Chapter 6: Meanwhile, in Space
"Attention!"
Trooper Osmaer clicked his heels and puffed his chest as the Captain bellowed. Fifty men from each platoon had been chosen to accompany Captain Ryyker on his diplomatic mission. Osmaer had been assigned as a bodyguard to the Mechanicum adept who was accompanying them. An honour, to be sure, but the adept was unnerving. Despite being the most human looking of all of the ones Osmaer had seen, his behaviour and mannerisms indicated that he viewed Osmaer and his fellows as little more than test subjects. But Osmaer kept his mouth shut. He was a good soldier, and he hadn't come this far by causing problems. Ryyken had continued speaking, after a short silence for effect.
"In seventeen hours, we will descend upon this planet. It has never encountered the imperium. The population may be unaccustomed to us. Thus, I expect every man and woman to be on their best behaviour. You have been chosen not just for the non-severe nature of your wounds, but also discipline reports from Commissar Guamata. There will be no brawls. No accusations of heresy. If you put one toe out of line, you will be facing severe punishment. Do I make myself clear!?"
The five hundred men and women of the Caracallan 167th made the Aquila and shouted back.
"Sir, yes, sir!", their voices booming in the hall they were being briefed in. Ryyken nodded, and Osmaer tried not to notice how aged the man looked since he had last seen him.
"In addition to you all, there will be several other parties representing the Imperium. Adept Jeshuas from the Magos Biologis, and Enginseer Elagabulus from our sister regiment will be joining us too. Private Osmaer has been assigned bodyguard duty for Jeshuas, and Private Everith has been assigned bodyguard for Elagabulus"
Ryyken had a sheet of paper, which he read off the next list of names.
"Deck officer Augustine and his team will be joining us as a navy adjutant, and will be at the forefront of most negotiations as well. Father Ollm will be joining us, so as to judge the faith of the planet."
Ryyken's face twisted, and Osmaer knew the next news would not be pleasant.
"Sanctioned Psyker Maru and her handler will be joining us as well."
As expected, a displeased chatter emerged. Osmaer joined in, turning to the man next to him.
"We're bringing that witch along with us?" He said, disgust dripping from his tone. The trooper said nothing, and shook his head in disbelief. Ryyken allowed the chatter to flow for a second, then clapped into the microphone, and the noise quietened the hubbub.
"I understand your feelings toward… them. I cannot say that I don't share them. But these are my orders, and thus are yours too."
That seemed to quiet everyone. Ryyken looked around for a moment, then cleared his throat and continued.
"In addition, Adept Furlucus of the Administratum will be joining us, as well as her team. They will be assessing the economic status of the planet, and other such things I will not bore you with. They are to be obeyed. If they tell you to jump, you jump. Don't interfere with their operations, and they won't interfere with your pay." He looked at his list and nodded. "That is all. You know your duty. Let us make bringing this planet into the folds an easy task, eh?"
The men murmured assent. Ryyken nodded once more, and made the Aquila.
"That is all, troops. Dismissed."
"Uhhh… are you Jeshuas?"
Osmaer had been instructed to the Adept's quarters soon after the crowd had dispersed. The mechanicum man had his own room, near the hydroponics sector. Osmaer knew little of their order, and was wondering why they had chosen such a location. Until he entered the man's room.
The walls were covered with diagrams, charts, statistics in a language Osmaer could not comprehend. Finely sketched drawings of dissected xenos littered the floor, discarded as if they were imperfect. A small tank of water that made Osmaer feel a twinge of homesickness was fixed to the wall, strange aquatic creatures swimming in them. A large pen had been affixed the the floor, but was empty. Remains of animals were oozing on a surgical table nearby, and Osmaer could guess what had happened to the previous inhabitants of the pen. Jeshuas himself was frantically piling up notes and containers of fluid marked as "Bio-Preservative", and once seeing Osmaer sighed in relief.
"Ahh, there you are. Listen, I need these files packed before we depart. Could you do that?"
Osmaer stood in stunned silence as the Techpriest shoved a box of papers into his arms, before scurrying off to another corner of the room. Upon finding his voice, he said:
"Um.. where should I put them?"
"Containers! Boxes, crates, military grade transport equipment, what do I care? Just get it in something, and mark it as mine. Make sure it gets loaded, too! I can't let any of my relevant notes stay here! Do you understand, fodder?"
Osmaer was at a loss for words when the Techpriest spoke again, frustrated.
"Listen! You need to get these-" he stacked another heavy box on top of the first, and Osmaer felt his arms strain. "-to the transport ship marked Quercus II. That is the one we will be using to go planetside. Do you understand?"
"Don't you have servitors for this sort of thing?" Osmaer asked, looking for a barrow or a similar tool. The Techpriest cackled, before heaving a large tube over their shoulder.
"Servitors! Servitors are for men with authority, with power and connections. I do this all myself!"
"Can you at least show me where the ship is?" Osmaer asked, before the Techpriest walked past him into the hallway.
"Follow me! We have little time!"
"Great." Osmaer thought as he plodded along. "I'm stuck with the fishhead."
"That everything?" Osmaer asked, sweating profusely as the last crate was taken away by menials. Jeshuas stood in silence before nodding.
"Yes. Yes! That's everything I need. Preservatives, notes, dataslates. Yes, yes, yes. Tools, yes. Samples, yes. Fodder? I think that is everything."
"My name is Osmaer." Osmaer grumbled, and the Techpriest shrugged.
"Os-may-er. Strange name, but if it improves your mood then I shall call you that. A healthy relationship is required for this mission to be successful. Yes?"
"Now you're getting it. Remember to be polite to the people on the planet."
"I shall maintain cordiality with them." And Osmaer took that as an agreement.
"Good. Last thing we want is for you to be reduced to scrap."
The Techpriest said something, but there was a sharp noise over the PA system, and he fell silent.
"Attention. Attention. Diplomatic Team required to begin boarding in: two hours."
Osmaer stood, snatching up his lasrifle. The Techpriest sat idly, fiddling with his mechadendrite.
"Shouldn't we get moving? Passenger loading is a while away."
"We have one hundred and twenty minutes until loading is required. We have time to pass."
Osmaer stood for a while, then slumped next to the Techpriest.
"I guess we should talk for a while. Get to know each other." The Techpriest nodded excitedly at that.
"An excellent idea! Human social interaction is something I have yet to study." There was a click, and Osmaer blinked hard.
"What was- never mind." The metal man still sat, quiet amidst the noise of the loading bay. "Well, I guess I'll start. What's your name?"
"Jeshuas Batch-55."
"Your last name is Batch-55?" Osmaer chuckled, but fell silent when he realised Jeshuas was serious.
"I was part of the fifty-fifth batch. My true last name is my full batch specification. I have shortened it for ease of identification."
"Alright. Can I call you Jesh?" Osmaer asked, and Jeshuas said nothing for a while.
"If it will aid our relationship, I will allow it." Jesh said, and Osmaer nodded.
"So, Jesh, why are you coming with us?"
"I wish to make surveys of the planet. Habitats. Plant species, animal species. Possible human mutation. All this data is valuable to the Imperium, and the Mechanicus." Jesh sounded excited at the prospect, and Osmaer couldn't help but share in that enthusiasm a little bit. Jesh spoke again.
"Now I shall ask a question. What is your name?"
"Osmaer Klark."
"Your last name is Klark?"