Aboard the freighter Holy Grox!, Interrogator Tristan sat in a conference room across from its captain.

"I'd like to start," Tristan began, "By giving you the opportunity to demonstrate your loyalty. Is there anything about this ship, its cargo, its crew, or its activities, that might interest the Inquisition?"

This question always yielded something interesting; Never on topic, but insightful to the subject's perception of their situation.

The freighter captain nodded nervously and put his forearms on the table to show an open-handed gesture. "I just want to start by saying, I've always thought myself a loyal citizen. Someday I wanted to be an Ultramarine."

Tristan rested his elbow on the chair's arm, his chin in his hand, and his mouth behind his fingers. This fat retard had spent his entire life under the protection of the Blood Eagles and had probably never heard of them.

"Why don't you exercise?" Tristan didn't ask. He kept his expression neutral and remembered what Halbert had taught him about leaning into self-identities. He nodded appreciatively of the citizen. He lowered his hand when he was ready, and leaned in to assure the captain.

"Every citizen who helps the Inquisition serves the Imperium just as powerfully as Primarch Guilliman himself." It was very difficult to say this with a serious face, but the Freighter Captain's neck fat stopped shivering in fear. He heaved a sigh of relief and began incriminating himself.

"What you might like to know. Right. Well, I thought we could take a short trip- a short trip- without our Chaplain. Just a short one. We've been on this route so many times, and it's always under a week, and the rules say for a small crew and a short hop you only need a chaplain for a risky jump. And I know they say it's a risky jump, but nothing's ever gone wrong for us, so how risky can it be?"

Halbert was going to delegate this paperwork to Tristan later. Requests for procedure tightening to five different agencies at the port of departure. Notices of death to the sector administration for the captain, first officer, and first mate. Marks of uncleanliness to the church for everyone aboard.

The freighter captain was awaiting a response. He, too, wanted to gauge the situation.

Tristan shrugged. "We all have to take risks sometimes. It's what makes us human. Was there anything else?"

"W-well, now… I just want to remind you, I didn't try to say I was a rogue trader or nothing. But, see… I thought I was, until you showed up and I thought about saying it. And then I thought about it again, and I thought-"

Tristan dispelled his worries with a handwave. "You never impersonated a Rogue Trader."

"Right. Well, see… We came out here because we thought…"

Tristan had never heard this one before. He waited with interest.

"Well, you see, it has to do with how we named the ship. I'll start there. See, we used to bet on Grox fights. You know, gambling. Me and the lads."

Tristan nodded to the door. "You and the officers."

"Yeah. Well, this one Grox- she was our lucky gal. Never lost. Won us enough to buy a ship. And we'd already decided she was a sister of battle because- well it was only 'alf serious, but they used to name the Groxes and paint 'em for the fights, make it fun like, right? And she was the stadium darling, so we- they- the people what ran the show-" By the worry in his eyes, it became clear who exactly ran the Grox pit- "-she always fought the heretic Grox, roit? And so, really, the name of the ship was our expression of faith in the Sorority and their victory over Chaos."

He stopped there to catch his breath. Tristan didn't want to derail him by laughing. He'd do that later over drinks with the Inquisitor. He nodded, "Luck is a good thing. Comes and goes, of course," he gestured vaguely around them at their situation, "But it always comes back to a loyal citizen."

This heartened the freighter captain so much that his pupils dilated.

Tristan prodded, "What was that about not being a Rogue Trader?"

"Yeah. Now, so, you might be wondering why we're freighting grain here when there's no one to eat it."

"Yes."

"Well, see, and now I should have thought about this sooner, shouldn't I? But see, back at home port, the lads and I were celebrating twenty years together, and we met a fellow who liked having a good time. Now at first we were winning lots of his money, so you can see how we ended up in this situation. I mean, why stop what's been working, right? But we didn't 'ave Sister Groxella with us, did we? So- Oh, that's what we called-"

Tristan nodded him on. "I assumed."

"Right. Now, we'd lost enough to get excited over, but not enough to think about during the hangover, we was all in good spirits. But he, being a gentleman- now I think maybe not such a gentleman- he offered us a way to make it back. Just a quick stop on our usual route."

"Right here."

"Here, yeah. Just to pick something up. An' we asked him- it's all above board, yeah? But he says, 'lads, it's beside the board. I've got 'ere a writ from The Emp'r 'imself.' An' he gave it to us to show to you if you gave us any trouble."

"To show us? The Inquisition?"

"Right."

"You have a Warrant of Trade signed by our Lord?"

"I'm not sure what I've got, so I won't say it."

Tristan blinked this over. "Can I see it?"

"Right. I'll get it out now, but jus' remember I'm not claimin' nothin' right? I gots no way of knowing what this thing is and I been forthright with you."

Tristan held out his hand.

Aboard Litany Against Xenos, Inquisitor Halbert paused his interrogation of Grox's navigator. He'd kept Odia in the room at attention to add a weight of seriousness. Navigators were all well-educated, and responded well to presentation.

Halbert told the navigator, "I'd like you to speak with Aratri. She steers Litany Against Xenos. I will be a moment, so Sister Odia will continue this interrogation in my stead."

Inquisitor Halbert found Aratri waiting for him at the starboard lounge, as he had instructed. She was sipping carbonated water, but set this down to scold him.

"Is the Captain called from his station as often as I am?"

"The Captain doesn't need the exercise. Come, their navigator seems an honest man, but I wish you to speak with him and confirm this."

He'd expected her to argue, but she abandoned her drink with eagerness. She stood and hurried ahead of him to the tram. On the way there, they found Odia standing guard outside the room.

Halbert asked, "Did he confess to something?"

Aratri craned her neck, sweeping her strange view over the room. "He's in there? I can't see him, he's hiding again."

Odia nodded to Halbert. "He was a homosexual."

Aratri deflated.

"Do not despair," Odia assured her. "I have cured him."

Aratri lifted her chin in surprise. "So quickly?"

Halbert pinched his nose. "Summon a cleaning crew, Odia."

Back on Grox, Tristan stood in the pressurized storage area and stared at a tiny spaceship. The cargo freighter had picked it up here.

It was a white cone, wide enough for maybe four men to stand inside. His boarding team ran an auspex over it and determined it was a little radioactive, but none of these men expected to die of old age or cancer. It was also a little foreign, which posed extreme danger. The Guard Lieutenant sweat anxiously and watched Tristan for a decision.

"Looks like a drop pod," a Guardsman said.

"No feet," Tristan noted, "and no thrusters."

Tristan walked around it, but couldn't find hatches. Along the bottom was proof of cutting. It had been separated from the wreck it was found on. Just as the captain had said.

He finished his walk around. Again, he and the guard lieutenant stared at the writing on it.

"That's the number two," the Guardsman said.

"Sure is," Tristan agreed. The words seemed alien, but he couldn't think of any xenos that used human numerals. Maybe Tau? Halbert would know. He pushed his comm bead. The Inquisitor answered with uncharacteristic speed.

"Go ahead, Interrogator."

"I've sent you a visual, Inquisitor. The freighter stopped here to acquire an artifact. Can't tell the race."

He gave the Inquisitor a moment to look it over. His answer was a surprise.

"The Sororitas recognize the font. Human Antiquity. Before the Dark Age. Have a Guardsman ready to destroy it, but you may proceed with your investigation."

"Inquisitor, should we await a Mechanicus?"

"I don't like to let them out of engineering."

The Guardsmen made their last obsequences. The Lieutenant pulled a krakk grenade off of his demolitionist- enough to kill everything in this and adjacent rooms- and said, "Ready when you are, Sir."

Tristan stepped forward and knocked on the capsule.

It barked.