To Plunder The Stars Themselves, Episode III

[Commissar Molotov]

"See it done," the Traveller nods his acquiescence to the Captain, clearly more experienced in the arts of Naval protocol and warfare.

 

Privately, within his helm he opens a vox-link to the Astartes on the bridge and throughout the vessel.

 

"Prepare for boarding and/or counter-boarding," he says tersely.

[Mazer Rackham]

With a single pulse of acknowledgement given, Orphiel methodically loaded his weapons.

 

Droplets of water shed form his gauntlets as the last vestiges of his ablutions tumbled away in glittering beads, to anoint the deck at his feet.  He sighed in satisfaction that he had performed the ritual before answering the summons.

 

"Ego sum innocens sanguis eorum," he repeated the mantra inside his helm.

 

And, so absolved, he was ready.

[Black Cohort]

With his armour on and weapons ready, Decimus would merely need to don his helmet to be fully ready.  If void combat was likely he would wait until necessary to start drawing on the armour's internal supplies.

[Beren]

Svelk unlocks his knife and axe-rake from his anger, holding them loosly by his side.

 

"If we end up bloody this early the mission's fethed. Both of them."

[A.T.]

Odysseus watched with folded arms the closing vessels on the ships auger displays. The caution was warranted but a fleet cruiser would never close to such a distance with its furies still docked.

 

"What is the status of the Spears' launch bays?", he asked flatly, expecting an answer that would confirm his suspicions and Achards' assessment.

[Lysimachus]

Achard nods in thoughtful agreement with Odysseus' question, then snaps his fingers at the augur crew. They examine the data-feed for a moment, then one turns to answer the Librarian.

 

"They're buttoned up tight, sir. Not combat ready."

 

Even as the officer speaks, the predatory vessels begin to slip past the Dagger in ones and twos, unaware that their natural prey is brazenly entering their den. The colossal Dictator-class Cruiser, nearly five times your total mass, is the last to pass by.

 

But as it closes off the starboard bow, its mighty engines suddenly cut to a fraction of their full power and it slows. The vox hisses and spits into life.

 

"Spear of Bakka to St. Agabus. State your destination and purpose."

 

***

[Necronaut]

Vesalius watched the scene unfold impassively: either Achard was worth his weight in cunning, or they would soon be occupants of a fiery tomb, burning silently in the void. Now was the time for subterfuge and treachery; any boarding or counter-boarding actions could tip their hand and ruin their chances of slipping in and out of the system unnoticed.

 

+Traveller, should they attempt to board us, we would do well to remain hidden. Any violence on our part might scupper the mission; better we maintain a low profile. Let us to continue to "fly casual" as I have heard human merchants say when on a smuggling run.+

Edited September 18, 2021 by Necronaut

[Lysimachus]

Achard grimaces and turns to the helmsman.

 

"Slow to one quarter thrust."

 

Then he nods at the vox operator.

 

"Captain Gisborne of the St. Agabus," he lies smoothly in reply. "Courier out of Cypra Mundi heading for Bakka. Carrying Merchant Navy ship positions and cargo manifests. And yourself?"

 

"Captain Martel of the Spear." The voice that now responds is aristocratic, precise and rather condescending. "We are hunting traitors to the glorious Imperium." He pauses. "My augury Adepts tell me your transponder signal is fluctuating, timing is off by 0.063 microseconds."

 

Achard grimaces even more.

 

"A noble task, sir," he offers fawningly. "And well spotted. Aye, we are aware," he lies again. "Several of our systems were damaged by turbulence during our last jump into the Empyrium, including the transponder. Our Tech-priests had to jury-rig a temporary fix. We were hoping to take a few days to effect proper repairs here at Viorda. Would you recommend the facilities, sir?"

 

"One void-dock is much the same as another." Martel dismisses the question as irrelevant, then pauses again. "Perhaps I should send over a repair team from my own Engineerium?"

 

Achard visibly pales and looks nervously around the bridge, trying to think of an excuse to refuse Martel's offer. The last thing he - or you - want is Mechanicus or Naval personnel examining any part of your vessel.

 

He is just about to reply when another voice, speaking urgently, can be faintly heard from the other ship's bridge.

 

"Captain Martel? Our Astropath is picking up a distress signal from the Xant system, less than 2 light years away. Adept Mechanichus supply convoy, under attack! Eldar raiders, sir!"

 

"By the Emperor! Filthy xenos pirates, right under our noses!" Martel roars. "Helm, full ahead! Get us to the Mandeville Point as quickly as possible!" He turns his attention momentarily back to Achard. "It seems you must arrange your own repairs, Gisborne. But be sure that you do. An unclear ident could see you fired upon by a less... understanding... officer than myself. Vox, ready the Battle Group for warp translation!"

 

Martel is clearly not waiting for a response, but Achard sends one anyway.

 

"Thank you, sir, we will! And good hunting, sir!"

 

He slices a finger across his throat in the direction of the Dagger's comms officer.

 

"Pompous moron," Achard mutters, then lets out an explosive breath and looks around at you with raised eyebrows. You have been extremely lucky...

 

***

[A.T.]

Odysseus shook his head at the captains lack of inquiry, not even a boarding party or command to hold station. What hope did these worlds have of adequate defense if a simple ruse could lay open the path so readily.

 

Still... he turned to the Traveller, "the xenos shadow us, they stood at Von Cearyds side until our arrival and now they move again in our wake. Such coincidences concern me."

[Beren]

Svelk nonchalantly disarms himself, his helmet turning to observe Achard.

 

"Are all Captains of the Imperial Navy... like that?"

 

As he speaks, his fingers brush around the additinal canisters attached to his waist.

 

---

 

Earlier...

 

Svelk didn't greet Vesalius as he plowed into the room. Instead he made straight for the table, upending a satchel full of loose components onto it. Shells, wiring, chronometers...

 

+++"There were three of us, before. Two, me and another, were killers.. Simple enough to learn, and we lacked the time to be taught anything else. The third... was older. He remembered. He was not an officer, not an apothecary, not a tech-marine, yet the circumstances forced him to become the closest we had to all three."+++

 

Here Svelk pauses, as he begins to seperate the material on the table.

 

+++"I was the one who get out fastest, then the one who got out last, then the one that set the explosives before doing so. I became good at it. I enjoyed it."+++

 

Finished in his task, Svelk steps back from the table.

 

+++"I knew how to put them together, in salvage the components. Everything that made explosive substances useable. I never learnt how to create the substances themselves."+++

 

He turns to face Vesalius.

 

+++"Did you?"+++

[Lysimachus]

"Why do you think I turned renegade?"

 

Achard smirks wickedly at Svelk's question, then his face becomes more serious.

 

"In truth, we are lucky they are so arrogant. They make assumptions because of it. This system has not faced a proper invasion in the best part of a century. That is our greatest advantage, that they do not expect us to come to them. Or what harm a single escort vessel could do if it did."

 

***

[Commissar Molotov]

The Traveller knew from ancient experience that the Aeldari were an inscrutable breed, following the skeins of fate and the gossamer half-truths of their seers. Fighting against them was one thing; to strategise against them was a maddening prospect. Still, while the Traveller did not know Odysseus well, he had demonstrated prodigious skill and self-discipline.

 

"The Eldar have burned worlds to prevent Imperial advances. If this trove is as valuable as Talek Varn thinks it is, they may well move to prevent the Iron Gods gaining it."

 

The Traveller's helm inclines in what might be interpreted as a gesture of respect.

 

"It is wise to be prepared against attack from an unexpected quarter."

 

With that, he stands forward, activating his external vox.

 

"Captain Achard, well done. Bring us into the inner system. We will prepare for deployment."

Edited September 20, 2021 by Commissar Molotov

[Lysimachus]

Achard offers a short bow and waves for the helm to increase their pace once more.

 

The Dagger moves on, travelling at sub-warp speed closer into the heart of the Viorda system. The sheer bad luck of almost being caught because of a 0.063 microsecond timing issue seems somehow balanced by the incredible good fortune of your enemies being distracted at just the right moment by a xenos raiding party in the very next system. Perhaps, as Degier thought, fate is playing its part in your mission?

 

You return to the wide cargo hold that serves as your training area and dormitories. A few hours later, Holger joins you. He bows respectfully as he enters.

 

"My lords. The good Captain has informed me we will soon pass close by Secundus on our way in to Prime. One of the ship's shuttles is being prepared to depart as we speak."

 

Moving from the cargo hold to the nearby hangar bay, all of the Kill-Team assist in loading the shuttle for Team Alpha's trip to Secundus. The vessel is a replacement for one of the craft lost during the attack on Elysium. It is hardly a wallowing scow, but neither is it any match for the rapid insertion craft typically used by the Astartes. It is certainly less well armed than a Marine lander, having only a pair of heavy bolters mounted separately in dorsal and ventral turrets. But it should get you where you need to go.

 

Holger nods at the shuttle as Alpha are preparing to board.

 

"It's been fitted out for Astartes use, if anyone wants to take the yoke?"

 

***

 

If you wish to say anything to any of your squadmates before going your separate ways, now is the time?

 

Also, although there are several crewmen aboard who will take the controls after you disembark, if anyone in Squad Alpha wishes to (and has the relevant Pilot/Weapons training) you may take the pilot's and/or 2 gunner's chairs of the shuttle?

 

Also, after the team divides, it may be helpful to begin your posts with Squad Alpha: or Squad Beta: to avoid any confusion?

[Necronaut]

Earlier…

 

+++"Did you?"+++ Svelk asked finally after his brusque monologue, during which Vesalius sat silently. The apothecary looked curiously at the various gadgets and components the void-born had unceremoniously dumped out on the table between them. He smiled to himself and looked up at the warrior across from him.

 

+I believe what you ask is well within my capabilities, Svelk. A laboratory would be preferable to synthesize incendiary compounds on any sort of scale, but as far as improvised explosives are concerned, I should be able to provide assistance. I will admit that my particular expertise lies in pharmaceuticals and related medicinal compounds, but there are a number of easily manufactured, albeit unstable, substances that we should be able to produce from common, readily available materials.+

 

Vesalius stood and reached for a chronometer. He picked up the tiny device and turned it over in his hands. +Our first task will be to determine what we have at our disposal on this ship. There should be an ample supply of various industrial chemicals available in the enginarium. I would recommend we start there.+

 

OOC: How would you like to handle this, GM? I can paste in some Scholastic Lore: Chymistry and Chem-Use rolls and let you determine if we're able to manufacture the equivalent of some demolitions-packs, though I'm not entirely sure if the rules and/or setting necessarily support the use of applied science.

Edited September 25, 2021 by Necronaut

[Mazer Rackham]

He hadn't missed Holger's choice of words on controlling the shuttle.  He wondered idly if the devious little mortal chose the term on purpose.  No matter, now.

 

Orphiel looked over the assembled Astartes, pausing for a moment as he reached Svelk, but in truth his gaze could have captured any one of them.

 

+Try not to die?+ he followed the moment of camaraderie with a smile-draped punchline.  +I do not wish to unpack all of this myself.+

Edited September 20, 2021 by Mazer Rackham

[Beren]

Svelk considered those that would be hounding down the Tyrant's dream.

 

Orphiel, who had a way of gauging everyone and everything around him. Radago, still a stranger in most ways, his fighting stye aside. Brynjarr, whose direct nature and and equipment stood in stark contrast to the two cowled warriors.

 

+++Keep your luck close to you. We'll be bringing plenty more back to unload, as long as the Devestators don't spend more ammunition than we gain.+++

 

---

 

Svelk navigates himself through the gear stowed in the shuttle's cargo-hold with ease, making for the far end. He clambers into the cockpit, and with one hand gripping the door frame and the other resting on his axe-rake looms off to the side, but does not make to take the controls.

[Commissar Molotov]

The Traveller said nothing to Orphiel, S'ynek and Brynjarr. Their mission was before them; they would succeed, or not, on their own merits.

 

He entered the shuttle, taking the opportunity to observe the six other Astartes as they board. Svelk, Decimus, Odysseus and Vesalius were known to him, having fought for Elysium. The bellicose Devastator, Draak, had forced the others to take notice of him; only time would tell whether it would be his downfall. The Techmarine, Khor, was unlike any the Traveller had encountered before, but then the Iron Gods seemed to draw outcasts and outsiders to the side of Talek Varn.

 

The Traveller held Spitfire, his bolter, to his side. If nothing else, he would rely upon his weapons.

[Machine God]

+Try not to die?+ said Orphiel.

 

+ Same to you wading around Prime, Orphiel + answered Draak, + May the Omnissiah guide you in your stealthy hunt, swordsman +

 

Draak unloaded Grendel before he boarded the shuttle, with a whir the ammunition belt retracted telescopically into the backpack housing. Draak entered the shuttle and moved past Squad Alpha, watching them as he passed with his eyes and careful not to move his head to show that he was observing them. Draak secured his heavy bolter in a weapons cage, he then ascended the central stairwell and climbed in to the dorsal turret.

 

Apparently the craft had been adapted for Astartes use, according to that runt Holger. Draak chuckled at the idea of adapted, he managed to get himself strapped in to the gimballed gunnery chair and he plugged in to the auxiliary power supply. Draak traversed the turret and worked out his arcs of fire, he further talked with Eisen and the craft's machine spirit.

 

 

 

Edited December 16, 2022 by Machine God
Enlarged text

[Black Cohort]

Decimus's armoured right fist slammed over his primary heart in one of the oldest solutes known to mankind as his comrades board their shuttle craft.

 

He turns then to focus on the immediate problems.

 

"What is our insertion plan?  Are we expecting contact immediately on landing?"

[Lysimachus]

Squad Beta:

 

After watching the shuttle depart with your comrades aboard, you return to the cargo hold to await your arrival at Viorda Prime. As you enter, you see an odd sight that was not there when you left. A sizeable pile of equipment - military fatigues, flak jackets and a few mismatched, dented carapace armour plates - has been carelessly thrown in the centre of the room. Behind the heap rise a series of crude frameworks formed from welded metal rebar into a vaguely humanoid shape. There are three in total, standing in a loose semi-circle. They appear to be... armour stands...?

 

Holger appears from behind one of the large crates at the side of the hold, already half changed into what appears to be the uniform of an officer of the Segmentum Obscurus Navy Battlefleets. He grins that lopsided grin and shrugs.

 

"Well my lords, you didn't think we were going to be able to infiltrate three Astartes in full power armour into the heart of a Subsector capital world, did you? Even I'm not that good!"

 

***

 

The first part of your mission to find the Pride of Kings must be completed with a certain amount of discretion. Power armour is many things, but rarely discreet. Therefore (as some have already guessed! :lol:) you will have to make do with simpler equipment. Each of you may wear Flak Armour(4) on all Locations, but may upgrade 2 Locations of your choice with pieces of Carapace Armour(6). You may still carry the rest of your weapons and equipment without restriction... unless you feel that any of them might draw an unwarranted level of attention, and you would prefer to leave them aboard the ship?

[Ancient_Sobek]

S’ynek looks from Holger to the pile of armor on the floor. 

 

There is a hiss of pressurized gas as he unlocks the seal on his gauntlet as he begins to remove his armor. With a precision born from years of having to don and remove his own plate he deftly removes his harness and drapes it over the crude armor stand provided.

 

As the plates of ceramite covering his form are removed his pale skin shines with an unhealthy pallor beneath the dim lights of the cargo hold. His frame is leaner than the average astartes, but the coils of muscle beneath his skin hint at the strength hidden within. Some high born dilettantes would say he had the look of a dancer, but gangers in the underhive would recognize a fast and agile brawler. 
 

The wan light reveals more of the tattoo that adorns his form. Where the serpent that adorns the left side of his visage travels down his neck, coiling across his chest and shoulders before wrapping itself around his left arm. Each scale contains a glyph denoting some achievement. Surrounding the snakes are lines of sinuous text in a language you don’t recognize. 

The strange figure moves to the pile of armor and clothing strewn about the floor and begins to pick through the offerings. With a look of contempt at the tattered gear he covers his form once more. The fatigues and armor plating desperately trying to mask the shape of a trans human killer.
 

He turns his head toward Holger, the light catching the metallic gleam of his unnatural eyes. The human feels a tremor of animal fear run down his spine as S’ynek’s cold gaze bore into him.

 

From his rebreather came a dry mechanical hiss.

 

+ If we pull this off I will be impressed +

[Mazer Rackham]

Orphiel peers through the haphazard pile, letting Radago have his choice, eyeing the displaced equipment as the Astartes pulls and tries to match his body to the excessively large-sized clothes even by human standards.

 

Trying to fit Marines into this...hosiery, made about as much sense as trying to fit a host of troubadours into a small ground car.

 

It was almost laughable, and Orphiel would have allowed a chuckle, were the other Marines not there to misconstrue it.

 

+If we pull this off, I will be impressed.+

 

Radago, had he known it cleaved closer to Orphiel's heart than he knew.

 

He nodded at S'ynek's observation, his hood rustling on his helm, the opposite of the misgiving nibbling around his senses.  He would miss the protection of his armour, but not the weight it bore across his shoulders.  The war spirit was bellicose, dangerous.  It revelled in the killing, steering his hands to violence, teaching his fingers to fight.  How many blades had he turned thanks to it, how many souls sent screaming to hell with bolt shells?

 

And although it was ancient and magnificent, drawing admiration from his kin, he knew why the Master bestowed it upon him.  A great stain rested on the soul of the plate, a burden of a great betrayal.  Everywhere he went, the chisel helm and unaltered facings of his suit kept his flesh free from the doubting stares.  They couldn't help it, and he couldn't blame them.  They knew it was not he who had failed.

 

And this was the unwitting poison the insidious snake of doubt spat from Radago's mouth.

 

That was why the Master gave the armour.  The sharpest spur is the one under the saddle.

 

He began to pick up a few pieces.  He tore the liner from a carapace helmet with a dark visor.  It was not environmentally sealed, but would hide his face completely behind a black-glass mask.  The observer would see only themselves, and not the face inside.  A carapace cuirass, comprising front and back plates with a raised collar to protect the neck would also suffice.

 

It amused Orphiel that he might look more like an Arbites Ogryn than a Renegade Space Marine.  Sturdy work-overboots and gauntlets would finish the wrapping of his body in the ballistic Flak fatigues.  Grasping a haversack in which to conceal Argo, he hefted the armature over his shoulder and carried it to his cell, where he could not be observed.  His travelling robe would hide everything underneath, weapons, bulk, everything.  And provide the much desired cowl.

 

The mask is all, is it not?

 

He caught the odd stares, caring not if they misconstrued his intent as being prudish, instead, relying upon it.

 

+Pulling this off is not a problem, except in front of you,+ he grinned, and strode away to disrobe.

 

Literally.

[Lysimachus]

Holger grins again, if a little uncomfortably.

 

"Trust me, lord S'ynek, this is the easy bit. Remember what Captain Achard said? They're complacent, haven't seen real trouble in a century or more. More to the point, they haven't seen Astartes in all that time either. You're stories, myths!

 

But they have seen gene-bulked pit fighters, vat soldiers, Ogryns and half-bloods and a hundred other men who for whatever reason are bigger than your average mortal." He looks over at Orphiel's disappearing back. "My lord Orphiel's got the idea. Unless they see you in your power armour, they'll see what they expect to see. Human nature," he shrugs. "Not the first time it's worked, and in tighter run places than Viorda too."

 

***

[Ancient_Sobek]

S’ynek narrows his eyes in doubt, but holds his tongue. It was no use to discuss further. The path was set, the blade must follow its arc.

 

He turns away from the mortal and proceeds to his cell. He laid his array of weapons on the makeshift table next to his cot. He picked up each one up, inspected it, oiled and polished each blade an mechanism. Satisfied that they were prepared he adjusted his combat rig to fit the smaller size of the carapace around his torso.  Blades were hung on his webbing and secreted about his person. He missed the presence of his plate, but the familiarity of his weapons calmed his mind.

 

Satisfied that everything was in its proper place he turned at last to his power sword. It was a conundrum he hadn’t anticipated. He was loathe to part from the relic blade now that he had it back in his possession, but it’s obvious superior workmanship would clash with the worn kit that they were forced to masquerade in.

 

He pondered what he should do...

Edited September 24, 2021 by Ancient_Sobek

[Machine God]

Squad Alpha

 

Draak waited in the dorsal cockpit for one of the squad to step up and take the yoke. Draak compartmentalized his mind so that he could focus on hearing that squad decision and also talk to Eisen and conduct appraisals that had stacked up.

 

Draak spoke to Eisen ~ Yes, yes I understand my decision to requisition the recoil baffling for Grendel was wrong! I am sorry, I recognise now the superior construction techniques that the Masters of the Forge have used to forge and make you superior Noble Eisen! ~

 

Gradually the feedback from Eisen lessened and then lowered to a manageable level.

 

~ If you will please give me the threat analysis that you gathered upon my meeting with Kill-Team Cutlass, that would be appreciated. ~

 

Ah so Draak thought, going through the figures. Upon his riposte with Decimus first to draw and ready arms was Svelk, closely followed by Brynjarr and Vesalius. The Traveller had reached for his xenos blade and Odysseus had not done anything obvious. Cutlass was cohesive.

 

Oh for a proper noospheric link and a proper clade, Draak thought. No those were in the past and Draak's road was to be a long one, the life of a renegade was a tough decision. Forge links, build trust as Decimus had said by working for the team.

 

(Edit: Typo)

Edited November 22, 2021 by Machine God