Of course the great benefit of Rogue Traders - and Inquisitors, though to a far lesser extent - is that they offer far greater lattitude in how they interact with the galaxy and what's in it than with your other options. You know? 40K is full of opportunities to do pretty much what you like but these two are both in positions to really call their own shots, albeit in different ways.
And, really, by this point the rather light tone of the piece should be obvious so while I'd love to just run roughshod and do a proper "ONLY IN DEATH DOES DUTY END" kind of thing it's just really not my wheelhouse. Though, if I did, it'd probably be my other idea about a group of Imperial Guard assets getting lost, because they'd have no excuse but to start murdering every alien they happened to set their eyes on.
But I digress. More words. I'm sure we'll all have our opinions.
It was mostly instinctual, mostly a reflex. The sight of something non-human just touched a spot in the human brain that led to an automatic reaction.
Entirely understandable, of course, and only right and proper.
Jarrion's stint on the Assertive had not involved an abundance of contact with aliens. Given that he'd basically just been charged with patrolling territory already purged and claimed he hadn't expected it to. What aliens had been present around what were now House Croesus holdings had all be removed years previously, and fairly thoroughly to boot.
But there had been some holdouts, desperate remnants striking back at the colonists every now and then, more out of spite than anything else. These Jarrion had spent some time dealing with; tracing vessels back to this or that hidden base before either taking them out from orbit or - when they proved too well-protected for this to be practical - going down with the armsmen to help root them out the old-fashioned way.
So all alien contact those on-board the Assertive had been, up until right this moment in this hanger on this strange ship, exclusively hostile. Because what other sort of contact was possible with aliens, really? So it was a reflex that saw weapons being drawn, a gut reaction.
And of course, the strangers - and the xenos - pulled out their own weapons, slipping them off of hips or pulling them off their backs whereupon they sprang out and unfolded, quite unlike a weapon should.
Even Torian whipped out the ancient stub revolver he forever carried with him, raising it with a shaking hand to point in the vague direction of the nearest threatening looking crewmember, whose eyes widened and whose fingers tightened around the weirdly-curved, sleek white rifle they were holding.
Understandably this turned the mood in the hanger a bit sour. But no-one fired a shot. Not yet.
Rogue Traders had something of a reputation - among those people who knew about such things enough to be aware of reputations, or of the existence of Rogue Traders in the first place, of course - of cheerfully consorting with aliens and, indeed, there were many who did.
House Croesus was not one of them.
Jarrion had seen aliens in his time, of course, even prior to his captaincy. But almost all of them had either been dead on him meeting them or else dead not long after, more than once by his own hand. It was just how father operated, and so how the others were expected to operate too.
Some Rogue Traders felt that aliens - like all available resources - could be put to a good use by those with sufficient freedom and imagination. House Croesus felt that ammunition was cheap and time spent attempting to exploit aliens was time that could be better spent making sure the galaxy had fewer aliens in it.
Which was fair.
Normally, there would have been very little cause to deviate from standard procedure. But things were not normal. Things were thoroughly abnormal and confused, sadly, and so softly-softly was called for, at least for now.
As much as it pained Jarrion and as much as some deep-seated, visceral part of him dearly wanted to kill everything in the hanger and seize the ship by force he knew that this would only create problems in the long run.
The ability to plan ahead was valuable to a Rogue Trader, he'd learnt, having seen the sort of problems his father had had to end up shooting because he'd shot something else earlier, and being uncomfortable in the present was preferable to being destitute or dead in the future. This much seemed obvious.
Unfortunately, being the one in charge, Jarrion was the one who had to try and make this happen.
"Calm, calm, let's not act rashly now, hmm?" He said, interposing himself between the two sides, holding out his hands and giving a version to everyone that they would hopefully be able to understand. The mood did not immediately lighten.
"You do see the armed aliens, don't you?" Loghain asked.
"Yes I did but I also saw that they were outnumbered by the humans - don't some of these unincorporated types associate with alien mercenaries from time to time? Heretical, yes, but they don't know any better do they? Emperor's teeth there are Rogue Traders that pal around with aliens if it benefits humanity as a whole! Exitus acta probat, hmm? No shooting! Guns down! That means you too, Torian!"
Torian seemed almost grateful to be allowed to lower his arm, panting a little as he holstered it again. For one reason or another this served as a signal to everyone else, too, as all other guns went down at the same time, though fingers did not stray too far from triggers.
The mood in the hanger softened noticeably.
"Would you know a lot about palling around with aliens, Lord Captain?" Loghain asked, politely, loud enough that no-one wouldn't have been able to avoid hearing it.
There were a lot of very angry things that Jarrion felt like saying at that moment, but he bit back on them and said instead:
"Later, Loghain, you and I are going to have a very serious and very length conversation about what it is you're doing on my ship and also about what constitutes the undermining of authority."
"I look forward to it, Lord Captain."
Pinching the bridge of his nose Jarrion took a breath, re-affixed his smile and turned back to severe looking, heavily scarred, shaven-scalped woman he'd assumed was in charge, keeping his arms spread and hands open.
"Terribly sorry about that," he said. He'd spent the lighter trip over going over some of the stickier points of the dialect and so his words came out a lot smoother.
Again, the augmetics really helped here. That full-language comprehension aid suite had been worth not just the expense but the extend discomfort of its implantation and the occasional splitting headache that he still enjoyed every now and then. Actually getting to properly use it was at least one positive out of this whole experience.
"Happens to the best of us," the woman said with remarkable calm, then: "Commander Shepard of the Systems Alliance, presently working alongside an outside agency."
This she said while glancing to a woman in an impractical bodyglove, who did not rise to the bait. If this glance was meant to convey anything it was lost on Jarrion.
Starting over seemed like a good idea. Jarrion took a breath and put on a smile and decided to give the best second impression possible. Something to smooth things over.
"Hail and greetings, Commander Shepard," Jarrion said in High Gothic, feeling it perhaps best to go formal. Shepard blinked, clearly not having understood a single word. Perhaps formal hadn't been the best idea after all. In fact, why had it even looked like a good idea at all in the first place?
Jarrion coughed and started over with words she could probably understand: "A pleasure to meet you. Apologies for that little, ah, misunderstanding on our arrival. Trying times. I am Jarrion, of House Croesus."
Shepard looked only a little less blank.
"Hello. House Croesus?" She asked.
This was not going the way Jarrion had hoped, and he could practically feel the eyes of his little entourage burning into the back of his neck. Smile bolted firmly in place he pressed on. Always best to keep pushing forward, as father always said!
"Apologies. I am so used to my family reputation preceding me! I am a Rogue Trader."
This had been mentioned during their communication but it seemed to have slipped past her. He'd hoped this might finally clear things up. Shepard's face made it obvious that it did not.
Jarrion could feel the momentum of the conversation rapidly slipping away and decided to keep on pressing on before being forced again to give another useless answer to a simple question.
He took a step to the side and swept his arms towards the entourage.
"And allow to introduce some of the fine members of my crew!" He said, perhaps more loudly than he needed to. "Thale, my stalwart bodyguard! Torian, loyal, venerable seneschal of my House. Keeps me honest! Pak over there, our resident representative of the Mechanicus and, uh-"
He fumbled when he got to Loghain.
"And, ah, Loghain. Who is an ambassador. Yes. An ambassador."
He couldn't be sure and didn't want to take the time to check, but he could have sworn Loghain smirked at that.
Shepard stared at Jarrion's crew, none of whom had moved or spoken or even reacted in any way to being introduced. She gave them all a nod then turned back to Jarrion again.
"And you were just in the Neighbourhood? You kind of snuck up on us."
"We are the victim of unusual circumstances," Jarrion said, lightly.
"There's a lot of that going around. That ship of yours is something else."
Here Jarrion saw a point he could perhaps use to make everyone feel more at ease. After all, what captain doesn't like talking about their ship? A fabulous opportunity for an ice breaker. He made sure to use The Voice, the best to project charisma and authority. Or at least try to.
"The Assertive? Fine vessel, isn't she? My first command, would you believe! Just taking it on a brief tour of father's more recent holdings. Showing the House colours, you know? Assisting where required. Helping the locals remember the Imperium still exists! Ah, but where are my manners? This, ah, Normandy of yours is a rather lovely ship if you don't mind me saying so. Quite unlike anything I've ever seen myself."
"This is actually the second one. The first was destroyed two years ago," Shepard said, somewhat cagily. Jarrion rolled with it.
"Terribly sorry to hear it. That must have been a blow for you."
"You could say that. If you don't mind me asking, how did you manage to get a ship of that size?" She asked. Jarrion frowned. To him the Assertive was a healthy size but certainly not the vast ship that Shepard seemed to be implying it was. Certainly nothing like father's Mars.
Then again, Jarrion thought, this little 'System Alliance' that Shepard claimed to be part of might lack the facilities for vessels on a similar scale. It wouldn't be unheard of. Little ships for a little system, puttering about from world to world. All very provincial. Best to humour them, while also perhaps doing just that bit extra to help impress.
"You flatter me, Commander. The Assertive is only a light cruiser - you should see my brother's ship. Indeed, you should see my father's ship! I can't really speak for the the Assertive's exact provenance, I'm afraid. It's been in the family longer than I've been alive. Father mentioned once it being reclaimed, but who knows where from? The navy leaves so many wrecks."
"Whose navy?" Shepard pressed.
"The Imperium's."
"What's the Imperium?"
Well that definitely settled some things. They were definitely in the sticks if this questioned needed to be asked. Not unexpected, of course. Not out of the ordinary. These backwaters, who knew what they'd forgotten of the greater galaxy? Maybe the founding of this 'Systems Alliance' predated the Imperium!
Unlikely, sure, but stranger things happened.
With great effort Jarrion set his face to a look of pleasant, friendly neutrality.
"Might it possible to conduct this meeting somewhere more comfortable? Torian is an old man, after all, and it can hardly be comfortable to be standing for so long," Jarrion said, earning himself a bemused look from his seneschal whose ears had pricked up at the sound of his name.
Shepard eyed Jarrion and then the rest of the group with potent skepticism. The old man did look pretty, well, old, so she supposed there was a possibility the request was honest. For her part, having a conversation while standing in the hanger with two tense armed groups wasn't wholly her idea of a good time. Pretty normal, yes, but not especially enjoyable.
"Alright. Your people and you and I can carry this on in the communication room. And I do just mean your people, just these ones - not the guys in armour," she said, pointing to those standing with Jarrion.
"That's quite alright, the armsmen can remain here with our lighter if you'd allow that?"
"That's fine. They're not going to start anything, right?"
"Oh no no, not at all."
"Right," she said, eyes sweeping over Jarrion and the others and trying to count the guns she could see. She lost count pretty quickly.
"For the sake of friendly diplomacy could you leave your guns here? And your sword."
Shepard felt it best not to let the fact the guy was wearing a sword faze her. That he looked like someone had stuck every European naval uniform from the seventeenth century onwards into a blender and poured the results out on top of someone was bad enough.
She'd also expected objections and was honestly surprised when none appeared forthcoming. She'd have objected.
"By all means," Jarrion said, motioning for his immediate entourage to do as they were told and pass their weapons to the armsmen for safekeeping. This occurred without any grumbling whatsoever, armsmen stepping up to take things as they were reading.
The armsman who ended up being handed Thale's weapons had the body language of someone entrusted with a priceless and indescribably fragile artefact. His rigid terror was obvious even through his armour. Thale gave the man a wink, which did not appear to help his calm.
Jarrion had seen the request to disarm coming. He had seen it happen before. Once or twice - while serving directly on his father's ship - similar requests had been made by this or that dignitary or head of planetary governance and had, of course, been ignored.
His father wasn't typically in the habit of doing what others told him to do, especially given as very few others were at his level of social standing in the Imperium. The results had always been a significant level of discomfort in those whose requests had been rebuffed, Jarrion had noticed.
Now while that might not have bothered his father (and, indeed, maybe have been the point) Jarrion had decided to affect a reputation as the nicer of the scions of House Croesus, and part of this was an apparent willingness to speak on equal, peaceful terms with those various authority figures he happened to need to talk to. Even if their authority was trifling or laughably pathetic, it was the thought that counted.
In his experience so far it had paid dividends. People were a lot more friendly and open when you didn't snub their requests and conduct talks while strapped to the nines. Or so Jarrion liked to think, at least.
In this particular instance he was particularly aware of the need to appear friendly, especially given how close a firefight had appeared to have been on their arrival.
Besides, they'd all been carrying obvious weapons for just this reason, at Jarrion's insistence and as was standard practise on such meetings he conducted.
Handing off the bigger, more belligerent looking firearms and the unbuckling of the sword from Jarrion's belt drew attention away from the many, many places on Thale's person that could easily - and were easily - concealing weapons and also from the fact that Jarrion was wearing a lot more rings than he usually did.
Appear polite. Be prepared. If these Systems Alliance people thought that the guns and sword were the only weapons Jarrion and his cohorts were carrying then he was more than happy to let them keep thinking that.
Loghain, for her part, hadn't apparently carried a weapon at any point since making her first appearance. Which was just unsettling. What sort of Imperial citizen walked around unarmed? And an Inquisitor, no less? It set the mind wandering, and not anywhere nice.
Probably intentional.
Orders were given to the armsmen to return to the lighter, leaving a posting of two to stand guard while the rest waited inside. Garrus and Miranda and the others also dispersed, leaving behind a handful of very confused Cerberus crew with Avengers to stand around and keep an eye on things.
Once everything was settled and sorted Shepard nodded back towards the lift, the doors of which opened almost as if on cue.
"This way," she said.
And they followed.