Rogue Trader

by Andy Hoare

  ‘Is he recovered?’ Lucian asked.

  ‘He assures me he needs only a day’s rest, two at the most. I’m not sure what happened, but my crew are certainly unsettled by it. My provosts are on double shifts, keeping the mutinous bastards in line, but I am assured all will be well before the second jump.’

  ‘Well,’ replied Lucian, thinking as he spoke, ‘with all of the disturbance in this region, I think it’ll be some time before the entire fleet musters. Use that time well, Ebrahim.’

  It was five days before the entire fleet mustered at the lonely rendezvous point. As each had arrived, the various ships’ masters had arranged more ship-to-ship conferences. None would risk a shuttle journey to a host vessel, for the unusual disturbances afflicting the region continued. The risk of losing experienced captains so early in the crusade was unthinkable, and that of losing all of them at once for the sake of a face-to-face meeting was entirely unimaginable.

  Lucian had participated in every such conference, taking on the role of chairman with a natural authority. He far preferred the company, even if it was not face-to-face, of his fellow ships’ masters over that of the council. He considered these men and women to be his equals, while he considered many on the council to be his enemies. He listened to their reports with sympathy, for each told of some minor mishap during the first warp jump, and some of more serious incidents during the exit. None, however, suffered as serious an occurrence as their Navigator suffering convulsions during their warp exit. The thought of that still preyed on Lucian’s mind, for he appreciated how close the Ajax had actually come to being lost in the warp. He knew that the fleet had additional Navigators amongst its complement, should any such event incapacitate one of their number, but in all likelihood, a vessel whose Navigator suffered such a fate would also be lost, with all hands.

  The disappearance of his daughter was also troubling Lucian. In the aftermath of the attack on Inquisitor Grand, and the departure of the fleet, Lucian had very deliberately pushed the issue to the back of his mind. But he had spoken to Korvane of it before they had parted, and had been shocked by his son’s attitude. Korvane, it appeared, had anticipated his stepsister’s fall from grace, and had displayed an entirely dispassionate reaction to it. Lucian refused to write her off as a lost cause, however. In common with many of his standing, he felt that the mores of what passed as society in the galaxy held little sway over him and his clan. He had the curious notion that Brielle was in all likelihood pursuing her own fate, and he grudgingly admired her for doing so. She would be back, though he would certainly call her to account if her actions cost the Arcadius in any manner.

  One of the final tasks Lucian and his son had been faced with before the fleet made warp on the first leg of the crossing of the Damocles Gulf had been the issue of Brielle’s cruiser, the Fairlight. The pair had gone aboard and conferred with Brielle’s officers. Lucian had determined that the ship be turned over to Brielle’s chief of operations for the duration of her absence, making it clear to the Fairlight’s officer cadre, as well as to Korvane, that he considered that absence temporary. He had spoken with the ship’s new, acting master, a long-serving officer by the name of Blaanid, whose line had served the Arcadius since the Fall of Kreel, his great grandfather being one of the petty nobles absorbed into the Arcadius officer cadre during that period. He had shared a bottle of svort with the man, and determined he liked him, even if he could not hold his drink. He had issued Blaanid precise instructions regarding the handling of the Fairlight, making it clear that he wanted the cruiser kept well out of harm’s way unless given specific orders to the contrary. He was one child down on the dynasty already, and could ill afford to lose one third of that dynasty’s space borne assets.

  And so, on the fifth day after his arrival at the muster point, the last of the crusade’s vessels arrived. It was one of the massive, bloated troop transports, each of which carried an entire regiment of Imperial Guard and sufficient supplies to keep it fighting for years if necessary. The transport’s captain had immediately reported widespread lack of discipline amongst the troopers of the 12th Brimlock Light Infantry. General Gauge, travelling on Korvane’s vessel with his staff corps, had insisted he shuttle over to put the unrest down in person, but had been persuaded against the idea by Lucian, who had convinced the old veteran of the danger presented by the anomalous sub-space disturbances when no other ship’s master had succeeded in doing so.

  The last captains’ conference had been held, and the second rendezvous point confirmed. The fleet would travel another stretch of its journey, this jump somewhat longer than the first, the Navigators having familiarised themselves somewhat with the ebbs and flows of the warp in this region. The Oceanid was due to depart in less than an hour, and Lucian was pleased to note that all preparations were complete. He leant back in his command throne, the sudden inactivity not relaxing him, but quite the opposite. He felt an overwhelming tension, despite the years he had been about his business.

  ‘My lord,’ a voice from behind the command throne snapped Lucian from his reverie. ‘Please forgive me my intrusion.’ Lucian felt a mild irritation, for he had not noticed the arrival of anyone on his bridge. He turned to look over his shoulder, seeing that his visitor was the ship’s astropath, Karaldi.

  ‘There is no intrusion, adept. To what do I owe the pleasure?’

  The astropath shuffled forward into Lucian’s view. He was shocked at the man’s appearance. Karaldi had, in Lucian’s opinion, been burned out years ago, and he had considered petitioning the guild for a replacement when the opportunity presented itself. Somehow, that opportunity had never arrived, and against his better judgement he had come to like the old eccentric. Karaldi cared nothing for his personal appearance, which was at the very least dishevelled. His robes were dirty and tattered, his hair unkempt and his face unshaven. His eyes were empty sockets, in common with many of his calling, for the soul binding ritual that allowed him to exercise his powers safely had also blasted his senses to oblivion. The ritual, Lucian knew, blinded most astropaths, and some lost other senses too. He harboured the suspicion that Karaldi had lost his olfactory senses, either that, or he really did not care how bad he smelt.

  ‘My lord’, the astropath said, bowing deeply to his master, ‘I have communed with my peers, though only with great difficulty.’

  ‘Explain,’ Lucian replied, unsure of Karaldi’s meaning, but suspecting he had some idea.

  ‘There is something wrong here, my lord. I cannot explain it.’

  ‘You are not the only one to believe that to be the case, adept. The Navigators describe the warp hereabouts in similar terms, and even I feel ill at ease. What of the astropaths?’

  ‘We commune, but in doing so we hear not only the minds of our peers, but of others, or echoes of others. Forgive me, for I cannot easily describe the sensation to a…’

  ‘Try. You cause no offence. I am master of this vessel and warden of countless souls. If I need to understand, please aid me in doing so.’

  ‘Our minds, my lord, when we join in astropathic communion, we become entranced, distracted, as if called away from afar. It’s as if our song, our astropathic choir, is subtly, but sweetly, corrupted. A note, a timbre, not of any astropath, joins our song, interweaving with our minds. It is so sweet that none will reject it, though we know we should sever the communion at the slightest outside interference.

  Lucian’s blood ran cold at the astropath’s words. If Karaldi was telling him that some entity was working its way into the minds of the astropaths…

  ‘Oh no, my lord! Never that!’ Karaldi blurted, evidently having picked up on Lucian’s surface thoughts. Lucian let it go, for now.

  ‘I thank you,’ Karaldi continued, his face a mask of tension. ‘No, my lord, it is not some dark thing from the immaterium that whispers to the astropath. It is of this universe, of this place.’ Karaldi gestured around him, suggesting that the phenomenon h
e described was specific to this region, to the Damocles Gulf.

  ‘If that is so,’ Lucian probed, ‘can you ascribe a source?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking, yes, my lord,’ the astropath said, wringing his gnarled hands together, clearly uncomfortable, though determined to convey his concerns. ‘It is all around us, in the ether, in the warp, in the weave of space itself. But it emanates from somewhere within the Gulf, of that we are certain.’

  ‘So, the… effect… is likely to increase the deeper the fleet penetrates the gulf?’

  ‘Most certainly, my lord.’

  ‘And your ability to communicate with the other astropaths?’

  ‘Oh, my lord,’ Karaldi said, his face taking on a pained expression, his hollow eye sockets yawning gulfs beneath his creased brow. ‘The note is so sweet, I fear our song might never sound the same without it.’

  Lucian saw what his astropath was really trying to tell him. Though the ways of the psyker were foreign to him, they were not downright alien as they were to most men. ‘You are telling me that to commune with your peers is to court disaster. Am I correct?’

  ‘You are, master.’ Lucian saw relief upon the astropath’s distorted face.

  ‘And have you shared these fears with the other astropaths?’

  ‘Not openly, my lord, though I believe we all share an understanding of the nature of the disturbance. Some of my peers know that to commune is dangerous, but cannot help but do so. Others, I sense, long for the crossing to continue, so that they might close with the source. They crave it, my lord, yet know it might harm them.’

  ‘I see,’ Lucian said as he leant back in the command throne, thinking. ‘I shall signal the fleet that astropathic communications should be kept to a minimum, unless absolutely vital. With luck, the effect will be limited to the Gulf. If not, we’ll find ourselves with no long-range communications and at war with an alien empire. That would not do. Thank you Adept Karaldi, you have served well.’

  The astropath bowed deeply, his expression suddenly one of gratitude as opposed to the tension he had displayed on his arrival. Lucian sighed deeply and considered what Karaldi had told him. Something called to the astropaths as they communicated, adding its psychic signal to their own, even as the Navigators reported disturbances within the warp, ships, crews were restive and sub-space was riven with abnormal and unidentifiable fields. Furthermore, the astropaths in some way craved the interference, perhaps being drawn by its call.

  ‘Comms, open a channel to the flagship.’ He would at least ensure that the other ships’ masters were aware of the threat, even if it transpired there was very little they could do to avert any impending disaster.

  Chapter Seven

  ‘All stop!’ Lucian called. ‘Mains to idle. Station keeping please, Mister Raldi.’

  The Oceanid gradually slowed to a standstill. Lucian stood from the command throne and crossed to the forward observation port. A bass growl passed through the vessel as the retro thrusters at the vessel’s prow coughed to life, the deck plates vibrating with the titanic forces at play. Lucian caught the signs of discord within the familiar tones, and he knew that drive number three was grumbling again. Perhaps once this was all over, he mused, he would be able to put the Oceanid into space dock for the renovation that was so long overdue.

  His mind curiously distracted, Lucian scanned the view from the armoured port. Out here, in deep space, there were few stars, the blackness of the void immaculate. Yet he knew that the stillness was deceiving, for the region seethed with anomalous forces. Ahead, Lucian could just discern the faintest smudge of lurid turquoise, the dense stellar cluster within which, if all went according to plan, the crusade would encounter the alien empire of the tau.

  ‘Astrographics,’ Lucian said, turning to the officer at station ten, ‘give me local.’

  The holograph projector powered up, its subsonic hum deepening beyond audible levels as the green, static laced representation of local space appeared above it. Lucian walked up to the three-dimensional projection slowly turning in the space before him, seeing the Oceanid‘s icon at the dead centre. Once again, slowly undulating tendrils waved across the sphere, invisible to human eyes, but all too apparent to his vessel’s augurs.

  Lucian scanned the projection for the other vessels of the crusade fleet. He found none.

  ‘Increase scan range. Boost gain,’ he ordered. The projection shifted as the sensors quested further outwards, Lucian seeking what he expected to see at any moment.

  ‘Nothing, my lord,’ said the officer sitting at the astrographics station. ‘We must be the first vessel to arrive on station.’

  ‘Yes,’ responded Lucian, thinking that he would have bet on that not having been the case. ‘Increase scan range. Bleed secondary feeds into the main arrays.’

  ‘Aye, sir,’ the officer replied, his hands working the many dials and slides clustered upon his console. Lucian watched with growing impatience as three, non-critical functions were almost entirely stripped of power to boost the augurs as they scanned the local region. The three-dimensional holographic map now displayed a region several hundred thousand kilometres across, though great swathes of it were left blank as the Oceanid’s mighty augur banks were pushed further and further out.

  The astrographics officer turned to address his master. ‘I don’t think we’re going to…’

  ‘There!’ Lucian said. He walked around the globe of light, and pointed to a dimly glowing sensor return right at its edge. ‘Full power on these coordinates.’

  The officer worked his console once more, and three quarters of the holographic projection lapsed into an indistinct blur as power was bled from three arrays and shunted into the remaining one. The quadrant grew in relative size as the augurs scanned it, the return becoming more distinct all the while. Reams of text scrolled next to the icon representing the return, the Oceanid’s logister banks analysing its nature, comparing it to stored data.

  ‘It’s the Ajax, my lord,’ The astrographics officer called, ‘and there’s something…’

  ‘I see it,’ Lucian replied. ‘Boost output to maximum.’

  Once more, the projection zeroed in on a single region, the return that was the Ajax shifting to the centre of the globe whilst the region beyond her became the object of the augur’s attentions. A second return resolved itself, but Lucian could see, had already guessed, that this was no starship.

  ‘It looks like some kind of stellar body, my lord,’ said the officer, his eyes fixed on the data wildly scrolling across his pict screens. ‘And I’m picking up what must be false returns too, either that or there’re a whole lot of dead vessels out there. It’s as if there’re a hundred other ships out there one moment, and none the next.’

  Lucian’s mind reeled. He dismissed the false returns, but the chances of encountering a stellar body, light years from any star, were so remote it was simply not worth calculating.

  ‘Something’s not right here,’ Lucian said under his breath.

  ‘Sir?’ the astrographics officer said, unsure whether Lucian addressed him or muttered to himself. Lucian got a grip on himself.

  ‘Helm, set course for the Ajax, but keep it steady and be ready for a change of orders.’

  ‘Aye, sir,’ the helmsman replied, working the Oceanid’s great wheel as he brought the vessel round on her new heading.

  ‘Comms,’ Lucian said, addressing the servitor at station three. ‘Hail the Ajax. Bridge,’ Lucian continued, addressing all of his officers as one, ‘I want every one of you to keep a weather eye out. Comms, where’s that channel?’

  The bridge was filled with the sound of the open channel to the Ajax. Only static came back.

  As the Oceanid had closed on the Ajax, Lucian had listened intently for any sign of a response to the continuing hailing signal. He had ordered the channel to be kept open, and endured the wailing and static lest he mi
ss the smallest hint that the Ajax was alive. He had no reason to suspect anything more serious than a disabled transmitter, but somehow, he knew that would not be the case.

  Lucian stood at the forward viewing port, leaning against the brass bulkhead. The Ajax would come into view any moment.

  ‘Range?’ Lucian asked, not taking his eyes from the view before him.

  Silence.

  He turned his head towards his helmsman.

  ‘Range to target, Mister Raldi, now.’

  The helmsman turned slowly to face Lucian, his eyes unfocused as if the man had drifted off into a waking dream.

  ‘Helm!’ Lucian bellowed, his patience growing thin. This region was playing havoc with his and everyone else’s nerves, affecting each man differently.

  ‘Sir,’ Helmsman Raldi replied, his eyes clearing as his attention was forced back to the here and now. ‘Please sir, I’m… I’m sorry. Range? Um… three kilometres, sir.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Lucian replied, his irritation subsiding as fast as it had appeared. ‘Check your readings, Raldi. I have no visual.’

  Lucian watched for a moment as the helmsman adjusted myriad dials and knobs around the helm, turning his attention back to the view outside. This far from a star, visual ranges were extremely short, but a capital vessel was generally lit up like a…

  ‘All stop!’ Lucian bellowed.

  Raldi heaved on the mighty lever beside the helm, bracing his legs for a better purchase on the steel deck. Lucian felt the Oceanid’s main drives die as their titanic output was routed through emergency vents in their flanks. The force of that alone squeezed the drives in towards each other, causing the vessel’s vast metal skeleton to shriek in sudden anguish. An instant later and the banks of retro thrusters at the Oceanid’s prow coughed into life, their force forestalling the vessel’s forward motion with a titanic juddering.

  Fighting to remain upright, Lucian called, ‘Bow arcs, full beam ahead.’