To Plunder The Stars Themselves, Episode III

[Trokair]

On the Bounteous Lady – just after Captain Tragg’s surrender (i.e. just after my last post).

 

As Holger announced that he had extracted all the data, Brynjarr moved over to the consuls, and browsed the Captains logs and the navigational data, copying snippets onto a data pad from time to time.  While no expert he had enough familiarity with naval practices to get buy. Captain Tragg had been moved elsewhere, presumably to better aid recovery, and a few crew where still about, including one of the officers from earlier. Sensing the deck officers disapproval at his cornuted presence  Brynjarr turned to face him.

 

“Just curiosity Officer, I have travelled widely and am always of interested where others have been, in case I even wander amongst those stars.  Just some cartographical snippets, call it a hobby of you will.”

 

Turning back to the screen he continued digging into the Bounteous Lady history.

 

“If you have some physical star charts as well I would be interested in seeing them.” Glancing up at the officer he continued. “If you would be so kind.”

 

---

 

Later – at the end of the tactical meeting

 

“Comrades, with the possibility of a voidwalk or two as part of our infiltration plan, and while we await repairs I will be spending some time on the outside hull of the Bounteous Lady, if any of you want to join me for that walk let me know by evening bell ship time.”

 

Later still, back onboard the  Bounteous Lady.

 

Brynjarr, as was his custom, went and found a small secondary observation bay instead of retreating to a designated cell. Having secured the room and in the light of the nearby stars he strips out of his armour, and meticulously goes over every bit of his equipment, repairing minor damage and generally checking that all was in order. The Void was an unforgiving ally. Practical matters attended to Brynjarr meditated, going over the past says and settling them in memory.

 

---

 

With the evening bell struck not too long ago Brynjarr stood outside one of the many airlock, a group of repairmen from the Dagger where cycling in after doing some welding to seal a hull breach on a lower deck.

 

While double-checking his gear and the integrity of his armour Brynjarr spotted Svelk approach, it looks like he would have company for this walk.  Nodding in acknowledgment he continued his checks until he was satisfied that all was in order for time in the void.

 

Once he finished long engrained training tried to take over and he started to move to assist the other marine to check that he was also good. However Svelk was not kin, and might resent help that was unasked, catching himself Brynjarr held back, ready to help if needed, but not interfering. Seeing that Svelk readied himself efficiently was reassuring, he certainly knew how to handle himself in this milieu, perhaps he also came from a fleet based chapter?

 

“Ready?” he asked when he though the other was so, and upon the affirmative Brynjarr stepped into the airlock and cycled through.

 

Once outside he engaged the mag-lock on his boots and moved a few meters away from the airlock and waited for Svelk to emerge. Pointing towards the prow he opened the vox link.

 

++I thought we would scout along until we can cross over to the other side and then loop round past the loading bay where we initially breached, let’s see how well Captain Achard’s repair crew patch the hole we made.++

Edited June 27, 2021 by Trokair

[Necronaut]

Following the cessation of hostilities, Vesalius tended to his comrades' wounds with efficiency and care, able to trigger the superhuman healing processes inherent in each of the Astartes in the squad.

 

Medicae (First Aid) tests x5

52 (Medicae +0) + 20 (narthecium) + 10 (diagnostor helm) = 82

 

Medicae: 5#1d100 42 19 2 7 81

 

All pass with varying DoS

 

Bulk healing check: 5 (Int mod) + 1d5 (enhanced healing)

 

First aid: 1d5 4

 

Everyone heals 9 wounds

 

Edited June 26, 2021 by Necronaut

[A.T.]

Once away from the others Odysseus pauses to inspect his armour, the witch-shield he had thrown up had fused the plates where the bolts had struck... sufficient for battle. His wounds too he tended himself lest he give the appearance of weakness.

 

To fight again amongst others had given rise to difficulties he had not faced in some time, the need to constrain the power of the warp around them. Fortune as much as judgement had averted any greater release of warp energy but never the less his time seemed best spent reinforcing his wards both within and without, should his power be needed to board the station across the depths of the void a miscalculation would be far less forgiving.

[Lysimachus]

The next two days pass all too slowly. For the most part you have kept to your quarters, for you are certainly not welcome here. There is no word from Achard, the canny Captain maintaining absolute vox silence to ensure that no connection can be detected between you.

 

Finally, after sixty-one hours in transit, Johan Tragg contacts the Traveller through the ship's comms.

 

"Renegade?" The Captain's tone is short, businesslike, with an underlying layer of fear and distaste. "We'll be coming into augur range in less than an hour. Your team might want to join us on the bridge?"

 

***

[Commissar Molotov]

"Acknowledged," the Traveller's reply rasps over the vox. He closes the channel, unwilling to entertain any further discussion with the Captain. Had it not been for Brynjarr's intercession, the Captain would be dead. The Traveller wonders whether Tragg truly appreciates the good fortune he enjoys.

 

He signals the Iron Gods to attend to the bridge. Whilst he had taken command of this band, he did not pretend that the warriors were loyal to him. But combat was drawing near, and an imminent and unknown threat was enough to draw their attention and focus their ire.

 

With that, he adjusts the stormcloth, draping it over his breastplate. The green tinge of the repair cement had faded, and all but the most keen-eyed opponent would struggle to target it. His weapons are mag-locked within easy reach; his beaked helm is sealed tight over his scarred face.

 

Let us see what happens next.

Edited June 17, 2021 by Commissar Molotov

[Lysimachus]

It is odd to be back on the bridge. Last time you were gathered here with Tragg and his men, you were mortal enemies. The scars of your previous battle are still visible, both in the structure and the bodies of the combatants. You can feel the hateful, fearful looks from what is left of Tragg's crew.

 

As you move into augur range, the station known as Elysium becomes visible. The asteroid itself is substantial, approximately seven hundred kilometers in diameter at its widest point, an irregular oblong in shape. The station is built on the near side, facing out towards you. It is nothing when compared with the mighty fortress that is the Iron Gods' home. Were Talek Varn to bring his flagship, the Strike Cruiser Avarice against it with the full complement of his Astartes ready for war, it would likely be conquered in a time numbered in minutes rather than hours. Unfortunately, Talek Varn, the Avarice and most of the Iron Gods are elsewhere. To the ship you are on, Elysium is an opponent bringing certain death, its gun batteries, lance emplacements and torpedo tubes easily able to reduce the Lady to scrap metal in moments. But such is sometimes the way of things for the Astartes. If you can get into position to bring your own martial prowess to bear, then all the naval firepower in the galaxy will be proved meaningless. You simply have to get there...

 

As you get closer, you can see that your plan to have the Dagger Thrust draw away as many patrol boats as possible seems to have worked, for none are currently in orbit around the asteroid. Hopefully Achard has led them a merry dance and is now poised somewhere just out of sight, ready to move in and assist should you require it.

 

The vox crackles to life as you move into contact range.

 

"Why, Captain Tragg! What an unexpected pleasure to see you returned to us so soon?" The voice is cultured, urbane, revealing only the faintest hint of the cruel mockery beneath. "I hope nothing untoward has happened to cause this volte-face... but I fear from the appearance of your good Lady that it must have."

 

Tragg looks nervously around at you.

 

"That's Von Caeryd himself!" the big man squeaks.

 

***

[Commissar Molotov]

"Answer him," the Traveller says. His voice is low, a subvocalised rumble that is edged with murderous intent. "Let him know that you are fleeing the Iron Gods."

 

His hands clench the bolter that mangled Tragg's arm, underscoring the unspoken threats. Stick to the plan, and live...

 

 

The Traveller attempts an Intimidation test against Tragg:

STR64(+30 bonus for maiming the Captain, as per OOC)=94: 6 (PASS, 8DoS)

Edited June 22, 2021 by Commissar Molotov

[Black Cohort]

On the squad vox net.  "Is the plan to hit them as soon as we dock, or risk letting crew explore the station and try to determine where this rogue trader has his headquarters?"

[Trokair]

“The later over the former if possible, I guess it will depend on whether they believe Captain Tragg and let us dock.”

 

After a moments contemplation Brynjarr continued. “If we can dock with Elysium then we may be able to walk from our hull onto the station and find a more out of the way entrance once we know where the princeling is hiding.”

Edited June 20, 2021 by Trokair

[Lysimachus]

The Captain nods, eyeing the bolter and absently rubbing his injured arm. He takes a deep breath and replies with the half-truth you have prepared.

 

"More damn pirates, Von Caeryd, you scum!" His tone is suddenly full of anger and indignation. "Friends of yours, I'd wager? What was the plan? Take half of what I had, then hit my ship and force me to come back and give you the rest in return for repairs? I know they came back this way, we've followed in their heat wake all the way back here! Where are they?"

 

Tragg is embellishing what you have told him to say, and putting on a far more aggressive manner... but it appears the Captain's instincts for negotiation are good, as his feigned anger does seem to briefly put Von Caeryd on the back foot. The 'Prince' pauses for a moment then replies, still utterly superior, but at the same time attempting to be calm and soothing.

 

"Now Johan, don't be foolish. Had I wanted anything else you had, I would have simply taken it before you left? Unfortunately, it is true there are some reavers operating in my Nebula, but they are my enemies too. They did come this way, seeking to do me harm, but I have driven them away! My brave Captains are chasing them down, and soon I will end their reign of fear entirely!" His tone becomes oily and as sweet as syrup. "Come, bring your ship into dock and we will see what can be done. I swear on my family's honour that we can come to an arrangement that is beneficial to all?"

 

Tragg is about to answer, then looks around at you with a questioning, hopeful raise of a bushy eyebrow.

 

***

[Commissar Molotov]

The Traveller sneers involuntarily inside his helm at the notion of this petty Princeling's "honour." Then again, honour and integrity are luxuries in seemingly short supply within the Solios Nebula.

 

The sooner this Von Caeryd is eradicated, the better.

 

Tragg may have suddenly developed an actor's instincts, but he would need to play his role to perfection in order for them to survive. The wide-mouthed muzzle of his bolter speaks in place of the Traveller's outward silence.

 

If you want a second Intimidation test:

STR64(+30)=94: 63 (PASS, 3DoS)

Edited June 22, 2021 by Commissar Molotov

[Lysimachus]

With permission granted, first by Von Caeryd and now by you, Captain Tragg nervously directs his remaining bridge officer to advance, entering the outer limits of Elysium's torpedo range. The Bounteous Lady edges forwards, her plasma drives flaring and sputtering in seeming sympathy with the bridge crew's apprehension.

 

The vast distances shrink with surprising speed as minute after minute ticks by. Twenty thousand kilometres. Lance range. Fifteen thousand kilometres. You are now just in range for their macrobatteries as well. Ten thousand kilometres. You can see the docking spars extending outwards with a variety of smaller vessels attached. Most are of Imperial design, light freighters and scout ships, but a few are clearly not. One has an elegant, almost organic shape and long curving masts, another is almost entirely spherical.

 

You find yourselves watching the augur returns and counting down mentally, beginning to believe that you will soon be safely docked at one of the station's berths. Eight thousand kilometres. Seven…

 

***

[Beren]

Svelk leans forwards as the details of the docked ships become visible.

 

+++I know Imperial ships. Those two, right there, those aren't Imperial.+++

[Black Cohort]

on the squad vox. "Do these foul xenos change mission parameters?"

[Commissar Molotov]

The gathered Space Marines here may be renegades, hunted by the Imperium that created them - but all of them are infused with the natural hatred of the Xenos.

 

The Traveller turns to the devastator's question. The blood-red stripe down his helm gleams hungrily in the light.

 

"Xenos or not, they still bleed. And if they choose to stand against us, they die."

Edited June 22, 2021 by Commissar Molotov

[A.T.]

Odysseus checks his armour seals. He had studied the ships design, paths to void hatches on each facing, should they be needed.

 

"We should secure control of the weapons, the vessels docked could provide significant reinforcement but are vulnerable here."

[Lysimachus]

The vox crackles again, this time a strictly professional, commanding voice, clearly an officer of some sort.

 

"Hold position! Repeat, hold your position, or you will be fired upon!"

 

This command is punctuated by a searing column of light - Lance fire! - that blasts from Elysium, a single warning shot that travels across the Lady's path and out into the nothingness.

 

With a curse that is equal parts frustration and fear, Tragg immediately orders his pilot to heave to. Before you can countermand him, thrusters fire to overcome the inertia the Vagabond has built up. The Bounteous Lady finally stops dead, hanging in the void four point seven thousand kilometres from the outermost mooring. A vast distance, but nothing in terms of naval engagement. Like looking point-blank into the barrel of a boltgun.

 

***

[Commissar Molotov]

Odysseus's words were eerily prescient. Secure the weapons, indeed. Whilst the Traveller might have been reluctant to embrace the psyker's "gifts", their options were rapidly narrowing.

 

Did the Princeling's forces mean to board Tragg's vessel?

 

Whilst they may be able to repel boarders, he was all-too-aware that the potent might of an Astartes warrior meant little given the scope and scale of a naval engagement. Kill a few armsmen, and be reduced to constituent atoms by targeted lance-fire.

 

He opens a private vox-link. Tragg would not need to hear this, but his fellow renegades would.

 

"We need to hide on this vessel - or to escape from it."

 

Although outwardly he had moved little, remaining impassive and statuesque, his system was already flooding with combat narcotics, his warplate's pharmacopoeia reading his elevated heart-rate and preparing eagerly for battle. His helm was directed towards the psyker.

Edited June 24, 2021 by Commissar Molotov

[Lysimachus]

Tragg grimaces as long seconds pass in silence, without further contact.

 

"Are we caught?" he whispers, looking around the bridge, then clicks the vox back on. "What in hell is the meaning of this?" he blusters, attempting to continue the charade.

 

Another long moment. It is Von Caeryd's voice that responds, in an airy, smug tone.

 

"Ah, sincere apologies Captain. I thought it best, before you come any closer, that I speak with your passengers?" You can hear malicious pleasure and self-congratulation in his words. "And I do not refer to that moronic rabble of Emperor-botherers you are hauling. For I am ...almost... certain there must now be other passengers aboard, passengers who might wish me harm? Perhaps even the much vaunted Talek Varn and his Iron Gods?"

 

Tragg stumbles and stutters, feigning confusion.

 

"Varn? T-talek Varn? Iron Gods? Why would they be on my ship? We drove those raiders off, but we still need repai..."

 

Another lance beam bursts from Elysium. This time it hits Tragg's Lady head on. The wedge shaped prow common to all Imperial vessels absorbs the majority of the strike, but the entire ship still shudders from the impact. Von Caeryd's voice turns sharp.

 

"Please do not take me for a fool, Johan. It irritates me more than you can know. If they had attacked you, I do not believe you would have been left in a fit state to go anywhere... except perhaps the Emperor's right hand, of course. Therefore I must assume they chose not to attack you, or at least not to destroy you. Why would they not? You are helping them, of course. Now, be silent." He tries again. "Will you not speak with me, 'Lord' of the Solios Nebula?"

 

***

 

Your options have suddenly become very simple. Will you admit your presence and speak with Von Caeryd, or hope that he is merely guessing/fishing, stay silent and stick to the plan? Or you might wish to abandon Tragg and his ship, but you will need to get them a little closer to Elysium in order for Odysseus' abilities to be in range?

[Black Cohort]

"How long would it take us to get in range at maximum burn?"

[Lysimachus]

Tragg looks around sharply at the hulking Decimus. For a moment he looks furious enough to attack, even though he is no longer allowed to carry any weapons.

 

"What d'you mean? In range of what? We're still about 5,000 kloms out. Even if we fired the plasma drives hard and fast enough that we burned out the conduits, we'd still be lucky to get half that distance before those damn emplacements tore my ship apart!"

 

He looks around you again with near panic in his eyes, not understanding that half would be more than close enough for the psyker to use his arcane powers.

 

***

[Trokair]

“Let them board the Lady, all they will find is a ship with extensive battle damage, a wounded crew and some emergency repairs. The Princling is fishing, though obviously smarter than anticipated, if he knew we are here he would have killed this ship already instead of wanting to inspect it.”

 

 

Motioning to indicate his fellow Marines Brynjarr continued.     

 

“We should retreat to the hull, and if opportunity presents we can sneak onto the outside of whatever craft the Princeling sends out here for his inspection.”

Edited June 25, 2021 by Trokair

[Lysimachus]

Von Caeryd sighs peevishly.

 

"Maybe you aren't lying, Tragg. Maybe you are. I'm not sure I shouldn't just destroy you now rather than take the risk..." He sighs again. "I am sending a ship to inspect your vessel, Captain. If they find nothing, you will be allowed to dock and we will see what can be done about repairs. Be warned though, Johan, you will owe me for a long, long time." The Prince lets out a short, high-pitched laugh. "But that will still be better for you than the alternative I was picturing a few moments ago."

 

***

 

With all of the Remora patrol boats gone, the inspection vessel is a large yet dilapidated shuttle. As it approaches, your team retreats to the outer hull via a small airlock on the opposite side of the Lady.

 

The shuttle lands in one of the ship's hangar bays and a platoon of Von Caeryd's forces disembarks. They are scruffy and poorly equipped, but have the alert gazes of those used to living by their wits. A few, their leader among them, head for the bridge. The rest immediately spread out to search every inch of the Vagabond.

 

On the bridge, the Captain is confronted by a squad of rogues led by a skinny, utterly bald little renegade who identifies himself as 'Lieutenant' Barcha.

 

"You won't find anything, believe me!" Tragg insists.

 

The ugly inspector grins, revealing blackened stumps of teeth.

 

"There'd better be nothin' to find," Barcha hisses slyly "or His Highness won't be happy!"

 

***

 

You will need to make a successful Concealment Test for the whole squad. This will be a +20 Routine Test (its a big ship!) plus you get +10 if you are staying still. Any player may be the one to do this, using any talents or abilities they have in this area to assist their teammates. The searchers will then make an Opposed Scrutiny Test.

[Necronaut]

+We should make haste to the aft-most airlock,+ Vesalius voxed to the rest of the squad. He set off at a jog, drawing his bolter as he departed the bridge, scarcely giving his erstwhile comrades a chance to protest or otherwise react. While no expert void-warrior like Svelk or Brynjarr seemed to be, Vesalius had taken the time to make note of the various nooks and crannies on the exterior of the Lady during their brief void-walk earlier, and had noticed an abundance of locations from which devastating ambushes could be launched. Hiding from this would-be inspector and his gang of simpletons would be child's play.

+++

Once on the hull of the ship, Vesalius directed the squad towards a promising outcropping laden with vox spires and other devices which would sufficiently mask the power signatures of their power armor. He further directed them, once they were sufficiently tucked away out of sight and out of mind, to set their battle-plate systems to a low-power mode and get comfortable.

Concealment
73 (Agility 63, concealment +10) + 20 (routine) + 10 (standing still) - 0 (guerilla tactics: no penalty from wearing power armor) = 103

Concealment Test: 1d100 43
Success! (5 DoS)

Edited June 27, 2021 by Necronaut

[Beren]

As Vesalius departs the bridge, Svelk only wastes a moment waiting for the other's response before departing. He can feel his hearts pounding, and the rigid grin fixed across his face.

 

It's good to do this again.

 

Once outside, he stalks across the hull with an almost casual expertise, as if nothing's more natural.

 

 

Svelk will switch to his Zero Tolerance solo mode.

 

 

As Vesalius leads them to the sensor array he must have scouted out earlier, Svelk inclines his head forwards in an exaggerated manner.

 

+++Good choice.+++

 

He moves into it's shadow, powers down his armour and lapses into stillness.