Getting there...
...slowly...
What occured between Jarrion and the mysterious ship was a halting, rather uncomfortable conversation the conclusion of which was uncertain.
It took a stumbling sentence or two for Jarrion to get a proper handle on the stranger's odd dialect, and while he wasn't sure he made himself entirely clear he at least made himself understood enough that the chat did not conclude with him having to give the order to open fire. A plus.
Importantly, Jarrion had established that the ship was crewed by humans, much to his relief. Though that did just raise further questions. It did mean that just shooting the ship out of hand probably wouldn't be necessary, at least not immediately.
Beyond that though, very little had been effectively communicated. Mention of the Imperium, the Emperor, Jarrion's status as a Rogue Trader had all failed to elicit much of a response at all, so clearly something was being lost in translation.
"I didn't get a word of that," said Loghain once the connection had been cut. She was inches away from sulking as she said this.
"Uh, it was, well, the pertinent details are that the ship is called the Normandy, the crew is human and are apparently members of something called the Systems Alliance. Torian, ring any bells for you?"
Torian thought a moment.
"I'm afraid not, my Lord."
Probably should have seen that coming. The galaxy was a big place, after all. Jarrion tutted.
"Shame," he said.
"Now what?" Loghain asked, saying what probably everyone present was thinking but couldn't get away with saying themselves because they weren't Inquisitors. Or, as far as the bridge crew were concerned, they weren't who appeared to be an Astropath who'd suddenly started following Jarrion around and that the Lord Captain was treating with remarkable deference, an act which they all knew better than to question.
Jarrion didn't want to say - and never would - but this strange vessel was also their only present link to the greater galaxy and their only lifeline, at least until they worked something out themselves. Without these strangers it would just the Assertive alone in the void, lost, becalmed. You couldn't ask a gas giant for directions.
So passing this up or letting it slip away wasn't really an option as far as he was concerned. You never got anywhere by wasting opportunities. Especially not opportunities as wildly, hysterically unlikely as just-so-happening to be next to another ship so close you could practically go out and shake their hand.
If that wasn't a sign then Jarrion didn't know what was. The Emperor couldn't have made his will plainer short of conjuring up a flaming sign pointing to this mysterious ship which said 'This is important'.
"It is my feeling that we should go and have a word. In person," said Jarrion, wagging a finger at the pictscreen.
"You want to go over there? Onto that thing?" Loghain asked in mild disbelief.
Jarrion was under no obligations to explain or justify his decisions to anyone, being the Lord Captain, but he felt that things go more smoothly if everyone else was on the same page as him. Father would probably have been horrified as such mollycoddling - a Rogue Trader led, they did not explain!
"I think we'll all readily admit our circumstances are unusual, yes? The stars are wrong, the Astronomicon is gone and the warp is tranquil as a pond, as our good friend Inquisitor Loghain so kindly pointed out to us."
Loghain gave a tiny bow. This was unnecessary, and Jarrion ignored it.
The bridge crew, on learning who Loghain actually was, collectively went a bit pale. Jarrion ignored this, too.
"Think about it this way: providence has put before us humans, humans who may well provide answers or - failing that - at least some more accurate astronavigational data. We would be foolish not to take advantage of this opportunity. Indeed, a greater indicator of the Emperor's protection on this voyage you'd be hard-pressed to find, shunning it would be foolhardy," said Jarrion. He was definitely using The Voice again at this point.
He looked around for objections. None were voiced. He continued:
"Further, consider this: there is a distinct possibility we have been set adrift in some long-forgotten corner of the galaxy. Maybe the strange stars and unnatural quiet is simply some quirk of the local landscape? Stranger things have happened, have they not? And humanity has still managed to reach here, to this place! Isn't our duty to bring this unknown land - and our long-lost brothers - back into the fold so that they too may bask in the Emperor's light?"
The silence continued, though now somewhat more subdued. It seemed his outburst, if not fully convincing everyone present that it was a good idea, had at least convinced them it was the best idea available. Or at least convinced them to keep their opinions to themselves.
Torian was the one to speak up first, clearing his throat beforehand and then asking:
"Who do you propose shall go, my Lord?"
This was a refreshingly easy question to answer.
"Well myself of course, obviously - I'm the Lord Captain. Thale, too. You, Torian, naturally, and-"
Pak, off to the side, let out a soto-voce burst of static, much as an unaugmented individual might have conspicuously cleared their throat. Jarrion didn't miss a beat.
"Pak will be coming as our representative of the Mechanicus. They can also help administer to the translation servitor we'll be taking with us. Yes, Pak?"
Pak nodded.
"Thank you, Pak."
"I would recommend leaving the servitor behind, Jarr- Lord Captain. They often have an...uncomfortable effect on those outside the Imperial fold, I've found," Loghain said, interrupting Jarrion's flow. He gritted his teeth but had to admit he hadn't considered this.
Previous contact with some of the lost or out-of-contact colonies and various lost pockets of humanity had shown Jarrion that, on occasion, when the local tech-level had decayed or deviated sufficiently that they weren't even aware of the Adeptus Mechanicus, the sight of a servitor or a techpriest could cause an adverse reaction.
Like screaming. Or weapons being discharged.
Unfortunate.
"Are you saying they won't have servitors? They have a spacefaring vessel, I'd hate to sell them short," he asked over his shoulder at her. She shrugged lightly, arms folded.
"I am saying that we should perhaps assume they don't and that the appearance of one might cause them some disquiet. This is something I've seen before. I feel it best that we approach with full tact and delicacy. Given the circumstances. Make as few ripples as possible."
Her face shifted to make it clear she was looking at Pak. A flick of the eye would have been enough, but that wasn't exactly an option for her.
"Or at least as much tact and delicacy as we have available, given that esteemed Magos Pak likely cannot be dissuaded from accompanying you?"
Pak made a noise that you did not have to understand to know was curt.
"I thought not," Loghain said, turning bodily back to Jarrion again. "Do not worry about the servitor. I will be able to translate for you," she said.
Given that he'd just conducted a conversation pretty much on the fly and entirely without assistance he wasn't sure she was offering this service in the first place and Jarrion was going to question this professed aptitude at translating a new and unknown dialect before he remembering that, given the ease with which she conducted herself in the absence of eyes, she was likely a psyker.
The sudden realisation of this particular detail made his skin crawl and it was an effort not to let it show.
He wondered whether she was poking around inside his head right now but quietly dismissed the thought. From what he'd learnt he would have noticed that. Probably.
Her constant bloody grinning didn't help though.
"So you'll be coming as well, I take it?" He asked her.
"Yes."
Jarrion's brow furrowed. He wondered whether this was the sort of thing he would be able to forbid from happening. Then he realised he wasn't even sure he'd have wanted to even if it was. As pompous and self-important as Inquisitors could apparently be - and this one was proving to be - having a psyker around could always prove useful.
That, and having her around would make it easier to keep an eye on her. He sighed.
"I imagine that if I did say no to you you'd only hijack a voidsuit and cling to the outside of the lighter anyway."
"Why, it's like we've met before, Lord Captain," Loghain said, sweetly.
"I think I preferred you people when you were sinister and distant rather than whimsical and present," Jarrion said. Loghain just kept on smiling at him, so he sighed again.
"Well that's settled then. I shall trust to your translation abilities. And my own, such as they are."
"Lord, might I recommend a small complement of armsmen? We cannot be sure of their friendliness," Torian interjected.
"Thale not enough for you, Torian?" Jarrion asked, Torian just looked blank. Jarrion wasn't sure what reaction he had expected to get. "I suppose armsmen couldn't hurt either. It's what I pay them for. Master at Arms, if you would," Jarrion said.
"Lord Captain," said the Master at Arms, getting started on organising that. While that was going on, Jarrion hailed the mystery ship again and - another fumbling, slightly stilted conversation later - tentative permission to send over a single lighter had been granted.
"Right, well, let's go and say hello, hmm? Orseus, you have the helm until our return," Jarrion said, rising from his command throne and nodding to Oresus.
Oresus being the next-most senior member of House Croesus staff on-board after Torian, and a notably inoffensive and forgettable safe pair of hands whenever Jarrion needed Torian to be somewhere else.
"My Lord," Oresus said, nodding to Jarrion.
With that, the friendly-visit party quit the bridge and took the Assertive's internal travel system to the lighter bay.
A squad of twelve void-carapace wearing, shotgun-toting armsmen met them on their arrival, standing in attention in two rows. One, Jarrion noted, was carrying a naval shotcannon. This seemed like overkill on what was ostensibly a friendly mission of greeting, but then again overkill was often just being prepared, and he couldn't really object to that.
Some distance behind them was the lighter being prepared, a gaggle of techpriests and attendant servitors going through the rituals required for a safe journey to be conducted. Even from where he was standing the incense made Jarrion's eyes water. Incense always did that to him.
He watched a moment as one of the techpriests reached the end of a particular line of the activation chant and another of them struck the lighter with a wrench. The first priest then anointed the struck spot with a dab of oil and the whole group moved around to the other side.
The chanting continued.