Chapter 1: Just Another Day
"Ladar sweeps complete captain, nothing on screen...as usual" Parvik said looking at his monitor, the only blip present, as always, was the Belchick.
"Good news then, keep up the scans" captain Rallus said looking from behind his command dais. "We'll make several more passes before we move to Gendara"
Week seven into their ten week rotation on the frontier and the most interesting find their small frigate had come across was an errant asteroid possibly on collision course for an uninhabited moon. Patrolling the frontier may sound like a life of adventure until one realized how large space was. While the odd patrol occasionally found something the waves of explorers before had missed, more often than not, it was just following the already blazed trails to make sure no one set up a drug lab behind it. A septuple star system was the only really interesting things to be found in the Arakanian Plateau. The border between Citadel space and the Terminus was not on the top of anyone's list when it came to colonization, except for maybe the humans. Frigates like the Belchick mostly made cursory probes around the numerous stars to make sure nothing too illicit was going on. If it was the rare pirate fleet, slaver base or something else that a military grade frigate couldn't handle, it was just one jump back to the comm buoy at the relay, and one of the outer patrol fleets could come streaming in.
Parvik was glad for the dull assignment. In truth he knew better than to wish for some excitement, he'd seen enough vids to know that doing that would just tempt fate, and likely invite some kind of doom that neither he nor his ship would survive. No, better to keep praying to the spirits for drudgery, another year and he'd be done with his mandatory service. An uninteresting career in uninteresting space. Dull, but at least he'd be alive.
The captain he knew felt the same way. He was a lifer, true, but unlike the common human imagination of Turians, he wasn't some jumped up hot head looking to prove himself or get in good with command like that one idiot had several years ago when he decided to make some human ships target practice. Rallus was steady, more than willing to put in the time with these patrols, knowing that each one without incident meant his crew got to go home happy and alive, and a few young ones got to finish their service and be done with fleet life. Sure he painted his face like any other captain would be expected to, giving that air of command, aloofness and discipline, but he'd known when to let enough things slide to get a reasonably enthusiastic and competent crew. On small ships like theirs, it was all they needed.
Parvik daydreamed for a moment about visiting some friends on Palavan before activating the next sweep. The loud buzz shook him out of it though, looking on screen there was a massive energy signature that hadn't been there just moments earlier. Initial numbers came in putting the new contact in the "oh shit" category. The captain was already at station and calmly issuing his orders as the reports came. The drive core spun up to top speed and Parvik felt the small changes in gravity as acceleration kicked into high gear.
"Any other signatures?" the captain asked
"Negative sir. Too much background, we'll need to get closer"
He nodded and typed out the commands on his omni-tool. Ahead, Parvik knew the pilots were receiving the text commands and making the course alterations. If they followed normal protocol, they'd come up, get a few pics of whatever was out there and drive like hell back to the relay. Anything that made a readout that size would be squarely in the "too big for a frigate to handle" category. Struggling at his own controls, he used LADAR, thermals, EM's, anything to try and get a better picture of whatever was out there.
"Getting some readings...It's pretty big captain...can't be right, its saying its three and a half klicks long. Rescanning….still reporting that length."
"Is it a space station?" the captain asked looking at his own displays as Parvik forwarded the information. As the Ladar finally got a better outline of...whatever it was, he responded "Negative captain, there seems to be thrust modules on the back, that thing's a ship." Squinting at his display he added "ugly ass one too" He knew Rallaus wouldn't mind the salt in his worlds, if anything the captain nodded in agreement as he looked at the image.
The "ship" looked like three and half klicks of scrap metal, odd ends were jutting out of its signature and it looked like radiation leaks were all around its hull. the thing was a wreck, though if it was from battle, age, or something else he couldn't tell. A beep alerted him.
"More signatures, looks like several more ships out there, ranging from half a klick to three point two" he reported. He tried to find if they matched any ship in the registry, only mega freighters and dreadnoughts matched anywhere close to those sizes. The terminal drew a blank just like him.
"Okay let's turn this ship around!" the captain said as he typed out the confirmation to the helm. "We'll get back an…"
"Comms message sir" the communications officer whose name Parvik always forgot said, "Coming over general comms"
A thick guttural voice came from the ship. Mixed with grunts, the deepness of it was disconcerting, as they struggled to listen the voice finished with a loud roar. All Parvik understood was the loud thunderous roar, which echoed through his headset.
"WAAGGH!"
As the roar echoed through his comms, the Belchick shook violently and Parvik felt his head slam forward before he blacked out...
Begin Journal
From the hand of Captain Josiah Patternock Merriweather von Helvik
The past few days have been a strange convergence of events that quite frankly would strain the credulity of all but the most ardent and steadfast listeners, yet nevertheless, I feel obligated record my thoughts about said events as they occur.[1]
My name is Captain Josiah Patternock Merriweather von Helvik[2], gallant and steadfast (of my own personal assessment of character anyhow) Rogue Trader in service to our most glorious Emperor and unfortunate victim of the horrid nature of the inscrutable Immaterium.[3]
Less than one hour ago (according to our chronos)[4] my ship The Legitimate Business Acquisition along with my attendant fleet was locked in mortal combat with a fleet of Ork warships under the command of one Kaptain Bludchoppa, a notorious freeboota who plied his most vicious trade along the few secure warp routes in the Itano sector.
As a policy I try and shy away from fleet engagements when at all possible. Each macrocannon shell expended and each hit scored against my ships means more thrones out of my family's vaults, to say nothing of all the extra promethium and other volatiles burned. When all's said and done it's much easier to have spent a small fortune in bribes to ensure a medium sized fortune isn't expended on basic maintenance, repair and resupply. To say nothing of the avoidance of the tedious speeches necessary to boost morale following the typical burial rituals and rites of afterlife such battles produce.
But anyhow…
We were preparing to depart the forge world Beypore at the time. I had opted to take most of the family fleet not already assigned to guard duty elsewhere protecting our interests or otherwise tied up in various drudgery that's needed to ensure the flow of thrones to our coffers. Not only would this help to significantly increase the bulk of our transportation, but it would also provide an adequate number of guard ships for our cargo. After generations of wrangling with the various Magoses and Beypore's erstwhile Fabricator Generals who rose and fell to office like a predictable pendulum, I had finally managed to secure the last of the equipment needed to fortify my family's prize in the sector.
Helvik's Prize orbits a large gas giant in the further reaches of the Itano Sector. Discovered nearly twelve generations ago by one of my great great, great, great, great, great, great grandfathers (I believe it was Barnab or Mikiael) the planet is one of a quartet of large moons, each roughly the size of holy Terra herself. Surrounding the gas giant they orbit is an asteroid thicket rich in Adamatium, and volatiles useful for starship fuel and other combustibles which keep the Imperium running. All in all its one of the richest systems found in in the history of exploration of the Itano sector.
A more short sighted individual would have seen the value in a quick strip-mining operation, requisition the population of a penal world or two, drop them on the rocks, demand a quota of minerals in exchange for oxygen, excreta, excreta , excreta and a couple generations later you'd have gotten a decent fortune before the inevitable toll of mining, space, mutiny and mutation would bring an end to the endeavor.[5] My erstwhile relative instead consolidated on the largest moon, and used long cultivated ties with the Administratum, Mechanicus and Emperor knows who else to began the foundation of an industrial colony. While a pale imitation of even the most impoverished of forge worlds, nevertheless our planet has grown to become something of a point of pride in Itano. My family controls the hab spires, the denizens of the planet, their thrones (with occasional tithes of men and equipment to the Administratum naturally), and the smaller factories that come with hab spires to manufacture the necessities that keep an orderly hive and maintain a healthy trade balance.[6] Meanwhile our allies in the Mechanicus control small isolated embassies scattered across the world and its spires. These manufactorum make larger weapons, gear, necessities needed for the continuation of the Imperium's multitude of war efforts across the Segmentum Tempestus. My family supplies the space, the minerals and the manpower[7] needed to keep everything going, and in return the AdMech is kind enough to "gift" us .5% of the total production of their forges on Helvik's Pride.[8]
I write all this not to boast, but to state simply that what I'd arraigned with the Mechanicus was quite possibly going to be the crux of a new wave of unprecedented wealth for my family. I'd convinced the Fabricator General of Beypore to create a modest manufactorum dedicated to the production of planetary defense lasers on Helvik's Pride. With a 2% yield going to my family (on top of the promise to first furnish Helvik's Pride with defenses), the export market for large scale las weaponry, especially in such a volatile sector was going to allow us to make unprecedented levels of thrones. I'd spent several years preparing the planet for the manufactorum's arrival. Large mining machines were acquired to increase metal output, new crops of workers were "convinced" to settle in the hab spires[9] and our final transport of the factory components, along with accompanying Admech personnel was the reason for my assembled convoy. This was on top of the grease palming, assurances, favors done and called in with various Administratum personnel to ensure that such a deal would be sanctioned and I wouldn't have to deal with an Imperial Fleeting coming to know where their tithes were. All the pieces were in place.
So of course, things went off the rails.
An Inquisitor by the name of Ermelanth piloted a gun cutter to my ship and messaged my astropath, demanding a meeting. Now as a good citizen of the Imperium I was more than happy to oblige, but as a Rogue Trader I cringed. I'd had dealings with the Emperor's daggers before and none of them ended pleasantly, my last earning me the bionic eye I now wear. But I bared my teeth and welcomed Ermlanth aboard my ship. The Inquisitor was a scrawny middle aged man accompanied by a half dozen retainers, though I only remember the almost Ogyen sized stormtrooper accompanying him and the small rotund woman in purple robes whom I'm sure was the psyker.[10] Ermelanth in turn feigned the niceties expected of an agent of the Inquisition meeting with a high ranking social better, which is it say a power maul would have been more subtle and graceful than that man. He gallingly demanded that my fleet make for the opposite direction of our planned journey and head towards a septuple of stars near the Naraka Anomaly[11], claiming that a rise in greenskin activity necessitated immediate action. Worse, he said ALL ships were needed, so my transports, small escorts and even the Heculiean[12] and Ricanteu[13] were to come as well. While the Acquisition and several of our ships were indeed quite capable of warfare, our transports were not, and despite my pleading and admonishments, the Inquisitor would not budge. Even with prodding from the Mechanicus (who were none too pleased to send their manufactorum components into battle) we had to plug our course and fly to what I thought would be certain doom.
The journey there could fill pages of journal entries alone. For the abridged version, I attended the beatification of another shipboard saint in the Cathedral of Saint von Helvik[14] and had to diffuse a theological crisis. I then officiated a wedding between two warring members of the Reactor Clans and had to navigate the traitorous courtly intrigue that always follows our reactor attendants. Finally one of the murder servitors got loose and rampaged through deck AA-12 before vanishing into the vents. Finding it is still on the to-do list.
Ermelanth and his people remained in their gun cutter for most of the voyage, sending only the rotund psyker out on occasion to send messages to me in person, rather than having her contact my astropaths like the proper channels and decorum demands! For nearly two weeks I put up with this torturous lack of manners! I thought my days couldn't get any worse.
Then we arrived in system.
The anomaly itself was some distance away, around it, purple eddies of energy swirled and sparked, despite us being in space. I felt a shiver go down my spine upon seeing it. All the activity seemed to indicate the anomaly was in an active phase, which meant a greater possibility of warp complications. I'm not one to shy away from duty and devotion, but even the most stern of men would face concerns and fears when looking to the hellish nether region of space. Trailing the anomaly was the long trail of dead ships and rocks, and surrounding them was one of the largest Freeboota fleets I'd ever lain eyes on. Dozens of ramshackle brown and grey craft lumbering around the void, spewing green and yellow trails of exhaust and Emperor knows what else behind their ships. What was alarming though was the number of ships following the Train of Condemnation. It would appear the kunning[15] Orks were picking through the myriad of ships, scraping what they found useful and putting aboard their own ships, while making crude repairs and random bits of orkification to ships they seemed to want to add to their fleet[16]. Already apart from the Roks,they'd converted three large ships with more bearing signs or being in the orkification process.
"Kaptain Bludchoppa" Ermlanth said sneaking up on me in my bridge. How he'd done so I know not, but he was their with his little coterie. "He's camping out along the anomaly, building his strength. At the rate he's going, our estimates indicate he'll be capable of launching his own WAARGH through the sector in less than five years. A Freeboota with that many ships would attract many to his cause". While the uncouth Inquisitor had ruffled my feathers on many occasions,[17] he was right, a WAAGH would be bad enough for the sector, but one so mobile would be far worst. I'd seen the destruction rained by Kaptain Shootkilla and the infamous Warboss Barrlogutz. My family had lost several holdings to those particular WAARGHS. I knew at once this greenskin needed to be put in his place.
Without hesitating, I raised a shipboard vox "Prepare the Litanies of Purgnation!"[18] I ordered as a klaxon brought the Acquisition to life. Below, I was certain crews were running to their stations, families going to their ancestral assembly and defense points, gun crews attending to the guns their fathers and fathers before had serviced, ready to hoist and haul the mighty macrocannon rounds for our broadsides. In the rear of the ship though, the Litanies were being prepared, Magos Brith and his inner circle would be beginning the rituals and incantations to unleash the Acquisitions nova cannon. Holding only a handful of shots, each gargantuan shell was individually blessed as its volatiles were inspected and cleared, with the ship's machine spirit entering a communion with the tech priests to ensure a bountiful launch. Over the vox I heard the Magos and his handpicked men and women performing the incantation. I closed my eyes and imagines being there, watching as they affixed parchments of prayers with sacred wax seals, the final prayers and release as the shell completed its journey from deep vault storage to launch housing. Almost half an hour passed as I heard the last cant of "Omnissiah guide our hand, zero zero zero one one one zero one, protocol up-link 3 activated zero zero one one, Omnissiah protect, Omnissiah cache data, Omnissiah calculate checksum. Praise the machine spirits". A green light shined in the bridge, the cannon was ready.
The Aquisition dimmed for several minutes as the ship's plasma reactor built sufficient charge, the machine spirits exerting herculean effort to manage the power balance as a massive electrical charge built. As red sensor lights began to go off, the ship shook as the nova cannon fired.
I watched on the monitors as the shell crossed the void, plowing towards the ork ships. Surprisingly, they hadn't moved to engage us, either unaware we were there, apathetic, or more likely arguing over who got lead the charge. After several minutes the shell burst near the center of the their force. A perfect hit, the Emperor smiled on us that day! The feed showed several ork ships broken by the explosion, while at least three were heavily damaged, the gargantuan ship still moved, though it was venting atmosphere. Screen capture showed many greenskins pulled into the void.
All of the sudden we received a hail on our vox, answering , I heard the yells of what I could only assume to be the Ork Kaptain of the freebootas
"Oie ya gitz. Ya scratched my kroozer up. I'll krump ya good I will! Ya hearz me, zoged, all of yas!" After that, the ork ships began scream towards my modest fleet.
Now while each of my ships could fight with the ferocity of ten of the Emperor's finest battleships, the unfortunate reality was that even with such bravery, our ships were outnumbered by at least a four to one, and not all my ships were front line fighters. I steeled myself for a vicious fight, fighters were prepared in their launch bays and macrocannons stood ready. Arch-Bishop Vilma was voxxing prayers and incantations to boost morale and put the strength of the emperor in all my people. Captain Caraphan and her armsmen stood by ready to repel the boarders who were sure to come.
The orks opted to cross our T so we got three salvos in. The ship vibrating familiarly as the hail of heavy shells crossed space and slammed into the ork ships. We'd just destroyed a smaller kroozer when the Anomaly exploded. Not literally, but the energies fanned out, we were unprepared for this and hadn't had our Gellar fields raised. I won't lie, I feared the worst, and worried I was doomed to spend an eternity in the Warp suffering all kinds of horrific maladies and worst.[19] The ship rattled and shook and the energy washed over us and I felt us pulled in a million and a half directions, not even in the worst throes of combat had the Acquisition shook. My third favorite crystal chandelier fell off its housing and crushed one of the precious bridge servitors and two other crew members. After what felt like an eternity, the shaking stopped and I found myself looking out into a calm area of space, my fleet still close by, but the orks long gone.
In their place was a strange xeno artifact. A silver fork shaped device with a gyroscope like construct housed in its rear. More investigations will follow.
But anyways, I retire for my daily micro nap. Once I'm refreshed I'll hope to learn more from my crew about the situation.
More importantly though, what price could I fetch for this strange device?
…
"Uh…Kaptin?"
"Wot?!"
"Wes uh,, seem to 'ave lost dem 'umies dat scratched ya kroozer."
"Wot?! 'Ows dat possble like? Da 'umies er 'ust dere!?
"Dunno Kaptin, dis seems like a whole uvva place dis is."
"Da loot?! Ah zog, da lootz all gone too?!
"Kapin! Sumthin on the screen! Sum kinda ship loks like!"
An angular, almost eagle shaped ship moved through space, quickly, but with a kind of rapid closing of the distance that Kaptain Bludchoppa could see as someone trying to say "Oie, stay back or I smash yas in!" It was tiny, hardly the size on of their roks, but with their train of wrecks gone, it'd have to do."
Grinning a toofy smile, he opened a vox.
"Oi! Datz a fancy ship ya gotz dere! I finkz I'll take it! Roll out da Big Zappa boyz!"
Deep in the bowls of the Blud Choppa's Choppa, a number of scavenged powercells and generators fired up as their attendant meks ran from station to station, some let vents spew radioactive yellow clouds of gas and other refuse to keep the system engaged, while others smacked pipes, tubes and housings to get everything to work properly. On the ship's bow, several large scrap metal barrels whirled around and aimed for a single spot in space. A powerful charge built in their rusted out capacitors, and as electricity cracked and lashed out, frying unfortunate snotlings too close to the array, the waship began to rattle as the build of of energy began to shake it. The Kaptain and his boyz eagerly jumped up and down. Suddenly, the barrels discharged, and a massive beam of light fired into space. With a single voice, the whole crew let lose with a massive warcry of "WAAAGGH!" followed the beam as it bored through the unfortunate Turian frigate.
[1] And I dictate to my autoquill to make note of random anecdotes and various family history bits and banalities, all to be located at the bottom of each page, least my resplendent words be broken in their flow by long parentheses. Grandmother said my prose and grammar were too purple and superfluous.
[2] The 7ths or 9th, Josiah Patternock Merriweather von Helvik the sixth vanished sometime in M39 following a merry chase across the Segmentum Pacificus, and his "twin" named the same turned up a year later.
[3] And that damned Inquisitor didn't help things either. Wait no! Don't write tha…Damnable quill!
[4] I personally have no inclination of its synchronization with the local systems we currently find ourselves in. Also I apologize to any future reader of my logs, but yes we are in a vastly different place. I'd change things, but I can't get this quill to delete things!
[5]Or in the case of my Aunt Guinevere, end up thee kilometers deep in a hollowed comet and flung at the sun.
[6] Algae scrap rations, recycled water, lasguns, amasec, medical supplies, lasguns, bars of adamatium, small novelty figures on my family members, lasguns, #4 model servos, plasteel, ceramite and lasguns.
[7]Servitor-applicants
[8]To the uninformed this seems criminally low, but bear in mind the sheer quantity of goods made in a dedicated forge numbers in astronomically high numbers, so even the miniscule amounts we manage to extract still are quite high. Comfortably we can afford to furnish several world's worth of PDC's with Leman Russ Tanks each year. By the third year of our "Wolf Run" trade routes, my branch of the family had doubled its fortune. Turns out there is a high demand for off the record main battle tanks.
[9]Nine to a room is more than enough space.
[10] The blindfold and staff didn't do much to dissuade me of that opinion.
[11] A weakening of the material world and the vile twisted Immaterium, the Naraka Anomaly is a semi-permanent warp rift that periodically tears open and spills warp storms and foul daemons into Itano Sector. Several gravity wells form spontaneously around the purple field, filled with the broken chucks of planets and the remains of thousands of ships taken when the rift opens and pulls. Because of this, this long train of broken planets, dead ships and enslaved asteroids known as the Train of Condemnation. My magos, Brith says that some theorize the Train will slowly coalesce and form into a kind of super space hulk, imbued with an eldritch intelligence and insatiable hunger for life and will ply the stars once it achieves enough mass.
[12] A Goliath Factory Ship, wrestled from Space Hulk Wandering Judgement in M38 by Leandra von Helvik
[13] A Viper Class Scout Sloop, gifted to one of my grandfathers in M37 for service rendered in the "matters of political delicacies needed to maintain a harmonious Imperium".
[14]No relation.
[15] To use the crude Orkish terminology.
[16]Surprisingly though, most of the converted ships and debris in the field were asteroids, turned into Roks.
[17]What kind of man drinks amasec out of a plastic flask, seriously?!
[18]My second favorite litany, right after the Litany of Prosperity.
[19] A fate forced upon my half brother twice removed Bruce. May the Emperor's light find him on that festering Nurgalite world.
A/N Welcome to A Thundering of Profits, the story of a Rogue Trader Fleet, Ork Kaptain and the freak warpstrom that changed a galaxy. I love Mass Effect and 40K and I'm a sucker for a good alternate first contact story so I finally decided to write one my self.
I wanted to (at least try) something different though, rather than going with space marines or an odd sector force, Eldar or guardsmen, I went with the two groups that are always good for an adventure and not much for letting anyone, xeno or human (because this is first contact for the humans in the ME galaxy too), get in the way of their love of fighting and profit, Orks and a Rogue Trader. For those unfamiliar with the latter, a Rogue Trader is in essence a private individual empowered by the Imperium to go beyond it's borders to explore, meet and trade with/conquered/enslave/ and or exterminate xenos they meet. Owners of vast wealth and influence, these men and women care can hold a number of views and beliefs (from aliens are great, lets trade, to die xeno scum), but all are driven by the brutal quest for profit and power. For those curious about the Traders, this AAR of a 40K RPG is a wonderful introduction. When I say Von Helvik has a fleet and a planet with ties to the Mechanicus and other high officials in power, that's something common Rogue Traders enjoy. Josiah Von Helvik would probably be a mid tiered Rogue Trader when compared to other established families.
Despite the general HFY nature of the 40K universe, I'm hoping to keep this fic grounded in the realistic ME universe seeing the horrors of the 40k universe on hand.
Anyways I hope you all enjoy, I also post this story on Spacebattles, though my versions may be a bit rougher.