The Bespin Affair

Tay tried to push the medical droid's hands away. He was sure his head was just fine but M3 insisted that Kodo undergo a battery of test something about deficient mental functioning. Tay had more calls to make he had already contacted Genko he was surprised that the major domo had been so accommodating when confronted with the truth. Darqa was right honesty was the best policy in this case, but Tay remained sceptical about relying on it too heavily. He had also put calls out to Goova. The Oonta matriarch wasn't surprised in the least to receive the call. She had playfully inquired if Kodo had been to Bespin recently. She had said that the museums were quite exciting. Tay had no idea how Goova had already heard about the cloud city indecent let alone linked it to the Raging Dewback's crew. The Oonta clan was certainly in safe hands now that Goova was out of retirement. She still appeared to be fond of Kodo and had happily did him a favour, it only took her minuets to supply Tay with the contact details of Enu one of the few Info brokers Tay trusted to supply him a false identification and keep it secret. M3 was coming at him again with some kind of probe. Tay protested.

Please Dr 4T, I assure you I am fine! If there was anything wrong with my head I wouldn't have been able to pilot that stolen cloud guard speeder upside down, along the main avenue of could city against the flow of morning rush-hour traffic. Would I?

M3-4T paused as he calculated the odds of a mentally comprised individual executing the manoeuvres that Kodo had preformed. The odds were ridiculously high. But so was a chance of a completely healthy pilot performing the same actions. M3 then analysed the manoeuvres Kodo had preformed during the high speed escape. And compared them to the manoeuvres he had used to win the cloud city grand prix the day before. M3 calculated that Kodo's reaction times were comparable with no desirable degeneration of performance.

Hmm… Perhaps you are correct Kodo. But how do you explain Darqa's description of your symptoms?

The droid’s voice somehow conveyed a mixture of concern and interest despite its synthetic quality.

Tay waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.

 

Look. Doctor its simple; that witch Eliza cast some kind of spell on me.  Why don't you take Thal down to the cargo hold and check on your owners new freeze unit? That's why we came to Bespin after all.

 

Tay was sure that M3 wanted badly to check on his owners but the Medical Droid had hardly left the crews side, tending to wounds that Tay and Darqa had hastily patched during the flight from the museum. Tay had never seen such dedication in a droid before. 

M3-4T pondered what Kodo had said. He badly wanted to examine the vitality data of the carbon freeze units to check for any ill effects the malfunction may have had on his patients. But he was genuinely concerned about his crew. Darqa’s description of events seemed to indicate that Kodo was somehow influenced by the elder woman. M3 discounted Kodo's magical superstitions. Perhaps it was some kind of manipulation of intelligent microscopic bacterial by morphic fields? No that was more ridiculous than Kodo's witchcraft. He glanced at Darqa sleeping under heavy sedative on the lounge. The wounds the Gotatl?? had received would have killed several lesser beings.   

Ok Kodo you do seem fully functional. I will be close by, please call if you feel any dizziness. Or if Darqa begins to stir.

Kodo was relived to be spared M3's probe.

Thail you should go with Dr 4T he may need your technical know how.

Alone, Tay had time to think about the heist. That gem was bigger than any he had seen before.  And  there was something special about it more than the legend around it . He was sure about it. Something had felt odd when he held it, a scratching sensation between his antennae. He had to hand it to Arend Shen. Steeling the gem and hacking the cloud city banking system to redirect the auction funds was a great idea. As usual the high and mighty needed someone to carry out their dirty deeds. Kodo was familiar with the power plays of wealthy families from his time on Coruscant . Tay was sure Mr Shen would be quite busy dealing with the fallout between Marus Greyson, Kaltho The Hut, and Vorse Tabarith and not to mention the Wing guard investigation. Yes much too busy to bother about a simple criminal who betrayed him. His daughter Aris however was a different matter. That blue skinned beauty was very determined to succeed. Tay was sure she would be able to avoid any unpleasantness her father and husband got themselves into, and Tay suspected that she was the true brains behind her fathers gem plot. Tay leaned back and thought about each encounter they had together.

The secrete meeting in the market as she slipped away from her husbands minders.

The playful negotiations at the safe house apartment with those bribed wing guard outside. Kodo had played hard ball and she had called his bluff. She was a cool customer and yet Tay was sure he caught her steeling glances at him during the meeting.

Tay's suspicions were confirmed when he danced with Aris at the museum during the silent auction. The way her touch had lingered on his neck and how she had hung on his every word. Tay could tell she was intoxicated by his talent displayed during the Cloud City Grand Prix, winning the race while avoiding both cloud born life forms, and blaster fire from the elite pro racing teams. Holo-vids of Tay in disguise standing up out of the open canopy of the sky car, arms raised catching flowers and streamers as he crossed the finish line, flames still fanning out of the overstressed engines were all over the Holo-net.          

The desperation in her voice as She had commed for them after the heist had turned sower. Tay remember how he had felt a stab of shame as her calls of concern had changed into rage at the realisation that the funds transfer hadn't gone into the prearranged Shen account. But Tay new her feelings were still conflicted. As Tay had stood in the open of the Holo-park guiding Thal into land, he had been caught dead in Aris's sights, but the blaster bolt had gone clear over Tay's head. Aris had wavered at the last moment. And Tay had seen her pouting in rage as he had said his Farewells sprinting up the landing ramp of the Dewback. Tay had never met her type before but was sure he would get the chance to again, and despite the danger or perhaps because of it he relished the idea.

But first their was the matter of a fist sized gem and another mysterious lady Elaiza was equally as fascinating as Aris Shen but for completely different reasons. Aris was a foil to Tay's personality someone like himself, a kindred sprit of sorts. Elaiza was a mystery or a riddle to be solved. Tay had always been good at reading people for as long as he could remember he could read them and then tell them exactly what they anted to hear. Its was Tay's trade M3-4T under stood the working of life and how to heal the sickly. Thal was a brilliant engineer and mathematician who was privy to inner workings of a star. Darqa was a precision machine his body and reflexes were tuned to the identification of danger and elimination of threats. Tay understood how peoples minders worked he could read the face of a mark and exploit the weakness he found the boredom of a guard, or the desire of a bank clerk. Tay was a master of lies, but he couldn't impose his thinking onto another. He could only subtlety manipulate. But Elaiza had done the impossible she had simply told Tay that she needed the gem, just out right said it "I need the gem to save the Galaxy." what a terrible lie, there was no way anyone would believe it. But Tay had. One Second Tay had was thinking what an amateur. You may be a master Cat-Burglar to have climbed up the waste-shoot, but you don't know anything about manipulation. Then the next thing she slowly waved her hand and said those eight words and Tay had believed. Believed it with every fibre of his being, then a few minuets later he had realised how stupid that sounded. Save the Galaxy, how daft was that!  As much as Tay wanted to go after the gem he wanted Elaiza, well he wanted that old witch's powers. Tay remembered the same scratching sensation between his antennae when he was speaking to Elaiza as when he held the gem. He could still feel it now if he concentrated hard enough. A scratching, itching, feeling between, inside? No was it beyond his antennae?!

In service to a Rogue

Wulf Heironymous jerked as he snapped awake. Drenched in sweat he panicked a little as he scanned his surroundings trying to orientate himself in the darkness. Despite being a veteran soldier of four years service, he felt the panic rising as it took a moment to realise where he was. Shaking his head free from the effects of sleep he mused about the fact that he still wasn’t used to travelling in the bowls of this ship. He felt the subtle rocking as the ships centre of gravity shifted over eddies and currents, to him if felt like being locked inside a building while someone rocked it like a crib. He slid off the top of the tripled stacked bunk careful not to wake the men sleeping below him. The steel of the floor felt cold beneath his feet as he walked towards the end of the cargo hold that housed the lavatories and showers. The hold that was serving as his unit’s barracks always felt cold and looked dark, even when the overhead lighting was set at maximum brightness. In the shower room he squinted as the sudden brightness pained his sleepy eyes. As he splashed water from a spartan steel sink onto his face his mind flashed back to the dream that woke him. The ship-men that he had spoken to when he first came aboard had warned him of the dreams.  They said they would be bad. Especially when transitioned, something about them being your worst nightmares or sometimes terrifying pleasures. He didn’t understand what transitioning was, they had said it had something to do with the ship traveling into the black. He thought about that for a second. He’d seen out of some of the port holes before they’d been shut and welded in place before they had transitioned.  Outside had looked black to him, except for the stars. No not into, they had said traveling beyond the black. He had thought the portholes were shut because they weren’t meant to see out, but perhaps it also stopped someone from seeing in? Well whatever transitioning was it had made him nauseous, and given half of the men in his platoon migraines, and the dreams. The first night a dozen men had awoken screaming, soldiers who were adults when Wulf joined the Levy at fifteen. Men who had held firm in the face of Xeno beasts when others had wilted, screaming for the Emperor’s mercy in the night. The men hardly ever screamed in the night  anymore, but that didn’t mean they weren’t terrified while they slept. The dream that had woken him was ample evidence of that.

Wulf always dreamed about reliving the events of his past. He would stand atop the defence walls of Damaris City fighting off the Ork assaults only this time they fail. The city burns as the men of the Levy are slaughtered. Wulf sighed in relief at least this time he had awoken before his memory had soured and become a twisted parody of actual events.

Wulf stared out across the western plains despite having grown up in one of the agri collectives he had never seen them from this vantage point. Normally his visa consisted of furrowed soil covered with grain that needed harvesting or muddy fields covered in pulped grain storks from the harvest that needed to be reploughed. Now that he was above the fields he could appreciate their beauty. The fields of rolling crops seemed endless, he fancied that he could see all the way to the permafrost at the edge of the cultivated lands. But that was over a thousand kilometres away, further than Wulf was ever likely to travel.

He was snapped away from the view by the harsh words of Aldheim. Boy! What the hell is wrong with you?! Move your sorry arse!  We've got at least six more loads. Wulf sprinted after Aldheim, sorry sir it won't happen again.

The older man didn't even turn around to reply as he jogged down the stairs. Don't promise me boy. Just don't let any of the officers catch you lollygagging. The Corporals will just flog you around the backside of your head, but you better look out if the sergeant spots you slacking. What will he do? Wulf nervously asked. Nothing Aldheim replied. Wulf was confused, Aldheim continued just as Wulf was about to ask what he meant. The sergeant won't lay a finger on you.  It's not his job,  but he will make sure his corporals are doing their jobs. If a corporal is getting chewed out because some wet behind the ears recruit is off skylarking then you can bet the corporal is going to shove his boot directly up that recruit's arse.

They arrived at the base of the stairs, Wulf looked around him hundreds of men were hustling all around him, dragging out cargo from the backs of trucks and APCs  and beginning the long climb back up the stairs it reminded him of harvest day, only everyone was dressed in the green and blue uniform of the Levy instead the rough grey cotton overalls of a labourer. Someone slapped him on the shoulder and pointed to a pile of metal boxes being unloaded from the rear of an eight wheeled cargo hauler. That pile there recruit Heironymous. It was Reinald, the soft spoken gunner of the heavy weapons team he had been assigned to.

Aldheim spoke up again as he grabbed two of the large ammunition boxes and heaved them onto his shoulders. That bloody name of yours, we need something shorter. I can't be yelling Recruit Heironymous get that Mellon down before it gets shot off every five minutes. How about Mus?

Wulf stammered. Actually you could just call me Wulf. Aldheim looked at him and simply said; Mus it is. Wulf tried to respond but was interrupted by Reinald. Sorry. You rarely get to pick your nick name.  Reinald also grabbed two ammunition boxes and started up the stairs.

Wulf sighed and with one ammunition box in his left hand attempted to lift a second. Grunting he abandoned the attempt and shifted his hands to better grip the single box and prepared for the long climb.

The steps were steep and seemed endless. Streams of soldiers were flowing up and down the stairs. Wulf joined the flow heading up, Wulf's boots were ill fitting and he tried not to stumble as he climbed. Most of the troops carried ammunition canisters similar to the one Wulf was. But many still carried sand bags these were for construction of individual pillboxes on top of the wall. Each weapons team had their own. Three bags thick and four feet high, except for the entrance at the rear and embrasure at the front. These were constructed behind the armourcrete parapet at each opening in the crenellations. Two hundred weapons teams guarded this section of the wall. At either end of stood the ordnance towers making the limits of this section. The towers were at least fifteen meters higher than the wall they stood upon. Armoured doors prevented access to the tower and the next section of wall beyond the tower. The towers surfaces facing to the outside of the wall were pitted with numerous embrasures. Unlike the temporary pillbox constructed by Wulf's team, these were thick stepped armourcrete, and reinforced by additional armour plating. Each plate was engraved with images of Imperial heroes striking down foes. The weapon barrels that protruded from each opening weren't like the man portable Autocannons mounted on tripods held in place by stacks of sandbags.  They were permanently fixed weapon systems each one was fed ammunition directly from the tower's own internal magazine. They were guided by individual machine spirits that aided targeting, and they had hardwired communication systems that allowed the bunker commander to coordinate its gunners actions with HQ and the other towers. Wulf continued to drudge up the stairs, he could just see the very top of the nearest tower between the press of bodies on the staircase. It was an impressive sight. Each tower was topped with a massive metallic Imperial eagle. Wulf had always thought they were simply mighty sculptures. Then the tekpriests had begun awaking them. One by one the sculptures had transformed; the wings normally by the great birds sides had unfurled as a mighty cannons had risen out of the plinths that each eagle stood on. The sight of the thick towers ringing the entire city, each topped with a colossal Aquilia was truly inspirational. Then the wings protectively closed around the cannons forming an armoured shell. Finally the mighty dual heads that normally faced away from each other pivoted forward and now they seemed to survey the landscape around them. Their eyes faintly glowed and seemed alive. Apparently it had been more than a hundred years since the city had last needed it's defences activated.

Wulf finally reached the top of the stairs and started along the parapet heading towards the pillbox that he had helped construct. He tried to avoid looking over the edge as hefted the ammunition canister, as much as he enjoyed the endless view across the fields, looking down directly off the edge disturbed him. The walls were at least thirty meters high and thirty meters thick at the base they then tapered to about ten meters thick at the top. Looking over the edge always induced a feeling of nausea in the pit of Wulf's stomach. The work continued through the day, and at nightfall the heavy weapons teams settled in on top of the wall. Supper was brought to them up the stairs by civilians, although since General Dante declared an emergency and called for a general mobilisation every citizen was technically part of the military.

One week previously Wulf was a juvenile labourer, he had not yet even received an indenture. Like all the other juveniles the only military experience he had was with the youth militia, one day each week the youth of the agricultural districts would muster for three hours drill. Marching & parade formations practice then physical training, finally it would be marksmanship. Wulf's militia unit only had a single battered lasrifle for each of the sixty youths to share, they were lucky to get three shots each week before they were dismissed. Then one day they had heard the public Vox broadcast for all militia to muster and upon arrival at the drill yards Wulf had discovered regular troops of the Highland Levy fortifying the area. Rows of slit trenches and great earthen berms surrounded the drill house that was now covered in layers of sandbags. When he entered the compound he had was taken aside with the other youths, and addressed by an officer. The young lieutenant informed them that they were all now conscripted in the Levy with the rank of recruit. They were all handed a bundle containing uniforms shoes and a helmet. All of which were designed for grown men not the slight frames of the adolescent militia. After they dressed all sixty cramped into the hopper of a ten wheeled cargo transport ment for caring raw grain and were driven to Damaris City, without the chance of seeing off their families.

Wulf was awakened when they arrived by the sound of cheering, it seemed that the whole city had turned out to see the new recruits Wulf's cargo hauler had joined a great convoy of other vehicles filled with youths from the outlying agricultural districts. The trip from the city gates to the levy training fields was like entering a whole new world to the simple farmers, many had never even seen the city from a distance. The capital of Damaris was a city of many hundreds of millions with the news of off world Xeno invasion millions more had traveled here seeking refuge inside its walls. The buildings were awe inspiring to Wulf, looking up out the cargo truck they seemed like mountains, the massive glass sheets in the windows reminded him of waterfalls. At the training fields each recruit was issued a lass rifle, Wulf had never believe there could be so many weapons, the quarter masters office was staffed by dozens of clerks and they were all tasked with issuing rifles to the recruits, thousands of them were handed out. The recruits were given a whole day of marksmanship training Wulf was able to fire over a hundred shots. Thats when they were divvied up, each heavy weapons squad was to receive a recruit Wulf was sent to the wall and that's when he met Aldheim and Reinald.

Wulf shook his head; how long had he be daydreaming? The broken sleeps had been getting to him. He exited the brightness of the prefabricated structure that housed as the shower block. As the door slid shut behind him he was plunged into darkness. His night vision destroyed by the clinical brightness of the shower room lights, he was unable to identify the dull red bulbs that dimly lit the cargo holds during the ships night shift. He didn't need the dull glow bulbs to find his way back to ladder of his bunk rack. He silently slipped into his bunk and as he begun to nod back to sleep he prayed to the God Emperor that he would not dream anymore.

It had been three days since the sandbag pillboxes on the wall had been completed. Wulf was nervous it seemed all they did was watch and wait. Sometimes a group of offices would walk along the walls inspecting the men, some times the offices escorted lords and other gentry. Once it was the great General Dantie flanked by aids and guards he had stalked along the wall demanding the relocation of heavy weapons so that their fields of fire would better overlap. Then the off worlders had come. Among them was a great lord dressed in strange garb, a tall man of noble bearing that the others defend to. His face marked by a single large scar that ran down over his eye. Clad in armour seemedly made of glass that drank up the daylight instead of reflecting it. At his side hung a large sword whose scabbard and hilt was adorned in gold filigree and set with precious gems whose brilliance was only outdone the fabric of his cloak.

Behind him walked a group of men that acted as advisors. The great lord stood atop the parapet he leaned forward with his foot resting atop one of the crenelations, his cloak bellowed behind him as he stared out across the plains. His face shielded from the sun by his magnificent bicorn hat whose crest was thick with bright plumage. Wulf was close enough to hear them converse

Ragnar my friend, you've faced the brutality of these Xeno during your time in the Navy. Will these walls hold? His voice was smooth as oil and carried musical quality a symptom of his off works accent. One of the odd group of advisers stepped forward. His back was straight and his step was as sharp as any officer on parade. His uniform was the dark blue of an imperial naval officer similar to Commodore Naremmus the commander of the cruiser Aegis which often docked at the orbital Bulwark during its breaks in patrolling the Expanse. Except in place of military service medals his chest was adorned with a single gold pin. A swooping eagle with claws bared and beak open, and from its open beak thrust a fist as if to strike an adversary.

Aye Captain. I have faced the green tied, and lived. These men think they are prepared but they know not the magnitude of the threat they face. An Ork Warrgh is part holy war part, plantenary migration. The Orks that will come here will delight in the slaughter, whither it's their enemies or their own. They will not break until their war chief is dead. The troops here will need additional ammunition stores. The walls and buildings behind the wall will require fortification. But most of all they will need more men. The officer's voice was short and clipped. It possessed a tone that was accustomed to issuing orders and dealing out scathing beratements to those who failed any tasks assigned to them.

Then they shall have them. The Captain's voice was one you would follow anywhere, his words inspired confidence and loyalty. Luther bring down some men have them prepare the fortifications to Ragnar's specifications and open the arms lockers make sure they are prepared to repel any hostiles that make it to the walls.

Another of the advisers stepped forward he held a data pad in one hand and an electro quill expertly scribbled notes faster than the eye could follow, this superhuman act of scribing was only possible because of the augmented hand the advisor possessed. My lord by my calculations the necessary expenditure of manpower and liquid capital will be quite extensive. This advisor spoke with the polished accent of someone accustomed to using High Gothic daily, like a scribe. But he wore a high quality suite of master crafted armour and bore himself like a man accustomed to violence.

As the group continued along the wall there was one member of the advisors who didn't speak. Wulf starred as he walked past the deep flowing robes seemed to hide a multitude of secrets within their folds. It almost seemed like he was floating as he moved, when Wulf looked at his legs he just barely caught a glimpse of metal under the robes. It was as if like both his legs were augmented. Wulf wondered what had happened to these men that they bore such scars and replacement limbs. As Wulf looked up from the odd advisors feet he found himself staring into the hood of the robed figure. A disturbing voice issued from within. Worry not what horrorth we have facedth boy, jutht know that men can triumph againtht the foulnethth of the abythth. The as the figure answered  a question Wulf had not the courage to ask aloud, he leaned in close enough for Wulf to see what hid inside the darkness of the robes. A face as pale as it was gaunt leered at him, two bloodshot eyes that were unaccustomed to the morning sun glistened darkly, and mounted prominently in the centre of a greasy forehead was a third eyelid,  thankfully closed for the time being. An as the advisor spoke Wulf could see why the figure lisped. A mouth full with long needle like teeth packed so densely they more resembled some kind of primordial beast rather than a human.

The advisor smiled disturbingly. But then againth the we, are not ordinary menth.

For the second time that night Wulf awoke in the darkness of ships hold.

A long time ago, the grim darkness of the far future and other geekery.

The gap between my last two blogs was greater than I planned but it wasn't from inactivity. I've been up to a bunch of game related stuff. So in the style of my favourite podcast The D6 Generation, I'll give you my Achievements in gaming!

Pulp

I haven't played much Dystopian wars lately but now that version 2.0 of the rules are out I need to grab them and try em out.
In its place I've been playing X-wing most weekends. I am just loving the easy to pick up but difficult to master rules system and the more equipment and upgrade cards you get can completely change the way the game plays. I just picked up two of the new TIE-Phantoms and one of the TIE-Defenders. The FLGS is dreadfully short on X-wing miniatures and I grabbed theses on the same day they came in so I sprung the new hotness on my unsuspecting gaming group. Unfortunately they had also grabbed a few defenders.
Now to try and resist buying Armada.

One of the players from my previous Rogue Trader RPG campaign has moved back to town and agreed to GM a Star Wars Edge of the Empire campaign. I am so pumped to be a player again, without the responsibility of GMing. We have had half a dozen sessions so far and they have been a blast. My character is a Rodian Scoundrel who was pretending to be a senator when Palpatine removed the senate. He now maintains his cover to avoid the numerous bounties issued by the IOCI for his capture. My hi-lights so far have been swindling a Hut, and causing a Dewback stampeded to distract some storm troopers. Also getting to be a pain in the GMs side, its good to be a player again.

Hobby

Progress on my new 40K army themed on the Rogue Trader forces from my previous RPG Campaign has been steadily ramping up. I have purchased a few boxes of infantry and worked on my list and figured out my purchase order. As well sketched out some ideas for conversions to personalise my little dudes. I ordered a whole bunch of guns from Anvil Industry and a heap of penal troopers from Victoria Miniatures with these combined I plan to make a large squad of 40K naval seamen. (snigger)  I also got one of my mates to draw up the house crest of the Havelock Dynasty, as it was described in play "A dive bombing eagle with a fist flying out of its wide open beak" I plan to use his designs to make up custom green stuff banners and units markings for the household guard. And of course the Havlock personal transport Rhino would be festooned with the house livery. The Rhino was a kit bash between an old Vindicator and a new Chimera. (of course under the new rules I could have just taken an actual Rhino). Soon I start the mammoth task of painting.

 

 

In preparation of painting my 40K army I have had to practice my long neglected painting skills. The task I set myself for improving my skills is painting every miniature I got in my Zombicide Kickstarter and I planned for the zombies to look like a true horde. I didn't want each sculpt to be painted in the same scheme. The progress so far is promising. Soon I start on the survivors.

Video Games 

I recently purchased a PS4 and have been enjoying the new system. But it heighted a dilemma for me, soon my PS3 will die or be retired and my chance to gain the trophies for my current games will be lost. I am a massive trophy whore. Not in the sense that I have a lot, but that I love gaining them. So I have spurned the new system and hunkered down and started replaying my existing games. The highlight of this was replaying the Mass Effect trilogy from start to end. Due to release times on the PS3 I played them out of order and I didn't carry my save over between games. I was surprised how much of a difference playing them in order with one continuous save file made. I always thought the games were ok, now I think they should be viewed as one huge excellent game.

I hope more games with sequels try this approach.

Other

I Finally decide to fill a gap in my geek knowledge I was at a book exchange, and I  picked up a second hand copy of Stephen Kings The Dark Tower: The Gunslinger. I read it in one night and loved every word. Now I need to collect the other books. I also now have a burning desire to play Savage World Deadlands.

I went to see Guardians of the Galaxy. I went in expecting an excellent movie, something on the level of Starwars. Not Starwars with a lifetime of emotional investment but a fun, high quality, space fanacty, adventure movie.

My mates went in with less than optimistic expectations. But we all came out extremely surprised. One best mate took me aside and told me "you were right. That was like seeing Starwars for the first time."

The following weekend I returned to the cinema this time with my eldest son in tow. Some of the jokes went a little over his head, and he cried a little when Groot died. But he loved it, and hasn't stopped talking about it.

Well that's it for my achievements what kind of stuff have you been up too?

Comparative advantage and gains from trade.

Sholk sighed as he nestled in to the silken cushions at the edge of the holo-projector. Luther had furnished him with an incredible amount of additional and unnecessary data along with the documents he requested. As Luther departed he impressed upon Sholk the importance of the dynasty returning to profitability as soon as possible. When the Atticus first asked him to improve the efficiency of the Havlock trade caravans, It should have been easy, especially now that the Orks would soon cease to be a trade barrier. He was happy to except the task, all he wanted was the tonnage of cargo to be taken on and deposited at each point of stoppage. He sipped a chilled glass of the divine water from Vaporius, the delicious liquid quickly soothed his stress. With his mind cleared and his purpose renewed he began scrolling through the reams of data, manifests, logs consumption tallies, production forecasts, and trade agreements. All of it terribly dull suddenly a single name caught his eye, Vaporius. He depressed the rune of viewing on the control slate and the holographic icon resolved itself into a series of documents laid out before him. Sholk mused for a few moments then called up the trade ledges to view the current movements of the caravan. The Emperors Hand would depart Port Wander with its holds filled with foodstuffs and clean water purchased as considerable costs. The first trade stop was always Foot Fall that filth encrusted labyrinth of void born structures floating in the punishing radiation of the immense star Furibundus here a small shipment of exotic luxury items would be purchased far from the pointless rules and needless taxes of the more ‘civilised’ ports. Next the Hand would sail to Vaporius. He reviewed the terms of trade between House Havlock and the city of Lah’ndan. In exchange for small quantities of exotic goods, luxury items and other baubles the Priest King would allow the Havlock trade envoys to depart with two hundred large copper urns of the blessed water. Its third stop would be high orbit above Dross, the ship would wait at that storm wracked planet until its three small rocky moons aligned singling the time for the clouds to be parted. The heavy landers would hurriedly descend with a large portion of the food and water along with shipments of firearms, crude sluggers, stubbers, and shotguns. All to fuel High Priestess Asira’s Jihad of planetary conquest. They would return, clouds closing behind them, with holds full of Scrap metal from the mass of wreaked ships that lay strewn across Dross's surface. The Emperors Hand would then travel to Zayth system. Once in orbit above that desolate war world the remainder of the food and water, along with the salvaged metals from Dross would be transferred into the holds of the Land ship Indestructible. In exchange the Iron brotherhood would supply a battery of their finely crafted Macro weapons that were now so highly sought-after across the entire sub-sector. Finally the Emperors Hand would head for the fledging colony of Havlock's Haven. The crew would take shore leave and some aid would be distributed to the colonists. Havelock's Haven was still a long way away from producing any food stuff in sufficient quantities to be profitable but Captain Havlock was planning to build an empire and it took time to build strong foundations.

Sholk new his duty was to see how Damaris was going to fit into the new trade routes, but he could not believe the terms of trade with Vaporius. He couldn’t shake the term “Glass beads for the heathens” from his mind. He couldn’t fathom that his noble captain would be willing to exploit the kindness of the Ansai the Priest-King of Lah’ndan. Sholk would make sure that this oversight was corrected and Ansai was correctly compensated for the divine water from the city of Lah’ndan. Poring over the tables of projected exportable goods that Luther provided, Sholk smiled. Damaris was blessed with numerous valuable resources. Vast stretches of the equatorial regions were utilised for agriculture and the production of foodstuffs. The seas teemed with edible creatures, highly in demand throughout the Expanse as well as the Calixis sector, and many valuable ores and precious gems were ensconced in the world’s ancient, wind-worn mountains. The planet also boasted a remarkably modern infrastructure including a strong mining industry capable of producing millions of tons of raw and refined ores for export. There was also a small but respected ship-building industry centred at the Bulwark. Sholk layed out the new trade routes,  Damaris would export large quanties of ores, foodstuffs, livestock, and ship components. Theses would be shipped to Foot Fall so they could be distributed for a handsome profit. In exchange Damaris would receive luxuries, vehicles, construction materials, and durable manufactured goods from the greater Imperium. The terms of the trade agreement insured that all trade that Damaris conducted with parties other than House Havlock would be subject to heavy levies and tariffs on any products imported or exported. 

Sholk turned his attention to the Vaporius agreement and thought about the value of the water that the Priest-King Ansai so generously provided. He stared at the clear liquid swirling out of the crystal decanter as he poured himself another healthy glass. This substance had raised his clan of Navigators out of obscurity and insured not only the house's survival but a chance to surpass its former glory. Already Sholk had several Homozygous cousins that were now serving with respected shipping institutions including the Imperial Navy and Adeptus Mechanicus. He had also been informed that overtones of reacceptance to the Navis Nobilite have been made and negoiations for new reproduction treaties were progressing well. Yes as the fortunes of his family rose so to did the profits supplied to The Havlock dynasty. Yes Ansai must be richly compensated for the opportunity that his water had provided. In exchange for the copper vessels of water, the city coffers of Lah’ndan would now be buoyed with ingots of precious metals, jewellery crafted from fine gems, and Throne Gelt. Sholk also wanted to be sure that Priest-King understood Captans Havlock's personal appreciation. Ansai's court would now be dressed in the finest silks, served by the most beautiful domestic slaves, fed the rarest spices and finest wines. The extra costs would be astronomical but Sholk new it was still a good deal, he stared into the now empty glass, his mind free of burden. 

This blissful feeling was worth anything.... No everything!

The War Is Joined.

The Aquila cut through the air; Ragnar strained at the controls avoiding the waves of antiaircraft fire that were slicing upwards. Avoiding the fire was stressful enought without the 20 tonnes of deadweight strapped to the underside of the lander. He banked hard to avoid a missile, the Aquila's wings cut its contrail mere feet behind the exhaust flame. Ragnar was flying purely by instinct. He felt the ebb of the  thermals rising from the burning countryside, the stained pitch of the engine's machine sprit. His instructors at the Tactical Aeronautica would have have a fit to see him discard years of dogma. His rote memorisation flight classes never covered extraction from a hot LZ, surround by a raging battle, in the mist of a plantenary invasion by hostile Xeno, while lifting an armoured personal carrier into orbit. Perhaps he should write a letter and advise his old tutors to update their material. He reversed his turn, flipping the control yoke back in the opposite direction as another threat presented itself. As he gained altitude and the tug of gravity subsided he was confronted with a nightmarish scene. The Augers and Auspexs of the Aquila returned a cluttered mass of signals, his entire field of vision was engulfed by an naval engagement, macro-ordnance both explosive imperial warheads and massive bruitish canon shells streaked acros the void to slam into starship hulls, lance beams crisscrossed the darkness and peeled away layers of armour. The Redeemer was engaged in a vain attempt to halt an Ork Rok. Badly  positioned and with the macro-batteries misaligned, the Rok was baring the brunt of the fire against its heavly armoured prow, by the time Ragnar would be able to get the captan back on board the Rok would have slipped by. The planetary defence ships were fairing worse, their smaller caliber cannons and lances were unable to significantly damage the huge repurposed asteroids. Ragnar starred in horror as the enemy ships continued to take a tremendous amount of punishment. Hull-cracking macrocannon bombardments lashed out at them and despite bleeding air and vomiting fire, the torn and damaged Roks continued their descent. The orbital plane surrounding Damaris was rapidly filling with debris, the larger objects were easy to visualy identify and avoid but the smaller faster moving rock fragments and adamantium shards were small enough to confuse the auspex and all but invisible to the naked eye. An unluckily placed impact could cripple an engine or puncture the armour glass of the Aquila's cockpit. Avoiding the obvious clouds of micro shards with deft manevouring, sweat rolled down Ragnar's forehead as he weaved between some large chunks of crippled spaceship. Ragnar sighed in relief as he cleared the worst of the debris and opened a Vox channel on the frequency assigned to the orbital defences. Hundreds of panicked voices screeched in his headset. System defence ships and planet side Auspex stations relayed enemy ship movements; requests for fire support and salvation signals filled the endless void. The calm voice of Commander Reynolds couldbe heard above the rable redirecting ships and coordinating the planetary defence lasers. The gruff master of the bulwark was one of the few citizens of Damaris that had seen space combat and he wore the mantle of command well. As Ragnar brought the shuttle into an approach vector with the Redeemer he received a challenge from the lieutenant commanding the defence turrents. He was silently thankful that the lieutenant was calm enought to verify their identity before opening fire,  with the transmission of the correct security codes they were welcomed aboard by a crew over-joyed to have their commanding officers safley returned.

---

Luther squinted, the room was awash with dull green light from the massive holograph of Damaris. Blue icons marked the locations of the heroic forces defending Damaris the bulk of the ground forces were centred around Damaris city only minimal forces protected the minor outlying settlements. A sizeable portion of blue icons were detached from the green icons representing the civilian population centres. This offensive corps had spearheaded the counter assault against the brutish Xeno green skins. Buoyed by the cushing victory in the first ground clash of the war. The offensive forces had made significant progress. He wondered how the war would be faring if that first assault had been blunted by the Ork firebase eliminated by the timely intervention of the captan and entourage . With the threat of the crude Xeno artillery removed the Damaris Levy infantry battalions had serged forward and overwhelmed the lead Ork forces. Backed by the Leman Russ tanks of the Sphinx Heavy Guard’s armoured core, General Dante soon had his ground forces surround the first Ork Rok, the infantry hunkered down among the rocky rouble up thrust by the massive asteroid's inpact. Within hours the shell of the hollowed asteroid was begining to crack under the concentrated fire of the combined might of the Highland Wardens self-propelled earth-shaker equipped Basilisks and Griffon heavy siege mortars. When the Rok's structure finally imploded it still contained the bulk of the Ork hord. Luther had already drawn up a poster design showing the Havelock Aquila shuttle ascending over a field of Ork bodies being trampled by Damaris Leavy troopers. The liberal use of propaganda would be necessary to steel the population against the Xeno horrors they would be facing and when this war was resolved the name Atticus Havlock and not any other would forever be remembered as the hero who led the planet to salvation though its darkest hour. He just needed to construct a strategy to turn the departure of Commodore Naremmus and the failure of the orbital blockade to the captain's advantage.

---

Deep beneath the Governor’s Palace, behind adamantine bulkhead doors, inside the Daedelus Command Bunker, Lord Captan & Rogue Trader Atticus Havlock silently fumed. This defence council was supposed to be following his stewardship, not second guessing his decisions and bickering. Despite his outpouring of capital investment and personal allocation of thousands of armsmen to defend this young and burgeoning Imperial colony it's leaders dared to question his plans. Governor Kapak was ranting again. The sky's are burning! Xenos rock forts are decending upon us, they plan to slaughter us all! Where are our ships? don't we have ships? I remember commissioning ships! Orran! Orran Reynolds! I distinctly remember you and General Dantie constantly lobbying for countless hours in the parliamentary amphitheatre for more ships. I had to delay the expansion of the south wing because of the cost.

Before anyone could respond he launched into another rant, his voice rising in pitch and volume. Dantie what are the Levy even doing!? Every agri-collective operating on the great Western plains has requested military aid and fully half of the ore haulers from the southern mines have been ravaged by those vile Orks! The entire plutocracy is baying for my blood! Whom is going to convince them to attend my next banquet? What are you do.....

The deep forceful voice of General cut the governor off mid scream. Do not presume to command me in matters when it comes to the defence of this world! Perhaps if you had authorised half of the expenditure I had requested we would be able to hurl these Xenos back into the void. Perhaps if you were half the man you father or brothers were you would be competent enough to realise that we haven't the manpower or equipment to defend every inch of the planet! The ore haulers can be repaired, the mines rebuilt, the crops replanted. The lives of over a billion citizens are safe behind the walls of this city their lives can not be replaced. Those walls need to be guarded by men with guns. Who's going to do it. You Kapak? The plutocracy? I have a responsibility greater than you could fathom. You weep for the destruction of the outlying settlements and you curse the Levy. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know. That the loss of the outlying settlements, while tragic, saves lives. And my existence, while incomprehensible to you, saves lives. You don't want the responsibility because deep down inside in a place you don't talk about at your banquets, you need me on that wall. I have neither the the time or the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the very shield of protection that I provide. Then dares to questions the manner in which I provide it. I suggest you either let me do my job or pick up a weapon and stand a post!

General Dantie's face gradually turned deep red as he vented what seemed like years of frustration. As the General paused for a breath Lady Elizabeth Orleans cut in. Dantie I hate to interject, but I think you forget yourself. Is it not the military's duty to follow the direction of their superiors? I believe that Planetary Govener out ranks General as does a Rouge Trader. Perhaps...

Dante's voice exploded across table.. I RUN THE LEVY, HOW I RUN THE LEVY! I EAT BREAKFAST ON THE WALLS 300 YARDS FROM 10,000 XENO BEASTS THAT KNOW ONLY WAR AND SLAUGHTER! SO DON'T THINK FOR ONE SECOND YOU CAN COME DOWN FROM THE SAFETY OF YOUR SHIP WAVING YOUR WARRANT OF TRADE AROUND TO GET ME NERVOUS!

Atticus drew a breath, now was the time, he needed to end this bickering quickly. In a calm voice of reason he began. Fellow esteemed members of the defence council. I am aware of the deep devisions of misttrust that run between us. General you don't trust a civilian government that knows not the trials of warfare to lead us. Governor Kapak you weep for the loss of life outside the city walls. Lady Orleans you fear for the loss of your investment in the planets mining infrastructure. Atticus's soothing voice had calmed the council. Dantie you must relise that our current situation is a direct result from the failure of a military officer. Surely you would protect the outlying citizens if your forces were not so heavily pressed on the defensive fronts? Governor Kapak would you not be calmed, and your position with the plutocracy reinforced if the rain of Xeno forces could be slowed or halted? My fair lady Orleans you'd much prefer to follow someone who understand the risk of fiscal loss you face if the planetary infrastructure of Damaris is distroyed. People, I have personally led sorties and spilled the filthy Xeno blood of these barbaric Orks. My ship the Reademer is responsible for the destruction of more Ork vessels than any other. The wealth I have pored into Damaris’s coffers represents the single largest capital investment in the history of Damaris, since the original colony ships were launched more than one thousand years ago. Am I not the only one among us that can represent all parties without bias? 

Orran Reynolds the commander of the bulwark stood at the table. Aye, you may be the only one here with his fingers in all the pies but what good does that good do us if you defence plans are faulty. The orbital blockade you arranged is useless, the planetary defence laser batteries could never hope to repulse the amount of Xeno ships that have penetrated the atmosphere. 

Atticus smiled inwardly, yes you're completely correct commander Reynolds. Reynolds and the other council members seemed puzzled by Atticus's apparent admission of defeat. The orbital blockade did fail, commander Reynolds could you tell me where the largest concentration of enemie forces penetrated the blockade? Reynolds nervously responded. The Western Hemisphere. Atticus confidently continued. Yes the quadrant assigned to the naval Commodore. And where is this fine officer of the holy imperial fleet? I see that he is the only defence member not in attendance. His departure could be called cowardly, but for the recently descovered fact that he was ordered to return to Port Wander on Naval business. I am sure it pained him to abandon us. Perhaps I could have taken steps to strengthen the blockade if I had knowledge of his orders? Knowledge, that my Shenshal has revealed to me that more than one of the members of this defence council possessed and failed to pass on! Do you deny it? Silence echoed throught the chamber. I thought not, so it seems I am not only the sole member of this counsel that has a vested interest in every aspect of Damaris's defence but also I am the only one who has no ulterior motive.

Now let us talk about the redistribution of the defence forces.....

Opening Shots.

Atticus wiped the blood from the hilt of his power-sword as he strode across the bridge. The energised surface was clean. Any organic substances that it touched where combusted not true for the hilt, grip and the  his volcinic glass carparsae armor. Fouled by the thick red and green liquids of the Orkoids that had attempted to board. He couldn't believe a frigate sized ship could hold such vast reserves of crew. If it hadn't been for his superior tactics and command abilities that green tide would have swept aside his arms-men. Despite his vocal opposition he was truly grateful that Ragnar had managed to unfoul the ships and pull away. Standing back on the command dais, exhausted from the hurried trip back from the aft boarding attempt he demanded status reports. The command staff answered promptly.  

Master of ordnance reports; torpedo tubes are clear, 20mins until all six are reloaded. 

Medicare deck reports; wards at capacity, and still more wounded coming in.

Engineerium reports; power holding steady at 100%. 

Master of the dirve reports; Plasma thrust at full output speed estimated at 120,000kph

Sholk loomed over Atticus's shoulder The authpex'th have both the Ork raider and crippled Rok in the firing ark of the thtarboard gunth thir" the pointed teeth in his maw often induced a lisp. 

Thank you Master Navigator. Atticus tried not to flinch, he hadn't noticed the Navigator until he spoke. He often wondered if Sholk enjoyed the reaction his disturbing visage enlisted from his shipmates.

Atticus barked orders Chief Mate; make ready all batteries, get both broadsides facing those Xeno scrap heaps, uncountable hoards may be embarked on those ships, but they will find we have macro-cannons aplenty! It 's time we visited the Holy Emperor's vengeance on this filth. 

Aye Captain. Ragnar relayed the orders. Master of the ordnance run out the guns, Chief Anticipator I want firing solutions. Come on men, the Captain wants us to put our backs into this.  

Atticus smiled as he felt the slightest of tremors beneath his feet, the artificial gravity plates compensated well for the ships shift in mass, hundreds of multi-tonne projectiles discharged into the void. Moments later the bridge crew erupted in cheers. Kilotonnes of explosives detonated in ripples across the hull of the raider and Roks. Secondary explosions deep within he the hulls of one of the Roks and the raider signaled their deaths. the final Rok slipped farther away impervious to the pummeling despite the mass of armor and asteroid fragments splintering off its surface. Ragnar was about to order a final salvo of torpedoes, he knew the sixty-meter long vessels of self-guided death would shatter the mantel of that re-purposed asteroid. But the surface of the Rok begun to glow cherry red as it skimmed the atmosphere.

Atticus stooped towards control pit around his lord-captain's throne. Master of the Vox, Inform the good general. We have planet-fall, the war has arrived. May the God Emperor of all mankind have mercy.

Tales From Beyond the Table

For the first time in months, the hull of The Emperor's Hand began to resonate with the solemn moan of its grand pipe organ.  Atticus let his hands wander of their own accord, choosing keys carelessly while his mind swelled with unwanted memories; leering demons, twisted alien monstrosities and the unforgettable image of his own mangled body.  His normally iron resolve had been shattered by weeks of insomnia.  The dreams that awaited him were far more terrible than the creeping cost to his health.

A particularly discordant note stirred Atticus from his thoughts and he steadied his hands, moving subtly from brooding adagio to a focused presto.  Turning his mind to the keyboard he brought the voices together, rising in glorious canon until the final cadence seemed to reverberate not only within the empty hall accomodating the organ, but within the endless void itself, visible through the ceiling-high observation windows of the organ-tower.

---

His nerves quelled by the familiarity of the music, Atticus rose to his feet and began to pace the room.  His entire person had been shattered and rebuilt so many times over the past year he was beginning to think his current state of sleepless confusion would become his life.  And yet he had been feeling different the past few days, strange epiphanies were creeping through his mind during quiet hours.

When he discovered just over a year ago that he was the ignorant heir to a grand family legacy and an imperial warrant of trade to go with it, he had emphatically seized at the chance to break free from the boredom of his comfortable life as a middling noble.  He sought to travel to the most dangerous regions of the galaxy in search of any challenge that might win him some respect, with a wide-eyed curiosity for the wonders of the far universe.  What he had found was more horrifying than he could ever have comprehended.  There was no heroic adventure to be found in the Koronus Expanse, this was no playground for petty one-upmanship between vain ship captains.  He had found a teeming mass of cosmic horrors, perched on the doorway of the imperium, at any moment capable of bursting through and extinguishing the flame of humanity.  Atticus had never thought much of the needs of common folk, he would openly admit it, yet the thought of his homeworld being visited by legions of murderous automatons, bloodsucking alien parasites, or elder things born of ancient warp dreams.... it shook him to his core.

Feeling a sense of urgency Atticus moved swiftly to his study. Venting his thoughts at an autoquill, he began to formulate his plans.  The Koronus Expanse was too vital for him to flee from, the terrors lurking in its corners must be confronted and dominated if humanity are to ever feel truly safe within their borders.  If his life's mission was to contribute a grand legacy (and Atticus was certain that it was) to the histories of the imperium it would be this: to carve a bastion of true civilisation in the expanse, whatever the cost.  The corrupt instruments of imperial authority here could not be trusted to protect its people.  His heart beat rapidly when considering the heresy of his thoughts but Atticus knew them to be true.  The inquistion were more concerned with their futile and cowardly quest to expunge heretics than with defending innocents.  Imagine if they had aided his mission to The Dread Pearl, working together they could have harvested incredible riches from that planet and put them to use, fortifying the interests of the imperium.  No, only he could be trusted to carry out this sacred task, Atticus mused, and he knew in his heart that the emperor's favour would be with him.

---

When Atticus woke he knew immediately he had been sleeping for hours, perhaps half a day.  Feeling a renewed sense of purpose he pored over his notes.  His immediate priority was to develop his fledgling colony with all his resources.  He must find a way to swell its population and defences to serve as a suitable base for his new colonial state.  Next he must develop trade links among all the independent planets of the expanse, to secure defensive alliances and preferably to gather more wealth for himself with which he would use to construct a great defensive fleet.

Only one problem remained.  The Koronus expanse was swarming with self-obsessed parasites, rogue-traders by name but persons of pitiful character compared to Atticus Havelock. They would take every opportunity to sabotage his plans, but as the future of human civilisation depended on them Atticus knew that this could not be allowed to happen.  An arrogant ex-navy captain and a jacked-up gangster had already proven themselves dedicated adversaries but there was one in particular Atticus knew could never be trusted to serve him in the quest to reforge the expanse.  His instincts told him every misfortune that plagued his last 6 months came from but one devious mind.....

Atticus underscored one name at the top of his list.

Off The Table Roleplaying.

The man looked out of the porthole of the descending shuttle.

A desolate planet home to naught but a single deserted mining settlement, Chorda’s Folly looked anything but inviting. From orbit, the brownish land masses drift by languidly under a thin veil of cloud cover. The oceans appeared to be shallow and dark green in colour.

Chorda’s Folly home to more than seventy thousand souls. Most worked in the various mines and pumping stations scattered about the area. Indentured workers that receive payment for the ore and mineral wealth they extract from the planet, in return, the Dynasty charged them outrageous amounts for food and shelter. This ensures that no one is ever be able to buy out their contract and leave the planet. Just like the dozens of similar backwater mining worlds he had worked on. These newer colony’s always unearthed the most remarkable discoveries.

With the de-orbit finished the shuttle’s engines moaned as it entered a low attitude flight mode. Skimming over the desolate, dry, and dusty surface he saw a scene dominated by rocky land masses and shallow seas filled with brackish water. Small scrub plants clung to the various rocky edifices sheltered from the wind storms that dominate the plains. The only thing that kept anyone interested in this world is the numerous pools of crude promethium scattered across the landscape. These bubble to the surface every few years and their appearance heralds an intense race to capture the valuable liquid for processing. There are also veins of semi–precious ores deep beneath the planet’s surface. While technically under the protection of Aspyce Chorda and her dynasty, Chorda’s Folly has its share of so–called “independent” miners who hope to strike it rich with an easy find.

The man was at this moment dressed like one of these poor and wretched souls that flock to this world in the hopes of easing their suffering with the faint glimmer that they might find a rich strike of ore—or a bubbling pool of crude promethium.

Stepping off the craft he could see the hustle and bustle of a working spaceport, dozens of labours and several servitors hustle about. Loaders, fuel pumps and hoses, and other bits of gear were strewn about the permacrete. These were being employed to fuel the waiting bulk lifters and load cargo as the wind and dust swirled around the harried figures of the indentured work force.The spaceport looked able to accommodate shuttles, guncutters, and similar craft, the permacrete pad was cracked and marred from the comings and goings of shuttles and haulers over the centuries. At the far end of the spaceport rail cars from the refinery stopped to unload their carts. Several Servitors moved about working to load and unload cargo.

The man could see the mag-rail tracks leading from the spaceport, heading out into the wastes, around the outer perimeter of the settlement towards the refinery.

The refinery is where the ore from the nearby mines would go for processing. Employment at the refinery would mark a local as a chief member of the labour force; minor tasks would be delegated to menial labourers, and mono–tasked servitors. In addition to processing the various ores ripped out of the ground, the refinery also processes the crude promethium pumped out from wells scattered across the landscape.

The man joined the crowd of passengers leaving the shuttle and shuffled off towards the center of the city. The commercial district was the hub of the city. All the stalls and stores stood open, with signs blowing in the wind. The air was filled with the hum of merchants hawking their wares, Throne Gelt coins exchanged hands and slid across counters to fill till–boxes. The main types of items found here wee common tools and sundries such as dried foods, alcohol, and clothing. The man haggled with a mining outfitter for some simple tools and dehirid soup rations playing the part of the freelancer the only piece of equipment of any worth he purchased was top class surveying scope and tripod. He paid for it all in Gelt minted from the same world as the other prospectors he shipped in with. No weapons or armor could be found in any of the shops here, Chorda didn’t want any chance of an armed rebellion on her hands. Home to only a small number of residents Chorda’s Folly didn't warrant a full–blown precinct fortress or prison. All but the most petty or heinous offenders would be sentenced to work in the worst part of the mines or labor in the refinery.

Only a small number of enforces could be seen walking the streets, in their dark blue uniforms equipped with pump–action shotguns, power mauls, riot shields, flak coats, and helmets. They were equipped for breaking up bar fights and settling pay disputes. None asked to inspect his perfectly forged identity papers or inquired about his backstory.

He turned a corner and strolled down the roughly paved road towards the Bunker fortress. The original colonists who settled Chorda’s Folly first came to this world, lived out of this single massive fortification. When more permanent structures could be built to protect them from the elements and predators of the world, they eventually moved out and converted the original bunker–fortress into a state hall for formal functions and a place to shelter them in the event of an emergency, common practice across the frontier.

It loomed upwards towering over the surrounding buildings, made of a heavy–duty alloy that could withstand several impacts from orbital assault. Massive vox masts and other types of communications and augur arrays were mounted at the apex of the building piercing the skyline. Several heavy defense laser batteries stood silent guard spaced out around the perimeter. Two dozen militia stood guard at the base of a set of beautiful white marble stairs that ascend to thick adamantium doors.

The man joined end of the line that snaked to the base of the stairs he waited patiently under the baking sun for access to the fortress the guard didn't pay any of the miners any attention. When inside he found the civilian astropathic relay service and compiled his message. The service was a simple board unencrypted announcement, it offered no conformation or return message service. They didn't even record the name of the sender, he couldn't think of a more untraceable method. He paid his fee and made sure to acted shocked at the price demanded, a huge sum for a common citizen.

From memory he scribble out his message sixty three strings each six characters long. Looking like a wall of gibberish he added a single sentence

Return what was stolen and his honor will demand he say and fight.

The recipient; Naval base Port Wander, private account: House Havlock. In the special comments section he added attn: Luther.

He hoped his “friends” would appreciate the work he put into obtaining this encryption key.

He was descending the stairs as his personal vox chimed. A gruff voice announced directions to the rear of a Manufactorum that produces small machine components before abruptly cutting off. Exiting the final alley the man spotted a civilian shuttle in the center of a poorly maintained landing pad. Another man dressed in the robes of a factory foreman standing nearby called out.

Are you the independent I am ferrying out past Blind man bluff? Well get on board you're never going to find your fortune just standing around.

After the Foreman introduced himself as Staious he begun to make small talk. 

You don’t have the look of the other independents. The way you all move and hold yourself you seem more jaded that the typical fresh faced hiver wanting to strike it rich.

Why you heading out to past the bluff anyways, no promethium has ever been spotted there it’s too bloody rocky?

Must be ore hey? There are rumours that someone found something valuable up in the mountains, perhaps precious minerals or gems? That’s what you’re after I’ll guess.

That’s why that imperial bloke went out there. Must be surveying it or sum-such. Still I don’t know why he needed all those solders. He must just be some frightened lily, sacred of life on the big frontier.

Mind you heading off all alone like yourself isn't the best idea either. You may be able to find something valuable but keeping it in a place like this is a whole different matter. There’s no true law out here in the expanse not like back in the Imperium.

Be careful out here and don’t stray too close to that big mountain over there. Some of the local blokes went out to have a peek, to see what that official was up to. They won’t be trying that again they had the tires on their ore hauler shot out then these big blokes with armour and silver masks dragged them out and wanted to know what they were doing in a resected area. Beat them bloody. They finally were released and drove back to town with some poorly patched tires. They only talk about it if you ply them with a glass of grog.

Anyways you’re a good talker, were here now mate.

The shuttle touched down in a small grassy clearing the ramp slid closed just as the man was finished hauling his equipment out of the cargo pod. The thrusters left scorch marks from where they powered the shuttle into a steep climb. The man slung his pack and begun to hike up the mountainside, he pushed aside the thick scrub unwilling to hack a tractable trail with a machete. He crested the edge of the southern face of the mountain two hours later and settled in, storing his rations and laying out a water proof sleeping-sack. He took great care assembling the surveyors scope. He mounted the tripod low behind some rocks to reduce the silhouette and piled some dead shrubs on top to shield the lens from any sunlight that may reflect. He calibrated the instruments and looked through the viewfinder to orientate himself. Then traced along the opposite ridgeline, at the base nestled among some thick brush he identified the camp. It was a ramshackle encampment with muddy paths leading between mining excavators, ore haulers and tents. Some earthworks along the edge displayed obvious evidence of the search for mineral wealth, or so it would seem. The workers looked outward not downward the earthworks were cut deep, narrow and arranged so that any vehicle approaching had too slow to a crawl. The tents indicated that this mining camp had either very spacious living areas or that many more “workers” were hidden from view. And the two tarps covering the ore piles looked like they could be covering a Valkyrie transport and a Chimera APC. He depressed the magnification rune and the view blurred as the optics whirred and brought the one of the miners in to sharp focus. Strong of limb and straight backed, the miner drank deep from a canteen but his eyed didn't stop surveying the sounding landscape, his upper arm bore scaring possibly from a mining accident but more likely from las-removal a tattoo. It Looked like He had found Ragnar’s hidden little army.  The man zoomed out and panned about towards the larger mountain that Staious had warned him about. Much easier to locate on the side of the mountain serviced by a well-worn dirt track was an obvious military encampment. A basic affair mostly costing of personal carriers some light tanks and row upon row of large tents a board earthen barrier topped with a prefabricated defensive wall marked the the perimeter. The troops that patrolled the surrounding area and manned the defensive wall looked to be at combat readiness.

Again he zoomed in, extraordinarily well-equipped, clad in finely-wrought armor, adorned with silvered masks in the image of Saint Drusus, standard issue las-guns, and heavy bolters.

Maccabian Janissaries renowned for their faith, often compared to violent fanatics. Capable marksmen and well-trained at fighting in carefully orchestrated formations, made these troops popular among members of the holy Ordos of the Inquisition.

In the centre of the camp was the apparent reason for the imperial interest in the mining colony a deep fissure likely caused by mining explosives had exposed an large metallic structure. He zoomed in further and could faintly make out markings on the some surfaces. The best consulting archaeologist in the whole subsector, a master xenopologist and a natural linguist the man could not decipher the markings. He had however seen similar before. He removed a simple leather diary from a hidden fold in his silky skin. He opened it to a page containing a single image. A brilliant light arched out in all directions striking the surrounding figures, Atticus’s head appears to be on fire from the xeno-lighting, likewise for Luther's arm and Sholk’s leg. He winced as he recalled his own mauling at the hands of a foul Xeno. In the background of the picture he could make out a large dark trapezoid object, every surface covered in the same intricate markings. Whatever was under this mountain was Xeno, old, and judging by the size of the excavation very big. He settled in to see how things turned out.