Is this making sense to you?
A long bit, because I didn't want too many bits before Horizon. So there's this, some preperation, then Horizon. Why did I care? I don't know. I'm a whimsical guy.
Also, forever grappling with "Well I want this to happen but the rules say otherwise only those rules would be all bent out of shape in the ME universe so I don't even know". The punchline being that 40K is basically just "We want to do cool shit and reference some other sci-fi so let's try and make it all work who cares, really?"
Or at least it used to be...I'm still stuck in 3rd edition, me.
Upon returning to the Assertive Jarrion set Pak immediately onto divining how the device they'd been given worked. Indeed, Pak had already started doing this before the lighter had even left the Normandy, questing tendrils attempting to find any kind of recognizable port to connect with or, failing that, forcing one.
Pak found the device unusual and flimsy, its machine spirit feeble and anemic but at least present. It was not especially complicated. By the standards of some of the lost, forgotten, obsolete or just plain broken colonial technology they'd had to deal with already it was positively straightforward, which was at least a refreshing change, if uninspiring.
Once they arrived back on-board Pak managed to rig up - with remarkable alacrity for a Tech Priest, in Jarrion's opinion - a cogitator in one of Jarrion's chambers to act as an intermediary device for the Lord Captain to use to examine the thing's contents. Shortly after that the relevant astronavigational data was found, extracted, and passed along to Altrx and those others working in astronavigation, to get them all better orientated.
Jarrion, though, kept at it, furiously studying the device and the information it contained.
Shepard had, it seemed, included not only a galactic map as she'd said she would, but also a codex of some kind, containing information on just about anything Jarrion might have been curious to learn about. Rather too much, in fact. He restricted himself to the essentials and swiftly devoured all details available. He learnt a lot, though he didn't fully believe more than half of it.
A lot of his initial hopes - that they were lost in some corner of the galaxy that knew little beyond itself and that only by moving a little further they'd quickly find themselves back in the Imperium proper - were dashed immediately.
Shepard's galaxy was an explored one, end to end and top to bottom. Or at least enough to make it clear that the possibility they were simply tucked away somewhere was flatly impossible. And it only got worse.
From what Jarrion could make out not a single Ork had ever been encountered. Anywhere, at any point. There were mentions of dozens or more other alien races that Jarrion hadn't heard of, but that didn't meant much - it was the absences of the ones he was familiar with that spoke volumes. No Orks? No Orks?!
That tore it, that really did.
He rather hoped at first that this was just a language issue. The written form of whatever language Shepard used wasn't wholly unfamiliar to Jarrion, but there were enough issues here or there that he might have been able to believe he was simply missing the obvious. And he might have believed this, had he not been employing his trusty lexigraphical servo-skull, which rendered these difficulties trivial.
It was not a language issue. What he was reading was pretty emphatic in the picture it painted.
This was not the galaxy he was supposed to be in. At all. Even allowing for the mysterious mists of time it was not their galaxy. Another time, another galaxy! Ridiculous. Hopefully still untrue somehow. But for now, it was what Jarrion had to deal with.
But this was fine. He could work with this. His plan could accommodate this.
That Loghain might have been right was probably the worst part. He could almost imagine the look on her face already.
Once he felt he had grappled sufficiently with the available information he summoned the higher level members of his crew for another meeting, so he could explain to them what he'd learnt and also outline what the next steps were going to be. While waiting for the room to fill he had Pak rig the flimsy tablet up to the meeting room's hololithc projector.
Explaining things always worked best with visual aids.
Navigator Altrx was the last to arrive, so absorbed had he been in the data he'd been supplied with, but once he'd shown up and got seated and the doors shut behind him then Jarrion felt he could begin. He rose, and the muted conversation that had halfway filled the room died out.
"There have been some developments, as I'm sure you're all aware of," Jarrion said without preamble. "A lot of what I am about to tell you will likely sound rather confusing but do try to keep your questions until the end - this is me simply relaying what I have learnt to the best of my ability."
He looked around to see if anyone had any obvious difficult understanding this. Everyone seemed to be listening intently enough, which was a good start. Jarrion cleared his throat.
"And until I am standing on Holy Terra herself looking with my own eyes at the Imperial Palace - or something less extreme but equally convincing - we are going to be working as though this information is accurate, otherwise we won't be getting anything done."
He hadn't expected a laugh. Would have been appreciated, yes, but he hadn't expected one. And he did not get one. He cleared his throat again, a little more uncomfortably this time. Given what he knew he was about to say, he felt he had the right to feel uncomfortable.
"Here are the facts at least as they appear at present: The year is twenty-one fifty-eight. That is to say, M3. No, no, no questions, please, these are the facts as they stand. As far as we know right now it is M3. The galaxy is not as we know it. A lot of what we might take for granted is apparently not the case."
Lay one hand knuckles-down on the table he ran the other back through his hair before holding it out in front of him so he could count off the salient facts on his fingers.
"No mention of the Imperium. No mention of the Emperor. No mention of the Archenemy. No mention of the Warp! Apparently all space travel is undertaken using point-to-point 'relays' that were just left behind by some now-extinct species! And then a lesser form of faster-than-light is undertaken once they've arrived! Can you imagine? Anyway, where was I? Ah yes. No mention of Orks, Eldar, Hrud, Slaugth, Zoats - none of the species we are unfortunately familiar with. And you might think - as I did at first - that perhaps our new associates were simply a combination of small enough and lucky enough to have avoided the attention of these aliens, but no! This is information from the length and breadth of the galaxy! Not a single Ork! No Eldar now, nor ever! This is not our galaxy. This is foreign territory indeed. Which brings me onto my next and main point - Pak, if you would."
He gestured to Pak, who had already interfaced themselves with the hololithic projector mounted into the meeting room table. There was a clunk and a quiet blurt of chatter from the Magos and then a rising hum as the projector started into life. The middle portion of the table unfurled, the projecting apparatus extended, and a map fo the galaxy as extracted from Shepard's tablet was duly shown to all present, much as it had been on the Normandy.
Only this map was in black and white with a flicker that ran through it every three seconds. This particular quirk of the hololith had never bothered Jarrion before, but after having seen Shepard's rather swish, stable and full-colour version back on the Normandy he did have to admit to perhaps the tiniest smidgen of envy. He'd have to ask where she got it from.
Later, though. Right now he pointed to the swirl of the galaxy hovering above the table.
"Here is the lay of the land, as I was able to make out. This area," he said, indicating a wide swathe of the galaxy. "Is space under the jurisdiction and nominal control of the 'Council', a rather blasphemous-sounding assemblage of alien races and which humanity is - rather unfortunately - a member of. They are the most significant power in the galaxy at present."
Some murmuring at this, but nothing loud enough to warrant shushing so Jarrion carried on.
"Terra is here, and the surrounding area is under the control of the Systems Alliance, the entity to which our friend Shepard sort of belongs to. Or did prior to her dying. Importantly, they also have some semi-official colonisation efforts here or there which the Council seems happy enough to let them get on with, mostly just so that humanity will do the heavy lifting while they sit back."
There was a mutually shared moment of distaste at the manifest indolence of aliens, not so much murmuring as muttering and most of it curses. This Jarrion had expected. He'd felt much the same on reading about it himself. Giving the table a light rap to bring the noise level back down to acceptable he continued.
"This chunk up here is apparently known as the Terminus systems. These exist outside of Council control. A hotbed of discord and strife, from the way I was told. A fractious assortment of dictatorships, petty alien empires and so on and so forth united mainly by their distaste of the Council."
Jarrion was fairly sure that he was missing out on a lot of detail and subtle nuisance but he was also fairly sure he didn't care. Aliens were aliens, how they felt like dividing up their stretch of the galaxy would only be an issue when it became an obstacle. For now, he could afford to speak in generalities.
"And this stretch from here to there is called the Attican Traverse. Something of a no-man's land, apparently - full of things both the Council and those in the Terminus system would like to get their hands on but not-so seriously they want to do so in force, lest either side take offence and a war break out."
With this Jarrion was confident he'd covered the essentials. Now he could get onto the real meat of his plan and where his thoughts were going.
"Now here is the pertinent detail: in the systems that fall outside of Council control are more than a few human colonies, as I mentioned. These colonies, being where they are, are often left to fend for themselves in the face of a hostile galaxy, with support forthcoming from neither the Council nor this System Alliance. This, to me, represents something of an opportunity. Especially as - according to our new friend Commander Shepard - these colonies are at present experiencing something of a persistent problem."
The meeting room was pleasingly silent at this point, those present clearly keen on seeing where the Lord Captain was going with this. Or else trying to come to terms with where they apparently were now. One or the other. Jarrion pointed to the map again, to better underline the point he was going to make.
"At present there appears to be a very particular issues plaguing colonies in these regions - the human colonies specifically. Some manner of alien depredation or other, the details hardly matter. What does matter is that our new friend Commander Shepard has been tasked by a human faction of considerable means to look into this issue and correct it."
Leaning forward now Jarrion put both hands on the table, looking at each face around the table in turn.
"The plan is something like this: We render a level of assistance to Commander Shepard in this task of hers, sufficient to have this trifling issue with aliens resolved. With this accomplished we will no-doubt be basking in the gratitude of any number of these colonies. At present - ignoring all the reasons as to why it might be so - we are cut off from support. We need a foothold and a base from which to operate. I say we, well, pick one of these colonies. Possibly even the one that the Commander will be heading to shortly."
"And take over?" Loghain asked flatly, picking the perfect moment so that everyone heard her. Jarrion glared, but had honestly expected a proper interruption before that point, especially from her.
She'd taken her blindfold off upon returning to the Assertive, but having now spent a little time with her Jarrion no-longer found the sight of those charred, ruined socket in anyway unsettling. Funny how easily you got over those things.
"And demonstrate a level of concern and interest in its management and its relation with its neighbours and other nearby colonies, for its own betterment," he said, emphatically. "We have the manufactorum on board, after all, and are carrying a variety of items they might find useful. Assisting colonies was what we were doing before we got into this mess - if you think about it it's hardly any different. We help, we find what colonies need, we provide them with the things they need and in so doing receive things other colonies need, and in so doing forge a nice, strong, stable, profitable web of trade to support us."
"You're talking about, what? Carving out a little empire?" Altrx asked. Jarrion made a big show of appearing both wounded and offended. Possibly hammed it up a bit much, but he was on a roll.
"Nothing of the sort! I am talking about a strong foundation on which to steady ourselves. I take it none of you here have any notable experience about being cast into the past and cut off from all Imperial support? No? Well, what would any of you do? Go around attempting to impose the Emperor's Will half-cocked? What good would come of that? Just wander the galaxy hoping something came to you? No. We need resources! Bodies! Materials!"
Jarrion hammered a fist into the table for each of these, to really get his point across. Then he straightened out his jacket and folded his arms, continuing more calmly:
"And then when we're secure, when we're standing on solid ground, we turn our attention to the problem of how we got here, with a view to getting back of course. Indeed, I want that to begin immediately - Pak, I want every available techpriest poring over every scrap of data we have relating to our arrival. Can that happen immediately?"
Pak nodded and quietly started communicating with the other mechanicus on board. While the meeting room might have lacked most-all forms of communication, Pak could still access the noosphere without too much trouble, such as it existed on the Assertive, and so relay this instruction to the other Magos, who in turn passed word down to the lesser brethren, and so on from there.
Within moments, roles had been assigned, and available tech priests peeled away to begin the analysis. Had anyone seen it, they would have been impressed. Probably a little daunted.
But none had, and Jarrion just carried on.
"Really, it would be remiss of us not to grasp this opportunity. This whole area - everywhere beyond the reach of this Council - is rich with many worlds that already been fully surveyed! Worlds abundant with resources! All that's keeping them from being fully exploited is nervousness and political inertia!"
And this was fresh survey information, too, which was what had really got Jarrion energised. Some of it was barely decades old - practically brand new!
Very little as disheartening as loading up thousands of eager colonists, charting a course, braving the journey through the Warp only to arrive at your destination and find what had been surveyed as a perfectly habitable world was now a lifeless, radiation-blasted hunk of rock and which had been so for centuries. For an example that House Croesus knew all too well.
With information this fresh though? This recent? It was like being Jarrion was personally being offered each of them individually! It was difficult to keep his excitement in check.
But keep it in check he did, adjusting his epaulettes and standing up straight.
"Anyway. That's all what's going to happen later. What is happening right now is something else. The Commander's benefactors have apparently received information that these aliens currently menacing the colonies - known as 'Collectors' - are planning an attack. This is the first time such forewarning has been received, and so she shall soon be making all haste to get there first. She has kindly requested we accompany her and I, for one, think this is an excellent idea. Pak, if you would please highlight the relevant spots on the map."
Pak's mechadendrites flexed briefly and two spots on the flickering image of the galaxy blinked into greater brightness.
"The colony in question is here. We are here. This is some distance, especially given that at present we have no reliable means of orienting ourselves. Can we-"
"Not possible," Altrx cut in. Navigators, a lot like Inquisitors, felt they were important enough to be able to interrupt Rogue Traders. Jarrion was left standing with his mouth open mid-speech.
"I'm sorry?" Jarrion asked. Altrx just shrugged, leaning back in his very-expensive chair.
"We're not going anywhere, not right now. I take it you want to be leaving immediately? That's not happening."
"Did you not receive the navigational data?"
"Oh, I did. And I had a look and my staff have had a look and I know astronavigation is looking right now and we are working on it but we haven't worked out a good way of getting around yet. This is all wholly new territory. I could navigate if the Warp was anything like I was used to but it really, really isn't. It's good you're showing me a destination because that'll give us something to work against but we're not going anywhere yet. It's just not happening."
Jarrion stared at Altrx, his brain grinding quietly inside his skull.
"How long would you say it will be until the Assertive is ready to get underway?" He asked with far more calm than he felt. Altrx blew out a breath and put his hands behind his head and his boots on the table. Again, this was the sort of thing that Navigators thought they could get away with. Largely because they could.
At least his boots were clean, Jarrion noted.
"Oh, not long. Day? Day or two? I mean, it'll be touch-and-go softly-softly stuff until we work out the best way of getting from A to B but we'll be moving at least."
This did not work to Jarrion's time frame, which was obliquely Shepard's timeframe. He was acutely aware of the need to be getting moving in the next hour or so. His mind grappled for alternatives but didn't really find anything useful.
Not that Altrx cared. Having spoken, the Navigator seemed to have remembered how much he enjoyed the sound of his own voice. Pausing only briefly to light a roll up of some dubiously acquired narcotic substance - being able to smoke anywhere and everywhere he felt like being another thing that Altrx, as a Navigator, was able to get away with - he waved a hand and continued, seeming to address the room at large:
"You see, when I'm there in my cradle and I'm looking into the nightmarish substance of the Empyrean itself, it appears to me - me personally - as a mountain range of sorts. Storm-wracked! Treacherous! Its winding paths ever-changing, the footing unsure. Off in the distance always looms the Astronomicon of course, either faintly or clearly, a vast and bright peak. And this is how I navigate. Here though?"
He took a drag and let out a languid puff. Bastard was taking his time, Jarrion noted. Jarrion had heard this all before. More than once, in fact. It paid to be patient, but even he had limits.
"Here all is calm. All is flat! No mountains do I see. Only rolling, gentle plains. No storms either! Everything is placid. And you'd think that'd be easy, wouldn't you? You blunt types. But no, not at all! It's a vast and featureless plain! No landmarks, no sense of direction. How am I to find my way? Your information will help me to find myself and so better direct the ship, yes, but not immediately. It's a complex process. I don't think any of you really appreciate that."
Everyone waited for there to be more, but there wasn't. Altrx seemed satisfied with what he'd said and put his hands behind his head again, closing his eyes, his input finished. Jarrion stared at him blankly for a moment.
"We all appreciate your forthright answer, Altrx. It's just that this is a very time-sensitive issue…" he said, sinking back into his chair. No-one had any answers to this. Jarrion sighed and craned his neck to look back to Thale, standing behind him as he usually did.
"What do you think, Thale?" He asked.
"Permission to speak freely, Lord?"
Jarrion nodded permission, saying:
"Of course."
Thale shifted in place, standing up - somehow - a little straighter than he had been before.
"I didn't get this far in life by thinking about things."
"...fair enough," Jarrion said, turning back again around. "Pak, how do you feel about where we are right now?"
Pak unfolded their arms from their sleeves and held a single augmetic hand out flat, tilting it slightly from one side to the other before putting it back into their sleeve again. The meaning of the gesture was clear, though bizarre to see coming from a Tech Priest.
"You're very relaxed for a Magos, you know that Pak?" Jarrion asked.
It was difficult to tell given Pak's face, given that they didn't have a whole lot of face to work with, but Jarrion felt for sure they were glaring at him. Jarrion sighed again and spread his hands apart on the table.
"Anyone else? Any input at all? Solutions? More problems with no solutions? Loghain, you haven't criticized me for a good five minutes now, are you feeling alright?"
"It sounds to me an awful lot like you are turning this situation to your advantage. Your personal advantage," said Loghain.
Jarrion groaned and raised a finger of objection.
"I'm not turning this situation to my personal advantage I am doing my best to turn it towards Imperial advantage! How many times do I have to explain this? How much clearer do I need to make this to you? We are presently the sole representatives of the Imperium in existence! On us rests everything! Our decisions matter and - since this is my ship - it is my decisions that matter!"
"Technically your father's ship-" Torian started, leaning in from his seat beside Jarrion's, but Jarrion chose not to listen and just carried on, eyes not leaving Loghain.
"Hopefully we'll discover a means of returning. Maybe we'll discover a means of bringing the Imperium here. Are there not gateways through the Warp? Might we not find one? What better gift would it be for the Imperium than for us to already have carved out a foothold for it here, in this new, untapped world? Think of it!"
"I think you've come unglued," said Loghain, pleasantly enough.
"This is why you're an Inquisitor and I am a Rogue Trader. You see danger in every opportunity while I see opportunity in every danger! Behind every corner! We would be fools not to make the most of what has been handed to us. My plan will work!"
"'Opportunity in every danger'?" Loghain repeated, mouthing the words with obvious distaste. Jarrion waved a hand at her.
"Not my best work, but my intent is sincere. Hesitation now would be folly. We stand to lose everything if we dawdle. We are not an island. We cannot exist on our own indefinitely. Our resources will dwindle. They are dwindling even as we speak! We have nowhere to go, so we must make somewhere to go! In the Emperor's name! Via His instrument of House Croesus."
None of which changed the fact that they weren't going anywhere right at that moment, of course, much to Jarrion's chagrin.
A pause while the weight and grandiosity of this statement settled on everyone in the room.
"You've been making a lot of speeches lately," Loghain said, eventually. Jarrion considered snapping back but then lost all the energy for it, his shoulders slumping momentarily before his back stiffened once more. It hadn't so briefly most in the room didn't even notice.
"I'm under a lot of stress. But that's hardly new. Different challenges, but nothing we cannot rise to. Although I'll admit that our...continuing navigational difficulties have put something of a kink in things."
"So I noticed," Loghain said.
And it was then that someone rang the bell outside the door, which was at least more professional than knocking. Jarrion clutched to this interruption like a lifeline, snapping his fingers for a servant to admit whoever it was outside. Turned out to be a member of the bridge crew again. Hardly a surprise.
"We are being hailed again, Lord Captain."
Jarrion felt he should have seen that coming.
"Emperor have mercy I'm just going to run a wired vox into this room in future…" He said to himself, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. "Alright, I'll take it in a moment. Everyone return to their stations. Altrx, you work on getting us moving. I'll - I'll figure out how we take our next step."
How exactly he was meant to do this was something Jarrion thought about the whole way back to the bridge. Nothing struck him, so it was with mounting anxiety that he answered the hail.
"Hello again Commander, you making ready to get underway?" He asked.
Again communication was audio-only. Whether that would ever get fixed was up in the air.
"Yes we are. You guys coming or…?" Came the voice of Commander Shepard. Jarrion continued thinking on his feet, pacing up and down before his command throne, a finger tapping his chin.
"We are, yes, yes. But, uh, unfortunately we are continuing to have something of a navigation issue at present so while, ah - while that's sorted I felt that I and a small retinue might accompany you to the colony, to assist in operations on the ground, with the Assertive to follow not far behind."
This he all said off the top of his head, making it up on a word-by-word basis. A lot of people on the bridge were gawking at him, but he just ignored them. Or tried to. He then coughed, hammering a fist against his chest.
"If that's acceptable?" He ventured.
A pause, the crackling of the less-than-stable communications link.
"Uh, sure, whatever works for you. You'll be coming over again, then?"
"Yes indeed, presently. See you shortly, Commander."
Once communication had been cut everyone who had been holding back what a bad idea they thought this was felt free to let rip with how bad they thought the idea was.
Which, given that Pak didn't speak, Thale knew not to speak and everyone else wasn't allowed to speak, was only really Torian and Loghain.
"My Lord! You cannot think to leave the ship at a time like this! And accompany these strangers! Need I remind you, my Lord, there are aliens on that ship!" Torian gasped, his voice lowering on the 'aliens' and his eyes flitting to Loghain at the same time.
"Do you honestly think it's a good idea to hop over there and let them go off who knows where with you along for the ride?" Loghain asked.
"Right now I think it's our only option," Jarrion said.
"My Lord! You cannot-" Torian started again, but got no further before Jarrion interrupted.
"I can, and I judge that I have to. This is a one-off opportunity. It's about what we are seen to be doing! If we dawdle, we miss the chance to appear as the saviours we are! We know we mean well, we know we have their best interests at heart, but if we're not seen to come to their aid now it will damage our credibility. So no, this has to happen and if it can only happen this way then, well, here we are."
This settled nothing, and everyone's individual arguments all broke out all at once and washed over Jarrion in a waft of noise. He absorbed it for a second or so then held up his hands for quiet, which he got.
"I hear your objections and all of your input and while I value it I find myself forced to offer this counterpoint: I am the Lord Captain, I am a Rogue Trader. Beyond the bounds of the Imperium - which is where we are now, one way or another - I carry with me the authority of the Emperor Himself, speak with His voice and act in accordance with His will to promote the interests and advancement of His Imperium. So what I said is going to happen is going to happen. Questions?"
There were no questions.
"Marvellous. I'm glad we could agree," he said, turning in place. "Master at Arms, if you could please organise a squad of armsmen to be equipped for ground combat. Fully equipped, if you'd be so kind, with rations sufficient to see them through a fortnight if possible. We'll be taking the heavy lighter for this one."
"Lord Captain," said the Master at Arms, getting started on that. Jarrion turned back to those more immediate to him,
"Torian, you'll have the bridge while I'm away. Keep the ship in one piece and - and I cannot stress the urgency of this - get Altrx to pull his finger out and get the Assertive moving. As soon as he figures out a way to do it you get him to take it to the colony world I marked before, alright? Horizon. As soon as possible. That's where I will be, yes? So get him to do that," he said, pointing aggressively in the general direction of the Navigator's cradle, which was somewhere below and to the front of the bridge and was where Altrx had already disappeared to.
"Of course my Lord but I-" Torian started, but Jarrion had already moved on, now wagging a finger under Loghain's nose.
"You're coming with me. I don't really trust you enough to leave you here," he said.
"I was coming anyway," she said, arms folded.
"Of course you were. We're also going to the armoury first, you and I. Something tells me that we'll be getting into it on the ground pretty soon."
"Could it be that we're planning on heading off an alien attack on a world and have to leave our nice big ship behind and travel instead on a tiddly little ship crewed by the sort of people who think xenos make fine friends and allies?" Loghain offered.
"Exactly that, yes. Come on, let's slip into something a little more martial. Thale, you're coming too. Torian, you have the bridge."
The armoury, given its contents, was located centrally in the ship, deep enough inside to be well protected but also convenient enough to arm those who might need to keep the ratings in order or else repel especially determined boarders. It did not take long to get to, and when they did arrive the armsmen who'd be accompanying them were already there.
Seeing as how the stated purpose of Jarrion's expedition had been remind the various holdings of House Croesus where their immediately loyalties should lie, supply what equipment they might need, settle any disputes that might have arisen and also possible see off the occasional alien raid, its stock of armaments was comparatively light. Especially compared to, say, his brother's ship.
But, being a Rogue Trader vessel, what armaments there were were of particularly high quality.
And so it was that the armsmen picked to accompany Jarrion were all equipped in full carapace, bearing beautifully maintained Minerva-Aegis lascarbines and had already been issued with - at least from what Jarrion could see before he moved towards his own personal section - a heavy bolter, a plasma gun and a formidable selection of grenades, at the very least.
This was just the sort of thing to bring along when meeting strangers and aliens. It was important to make a good first impression. And, in the case of particular hostile aliens, a lasting first impression. As it were.
The armsmen saluted briefly as Jarrion passed and he waved greeting, pausing a moment to have some words with their sergeant about the nature of the mission and what might be expected of them. He kept it vague, but was keen to stress that they should expect the unexpected.
With that cryptic and unhelpful advice delivered, Jarrion, Thale and Loghain continued on.
From his end of the armoury Jarrion quickly zeroed in on what he felt were the essentials. His own suit of carapace with its integrated refractor field, his power sword (as opposed to his other sword which he'd worn the first time he'd gone over, which had just been a sword sword), his bolt pistol - the essentials.
Loghain got armour, too. Jarrion insisted, especially about the helmet. He also found a gun for her. Specifically, a laspistol.
"And this is for you," Jarrion said.
"I don't think giving the blind person a firearm is a particularly good idea," Loghain said, continuing to shift and settle in what was clearly the unfamiliar weight of full carapace.
He might not have liked her that much - or at least be fairly certain he didn't like her that much - but Jarrion wasn't so stupid as to think not having her around would be an improvement. Like any possible resource, she was to be protected.
That, and a dead Inquisitor was probably more trouble than a live one, weirdly.
"I know you can see perfectly well, Loghain. If you don't feel a particular need to fire it that's your choice, I'd just prefer not to have anyone unarmed on this trip. Take the gun," he said, rolling his eyes.
He thrust the laspistol to her again and this time she took it, not even fumbling for it. Once she laid her hands on it though she frowned, tilting her head down.
"Is this it?"
"It's all we have left," Jarrion lied, not even bothering to sound like he wasn't. Loghain transferred her frown from the pistol to him, though he was unmoved.
"Most people are nicer to Inquisitors."
"Most people aren't Rogue Traders."
Personally speaking, Jarrion felt that las weapons got short shrift. He felt this was unfair.
Yes, they were a ubiquitous and robust weapon, the weapon of the common soldiery. They therefore lacked mystique and prestige. They were so commonplace you'd be hard pressed to find a world in the Imperium where you wouldn't be tripping over the things, and in a galaxy of options many felt it often came up short where it counted.
Which was fair enough. But there was a reason they were so prolific. They worked. And not just in the sense that they worked and kept on working, but also in the sense that they worked for their intended purpose, assuming they were used correctly.
It was quite easy for people to forget that they were still weapons, and comparatively nasty ones at that.
He had seen with his own eyes what a las round could do to soft tissue. A bullet to the gut would bleed and was no joke, but with prompt attention wasn't anything a proper and stoic person couldn't walk off.
A lasbolt to the gut left a fist-sized, bleeding hole surrounding by ruptured flesh at best or - if it hit the right spot - a ragged through-and-through, prior to the wound channel collapsing in on itself, of course.
He'd even heard - though never seen - that if you got a clean shot to the spine it was possible to blow someone in half. Assuming you hit them at full power. There wasn't a lot of walking away from that.
Which was why Jarrion made a point to always carry his Steel Burner laspistol as a backup whenever he went off expecting aggression. When all else failed, it rarely did.
Not that Loghain paid attention to this, of course. She just saw his bolt pistol, those empty sockets of hers angling down to where it hung on his hip. She also pouted, which was decidedly weird looking coming from an Inquisitor.
"You have a bolt pistol. Why can't I have a bolt pistol?" She asked.
"Mine is the only one on board, I'm afraid," he said, giving the weapon a pat.
This was not anywhere near true. Technically his was the only one of its make and model on board, but they did just happen to have a small rack of the things made to a lesser standard were anyone to require one. Not that Loghain had been told that. Not that she apparently needed to have been.
"You're lying! I can literally see that you're lying."
Jarrion shrugged.
"I'm lying then. You still can't have one."
"This is very petty of you."
"Sorry, but I just don't think it'd be safe trusting a blind person with a bolt weapon," he said.
"...fine. I'll give you this one," Loghain groused, finally holstering the pistol.
"Generous of you. Thale, you all tooled up?"
Thale - who had been ready for minutes now - raised his hellgun by way of saying yes.
Briefly Jarion wondered if Thale was even not all tooled up. The man literally slept in his armour. It was a wonder he didn't smell more than he did. The benefit of years of experience, probably.
Loading up on spare ammunition and having a servitor carry it they then proceeded to the hanger - no time to waste and all that.
Again, the armsmen were ahead of them, sorting through personal equipment and also checking and re-checking what weaponry and provisions they were taking along. Behind them sat the heavy lighter, already being blessed and prepared. Also there was a looming, terrifying figure that made Jarrion double-take when he saw it.
"Pak? Is that you?"
It was, though it did not look like it was.
Pak had got changed in preparation for the trip, too. Only Pak's change had involved switching the robes out for armour that gave the Magos an additional half foot or so of height and what appeared to be a good few inches of solid armour plate all over.
Dragon Scale, Jarrion vaguely remembered it being called. Some kind of Mechanicus power armour. Certainly it looked formidable, and the small, articulated cannon mounted on the armour's shoulder only served to make it even more daunting.
And Pak had also decided - feeling that apparently this wasn't enough on its own - to swap out their whole right arm for another, bigger gun. This one was glowing. On seeing Jarrion and the others approaching Pak gave a small wave with their remaining hand.
"Okay, so Pak's a tank now. You're coming along as well?" Jarrion asked, walking over.
Pak nodded, slowly.
"Well I'm not going to say no. You prepared? Packed?"
Pak nodded again as a tracked servitor rolled to gentle stop just behind them, carrying a ferociously weighty looking metal case in each hand. The contents could only be guessed at. Jarrion's eyes flicked from the ridiculously tooled-up techpriest to the servitor and back again.
Someone with only one arm does not take a servitor to load two cases onto a ship and then leave. Someone with only one arm takes the servitor with them to carry their luggage off again afterwards.
"Alright, but the servitor stays on the lighter if at all possible, okay? We're still doing our best not to scare the locals," Jarrion said.
Again, Pak nodded, already plenty scary enough on their own.
"Good. Great. Let's get moving. Final checks, get all cargo stowed, I want us out of here in three minutes," Jarrion said, raising his voice and waving an arm around his head.
"Why three?" Loghain asked.
"Not as long as five, not as short as one," he said. She accepted this with an 'oh'.
And, indeed, not three minutes later they were on their way again, rocketing through the space separating the Assertive from the Normandy. Not a long journey by any means, but long enough for Jarrion to note that Loghain was, again, giving him the eyeless stare, her helmet safely stowed beneath her seat, as was his.
"I feel that you're waiting to spring something on me," he said to her.
"What are you going to do - if anything - about the aliens that appear to be part of the Commander's crew? Just out of curiosity," Loghain asked. Jarrion sighed.
"Is it good that the humans here apparently cooperate with aliens? No, of course it's not. But it's a fact. I don't really intend to do anything about them if I can help it," he said.
"Interesting, interesting."
"I'm not sure what answer you want from me here, Loghain. I'm not going to start copulating with the things or trading out the Assertive for some alien vessel or anything like that. If the Commander wishes to pal around with xenos, fine, that's her lookout and that can be her downfall. I am going to take a things a step at a time. If I find aliens that are a threat? They shall be dealt with. If I find aliens that might be of use? Then they'll be put to use. That's it."
"Another resource to be exploited, then?"
"Quite so. There's quite a precedence for Rogue Traders making use of xenos in such a way, as I'm sure you're aware. Unless you're my father or my brother, obviously…"
House Croesus, fairly famously, tended to see the only use of aliens being as something to discharge weapons at. A fair enough stance, by any measure, but one that had always struck Jarrion as possibly more wasteful than it needed to be.
Not that he'd ever made this position known to his father or his brother, obviously. At least, not more than once.
"Yes, I had heard of that sort of behaviour," Loghain said.
"I suppose there's still no chance of you revealing why you happen to be on my ship?" Jarrion asked.
"Can't you guess?"
"Guessing the motives of an Inquisitor does not strike me as a good idea. I wouldn't even know where to start. Investigating me? My family? Stowing away on the way to somewhere else? Who can say?" Jarrion shrugged, or at least shrugged as much as he could strapped into his seat by his crash-harness.
Loghain, disconcertingly, grinned.
"Overwhelmed by possibilities?" She asked.
A crackle over the lighter's internal vox told them it was approximately a minute before landing in the Normandy. For a tiny, tiny moment Jarrion wondered what in the God Emperor's name he was actually doing. But it passed, and the unshakable confidence of leadership returned.
He found himself grinning back at Loghain, with rather more intensity than the Inquisitor could muster.
"Yes," he said. "It's wonderful."