Rogue Trader - TO PRETHIAN

[Salt]

I look to Menz. "Begging your pardon, but my better done gave me a direct order not to bring up nobody else's mistakes." (Note the sarcasm.)

[Drak-Kung]

I clear my throat, and step forward. "I believe she has a point. There was nothing of tactical planning, or any manner of tactics involved there. Why were those methods employed,if not for the reasons she put forth?"

[Montresor]

'If I may answer the Master-at-Arms, Proctor,' Trulitch turns from Menz to Drak-Kung. Menz nods his ascent, and Trulitch addresses the Chief directly. Though still direct, it is clear that Trulitch affords Drak-Kung more civility and respect than he does Salt. 'You were thought dead. The pirates had pressed us fiercely and we had not yet established a solid defensive line. They were poised to throw us out of the cargo hold completely. Had they succeeded, they would have had a solid defensible base from which to invade the rest of the vessel'.

There is a knowing glance between Trulitch and Menz before the captain continues. 'Had that been their intention. I was busy having those I could muster form a defensive line but - as you may or may not have realised had you been still conscious - I judged it imperative that the foe not hold the complete initiative. Certain costly sorties and assaults which I led were essential to disrupt the foe. In the end, my tactic proved successful, thanks to the intervention of other forces, and the dutiful sacrifice of so many crewmen'.

Silence follows Trulitch's explanation, and a few eyes turn to Peraton, as if expectantly searching for the lieutenant to now justify why he took such aggressive action. Peraton does not speak.

[I am about to shift this weekend, so my own posting my be limited. I will wrap this up on or by Tuesday, whatever happens]

[Andrea Chan-Gauthier]

"So then, Captain Trulich, it would not be a falsehood for us to share with the crew that it was based on your judgement that we started along the course of action which lead to so many of their deaths. That you took advantage of our Master-at-Arms' injury to coopt the Amphael forces to protect your goods. That you feared some few hundred pirates might seriously have had a chance of taking over a ship of over 30,000 loyal bodies, if only they could secure the cargo hold."

Andrea turns to Peraton. "You've been very quiet, Lieutenant, other than to chastize your subordinates in front of our guests. Is this also your understanding of what happened? That you were goaded into your reckless attacks by the sudden absence of the Master-at-Arms? In all the chaos, you perhaps became confused, heady with the sudden authority, and felt the need to attack a defended position before reinforcements could arrive, directly behind them, to help with the assault."

She holds up a hand to stop Peraton's defense. "You understand Lieutenant, that I'm not a military woman. I'm hardly qualified to judge your actions. I'm simply trying to summarize what I've heard here. You may agree or not, and I will of course defer to your opinion."

[I refuse to let Salt have all the fun poking a stick in the hornet's nest. Hopefully we're not railroading the conversation because Stone and Dorian aren't here to calm things down.]

[Montresor]

Peraton's smile at Andrea is little more than a sneer. 'You are correct, Madame-Seneschal. You are not qualified to judge military matters. Perhaps you should ask our Lord-Captain if my aggressive stance in the shuttle bays was in error. Would it have been better to have allowed the pirates entrenched in the bay to decimate the reinforcements with automatic fire as they attempted to leave their shuttles? Is risking the life of our leader less important than that of a handful of ratings?'

Trulitch is about to respond in turn himself, when Menz does so instead. 'The cargo is not just ours, Seneschal. Without it, this endeavour will fail. Its protection was paramount, for our Consortium, and for the future of your Amphael Dynasty. Whether they could have taken the ship or not, I will not judge, but I am certain they could have done serious damage to other vital ship components.

'But the conduct of the Consortium is not in question here. It is not on the agenda. Should you wish to do so, please schedule a meeting. If no-one else wishes to speak on the various issues I have referred to, I will now draw to my conclusions, and proffer the new terms I have devised to salvage this entire venture . . .'

[I'm opening the way for final challenges or comments from PCs here. If nothing new is added, Menz will speak]

[Lt. Commander Zarkov]

'And fourthly, during the recent battle, the senior officer on the Bridge abandoned his post. These are all, on the surface, serious instances of incompetence, and it is my hope that by bringing these into discussion that Alid-Yuril apprehension over this endeavour may be dispelled’.

Zarkov bristled at the Proctor’s comment, but bided his time. His anger turned to astonishment, however, as he listened to the skinny female officer berate both Trulitch and Peraton in one swoop. He still had no idea who she was, but he was privately glad she was Peraton’s responsibility; the young officer was livid with rage. How she had come into his possession was anyone’s guess, but Zarkov gleaned great satisfaction hearing her question her master. He wondered what Peraton would have in store for her after the meeting - the young noble was notoriously proud, he would not let such insults go unpunished.

I clear my throat, and step forward. "I believe she has a point. There was nothing of tactical planning, or any manner of tactics involved there. Why were those methods employed, if not for the reasons she put forth?"

"So then, Captain Trulich, it would not be a falsehood for us to share with the crew that it was based on your judgement that we started along the course of action which lead to so many of their deaths. That you took advantage of our Master-at-Arms' injury to coopt the Amphael forces to protect your goods. That you feared some few hundred pirates might seriously have had a chance of taking over a ship of over 30,000 loyal bodies, if only they could secure the cargo hold."[/color]]

Zarkov shook his head. “Captain Trulitch comported himself in the manner befitting a decorated officer of the Imperium. At no point did I witness anything tactically unsound, or unnecessarily aggressive. The Captain led a fighting retreat, lest it become a rout. I agree with his assessment: were it not for his efforts the pirate scum would have gained the advantage in the hold and, like a tick that has dug itself in, become almost impossible to remove.”

Zarkov remained pointedly silent in his defence of Peraton.

If no-one else wishes to speak on the various issues I have referred to, I will now draw to my conclusions, and proffer the new terms I have devised to salvage this entire venture . . .'

Zarkov stood, addressing the Proctor calmly.

“Menz, as senior officer on the Invictus in Garrius’ absence, I take full responsibility for my actions during the battle. My duty was to the Lord-Captain, the ship and the venture. I acted accordingly. Both raiders broke engagement at the same time, and the naval engagement was well over by the time I left the bridge. They had no chance of re-acquiring us quickly; even a destroyer cannot turn on a throne, Proctor. At the time the Invictus and the transports fired our final salvoes the leading ship was already eight VU’s out, while the heavily damaged trailing ship was four VU’s distant and accelerating fast.

Having lost the element of surprise, not to mention their main assault vessel, the raiders were no longer a threat to be reckoned with. Besides, I was under orders from the Lord-Captain not to pursue the vessels. Any pursuit may have invited defensive measures on the part of the raiders. Instead, the Invictus was set up in a textbook defensive formation with the transports, ready to counter in the unlikely event the pirate scum returned. Unfortunately, as we have heard, the real threat lay in the cargo hold, at which time the fight was turning in favour of the boarders. I made the executive decision to lead armsmen and crew to the cargo hold myself. Yes, I could have assigned a subordinate to do it, but where would be the certainty in that? Morale was low, the men needed a leader. Enough were willing to follow, despite their losses. For that they should be rewarded, without doubt.”

[Montresor]

'Thank you, Lieutenant-Commander,' Proctor Menz nods to Zarkov, 'for your professional assesment of the battle. Our own information supports your view, but we felt that - due to the quarter from which condemnation came - we should listen to your own explanation of your actions'.

Menz pauses, this time to look around the table and see if any others are about to speak. Satisfied that none intend to do so, he begins once more: 'I will talk frankly. Had it not been for Garrius Amphael's brave decision during the Storm to press on in peril, the Alid-Yuril opinion of this endeavour would be grave. This recent setback, by which I mean the diversion to protect a convoy, has been a profoundly dissappointing incident. Further, I can only express in honesty that which I will have our Astropath,' Menz motions behind himself to the impassive Carnelia Atreen, 'express for us. I am pessimistic about the likelihood of this endeavour succeeding, and I am unimpressed by the divisiveness, pettiness, and short-sightedness of many of the senior crew assembled for this meeting.

'Therefore, I am going to recommend to my superiors that they make contingency plans to prepare for severe financial losses, and consider offering this endeavour to another, more capable, dynasty. I will advise that, should they not hear otherwise from us in five months, that they consider the venture a failure'.

Menz allows for his words to sink in, but his own tone and expression registers no anger or triumph. 'Consider this the final offer of the Consortium - reach Prethian in no more than one hundred and twenty Terran-standard days. Should you reach Prethian in one hundred and twenty-one days or any more, we will expect recompense from the Amphael Dynasty. Albinus must be subsequently reached no more than thirty days from then. If you do not meet these deadlines, but do manage to reach Albinus before we can seek another partner, then we will deduct a further fifty percent of your profits.

'Should you disagree with us, or reject our offer, the Consortium will publicise this failure throughout the Calixis Sector, and the Amphael Dynasty will not be able to claim credit from anyone of repute. I will expect an answer within three Terran-standard days. Thank you for your attendance'.

Protor Menz, Captain Trulitch, Astropath Atreen, and Gabriel Kaustis-Yuril III leave without a further word.

[I will give you 72 hours to discuss, accept, or reject this. If no answer comes forth (which will be official if from Garrius), then I will assume the offer has been accpted]

[Andrea Chan-Gauthier]

Andrea takes out her data slate, and spends a few moments scrolling through her copy of the contract that was signed before. She waits until Menz is just to the door to ask, "Proctor, I'm sorry... could you direct me to the section of the contract where you're allowed to unilaterally change the terms? Or the section where we agreed to a deadline? Or, for that matter, the section where you have exclusive rights to our services during this period?"

She continues scrolling further. "Because otherwise, it sounds to me like what you're suggesting here would constitute breach of contract on your part. And I know you wouldn't be so crass as to tarnish your own honor while at the same time threatening ours."

[I'm just going to assume that what he's suggesting isn't actually allowed in the contract. I know we obviously didn't get that detailed about what's in it, but unless this is some kind of horrible buyer's market, I can't imagine that Andrea would have allowed that kind of flexibility on their part.]

[Montresor]

[Andrea is correct - there is no provision in the contract for such a change]

Menz turns back only briefly. He is clearly unfazed by Andrea's challenge. 'Then I take it you will be turning the new offer down? In that case, I will prepare a message to my superiors to have the venture cancelled, and to publicise Amphael incompetence. Unless, of course, you wish to think about this a little more. I will still give you the three days'.

With that, Proctor Menz and his retinue depart.

[Montresor]

72nd Day Since Embarkation (108 days until deadline)

With the Alid-Yuril Consortium having succeeded in renegotiating the terms of the Endeavour, the Invictus returns to the Warp without delay. The Invictus responds to the Warp with its on mysterious vigour, and begins to make good progress through the veiled nightmare of the Immaterium. Yet the crew are touched by fevered-dreams and unfathomed horrors stalk their imaginations.

Brother Detronimus conducts sermons in the chapel, exhorting the crew to honour the sacrifice of the Golden Throne, but this merely keeps their discomfort and fears from sinking further. Each translation from the Warp brings short relief, but it is never long before the journey begins anew.

Reserves of food are dwindling, and the crew are now increasingly aware of this.

[The following hazards, or events are things wich PCs can react to or attempt to fix. If PCs do so, they must state their intended course of action in their entire post (not in PM, or otherwise). Posts which do this IC, or a combination of IC and OOC will be much more likely to succeed than simplistic OOC posts (which will incur a penalty to any tests - this is an RPG, afterall]

Subversion of Authority
The complete silence of Injerian Praetus II at the conference, as well as the rumours of his drug abuse have not endeared his sense of professionalism to the Consortium. They have taken to having all meetings for chart updates and navigation issues without consulting Praetus or requesting his attendance. As Du Preste is often busy with his research, the Consortium prefers to consult Juient. Praetus often hears about these meetings much later. Only Praetus can react to this.

Morale Affecting Performance
The recent drop in morale has meant that the crew of the vessel are under-performing in their duties. If something is not done to rectify this, than there is little doubt but that the deadline will be missed. Any character may attempt to rectify this, but Garrius and Andrea are likely to have the most potential effect.

Dwindling Supplies
The Invictus is beginning to approach closer to a more populated or travelled region of the Expanse, though the distnce between habitable systems is still vast. It is currently unknown, however, if any slight diversions in course will bring the vessel closer to a potential source of food. Knowledge of the Expanse, and of Star Charts would be useful here.

Compromised Security
The recent heavy casualties suffered by the Armsmen have meant that security teams are stretched thinly about the vessel. Many work double shifts, and some regions of the ship are without patrols for hours. Drak-Kung will have the greatest effect here, though other players may also respond to this.

[Drak-Kung]

Star a training program....non-armsmen getting some rudimentary weapons skills, ranged and melee. not so they can do armsmen patrols, but so they are a militia, essentially. Establish a bunker area in each section....so that the armsmen have more time to respond without "things" running amok. Although, non-critical numbers of people who wish to volunteer will be accepted for armsmen training, contingent upon Lord Amphael's approval for these plans. Will be sending an IC PM asking this....

Also, knowing they have the ability not necessarily to defeat "things", but to hold them off until help arrives (and working to minimize response times will be a focus of the training schedule....not more training, but rather the focus of a decent percentage of the existing training schedule) should do something to help morale...I, personally, will be leading patrols on a random basis, daily. Be highly visible, and ensure that it is evident that while others may equal, NO ONE in my department is putting in more time than I. Leading from the front.

[Andrea Chan-Gauthier]

With much less caution than before, Andrea returned to Sub-lieutenant Salt's quarters. Seeing the girl inside, she rapped politely on the door frame.

"Sub-lieutenant, if you have a moment? I was wondering if you could present yourself to the ship's Navigators for a time? Your knowledge of the area might be able to help us find a place to resupply with less impact to our schedule."

After a pause to consider, "I'd suggest doing this outside of your normal shift time. I'm happy to inform Lieutenant Peraton that I've borrowed your time, but I suspect that would be of little benefit to you."

[Salt]

"I'll see what I can do, ma'am. In fact, I recon I'll mosey over there right now. I don't go on shift 'til tomorrow, so I got me some time."

I'm still wearing my proper Imperial Navy uniform, as ordered. I grab my hat, and stand by the door to leave. "After you, ma'am."

While we're walking towards Officer's housing, I make small-talk.

"If you don't mind my sayin' so, ma'am, I didn't cotton to that Proctologist Menz guy talkin' all that shit to the Amphael. Where does he get off criticizing? It was his man that drove us to all that fightin'."

"If you ask me, we should show the whole mess of 'em the airlock, if you catch my meanin'. Just kind of point it out to them, real polite-like. Just to remind 'em that they's guests here. Maybe they'll start actin' proper again."

[Andrea Chan-Gauthier]

Andrea stops cold in the hallway, without looking at Salt, she hisses "Sub-lieutenant, I will not hear that kind of talk aboard an Amphael ship, do you hear me? Whatever their faults, they are guests of this ship and of our Lord-Captain. Paying guests. They will be treated with the respect due anyone offered hospitality by our Lord, regardless of their own worth in that regard. We honor, or dishonor, the name of Amphael by our actions. Their actions will bring or remove honor to their own names, but that has nothing to do with us."

Before hearing a response, she continues walking towards the Navigator complex, taking quicker steps. "Come along, Sub-lieutenant. We wish to resolve our larder before hunger sets in." She does not respond to anything else Salt says, and eventually signals at the Navigator's door.

[I assume that Praetus and Du Preste are elsewhere, so Julient answers. And since Montresor isn't due back for another few days, I'll just go ahead and put this part in myself.]

The sealed door to the Navigator complex opens, where Andrea so recently spoke to Praetus, and Navigator Julient looks at her visitors. In spite of her increased workload, she is as graceful and elegant as ever. "Madam Seneschal, how may I assist you?"

"Honored Navigator, I am sure you have heard of our ships dwindling food supplies. I have brought Sub-lieutenant Salt, who is said to be an expert on the Koronos Sector, to offer what help she can in finding us a location to purchase more supplies. You may make whatever use of her you wish, so long as she is returned to Lieutenant Peraton by her shift time tomorrow morning." She pauses, struggling to phrase her next point, "I beg of you to... overlook her manner. See through that to the valuable lore she holds. She has had an officer's rank thrust upon her, quite without being prepared for it, I'm afraid."

[Lt. Commander Zarkov]

Directly after the Proctor's speech...

Zarkov strode down the corridor to the officers mess, two bottles of amasec clutched in his hands. He had pre-arranged the meeting, but still there was a moment of trepidation as he walked through the doors. Would the men accept his offer in good faith? He didn’t know. Expectant eyes and crisp salutes greeted him as he entered the room. He waved away the salutes, handing the bottles to a nearby ensign and motioning for glasses. More bottles were produced from behind the bar by a large midshipman.

Those present were off duty, a mixed group of gunnery, bridge and general staff. Zarkov poured himself a glass of liquor and motioned the others to do the same.

“Comrades, I am here to congratulate you on your conduct during the skirmish at Kellion. I want you to know that you and your men fought well, and I am proud to serve with each and every one of you. Your men need to know that their sacrifices mean something: they are not just empty acts with no import. I intend to show them how the navy treats its heroes.” Zarkov paused looking at the faces around him. Some he recognised, some he did not. “An increase to the amasec ration - and a wage bonus - as recognition of the crew’s courageous conduct during the battle. Those who have been commended individually shall receive decorations from myself and the Lord-Captain, and an additional bonus." He recognised a face from the cargo hold, the mild-mannered ensign from comms. He nodded to him before sweeping his gaze across the mess, raising his voice to a near-shout. “The Invictus is once more victorious!!! She thanks you for seeing her through yet another battle!” He paced the room. “She has more scars, yes - as do some of you - but she is still proud, and by the throne she will show these bureaucrats the folly of doubting her!”

Zarkov raised his glass above his head, letting a little spill onto the deck. “For those passed into His light.” The other officers followed suit, and the crisp smell of amasec filled the room. Zarkov brought the glass to his lips.

“Vir fortis natus.” He whispered.

The spirit spilled down his throat like liquid fire.

[Routine charm test as per p.226. Use of a fate point towards result.]

[Lt. Commander Zarkov]

Present date...

As the Invictus delved ever deeper into the warp Zarkov resolved to ensure the security of the ship against daemonic incursion. His nightmares were recurring again, and he slept lightly. Drak-Kung had lost his respect after the baseless accusations against Trulitch, and he no longer fully trusted the Master-at-Arms to take care of matters...certainly not considering the massive losses the Invictus' armsmen had sustained.

He monitored Drak-Kung's efforts with a wary eye, taking note of how many armsmen were stationed where. Designating some trustworthy men in the gunnery sections to act as ad hoc armsmen, those with the necessary physical and mental fortitude were armed with what was available. The least he could do was ensure that his section was at least secure. But still, doubt plagued him. He had taken to visiting areas of the ship himself - armed of course, and with escorts - to inspect them himself and settle his doubts. So far, his off-duty investigations had revealed nothing out of the ordinary, besides a vermin infestation and a section without power. As time went on however, Zarkov's forays took him deeper within the bowels of the ship. Curiously, his nightmares were not assuaged - rather, they grew more intense and lucid with each passing day. He wondered if he should talk to Trulitch about it, but doubted the busy guardsman regarded such matters of 'shipboard security' worth attending to.

[Zarkov will continue to monitor Drak-Kungs progress, and continue irregular inspections until he deems the ship to be reasonably secure. He will try to convince his berthmate Trulitch that it is in his interest to assist in this endeavour, perhaps with some of his men. However, he will not push the issue.]

[Garrius Amphael]

Garrius stood aboard the bridge. Hands clutched behind his back as he blankly surveyed the bridge crew go about its duties. Officers and staff scurried from position to position or tapped at consoles. He was statue like as this happened around him, mesmerized by the way the ancient vessel was being guided by this tiny insignificant mortals.

It had always amazed him. He remembered growing up on ships as a child, during his fathers military career. It had all seemed so crazy how the maze of tunnels and passage ways linked vital components like engines and navigation to each other, and how along which workers would go back and forth in constant duty. It had reminded him of a Fabian Mite colony he had as a child. The Fabian Mites were tiny parasitic insects that lived in colonies numbering in the thousands, much like the common ant. Unlike the ant, the Mites colonies did not live in the ground, instead living in a porous fungi found in the swamps of Fabian. The Mites would use the small pores of the fungi as tunnels and chambers to navigate their home, while feeding on spores released by it. As they carried the spores to their birthing chambers they would aid the fungi in pollinating itself and causing it to grow in a larger colony. Without the mite there would be no fungi, and yet without the fungi the mite would soon perish.

He remembered wandering into lower decks once after a battle, getting lost in the process. The bilge scum scared him, with their harsh low gothic dialect and unwashed bodies. He had hidden behind some crates and watched a worker repair a loose dehumidifier valve in a corridor. He had wondered why bother with such a small problem as that when the ships engines were damaged from the fighting and the ship was drifting aimlessly. It hadn't been till he was older that realized that the mightiest mountain crumbling to dust all started with the smallest crack.

And the Invictus was full of them. Garrius could nearly see the small pebbles warning of avalanche with each glance around the bridge.

Snapping to life, Garrius paced over to the comms station.

"Lieutenant, could you please turn on the General Address for the ship. I have something to say."

As the young officer did so, Garrius leaned forward to speaking into the coms-mic that extended from the console.

"Men, woman and youth of the Invictus Aeterna, this is Lord Captain Amphael speaking.

I know many of you are unhappy with how this venture has been so far, and some of you have been pointing fingers towards numerous causes for our misfortune. More than a few of those fingers point at me. I wish now to address those concerns.

People have asked why we were guarding the merchant vessels that were attacked when it had little bearing on our current venture. Well the answer is this. This new region of space will likely be home to the Invictus for quite some time. As such it seemed prudent to ensure we weren't alone out here. The greatest of Trader Dynasty's in this region has shown us favour and in return we escorted their ships. As such some scum likely pirates bitter with resentment at our new found allies attempted to strike at us. Despite this they left with an entire ship lost, one heavily damaged and many of their follows dead and captured. Because we showed them why The Invictus Aeterna is one of the greatest ships in Imperial space!

I want you all to consider something for a moment. We are all a part of this ship, and the ship apart of us. Think of this ship as if it were a living being. The bridge her head, the warp drives her long legs and the lance and batteries are her strong clenched fists. But there is more than that. There is you, the crew, her lifeblood. The most important element of all. Without her crew she is a lifeless hulk drifting in the void.

Now yes we are hurt. Yes we are hungry and tired. But The Invictus needs us to be ever strong, for if we slacken and stall the entire ship does. Let us not show our pain, our hunger and fatigue. Let us do her proud so she may show the Lord Emperor that she is still the proud and mightiest under his gaze. Let her stand strong, let her blaze through this void as if it were hers to command. Ours to command. Yours to command!

You are The Invictus Aeterna crew. And she is you. She continues to do us proud so lets reply in kind.

That is all."

Difficult Charm test as per p226

Garrius walked back to his station aboard the bridge, passing Mordia along the way.

"Duty officer, at present the Consortium is taking up many of our officers quarters whilst our own crew are billeted together to make space for them. Have the billeting reshuffled. Have Andrea inform the Alid-Yuril that we are doing our utmost to address their concerns for crew moral, and as such require the lodging space to ensure our junior officers are fit and rested so we may best hit deadline. At present there should be enough free space with casualty levels being what they are but they must be prepared to double up amongst themselves when the staff replenishes. Am I clear Mordia?" Garrius couldnt help but lightly smirk

[Andrea Chan-Gauthier]

Andrea paces in her office. Hanging from her privacy screen are two outfits. One is an elegant dress, long and slim, though with no train behind it. The other is a more utilitarian affair, casual pants and a comfortable shirt. Dressing to impress would be preferred, unless the outfit got soiled in her wanderings. It just wouldn't be a very impressive sight for her to show up with grime on her nice dress. Counter-productive, in fact. But, for something like this, impression was everything. She would just need to be careful NOT to spoil the dress.

That decided, turns to her mask. The dress she wore to the masquerade did not fare very well. By the time she returned from that fiasco, it had been only slightly better than going naked. In fact, the only positive thing about wearing it on the way home was that she was not naked. She'd thrown it out as soon as she could get out of it and into a bath. But, the mask had survived basically intact. Once she'd cleaned the dust and sweat from it, it was again a pristine white. She spent some time applying makeup to the surface, since this new outfit wasn't all-white. Some red on the lips, and a bit of contrast by the corners of the eyes, and it would go nicely with the blacks and reds of the dress. There was a matching hat, and a scarf she could use around the edges of the mask. Not quite as custom-made as the old costume, but it would do for now.

Why haven't I thought of this before? I was disciplined for having purple hair. A mask is much more elegant, by far. And it would avoid the uncomfortable looks at my eyes.

She made a note to find someone to help her get another few masks of different styles, with smoother headcoverings. Grandiose hats were fine for formal affairs, but they weren't really useful for daily wear, even if most masks assumed you'd have a hat and scarf to complete the look. It would take some work, but she felt it could be worked out. Probably she'd have to wait for the next port, if there were time once more food had been acquired.

But first, she had to go talk to the ratings. To tell them that all of their work and sacrifice was appreciated. To share with them why it was important, why it was necessary. And to hope that they embraced their roles again.

With the mask properly made up, the dress on, and the hat & scarf firmly on, she inspected herself once more in the mirror. "Perfect."



The Hab Decks

Of course, any visit to the ratings must start with the Eternals. And any visit to the Eternals must start with the clan representatives. Andrea had started with Lady Kharmyna, but the matriarch had been predictably occupied with other matters. Her minion had taken the bottle of aged Amesec, of course. What mattered is that Andrea had made the attempt, really. Kharmyna would know that she had been the first stop. From here, she just started walking towards the stern of the ship.

In the Gunner’s Rest (Level 23, Rear Section, Port Commons), Andrea walked inside. The overhead lights were surprisingly on, but someone had partially occluded them with colored cloths. It produced a dim and strangely colorful atmostphere, where the ratings were sitting and eating and drinking. There was a... for lack of a better term, proprietor of the place, who quickly approached her. The mutter of conversation stopped as heads turned towards her, and the man spoke even quieter to her. “‘Ow can I ‘elp ye, ma’am?”

In the stillness, all could hear her response, “Good man, on behalf of the Lord-Captain, I would like to buy a round of drinks for these heroes of the ship. And I hope they will drink a toast with me, in honor of our fallen comrades.”

The proprietor was confused. “Heroes, Lady?”

“Why, all of you.” she says to the room in general. “You heard the Lord Amphael today. You are the lifeblood of the ship. This ship that is the last hope of the great Amphael family, you are all the saviors of that family.” She turns to a table of men with fresh bandages. “And, just the other day you fought and bled to save us once again. Heroes, I say. And who will say that you aren’t?”

“So then, a round of drinks for all. I cannot truly repay all that you have given to me, but I can stand among you and tell you that I am in your debt. We all are.”

As the man starts to give drinks to all those in the quiet place, a few people nod appreciation. Free drinks are never refused, aboard the Invictus Aeterna. But in a back corner, one man stands up. He’s a little unsteady, which is explained by his missing leg as he makes his way to the middle of the room. “That’s it, then? The Captain finally heard we was mad, so he sends you down here to buy us off? Pat us on the back an’ say ‘Thanks, chums! We really hope you’ll keep runnin’ the ship for us, so we can get more of you killed off.’? Why should we keep on, just so’s others can enjoy the fruits of our deaths?” Some of his neighbors reach out to hold him up as he starts to wobble from gesticulating emphatically on only one leg.

Andrea is taken aback. She didn’t think this would be easy, but she wasn’t expecting open hostility. Looking around at the crowd, most of them avoid her gaze, which is only proper respect towards a noble. But a few of them, those near the spokesman, looked her in the face, nodding to the man’s words.

“Um.” she said, trying to think of a more eloquent response. She thought back to Detronimus’ words, 'For the ratings, service to the ship is service to the Imperium. It is the only higher purpose they know. Harm to the ship is an insult to her legacy and to the Imperium. The ratings are but men and women, they have needs, desires, and fears. Satisfy those needs, channel those desires, and dispel those fears.’

She tries again, “You’re right.” This brings the man short. He’d been preparing himself to debate the points with her. “In a way. Why should you bear the brunt of the pain? Why should you be the ones to die?” She looks around at them further. “I’ll tell you why. You deserve to know that much.”

“Most of you have never left the ship, I imagine. You never get to see what it’s like for the rest of the family. On Malfi, you can see the monuments to the Amphaels who helped to build the world. You can see the shipyards in the sky at night, where the Amphaels used to maintain a fleet of ships. Ours, no longer. Those monuments are in the towns of other families. Those shipyards were sold off generations ago. This family is dying. The Invictus Aeterna is all we have left of our former glory. Our flagship, it was the one thing we held on to above all else.”

“And perhaps, this ship can help us rebuild our fortunes. And when it does, we’ll be able to repay the centuries of faithful service she’s given us. She’s been hurt, and you’re taken care of her as you could, but the family can’t afford the credits it would take to properly care for her. So, here’s what we do. We take her out here to the Koronos, hoping that we can earn profit faster than she ship degrades. We keep her going, and eventually we can dig ourselves out of these dire straits. Because if we don’t, in not too much time, we won’t be able to afford fuel, or the next batch of supplies, or shells for the batteries. And when that day comes, this last great ship of ours will be just another frigate in the fleet of someone like Cyrus Deltael.”

“So, yes. We’re courting favor with the Deltaels. We escort the ships of Trader Galen. Because we need friends here. We’re ferrying these Alid-Yuril merchants to some death world, so they can harvest some fungus there and give us a cut of the profits. Every job we take, we risk everything we have, because if we don’t take a job, we perish. But if things work out, we’ll bring home enough from this venture to keep the ship going for a while longer, so we can get to the next venture. And maybe from that, we’ll get enough for a second ship, so we can finally treat the Invictus right, and get her fixed up properly.”

“But all of that relies on you. All of you. You, and the thousands of others aboard this ship. Working to keep the ship alive, even though she’s old and worn. Working to defend her from pirates, and sometimes dying. Sometimes we risk the Warp, and sometimes we risk death worlds, or Xenos horrors, or treachery from bad men. What you do is important. It’s necessary, both for the ship and for the Amphael family. And those of us in charge of running things, we’ve been lax. We thought you didn’t need to know all this, that you were better off knowing. Not because we were trying to hide it... we just assumed that you who had never seen the great floating cities on Malfi wouldn’t care why we were doing this.”

“Still, I think you care. They’re your family, just like the men who work the ship’s lance are. You trust them to do their parts, knowing that you all strive towards a greater goal together. And I know you care about the ship. I know these old halls, with their flickering lights and strange smells, they mean something to you all. And I think that we have done you a disservice by not telling you what you were about. There is great honor in this venture. And great risk, as well. But you deserve to know. And you all deserve an apology for this being kept from you. It wasn’t meant as an insult, but the damage was done regardless.”

“I could tell you that we’re looking for a place to resupply. That once we’re in orbit around this Death World, we’ll have a lot of time to relax while our guests harvest their fungus. Time to repair the damage to the ship and the damage to her crew. Our new Lord is a stranger to us, and his ways are not what we’re used to. But we will get to know him, and we will begin to trust him. When the pirates were in our holds, killing our kin, Garrius Amphael gathered up armsmen from the shuttles and brought them here to restore us. He fought the pirates himself, risking himself for his ship, because he knows that the ship is the heart of this family. He may not be Laurent, but our old Lord chose Garrius over his own brother. We should trust in his choices. And I will make it my duty to help the crew understand just how much faith Garrius Amphael places in you, even if he is too proud to say so.”

[Let's also go for a difficult Charm test, as on pg 226. And while we're at it, let's throw a Fate Point at that. I do still have at least one Fate Point left, I hope.]

[Montresor]

85th Day Since Embarkation (95 days until deadline)

Empyrean currents bear the Invictus through the Warp. Though baleful tides and squalls of daemonic fury threaten to pull her into nightmare shoals, the ancient frigate surges with unnatural vigour. Borne forth through the Immaterium, the Invictus is bolstered by the renewed spirits of her crew.

Despair, depression and resentment amongst the ratings have turned to proud resolve and conviction. Their morale swelled by the timely intervention of senior staff and dynastic leaders, the ratings exhibit a grim confidence despite desperately flagging supplies. Drastic increases in amasec have not led to widespread abuse, but have instead gone a long way to bolstering the courage of the men and women of the Invictus, assuaging their now growing hunger, and helping them to dispel some of the malefic sleeping visions which are rumoured to be prevalent since departing Kellion.

Garrius Amphael’s speech at first found the crew cynical, weary, and unwanting of mere words, but talk spread throughout the Hab-decks that the new Lord-Captain may yet be a man of the Imperium. Confidence was a mere trickle at first, but it built within days to loud affirmations of faith and endurance from the crew. Attendance at the Chapel Shrine swelled to such numbers that people had to be turned away in droves, while Brother Detronimus gave sermons until he collapsed from fatigue.

Talk of the dead in the Kellion Skirmish – as it was now becoming known – turned from bitter resentment at the waste of so many lives to affirmations of the need for great sacrifice in times of peril. Anonymous members of the crew donated hidden cratefuls of foodstuff, though it was only enough to add a few more days rations.

The officers of the Invictus pursued their duties with new-found vigour, no longer living in cramped quarters to accommodate the Consortium. For their part, the Alid-Yuril delegates expressed only weary acceptance of their now more cramped quarters.

A few score ratings respond to Drak-Kung’s request for volunteers for the Armsmen, but the rate of applicants does little to alleviate stresses. The Chief’s earnest efforts and personal presence on numerous patrols and duties manages to maintain security at a functional level. Ratings who witness his actions are impressed by his efforts.

But food reserves have grown dangerously low. A mistake in rationing, most likely the result of an oversight by Duty Officer Rem Mordia, has meant that barely fifteen days low rations remain on the vessel. Despite recent crew confidence, a sense of depression at the current plight is beginning to set in. The name of Nathin Travic is mentioned often, and always with spite.

Sub-lieutenant Salt is able to provide invaluable advice to Julient and, thus, to the other navigators regarding likely systems capable of supporting life. Though Salt has never travelled from Footfall before, she had gleaned much from station visitors, and knew enough to mention a half dozen system names to Julient – some of which were at least marked on old star charts found in the Librarium. On the basis of this information Julient has plotted a course towards Prethian which brings the Invictus through at least one of these systems.

Subversion of Authority
Julient has now grown accustomed to holding meetings with the Consortium, and making alterations to course without consulting her superior. It is generally believed that Sterr the Unborn has sent a message on her behalf towards her own dynasty. The message is most likely about her formally assuming authority as head navigator. Only Praetus can respond to this challenge.

Altercations
Teams of deaf, dust-caked and ragged gunnery crew wander the halls of the Invictus led by midshipmen loyal to Zarkov. Though they mostly keep to their operational region, they have often come across patrols of Armsmen who are disturbed that they are ‘wandering, apparently aimlessly and armed’. An incident on Sub-level 112-A saw a brawl break out between three Armsmen and six gunners when the Armsmen attempted to disarm them. As a result, there are now rising tensions between the two groups. Only Drak-Kung and Zarkov can respond to this.

Rough Hands
Captain Gaius Trulitch, having listened to the suggestions of Lt. Cmdr Zarkov, approaches Lord-Captain Garrius Amphael with a suggestion. In light of recent stresses on the Armsmen and the Master-at-Arms, Trulitch offers to use the Alid-Yuril security team for patrols. As there are only thirty of them and they need to stay close to Consortium staff, Trulitch suggests that they take over guard duties in the senior crew complex (including the bridge area), leaving the Armsmen there to attend to only damage control issues. Garrius Amphael, Drak-Kung, Zarkov and Andrea may respond to this (only Garrius can decide).

Suicide
While attempting to jury-rig a rusted bulkhead into a workable door for a makeshift still, several Darksiders come across the hanging body of Jeyd Fips, one of their number who hadn’t been seen since he finished his shift in the Life-Sustainers. Fips’s neck is broken and he hangs from length of disused cable looped through a transom. The apparent suicide sends a pall over the Darksiders, who all agree that Fips had been ‘actin all strange an distant like not halfways inclined to talk to a soul bout nothin’. Fips’s arms had not been bound. Only Salt can respond to this.

Duranastil
The Invictus has translated from the Warp on the edge of the Duranastil system. Navigator Julient informs Garrius Amphael that she plotted this course based off information that ‘that uncouth bridge officer with the painful accent’ supplied her with. There is some possibility that supplies might be found here. Marla Vehle performs a scan of astral bodies in the system and finds that, besides the tiny star, there are four planets. Three of these planets appear lifeless, though Duranastil-Providence-2 appears to have some kind of station on the icy surface of its only moon. No response from the station answers any of Vehle’s attempts to communicate with them. There is no trace of any vessel in the system. Travelling to this moon will take about five Terran-standard days. Any character can have input here, but only Garrius can decide on the diversion.

[Salt]

I'm standin' here, lookin' at Fips. Around me, Fips' kin and my own, they's lookin' to me fer answers. Hell, I don't know no answers. I don't even rightly know the questions. What am I s'posed to do?

"Ain't ye even gonna cut him down?" I ask? "You just left him hangin' there like that, so I could see him this way? What the hell's wrong with you, Jeb? That ain't how we treat a Darksider." I go over to Fips. I grab him by the legs and hold the weight. "Someone cut the rope, so we can take him home." Nobody moves. "Jeb! Quit starin' and get over here and cut that damned rope, ye'hear?" He snaps out of it and cuts the rope. He's the only one tall enough to reach, anyway. "Okay, now take him. He's heavy." Fip's a big guy... was a big guy. I can't carry him more'n a few steps. Jeb takes him, holding him gentle, like it was his sick old granny. That's good. It wouldn't be right to get all squirrelly over a body. Not when it's kin. It ain't respectful.

We all tromp back to our berth area, and someone clears a space on one of the tables for Fips to lie on. The family walks by to take a look, and to say their peace. I let 'em get it outta their systems, but I know this ain't over yet. And as they start to wind down, of course, they all turn to me to hear what they should do.

"So, what happened to him?" Nobody says nothin'. Cowards. "Fine. Russ, you and Fips were bunked together, right? What was goin' on with the man?"

"Well, he was actin' kinda funny."

I wait for more, but he ain't talkin'. "What kinda funny, Russ?"

"Well, he was just keepin' t'hisself, mostly. Didn't come outta the room much, except fer his shift. He wouldn't drink with us, no more. I thought it was somethin' about a girl, but... there weren't no girl."

"Didja ask him 'bout it? You're his friend, right?" I press, when he clams up again.

"Well, I didn't wanna be stickin' my nose all in his bidness, Salt. The man wanted ta be alone, I figured he'd tell me what was eatin' him when he was ready. Maybe his sister was killed in the skirmish or somethin', I don't know. Or maybe he was missin' someone from back on Delta. Weren't nonna my bidness, see? So I left the man alone."

I just stare. Everyone is lookin' at their feet now. Nobody wantsta look me in the face.

"Y'all done let me down. And ye let Jeyd Fips down, too." I glare around. "Ye stupid idjuts. This ain't Delta. We're deep in the Void, now. We're hoppin' into 'n outta the Warp, here. We're on a fightin' ship filled with years 'n years o' travel to exotic places. How in the Emperor's name you gonna NOT watch out fer each other?" I stalk over to Russ, Something prolly came in here, messed with Fips' head right next to you, Russ, and took him outta here to his death. And you just fuckin' watched it happen!" I knee him in the ballz.

Russ' eyes go all crossed, and he sort of gently collapses to the ground with a little squeek. "How you dumb bastards gonna not watch out fer yer kin like that? We're Darksiders, people. Family. We keep an eye on each other, and we reach out to help all on our own. You think the Amphael gonna stroll threw here asking if Fips' is okay? He done gave us a home, but this ain't heaven. We still gotta stick close. Peraton ain't gonna look out fer us. The ghosts sure ain't got yer backs. Whatever horrors come outta the Warp, they'd just love it if we didn't watch each other."

I kick Russ in the gut, while he's still down on the ground. "Asshole." Then I walk out of the common area, back towards my room. I stop at the exit, and turn back. "Anybody knows anything else about Fips, you come down and talk to me about it. We'll talk in private, like, so nobody can hear me callin' anybody else a fool."