Initially, this was meant to be a chapter of three parts: the part here, the Shepard part with the IFF, then another part after that. That's not how it worked out, obviously, and so now those bits are going to be spread out. Especially as - in the vast gap of time since the last bit - I've dwelt on how best to go from what's happening here to those parts I've had semi-written and had sitting around for ages. None of which is helped, of course, by parenthood having sapped me of both my time to write and my energy to write, and life in general having thoroughly destroyed my enjoyment (and therefore also my ability) of writing. But such is life. Hope is the first step on the road to disappointment, indeed.

Jarrion was perusing dataslates and thinking.

Now loaded for its return trip, the Assertive was in realspace and in-system, plasma drives burning fiercely as it made its way for the gap in reality that would allow it to return to the other galaxy, a process which Jarrion had still yet to settle on a proper formal name for.

The dataslates concerned colonial requests from the various, well, colonies dotted through the Terminus Systems that Jarrion had made contact with. More orders for equipment, specific desires for specific Imperial devices that Jarrion had mentioned, material, and other goods. They varied widely depending on the status and location of the colony, obviously, but they all wanted something and Jarrion was now equipped to provide. The question now was mostly one of scheduling. Exciting.

Although it wasn't all just material - some of it was materiel. A few colonies had complained of attacks by pirates or being plagued by the extortions of mercenaries who, really, were just pirates with snappier uniforms at this point. Twas ever thus, Jarion felt.

In particular, a trend that Jarrion had noticed was attacks by specific aliens and specific groups made up of those specific aliens. Batarians, he had found them to be named, and in his background reading on the other galaxy he had learnt that they were something of a persistent problem, both officially and unofficially.

They'd have to be dealt with properly at some point. Properly properly.

He wasn't in any position to wage a legitimate war (of extermination or otherwise) at this point, sadly, but it was certainly something that would need seeing to in the future. Thankfully and happily these particular aliens seemed to exist outside of the political gestalt, as it were, and so conflict with them was (hopefully) less likely to rub the wrong way those aliens he needed to keep pliable, as and when it occurred.

There were a lot of things to consider when it came to such delicate matters. Another, brasher Rogue Trader - his brother, say - probably wouldn't have cared, but Jarrion was always thinking ahead, taking it a step at a time. Softly softly. That was why he got results that lasted. Eventually.

All this was the sort of thing - this sort of colonial pest control - Jarrion had experience of, of course, with his tours of the House Croesus frontier territories and its assorted minor aliens and roving pirates, and it was something he was versed in handling. And compared to the rather tedious (if important) business of hauling goods and equipment to where people wanted goods and equipment hauled for the sake of colonial growth, eliminating actual, physical threats was always refreshingly exciting.

What wasn't exciting was charting an efficient course between those colonies requesting aid that would mean as little time wasted as possible while also ensuring what needed to get where got there at the same time. Jarrion could have had Torian do this, and he usually did, but he'd decided to let the old man have a break and had rather been looking forward to having something to do anyway. Now that he was doing it he was rather regretting this decision, but it was too late to back out now.

Happily, a distraction was soon presented by the door chiming. Jarrion squinting at the crude work-in-progress journey plotting he'd sketched out for a second longer before pushing it to one side of the desk, sitting up, straightening his jacket and saying in a loud, clear voice:

"Enter."

The door hissed open and a servant entered, bowed, then said:

"The Inquisitor, Lord Captain."

Indeed, Jarrion could see Loghain waiting just outside the door, rocking on her heels. The servant, plainly uncomfortable, licked his lips.

"I, uh, tried to keep her out of your chambers, Lord Captain, but she followed behind me and, well… she's an Inquisitor…" he said, shifting uncomfortably, clearly still undecided on whether it was worse making enemies of a Rogue Trader or an Inquisitor and slowly coming to the realisation that there really wasn't a right answer.

Fortunately for him Jarrion understood, and waved the man away.

"It is not your fault, crewman. Show her in, if you would."

"Lord Captain," the servant said, attempting to keep the relief out of their voice, bowing again, and departing. Loghain entered moments later, having overheard what Jarrion had said and not even waiting for the poor beleaguered servant to formally show her in.

"You're either particularly rude today Inquisitor or in a hurry. Or both," Jarrion said, fingers steepled and elbows on his desk. Loghain took one of the two seats opposite him. The comfier-looking one.

"At this point I felt we could dispense with all the ceremony," she said.

"Yes, the ceremony of proper procedure and politeness," Jarrion said. Loghain frowned.

"Would you have been happier if I'd waited all the way outside for your man to run backwards and forwards?"

"Happier isn't the word I'd pick, but - you know what, Loghain, nevermind. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Jarrion asked, realising that quibbling wasn't going to get anyone anywhere. Loghain, who seemed to have been expecting more, took a second to readjust, glanced across the desk, then asked:

"Catching up on some reading?"

This she asked while wafting a hand at the dataslates.

"Rogue Trader business. Not the exciting kind, the practical kind. What to move where," Jarrion said.

"I thought you had people for that sort of thing."

"I do, but it pays not to get too out of touch with the details, I find."

That, and it was one way of burning the time while there wasn't much else to do.

"Hmm," Loghain hummed, plainly uninterested in the answer and, indeed, in the question she'd asked originally. Jarrion suppressed a sigh.

"Presumably you didn't interrupt what I was doing just to ask what I was doing?" He asked.

Loghain thought for a moment. Then:

"I have a favour to ask you."

"Oh?"

That she wanted something from him wasn't an enormous surprise to Jarrion. That she was bothering to ask at all, however, was a surprise. Jarrion reached for the cup of tea that had been sitting on his desk more-or-less forgotten about up to this point, finding it still pleasantly warm and taking a sip.

"Yes. And I'm being very earnest and open here. I'm going to lay my request down nice and plain. None of our usual funny jokes or sizzling sexual tension. This is a serious favour I'm asking of you," Loghain said.

Jarrion did not reply immediately to this, because at the phrase 'sizling sexual tension' he had choked on his tea and was too busy spluttering to say anything. Loghain waited for him to finish.

"Okay, no more jokes after that. I am being serious though," she said.

"Are you now?!" Jarrion wheezed, hammering a fist into his chest, eyes watering.

"I am."

She said it seriously enough that Jarrion almost believed her, or at least felt that playing at believing her wouldn't be wholly inappropriate. He smoothed out the front of his waistcoat and gestured that she should carry on.

"By all means continue, then. Lay it down, as you say."

"I - my team and I - would appreciate being able to borrow one of those freighters you acquired. Possibly for an extended period," Loghain said.

Jarrion had acquired a couple more of the doughty Kowloon vessels since his initial purchase (the second-hand market was awash with the things, as he'd come to learn), and while a good handful were already in-galaxy on the other side, pootling about from colony to colony doing what they did best, there were at that moment two in the Assertive's hanger, just by happenstance.

He raised an eyebrow.

"That's it?" He asked. As far as favours went he'd been asked for far more outrageous things by far less important people.

"That is it," said Loghain.

Jarrion stared at her a moment to see if he could divine some hint or clue or anything from her expression, but her naturally unreadable expression combined with her unnaturally unreadable bionic eyes made this an effort in futility, so he quickly gave up and looked away, looking instead at one of the paintings hanging on the walls.

The paintings asked nothing of him, and spoke of better times and triumphs. Not present times and complications. Soothing. You knew where you stood with the past. Judging by the paintings, you were often standing on top of dead aliens or dead traitors. Sometimes both.

Better times, indeed.

"I assume you have compelling reasons," he said, looking back to her again, refreshed.

"Very compelling," she said, nodding.

"That you will not fully reveal to me?"

Here Loghain paused, frowned, and considered how best to articulate the next bit.

"...Jarrion - Captain, Lord Captain, Lord Captain Jarrion. It isn't so much that I don't want to outline the details of my plan - and its many and varied, interlocking sub-plans - to you, it's that doing so would not only present a possible point of weakness to said plans for me but that also you, in so knowing, would take on a certain level of personal risk simply from bearing the knowledge, all for information that you could make no use of and would gain no advantage from."

This sounded like a practised statement to Jarrion, who was unmoved. He delivered those sorts of things often enough he'd developed an immunity. His fingers had gone back to being steepled.

"So really it's for my benefit, is what you're saying?" He asked.

"Not really, no. It's for everyone's benefit. The benefit of the Imperium in particular."

That line sounded especially practised. Jarrion rubbed his face.

"Of course…"

"Knowing too much is unhealthy anyway, as I'm sure you're well aware of. Blessed is the mind too small for doubt and all that, though I think in this instance the more apt saying might be something more akin to: 'It is better to toil in the honest dark of ignorance than to be exposed to the harsh light of a knowledge that serves only to blind and mislead'," Loghain said, holding up a finger as she quoted.

This rung a bell for Jarrion.

"That's Cardinal De Selby, isn't it?" He asked. Loghain shrugged and lowered her finger.

"I forget, and I'm probably misquoting anyway. The point is there are a lot of things in life that won't help you if you know them, and this is one of them. Really, the only reason I'm even coming here to ask you in such plain language is to keep our relationship healthy. Our working relationship. I did consider just borrowing one of the freighters without telling you, but I felt that that would have been taken the wrong way and made future interactions awkward. And I don't want that."

"The line 'I was going to steal it but then didn't and am now telling you this' isn't as persuasive as you think it is, Loghain."

"Borrowing, I'd have been borrowing it. I will still be borrowing it, ideally, just with your explicit permission now, all being well. I will give it back at my earliest possible convenience. Intact, obviously."

"Well that's nice of you. And what if I say no?"

"Are you going to say no?"

"...I might."

"Are you?"

It was very hard to stare down someone who did not have to blink.

"...do you require any crew?" Jarrion asked, looking away from her again and trying not to sigh.

He had initially been using locals (humans) to man the freighters, being as how they had greater familiarity with the controls and also with the idiosyncratic, non-warp based methods of travelling about - all those 'relays' and such. This had worked reasonably well and had got things moving comfortably enough, the risks of fraternisation between Imperial and non-Imperial humans not being much of a risk given the one-way language barrier that still existed between them

(Jarrion very much doubted that his crew would benefit from being exposed to any of the ideas the locals might have had , and while he knew some contamination was inevitable he didn't see the need to invite it when he didn't need to. Knowing too much was indeed, as mentioned, unhealthy. This went double for the lower orders.)

But, Jarrion preferred to keep things as important as this in-house, and so had made efforts and taken steps towards having a small but growing complement of his crew trained in the operation of freighters and, more broadly, in the fundamentals of interstellar travel in this galaxy and familiarity with some of the more common technology.

There was a risk here, obviously, but it was a calculated risk. On the one hand having his own men better able to operate the ships (and any others he might acquire) made him less reliant on fickle local labour. On the other, it meant that a certain segment of his crew now had an inkling - if not an outright clear view - of the reality of their situation, something largely denied to them before.

As Loghain had just said, knowing too much was often unhealthy, particularly for the lower orders. How could they be expected to respond to the discovery that this was not, in fact, their own galaxy? Ideally they simply wouldn't question what it was they were asked to do, but there'd always be one, and a single seed of doubt, once grown, often spread like a weed.

Where could that lead? Nowhere good.

In Jarrion's experience however such things were inevitable. Someone always found out, eventually. A trade secret, a personal indiscretion, a mistake - however well-hidden, it could never remain so forever. It was more a case of getting as much done before it came to light so that you were in a position for the revelation not to matter. You'd achieved what you'd set out to do or at least achieved enough so that you were unassailable. Then you simply kept an eye out and - to carry the metaphor - pulled up the biggest weeds as you spotted them.

So on balance, better to understand the ships, he'd decided, and to have Imperial crew who could operate them. Freighters now, frigates later? Always think of the future.

"I trust in Magos Crave's ability to pick up the controls, even if such things are slightly outside his area," Loghain said.

Jarrion wasn't sure what 'outside his area' meant in this context.

"Isn't he a tech priest?" He asked.

"They do specialise, you know."

"Well, yes, I do know that, I just - nevermind. If you're sure."

Not really worth getting into.

"I'm always sure. Goes with the job," Loghain said.

"Quite."

A pause.

"Loghain," Jarrion said. She cocked her head.

"Yes?"

Another, smaller pause. Getting words in order. Preparing a statement.

"The reason why I am, ah, acquiescing to your request without pressing for further details is that - our fraught relationship and your unique approach to your profession aside - you are still an Inquisitor, and I have faith in the institutions of the Imperium. Absolute faith. You would not be an Inquisitor if you were not capable of properly executing the duties of an Inquisitor, serving the greater interests of the Imperium, humanity, and our Emperor."

This was a very wordy slice of not-very-much-at-all, which was what Loghain had come to expect from Jarrion when he put his fancy voice on. She summed it up as best she could:

"So you trust me?"

The word was sour in the air and Jarrion did his best not to wince on hearing it.

"I have faith that you will do what is best. Which isn't quite the same thing but it's likely as close as you will ever get. That being said though I do have a personal request, from me to you, our ranks excluded."

"Oh?" Loghain went, pitching the word the exact way Jarrion did, although seemingly not intentionally. Jarrion took a breath and lay his hands flat on the desk.

"Don't do anything rash, if you can help it," he said. Loghain grinned.

"You uncomfortable with the idea of me off out there without you to look after me?"

"Yes, because you need protecting from the galaxy and not the other way around," Jarrion said, unable to keep his eyes from rolling. "No, my being uncomfortable isn't the issue. I am thinking of the future, I am alway thinking of the future. I am thinking many years away, down the line. It wouldn't do to damage the Imperium's later position by doing something rash now. If you follow."

"Not your position, then? The Imperium's position?"

One hand flat on the desk Jarrion sat forward and jabbed a finger at Loghain.

"We are both working towards the same goal, Loghain - the glory of the Emperor and the promotion of Imperial interests. It is simply that we are working towards them from different sides: I by establishing a strong economic and infrastructural foothold, you by countering threats, presumably, or some other manner of activity that serves to undermine the Emperor's enemies. It's about balance. It would be bad if rashness upset the balance."

"Thrilling. And what qualifies as rash compared to say, zealous, which would be rightly applauded?"

"Personal judgement and discretion," Jarrion said through gritted teeth.

"A fair answer," Loghain conceded. Jarrion leaned back in his seat, which creaked.

"I am not attempting to dictate how it is you go about your duties - not that I imagine my saying anything would change your behaviour in any way, shape, or form - I am simply asking you, in a friendly capacity, that if you have the option of doing anything quietly, you do so quietly."

"I'll bear that in mind," Loghain said.

"Thank you. When will you be needing to borrow this freighter of mine?"

"As soon as possible, if you please. As soon as we make the transition through the space-hole. Is that what we call it? Transitioning through the space-hole? Penetrating it? Plunging-"

Jarrion stepped in and interrupted her before she could graduate into making demonstrative hand gestures to accompany her vivid choice of language.

"Call it whatever makes you happiest, Loghain, though if you could keep your verbs on the less-evocative side I would be a much happier man. I shall inform you once we are on the other side. I am sure you'll be ready to go immediately," he said.

"We're already packed."

"Wonderful. Well, as I say, you shall be informed," Jarrion said, making a gentle gesture with his hand that did a very good, semi-polite job of conveying that Loghain should leave now and that the conversation was finished.

And for a second it looked like she was going to go for getting the last word in, but then seemed to realise she didn't need to, having got exactly what she wanted. And so she just upped and left, even giving him a tiny bow on the way out. All things considered this was probably worse than her having the last word.

Jarrion tried to go back to looking at the dataslates but his mind was scattered now and it was no use. He tossed the one he'd picked up back onto his desk and took a deep breath, staring at a point somewhere above the door she'd left through, the door which was now closed again.

"Would I feel better if I knew what she was doing?" He said to no-one, getting no response. He wasn't sure what the response would have been anyway. Would he feel better?

Jarrion sighed again and slouched in his chair. He cast his eye around the room, glancing briefly at the bust of his father (still turned to face the wall) and then settling on frowning at his desk. He checked his chrono, drawing it from his waistcoat pocket. They'd be back in the other galaxy, soon. Could start getting some proper work done.

That'd distract him. Or focus him, rather. And with at least one less drain on his concentration, too.

"It's the Emperor's will, I'm sure. Who am I to interfere? And once she's off the ship she won't be my problem anymore," he said to himself, tucking the chrono away once more and sitting up straight.

Then he thought about what he'd just said.

"Well, she'll be somewhere else, at least…"

They were soon through the hole in space and soon back in the other galaxy-stroke-universe. Jarrion was about to get started on heading for the edge of the system to prepare for a nice, proper, safe entry into the Warp when Loghain reappeared and stated that, now they were here, she wanted to leave as soon as possible, ostensibly to take advantage of the local mass relay and more quickly go off to do whatever it was she was planning on doing.

As much as he disliked delays and distractions (and this was more the latter than the former, with them not properly underway yet), Jarrion felt getting shot of her sooner was better than getting shot of her later. Which was why he and her and her entourage were in the hanger, waiting on the soon-to-be-borrowed freighter having a final suite of checks prior to departure.

He didn't have to see her off personally, he just wanted to. To make sure she actually left.

Jarrion had found, to his surprise, that the most open to conversation during the waiting was actually brother al Bet. Jarrion's experience with astartes was very limited, it was true, but he was fairly certain they weren't renowned for their aptitude for small talk, and yet al Bet was proving to be very pleasant to chat with.

Certainly more so than the rest of Loghain's little team, who were very much keeping to themselves, either going over dataslates or, in the case of her attached Magos, sticking their oar in with the tech priests checking the ship. Presumably this was on account of him being the one about to pilot the thing. Still, Jarrion doubted the priests appreciated the extra help.

An insular bunch, the tech priests of the Assertive. Like most of their ilk.

Jarrion realised he'd allowed his attention wander from the anecdote al Bet had been regaling him with, and tuned back in just in time to catch the end of it:

"-with his bare hands, which would certainly make the memoirs an interesting read."

"Memoirs?" Jarrion asked, feeling he'd missed something key, this not being a word Jarrion had ever heard - or ever thought he might hear - brought up in relation to space marines, and having it appear now rather tripped him up. Al Bet just nodded, because it wasn't news to him.

"Every brother endeavours to record his experiences, when able. A chapter tradition. They are collated in the fortress monastery - the librarium has a wing devoted to their storage. All the better to pool and draw upon experience, you see? All the better to deal with adversity, the better to triumph. Something of a guiding philosophy."

"My word. If you forgive me, al Bet, but the Hound Skulls do sound rather unlike any astartes I am familiar with."

"The Hound Skull chapter is noted - at least among those who note such things - for what might be termed a thoughtful approach to its duties."

"Is that so?"

Thoughtfulness was not typically seen as an Imperial virtue, so Jarrion found it an interesting word to include here. Al Bet had plainly included it on purpose, too. How thoughtful of him. Al Bet gave a slight dip of the head - not really a nod, but enough to get the point across.

"Indeed, and while it may be the case that some of my brethren in other chapters look at us askance for our attitude, it does mean we as a chapter are perhaps more open to, shall we say, more unorthodox and delicate situations requiring a greater level of tact, something some appreciate more than others. After all, if the Lady Inquisitor had wanted something more straightforward she could have asked to have had Brother Thalassi attached to this mission."

Jarrion did not personally know Brother Thalassi, so this didn't mean an awful lot to him.

"Is he...brusque?" He ventured.

"Brother Thalassi is a Flesh Tearer."

Al Bet said this as though Jarrion would understand the implications. Jarrion did not, because, much as with Dark Angels, Jarrion had never met a Flesh Tearer or, indeed, ever even heard of them. The name of the Chapter however didn't leave a lot of room for interpretation though.

"That does sound straightforward," Jarrion said.

"Very. And there is a lot to be admired in that. But no one thing can be said to work on every occasion, and so here I am and there Brother Thalassi remains, he doing what he does best - I would imagine - and I doing what I do best. Well, one of the things I do best."

"One being comfortable chit-chat, the other being, if I might boldly assume, violence?"

"You would boldly assume correctly, Lord Captain," said al Bet with a smile. Jarrion smiled too. It had been unnerving seeing a space marine smile at first, but it came so easily to al Bet that now it seemed only natural. It might have done alarming things with his scars, but once you got over that it was perfectly natural.

"I must say al Bet, it is so nice to have someone on board I can have an intelligent conversation with," said Jarrion.

"I'm standing right here," Loghain said, who was indeed standing right there. Jarrion did not look at her.

"You talk and eat at the same time," he said.

"Once! I did that once!"

"That we know of."

"The vessel is ready, Lord Captain," said one of the hanger tech priests, still sufficiently fleshy to still use their actual voice when speaking - something of a novelty with tech priests, Jarrion felt.

"Excellent, thank you," he said and the tech priest departed without another word, joining their fellows in whatever it was they needed to do next. As said, insular. Now Jarrion turned to Loghain. "All yours. For now."

"Lovely stuff. Varne - you and Watlington get her loaded."

This being, as Jarrion remembered, her Interrogator and the rather mousy adept whose job he still couldn't work out yet. Bookkeeping? Biographer? Wordlessly both of them set about doing as Loghain had said, al Bet leaving to assist without having been asked. With the magos still on-board this left Jarrion and Loghain. He'd sort of seen this coming.

"So this would be another goodbye, then," he said.

"For now. I'm sure you'll be counting the days until my return," she said.

"Treasuring them, mostly."

"You can always do both."

"Hmm."

As good as he was at multitasking this didn't seem the best place to use his talents.

"I know it's the smart move to indulge the Inquisition, even if - as you never tire of pointing out to me - we are in your sphere and you're not under any direct obligation to, but I do actually appreciate it. Personally. It's a lot easier to do my job without having to ice skate uphill. What I need to do would be a lot more awkward if you weren't being so helpful. So I just want to say, on a personal level, thank you," said Loghain, entirely out of nowhere.

This was so unexpected and so unexpectedly sinere that Jarrion was utterly flatfooted. Likely it was simply more Inquisitorial manipulation with a distinctly Loghain twist, but that didn't make it any less unusual to hear.

"Um, think nothing of it, Loghain. As you say, it's the smart thing to do," he said, at a loss.

As opposed to making life difficult for the Inquisition, which was very not the smart thing to do, whoever or wherever you were. They could make life quite difficult in return, as Jarrion had heard or, more often than not, just make life stop. The smart move indeed.

"All loaded," Varne said, appearing again and jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the freighter, where waited the rest.

"Right. Be with you in a second," said Loghain, and off Varne went again.

For a moment it looked like Loghain might have had a followup for what she had just said, and for a moment after that (a horrifying and terrifying moment) it looked to Jarrion as though she might actually move in for some form of physical contact, like that time mother had given him that hug. Thankfully though nothing of the sort happened, and what Loghain did instead was make the sign of the Acquilla, which Jarrion gratefully mirrored.

"The Emperor protects," she said.

"The Emperor protects," he said.

And off she went.