stolen it, all the more reason to kill him. She turned to herself and grunted another "Silence!" toward her ravaged mind.

"How dare you! I am a man of faith and a man of the imper.."

Taura turned and launched herself at him, stopping only just short of throwing him to the floor. She gently placed her hand across his face, cradling the clean and pious flesh of his cheeks.

"Man of faith, man of the imperium....You are in the wrong place to use such titles!" She hissed, eyes glowing purple. "Watch your words, bishop. They will get you killed." She pulled away.

"The good ship Hastia. Old and sturdy. I like that. Perhaps....Where are you going?"

"To the void, where else does a void ship go!" Constantine responded, both annoyed and dumbfounded by this seemingly insane woman.

"Closer to the voices. The screaming voices....I will hear them louder and it will...be beautiful. Have you need of a psyker? Have you need of one to divine your future or read the minds of others?" She said, apparently calm. She kept stroking her left hand and staring at it, as if a fascinating insect had just landed upon it.

"A psyker is dangerous to be sure, but such talents will endear you to my captain. You must have been sanctioned though, surely. Can you prove this?"

She turned and threw her consciousness at him, casting memories from her sanctioning at his body like someone would spray a house at a wall. She made no effort to enter his mind, only to let his mind catch whisps of her memories.

"Proof enough. Any other skills?" Constantine said, his face pale with the images she had sent him.

"I was born on a void ship. So lonely. You can hear the machines sing at night. Not in any language I understand but...they hum, and whisper in your ear." She turned and looked away. "I can pilot and drive. Little bit of maintenance if needed." Plucking a long las from the holster on her back, she held it with a single hand staring at Constantine intently. "And guns. They sing a different song. It is a war song; beautiful but deadly. I can use guns."

Don't make friends, shoot him!

"BE SILENT," She screamed, dropping the temperature of the room and throwing a mist of wind from her head. She settled. "My mind...it feels...I'm not alone in here. Maybe that just means you are hiring two people instead of one."

"What will it be....my lord?"

"You all right to travel with a wyrd?" Josey mumbled out the side of his mouth to his travelling companion.

"Aye, every chief had one on home" Arl replied, "'sides, not much money to be had here." Hefting his shock maul, it paid to appear ready to do violence here, though not in a fiscal sense, he used it to nudge their way to wards the Imperial Priest. Josey in tow, with a hand on the butt of his Ripper, which he had named "Persuasion."

"You! Imperial man! We wish to sign on!" Arl boomed through his beard.

"Subtle" Josey muttered to himself and then stepped up beside Arl, briefly nodding at Constantine before starting to scan the crowd. He expected trouble and the man's obvious wealth, if not good taste would certainly attract trouble before long.

“Very good!” Constantine chuckled, “Very good indeed. We are in need of experienced fighters, as you gentlemen appear to be. Are there any others!?”

A few of the less inebriated men turned their heads, but there was no response, “Very well. I shall take what the God-Emperor sends. Follow me, hearty souls. To fortune and adventure!”

At this, he began to turn to exit the club. A middle-aged man, rather stout, and quite drunk, stood in his path, “I’z join up too!” he slurred, sloshing whatever filth he was swilling onto Constantine’s robe.

He laughed, containing his irritation, “Of course, good man. What’s your trade?”

The fellow paused, belched, then fell flat on his face, unconscious.

“I’m afraid we are not in need of one of those,” Constantine chortled, stepping over the drunk, “It’s this way, my new shipmates.”

With that, they left the ‘Den of Enchantment’, and headed toward the docks.

Haxta sat motionless before the auto-pilot system. Not in the chair, for it had been made for someone of a human size and shape, dimensions she no longer fit within. Haxta had removed the chair, stowing it away. She had made the necessary modification to her legs to let them lock into the sturdy panel that the chair's base was meant for.

Thus she sat, hunched over like a small hill before the controls, which she stroked lightly with one massive, metal finger. She did not actually touch the interface panel; there was no need to use crude manual interaction. A slender wire trailed from under the panel, snaking up under the worn old red robes she wore. Her thoughts swam through the delicate connection, and the spirits of the ship answered in turn.

Haxta was aware of Eigneh speaking, and the part of her mind dedicated to verbal communication informed her that she had been provided instructions. She didn't really listen to the words, but took the meaning of them, and reacted to it with the simple, unthinking response that one might give to a mild itch. It was something almost autonomous, merely requiring permission to begin.

"And then see about fixing this damned door!"

Those words were passed along unfiltered, letting her conscious mind analyze them. Emotions stirred; annoyance, dissatisfaction, shame. She reviewed her list of priorities, considered the Captain's tone, judged against what she knew of his character, and re-sorted the list, bumping the door up several levels.

While doing so, Haxta was partial aware of giving launch clearance for one of the lighters. Her attention focused down the connection to the ship, and she looked out through the sensors. There was the tiny craft, pulling on ahead towards the mass of the void station. She observed it a moment, documenting its condition. She bumped a few repairs for the craft up her list as well.

Docking was carried out in the same emotionless, automated fashion, Haxta's mind more on her own musings then the outside. Vague information flowed from the station to the ship to her mind, and she gave it merely as much notice as what needed to know that everything was proceeding in proper order and within accepted limits.

As the final protocols were sent, the last rituals seen to, Haxta gave her legs a precise twist, and the connectors came free of the deck smoothly. The wire under the control panel popped free with and wound itself back under her robes. With the sharp, exacting motions only a machine could accomplish, Haxta rose to her feet, transforming from a small hill into a tiny tower, her artificial body clicking and popping. She turned and proceeded from the bridge, one dull ringing footstep after another.

Eigneh made his way to the hanger. Soon the new crew would arrive and hopefully fare better then the majority of the last one. But first impressions were always important. Being an Astartes meant that he had to inspire awe, confidence and strength. With his helm stowed on its latch behind his head, showing his closely cropped hair and youthful face under the shadow of the missile launchers on his shoulders. An Astartes bolt pistol holstered on his right thigh and a great axe, which looks like a throwing hatchet against Eigneh's bulk, just above the pistol.

Taking a position in front of the airlock, Eigneh stood in place. His eyes fixed on the stars. "Do you ever wonder about the stars?"

Ardgutz smiled. "No." Picking his teeth with a scrap of metal. "Utter lights clozer so not so far."

Eigneh laughed at his old friend. "You sure are as simple as ever."

Ardgutz passed a confused look across his face. "So?"

“Wait! Wait! Wait! Wait! Wait!” Verbal bellowed, his legs pumping as fast as he could move. With his heavy pack slung over one shoulder, his gait was so unbalanced, he looked as though he could topple at any moment. He dodged around a group of Hive World Missionaries, only to slam headlong into the side of a cargo lifter. He shook his head in a momentary daze, and then resumed his run toward the shuttle. An older guy, noble-born by the look of him, held the hatch open with a bemused look on his face.

“I… saw your advert… I’m… I’m a Void-master.” his eyes quickly darted around the cabin of the lighter as he gasped for air, “Have you hired a pilot yet?”

“Why, no we haven’t. A capable pilot is one of the few parts missing in our well-oiled machine. Are you interested, by chance?” The regal elder smirked. Verbal could tell this guy was going to be a royal pain in the ass.

“Nah. Just thought I’d ask. Of course I’m interested! And well qualified, I might add.” He ran his fingers through his wild shock of dark purple hair as he straightened and mock saluted, “Verbal’s the name, and flying is… the thing I do. Well.”

“Lord Constantine, of the voidship Hastier. Welcome aboard.” Constantine awkwardly returned the salute as Verbal climbed up into the shuttle’s passenger cabin.

“Hey. I’m Solomon, but everybody calls me Verbal.” He extended his hand to the only woman in the group. She stared at it like it was some odd thing that just crawled out of a dead grox’s ass.

“Suck the marrow from the digits.” she murmured. Verbal yanked his hand back and ran it through his hair again. The other two men didn’t look much friendlier. He smiled at the group.

“No candy for you, lady! Hey, I can take us out…” he spotted Constantine settling behind the controls of the old bird.

“Have you ever piloted a craft of this type before?” the old man asked.

Verbal slid past him, and into the seat, deftly activating the control interface, and firing up the engines, “Yeah, no problem, boss. We got clearance?”

Constantine nodded, taking a seat in the rear cabin.

“Well, then. Let’s see my new home.”

“Yes, that one. Don’t let her size fool you; she’s a formidable vessel, with many secrets.” Constantine reassured the brash young Void-master. They were on final approach, the 100 meter-long Hastier growing ever larger in the viewport. They’d been cleared for docking, and now Verbal would begin to slow… Except he didn’t. The open bay loomed to fill the viewport, and Constantine knew he’d made a mistake. The man was going to kill them all. He braced for impact – and the shuttle slowed so abruptly, he almost fell from his seat.

“Touchdown, boss.” Verbal quipped, setting the craft down in the bay with only a slight jostle. The bay doors closed behind them, and he clapped the young man’s shoulder.

“Okay, I’m impressed. Let us see if the Captain is as well. Please, if you would, all of you disembark and wait next to the shuttle. I’m sure Captain Eigneh will be along momentarily.” He was the first out; he wanted to see their expressions when they saw the Captain.

The airlock door began to cycle, “Ah, here he is now…”

Constantine grinned.

Once the atmo cycled, Eigneh and Ardgutz casually walked into hanger. Eigneh with a purposefully slow and unaggressive pace. Ardgutz with a lumping ape like walk. As the new crew exited the shuttle, Eigneh waved his massive chainfist in a welcoming fashion.

"Welcome, to the Hastier." Yelled Eigneh in a near impossibly deep voice. "I am Eigneh Degloch, Captain of this vessel. You have come here for glory, adventure... and also a taste of profits should any of you live long enough."

Stepping back, Eigneh pointed to Ardgutz. "This here is Ardgutz, the Enforcer for this ship. He answers to me and me alone."

Ardgutz smiled, his tusks showing out. "Wil-comb!" Ardgutz gave a quick snap thumb point to Eigneh Degloch. "He da boss! You's work gud and I's not has to put you in dead box!"

Arl and Josey took in the new Captain and his enforcer before looking at each other.

Arl stepped forward and replied, "thank you Captain. So what's the job and what's the pay?"

"Oh and what is your friend?"

Eigneh laughed at the little man. "This here is an Ork. Tell them Ard, what do Orks do."

Ardgutz flexed his powerclaw, leaning forward with the massive weight. "I's of da Orks end da Orks make WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" The echo vibrating the hanger. Spit shooting from his mouth and spraying his tusks.

"They're great for public relations..." Mocked Eigneh.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

Haxta paused in mid-stride as the massive bellow rang through the halls. She had been on her way back to the bridge with the necessary implements and sacred ointments for a minor ritual of repair. Hearing the ork's war-cry however left her in a moment of hesitation.

Trouble seemed unlikely, unless of course it was Ardgutz who was starting it. The captain maintained a good degree of control over the ork, but still, he was an ork. It would not do to have to flee the station after slaughtering a mob bent on exterminating the xeno...again.

Haxta sighed, her vox buzzing like an overgrown insect, and headed for the hanger. She tucked her tools of repair under one arm, freeing her other to run a simple inspection over the bolter that hung under her robes, ensuring that it was ready for use, that it would come free easily of the hard-point on her armor from which it hung.

She turned into the hanger bay, sweeping her gaze over the scene. There was a small collection of individuals present, all of whom were staring at Ardgutz in various states of shock and alarm. No one seemed ready to pull a weapon, which was encouraging. More encouraging was the presence of the captain, since Ardgutz looked to be having too much fun. Fun for orks had a nasty habit of bringing violence along.

Haxta had to consult her memory to determine just why these people were here. The conversation about picking up new crew members came to her, something she had heard and stored without really bothering to process the information. She let it sink into her mind fully now, and concluded that it was the most logical reason for the presence of a group of strangers gathered in the hanger bay with the captain.

She strode a few steps into the hanger to take a closer look at the newcomers, letting their faces pass by her usual automated systems and be handled by her actual organic mind. It seemed proper to give her new crew mates the full attention of her awareness, at least for the moment.

"Well he seems eager" Arl commented while stuffing his hands in his pockets, hoping to hide the trembling. He certainly wouldn't be starting anything with the Ork. He doubted any weapon if his would take him, maybe Josey's Ripper if they were lucky.

"Right, well I don't think anyone here will be causing any trouble then."

"You have a specific job in mind boss or...."

“Holy Terra that’s loud!!” Verbal shouted, his ears still ringing from the Ork’s battle howl. He checked his ears for blood, only half-jokingly, “Have you ever thought about being a singer? I know this place on Mordian that would kill for an act like that.”

“Suitably formidable, is he not?” Constantine asked mockingly. His grin was irritatingly cheerful, especially after Verbal had nearly pissed himself.

“Yes, suitably. We can save our ammo; he can just scream our enemies to death.” He glanced fearfully at the Ork. He wasn’t sure how well his humor would translate for the giant green xeno. Ardgutz was picking his teeth, not listening to anyone but the Captain, who was somehow taller than the Ork.

Must grow ‘em big on planet Eigneh, he thought, moving toward the enormous pair. “Captain Eigneh? I’m Verbal, your new Void-master. Do you… uh, have anywhere in particular you wanted to go at the moment? Or should I stow my gear first?”

Taura looked with a face of contorted disgust and fear toward the now silent xeno that towered abover her; she was not short for a human female but the ork dwarfed her with ease. As did the strange, somehow metallic man before here. Somewhere deep rooted in her memory was an image that mirrored his, and some ill-shaped and difficult to speak words floated from the ether into the edges of her perception.

They are working with xenos. Heretics, defilers! Purge in the name of the one who lights... She turned to herself and gently stabbed the fingernail of her right index finger into the wrist of her left arm. She whispered softly "Hush now, Not in public". She turned and stretched tendrils of her mind out toward the ork, attempting to gauge...something from him. Nothing. All she could decipher was something that sounded such as static in a vox.

"He has no sound," Taura said, not peeling her faintly glowing eyes from the ork. Everyone turned toward her, most of them carrying incredulous looks of disbelief. Apart from the enormous man who she had labelled captain and the enormous, clicking bulk that had slowly drifted into the room.

"Say what? That thing is carries the noise of a full size orchestra!" The one who had called himself Void master replied, with a sort of curious innocence about his face. "Are you mad?" She turned and shot him a glare.

"You know nothing of madness. Me and my counterparts....Mad is only the beginning" She turned away. "I meant his mind, not his voice. A normal man's vocal chords pale into comparison compared to the noise of his head. This xeno is empty. He is static." She stepped toward her captain, looking at the eerily mind-quiet clicking automaton that had edged toward the group slowly.

"Captain. Unnaturally tall, hulking, metallic. zealous to boot. My kind of captain. I am Taura. Psyker. Sanctioned, provable only if you open your mind."

Eigneh stalks the around the hanger, taking in the sight of his new crew.

A short glance at the psyker gave away his thoughts as well as his words ever could. "The mind of an Astartes, is not a book to be read by those who serve him."

Looking back to the rest of the crew, making sure that his eyes locked into each of theirs in turn. "Our mission is to support local law enforcement offices as free lancing bringers of peace. Even if that peace is the Emperor's Peace and granted through barrel or blade. For our honorable services, our ambassador will secure our payments of such to insure our continued efforts. Mr Constantine can use his fine words to explain things better if any of you have concerns. Do be aware that our tasks will be hard, dangerous and deadly. If this is beyond you then you are free to return to port without penalty."

“Indeed, sir. This is an all-volunteer crew – unless of course, we are on a job, in which case, we would prefer if you waited to resign until the mission is completed…” There was no trace of a smirk in that statement.

“This is a privateer vessel. We obtain employment that allows us to employ our various talents in the service of The Emperor and the good of Mankind, while staying free to do whatever other jobs the good of Mankind may require, but the Imperium may not agree with. I will utilize my network of contacts, both noble and criminal, to determine which jobs are worthy of our special attention.”

A crowd of scowls, frowns, and confused faces had not been his intention. He sighed, “We kill who needs killin’, and we take what jobs the Captain thinks are right for us. I’ll talk to some people, and get us some work right away. Got it?”

He folded his arms, and waited for the Captain to dismiss the group.

Haxta stood quietly, patiently waiting while Eigneh and Constantine laid out the basics for the new comers. Part of her noted how well the two men worked together in their orations.

She only paid their actual words what attention her automatic systems granted however, her true focus on the pysker. The woman's behavior and speech patterns were notably erratic, and suggested that the awakening of her powers had been a stressful and damaging process on her mind. The pysker's voice also caught Haxta's interest, being as obviously artificial as it was. She found herself wondering about the craftsmanship and degree of machinery held within the woman's throat, and the medicae mechadendrite implanted within her chest stirred, fluttering her robes slightly as her mind wandered.

She came to herself, and noting the momentary silence that had fallen, stepped forward, using the motion to draw attention to herself. Some part of her mind suggested that an introduction would be considered proper at this point, and she decided to act upon it.

"Welcome," she spoke softly, taking some of the harsh edges off of the rasping buzz of her voice. "I am Haxta. While you serve upon the Hastier, you may come to me if you require maintenance or repair of your possession or self."

Taura turned her focus to the automaton that had spoken. The voice, while edgier and deeper than her own carried the same machined tones that the mechanics in her throat gave. Taura drew closer slowly, reaching her hand outward toward the being. The eyes of the automaton were barely visible; they twitched toward the hand and showed the very slightest inclination of discomfort. Taura withdrew the hand and instead circled the enormous bulk.

"You are...you are a dichotomy. I can feel the whisps of your mind that is yours...that is...human, of a sort. But you," Taura took a moment to edge slightly closer to the mind, making sure to never draw close to the mind's conscious perception of the "6th sense" so as not to seem confrontational. "It is hidden. Cloaked of a sorts. Under a veil that sounds like machine."

Haxta barely shifted, focusing the cold eyes on Taura's face. They appeared almost black, like pearl drop mirrors that glowed in the gently pulsating purple light burning within Taura's eyes. "You have a mechanical voice too. It is...similar. Kindred."

Haxta shifted her head a little, glancing down at Taura's throat for a moment. "You are correct. It is a repair and an upgrade at once; result of past experiences."

Taura turned away, fell to her knees and burst into tears. Full bodied, heartfelt tears of genuine pain or sorrow. Other members of the crew looked peturbed. Constantine edged closer to in order to show concern while the void master dropped to a knee. At some point he said "Hey, what's wrong?". Taura looked at him her eyes burning violet. After a moment to gather herself, the tears faded along with her eyes.

"Memory. Pain. I too lost a voice." She smiled ruefully and looked up toward the rest of them. "A gift from the emperor himself." Fat lot the jumped up bastard did to you!. She turned and suddenly bit her arm, hissing "silence" between her teeth. She rose slowly and hugged herself, wrapping her arms around her frail frame. "Just. Memories." She looked up and smiled at Haxta. "I know how it feels."

Haxta did not respond.

Haxta found herself in a stunned silence as her systems tried, and failed, to make a proper semblance of sense from the pysker's words and actions. This was complicated by the need to focus her attention on shutting down the defensive process that had tried to respond to the woman's implied access of Haxta's mind, which had quickly locked down non-essential elements of her mind and redirected energy to the ballistic mechadendrite on her shoulder.

Wrestling control of herself back from the machine, Haxta stepped beside Taura, and bent slightly to examine the injury the woman had inflicted on herself. The site was already red and starting to swell, but there was no visible blood, merely the deep imprints of her teeth.

"This is quite mild," Haxta said clinically. "However you should not attempt to damage yourself like this." Her voice dropped to a buzzing whisper. "You lost a voice, but the majority remains. Do not take that for granted."

Eigneh let loose a booming laugh, his massive frame jumping with enjoyment. "it's going to be a very interesting cruise to be sure!". Turning out of the hanger Eigneh nodes to Ardgutz.

Ardgutz, as though moved by an unseen force of nature shoot to attention. "Aight maggots!". Moving in almost a rush, he began shoving the new crew out of the hanger. "Gets a move on! To your bunks cleans up for dah big bos!"

Constantine chuckled at the crew's expressions as the Ork pushed them along like a walking, green tidal wave, an implacable force. He'd found Ardgutz to be absolutely relentless in following the Captain's commands or suggestions, but still amazingly gentle for an Ork.

Turning to the Captain, his face grew more serious, "So, Captain, how do you want to proceed? I have several contacts I can reach in this system, some of the noble variety, and some of the less savory variety. Might I suggest that I contact my associates in the underworld first; they might have information the authorities do not, like locations of smuggling operations, and knowledge of current criminal activities."

Eigneh pondered this for a moment, and then nodded, "That makes sense. We'd be more likely to be able to keep whatever we find in our operation. But, we'd be more likely to be double-crossed... It's your choice, Constantine... But unless you want to lose a contact permanently, make sure they're trustworthy. I don't care for being cheated."

"Of course, sir. I don't deal with fools. I will use appropriate judgment."

The Captain nodded again, and then folded his arms before striding away, his heavy armor pounding against the deckplates as he walked. Constantine headed for the lift, considering who to contact.

“Constantine, you old lho-head! How are ya!?” Flora’s lilting voice came over the vox speakers on the Hastier’s bridge. She sounded glad to hear from him, even though their last parting had been quite unpleasant for both of them.

“I’m doing quite well for myself, my dear. I’m first-mate on a void-ship with an intriguing crew and an honorable captain. Actually, that’s why I contacted you; I’ve heard that you’ve built a nice little empire out here in the backwater of the Imperium. My crew has want of work, and I figured I’d contact you first.” He knew better than to bandy words with Flora; she was a sharp woman, one who valued expediency.

“What sort of job are you looking to, my illustrious Lord?” the sarcasm was was evident in her tone, but such was Flora’s way.

“My captain desires employ that involves ‘dealing’ with truly despicable criminals. He wishes to make a name as one who will take any work, so long as it serves the greater good. Preferably, I’d like to eliminate any particularly nasty scum in direct competition with you, Flora.” He figured he’d try to help out his friend and help the captain at the same time.

There was a bit of a pause, then, “Threw your lot in with an idealist, Constantine? How very unlike you… I do have a bit of a problem you could help me with: a rogue tech-priest by the name of Mordechai has muscled his way into control of an orbital in a system nearby. This station was previously owned by someone I have debts to; someone who wants it back, but doesn’t seem to wish risking exposure to reclaim it.”

“What’s his retinue and business, this Mordechai?” Constantine queried. This sounded promising.

“Assorted thugs, I believe. He’s known as a slaver, but there are rumors that he’s using the orbital as a base for some rather unsavory practices. Namely, unsanctioned hybrids. There’s reward in it if you can eliminate him without destroying the station...” a long pause followed.

Constantine considered this, stroking his chin as he thought. He replied, “Servitors, perhaps? Interesting. We will keep what weapons and equipment we find. Consider this orbital retaken. Transmit the coordinates to me, and I will contact you when the job is completed.”

“One condition, Constantine: if you make it back, you must promise to come planetside and visit with me. It’s been far too long.” Her tone promised even more reward for success in this mission.

“Of course, my dear. I intended to, regardless.”