Chapter 3: Our Plan of Action
"Current cargo as well as special cargo is currently 58% down. Casualties increased by 35% upon crash landing, of them, 8% were death related. Important members are scattered across the planet. Remnants of Lamenter tactical squad location is unknown. Stormblade tank location is unknown. Tri Questor knights location is unknown. Iukari Desh location is…" RX-777's voxlog report to TE-61.
Waking up from his unconscious dirt nap was anything but pleasant for the Rogue Trader. Faust groaned, feeling himself shaken awake by something large. He coughed, tasting iron in his mouth, a bad sign already. The worst of it was the splitting headache he felt, with blood trickling past his cheek.
"SAH! GET UP!"
Faust opened his eyes with a startle, as the memories flooded back into his mind with a rush. He jolted up, feeling the large hands on him retract as he got into a sitting position—all the while gritting his teeth in pain.
"I'm awake, I'm awake!" Faust yelled to Brogg, looking through his golden lenses. Brogg's mask was removed, showing a jagged array of mismatching teeth and terrible physique. This was because most of his mask had snapped off, leaving dangling straps by his ear. He gave a toothy grin, seeing Faust be awake.
Faust looked at the Ogryn in full, noticing a chunk of metal in Brogg's abdomen. It was long in size and just as sharp looking—and probably from the railing. The Ogryn didn't seem to mind it at all, as per usual.
"Brogg, I believe you need some medicae," Faust recommended, taking a cursory glance around. It would seem he awoke first, though many of the menials that he noticed were… not in the best of shape. Even with a reinforced bridge, physics did not care for the human physique.
"Whuh, this?" Brogg poked the metal in his chest, "Nah Sah, this is nothin' big to me! It don't even sting!"
"I'm still going to have you looked at by one of my medicae personnel. Could you help me up? I feel my legs might buckle if I do that on my own…"
Brogg extended a hand, to which Faust took eagerly. He was lifted up onto his feet by Brogg, coughing a bit more as he took off his helmet. Faust winced in pain as he held the leftmost part of his head, the pain searing more.
"Think ya need it too, Sah," Brogg snorted.
"I'll be fine."
Faust finally looked at the extent of the damage. Overall, the exterior held true to its reinforcement, not even a small crack in any of the windows. The interior, however, was in disarray, as menials were unconscious everywhere he looked and its technological devices were in various states of disrepair or inactivity. Some crewmembers fared much better than others, with likely a few injuries. Others… were definitely dead.
Faust winced seeing Aurelia's head split open on a cracked cogitator, not a chance of survival as her body lay still on the dash—blood pooling underneath her. Goethia seemed… heavily wounded, his chest rising with a shake as he sat below his seat, hunched over, with a leg twisted in the wrong direction. A lot of the bridge crew were injured, and would need to be looked at.
"Brogg, wake up some of them. The ones not heavily injured, like me. And do be gentle, yes?"
Brogg nodded eagerly without a word, walking gingerly to wake some of the menials. Good lad, he was.
Faust walked around his ruined bridge, trying to get some of the systems online or parse some data. He wasn't that familiar with the work of his crew, as he had no need to regularly do it. Why bother with work meant for crewmembers? It was their job as menials to do it for him, but he needed to look through the cogitators since everyone else wasn't available.
Faust looked at the disabled black screen, seeing himself in the reflection. His black hair was a mess, some parts crimson stained and greasy with sweat. His green eyes were crazed and angered, and his sharp expression held a permanent frown. Faust gripped the side of the cogitator, almost wanting to rip it out for showing him his disheveled state. House Vinrexus would pay…
Faust shook his head, walking to the windows to take a look at the outside, and hearing Brogg shake some others awake.
Faust widened his eyes both at the state of his ship and that of the environment
His ship was truly beyond any state of repair, as smoke gouted from parts of its side and remains of the Clad in Ire lay around in droves. A massive crater was around the ship, as it dug up enough dirt to create walls of it. Flames were likely being taken care of by conscious members aboard, as they didn't seem to be spreading too fast.
Faust could also see a landing area just outside the wreckage, as Valkyrie's, Arvus Lighters, and whatever else were descending or hanging in the air nearby. That was better than what he expected, especially since a few savior pods had landed nearby. Compared to the brutish descent of the Clad in Ire, at least they made it out relatively fine.
The environment itself was a little… dry for his taste. It wasn't as if no life grew here, but only a few trees were uprooted outside or inside the crater. The weirdest part was the rock formations in the distance, as large, crystalline spires of black sprouted. He wasn't sure what those were, but he had the oddest sense that they were nothing good—likely his luck telling him not to push it. Other than that, the only other thing of note were the dark clouds in the distance, but probably just a storm passing through.
Faust turned around to face some of the bridge crew who had recovered from their unconsciousness. They limped as they rested or were sluggishly working away at their stations, immediately getting reports for Faust without his command. Others were gathering the dead and the near-dead into separate areas.
Faust gathered himself, protruding an aura of confidence as he slung his helmet under an arm. "My compatriots! If I might have your attention?" Faust shouted, garnering everyone's attention. Some of the unconscious stirred, feeling a mild sensation at his command.
"We are lucky to be standing, but the Emperor's mercy will not be with us should we squander it. I know this is asking for too much after crashing, but I need reports on anything and everything. It is imperative that what remains of this ship does not sustain any more damage and that we can recover. You there, Frin," Faust looked at the menial, who's expression was haggard and dazed, "Send out a call for our medicare specialists and I especially want Sister Francine here. As for the rest of you… make sure you don't overexert yourselves. That is all."
Collective nods or silence was the response. Faust sighed, then heard a scream of distress. He looked over to the source, seeing Brogg stand over… Wundertolg, who just saw one of Brogg's famed "grin of reassurance."
Brogg backed off immediately as Faust walked over, Wundertolg being in a completely panicked state as she scrambled and shouted incoherently. Brogg gave Faust a concerned look, to which Faust simply shrugged. She looked, for better or worse, like she received the least wounds from it. Not even a scratch across her narrow face, as the only thing shaken was her bob-cut blonde hair.
Faust crouched down, then slapped Wundertolg in the face, snapping her out of whatever stupidity she was in. "Get a hold of yourself, you lunatic. You are a member of my honorable crew so act like it."
The menial simply nodded in stunned silence, looking up both fearfully and respectfully.
"Much better. Now then, get up," Faust grabbed her by the arm, dragging her up. "You, Wundertolg, are being temporarily promoted as my current messenger, seeing as how Lieutenant Goethia is out of it." Faust paused, looking at her dazed state. "Do you understand?"
Wundertolg said nothing, only nodding.
"I said, do you understand?" Faust repeated, more sternly.
Wundertolg snapped out of it again, saluting her Captain, "Y-Yes sir, I understand!"
"Good, now, I need you to send a message to the people on this data slate," Faust said, already grabbing it from its station, typing in a few names, then shoving it into her hands. "I don't care how you go about doing it, but I need them to know I'm calling for a conference. If you can't find them… also put that down."
"On it sir!" Wundertolg nodded readily, turning around, stumbled past Brogg in fear, then hurriedly scampered off.
"She's more scared than one of 'em Archimedon toads, eh Sah?"
Faust wryly smiled, remembering the fondness of the species on his planet, and chuckled, "Too right you are Brogg. Come along now, let's go to the conference hall."
Faust and Brogg walked off the bridge, both wincing at the small explosion that echoed outside, before continuing onward.
In a secluded area of the Clad in Ire, was a room expressly built for negotiations, meetings, and whatever else Faust required for speaking to one or more individuals. It was highly decorated, sheening in gold and masterfully crafted architecture, paid in sums many would not believe they would ever see.
The ceiling was incredibly high, as chandeliers hung with candles in each piece that barely spiraled past the midway point. Servo skulls of various designs floated above, their only service being to light candles, hold lit ones, or replace them entirely.
It was a highly effective form of intimidation, prowess of might, and display of monetary value, considering what was to be said or negotiated within its confines. In the center of it lay a large, elegant, crescent-shaped table, made completely of a special form of granite found on one of Archimedon's moons. It was gray in appearance, but almost as sturdy as steel and barely collected dust.
There were two large doorways on either side, representative of two forces coming together to discuss future ventures. Guarding the two entrances were Faust's personnel arbites—who weren't actually arbites. They were trusted mercenaries on Archimedon adorned in the finest regalia and carapace Faust could afford them. On their belts they held power mauls, and in their hands were various weapons of both xenos and human technology. Their armor was a special pattern, made to "resemble" the Adeptus Arbites, but given more leniency on what they could decorate it with. They were simply known as the Fist of Faust.
Faust didn't name this this, it simply stuck.
Sitting at the silvery throne of the crescent table was Faust, who was now in his fresh maroon dress suit, and awaiting for any last-minute arrivals. He was slightly bandaged, but overall, better than when he was a few hours ago.
Next to him was Brogg, who was shirtless and bandaged, the metal no longer in him as all that remained was a healing bloodstain. He had his repaired mask on, now covering his face. However, he was slightly cowered due to the person still taking care of him.
Behind Brogg was Sister Francine Veraluxus of the Orders Hospitilier, her pitch black power armor in white ornaments a stark contrast to the Ogryn. She was still practicing her medicae on Brogg, and was finishing a few other wounds. Her hair was covered by the saintly white and red robes on her head, and her dark blue eyes bore a firm expression.
The reason Brogg wasn't moving as much was because he was still being chastised by Sister Francine, sternly reprimanding him for being injured. Brogg only nervously replied to her bickering. To be able to bring fear to an Ogryn as an ally was a great feat that not many could do, and Faust mentally noted not to be wounded any further today—so long as he could help it.
On the other side of Faust was Stazia Wundertolg, who was nervously shifting in her stance. Her dress uniform was wrinkled and her face was tired from gathering everyone here, but she didn't complain. Faust let her have the rest she needed by ordering her to stay here, a slight reward for taking over Goethia's tasks.
Then, in a tucked away corner with a chair and a cogitator was Otto, who was kept secluded as to not unnerve anyone. He had messy hair that grayed from old age, and generally looked more like a vagabond—even in the pristine clothes Faust afforded him..
At the crescent table were a few other members who had responded to his message, though some were evidently missing. The clown was missing too; a fortunate oddity as he typically invaded these meetings.
The closest to the right side of the throne was a skitarii, who had taken the place of Delta. It wasn't even Delta's subordinate, and was instead the one under her second-hand woman. TE-61 introduced himself earlier since Delta and Rho-Q had escaped on a savior pod—much to Faust's relief. He was… ordinary, for a skitarii, having the same purple robes of Forge World Hephae Prime. Other than that, augmentations completely covered his face and skin, four green lenses looking at Faust.
"Reports have come in about our current situation and integrity of the ship. It is being maintained at fifty-six percent, but some parts are covered in scraps. Improbable to find survivors in deep wreckage. Impossible to ever see this ship fly again."
"Does it matter if it's improbable? Some of my men are stuck inside! I want them out! Now!"
Past the two empty chairs next to TE-61 was the stern looking regiment colonel of the 106th Stormborne, Colonel Reginald Arexa; his armor consisted of a heavy, multi-layered flak jacket with a dark gray hue. His helmet was on the table, resembling the usual Imperial Guard helmets, but instead had a plume of white and yellow feathers flowing downward. He wore an eyepatch, and had defiantly refused any augmentations Faust offered him, almost religiously so. Reginald also had a scruffy brown beard.
"If it were you skitarii or tech-priests under the rubble, you would be scrambling to recover them. You will find my men, one way or another," Reginald demanded, slamming his fist against the table.
"Be at ease, Colonel Reginald. Anger clouds the minds of us mere-mortal men. The Master of Mankind would not allow such a fate within his domain, or should we instead disobey his teachings?"
At the end of that side was the Missionary Davis in flowing chalk-white robes. Parts of his body were covered in metallic chains and brands, along with a cage on his head. A lit candle was at the very top of it, along with a few purity seals stamped to the metal bars. He was completely blind, his eyes burned out, yet he somehow always knew where to walk, go, and in rare cases fight. He was also bald, and heavily scarred underneath the robes—something Faust wished he hadn't seen.
"You… you are right. I apologize, Davis."
"Do not apologize to me, repent your sins in silence and in faith. Only then, may we find light in His teachings. Your men are not the only ones to suffer casualties, and so we must suffer them together…" Davis shook his head, chains rattling as his blind gaze was focused on where the twins would be.
To the left of Faust, three seats down was Rulk Skaldwick, one of their seasoned navigators. He was wearing his armor again, completely covering up any parts of exposed flesh under green robes and brass metal. His helmet was an otherworldly design, almost in the same crescent shape as the table, but flipped upwards and three pronged. He had three lenses, two for his eyes, and one shut for his third. Rell was missing, as she had come out as heavily injured. The details were... gruesome, from what Faust managed to get out of Rulk. He said nothing, not even giving a response, grieving in tempered silence.
Compared to the unfortunately deceased astropath choirmaster who succumbed to the powers of the warp, that was nothing. His seat lay empty, giving Faust a furrowed expression upon reading the report. Faust slightly shuddered, as he heard Choirmaster Arlmoc, quite literally, melted into a liquid ooze of warpflame.
"You shouldn't blame yourself Rulk, I should have been there as well," a mechanical voice sounded out.
Finally, the last person present—other than Otto in the corner far away—was Ymmîr the "Star Chaser," a Kin who came along with the Gellar Rampart. She was completely covered in metal and somewhat reminded Faust of Delta with the way she spoke. Not even the glossy void-black visor gave way to any bit of… abhuman familiarity. Faust had some suspicions on Ymmîr, as did Delta or Francine, but she did her job and usually agreed with Faust, so there weren't many problems. The strongest case was that she was agreeable and amiable, a rare commodity in the Imperium.
"You were injured…" Rulk rasped out, his vox crackling, "It was our duty to make sure we got out safe. We have failed in our sole purpose, and now, we must atone for it."
"Atone by following the Emperor's guidance."
Rulk froze slightly from Davis' reassurance, with Faust and Brogg giving a knowing glance to each other. Rulk seemed to turn slowly towards his Rogue Trader, silently begging to let out a secret. The others didn't seem to notice this—except for Ymmîr.
"Rulk, is there something wrong?"
Before Rulk could answer, Francine butted in as she sat down on the right side of the table, speaking as sternly as a grandmother would, "Who are you to doubt, xenos? Rulk has been here longer than you have."
"I am not doubting!" Ymmîr shouted back, whirring, "I am merely worried. And for the last time, I am Kin! Not xenos."
"Last I checked, Kin were not a part of the Imperium. I barely even knew of your abhuman species before I was 'borrowed' from my planet." Reginald countered.
"Do not pick on my ally in the warp, colonel, lest you draw my third eye's ire too," Rulk growled, his vox going more static. "Only I may do that."
"And prove yourself an enemy of Mankind? I would enjoy seeing you try," Davis sarcastically commented.
The table turned from a civil discussion into a bickering match, as both sides clashed with each other. Faust sat silently, his focus not on politics, but on revealing how badly their current fate was. It wasn't good, but it also wasn't the worst. He was glad to be alive, along with most members he knew, but he was furious that some of the cargo holds had been detached from the hull, landing on various places. Alongside some other pieces of his ship…
Additionally, only some parts of the ship remained fully operational, as the hangar was effectively shut down and the engine blocks were silent. The remaining enginseers and skitarii cohorts were still repairing what they could, and salvaging what they had to.
Then, some of the crew mutinied. Of course. Because why couldn't the lower decks be understanding of their situation? They claimed sections of the ship for themselves or were doing whatever they wanted too, as anarchy reigned supreme.
It was… so exhausting to deal with.
Faust angered boiled over, finally snapping as the bickering drew him away from his thoughts.
"THAT IS ENOUGH!" Faust slammed his fist against the table, a resounding thud resonating throughout the pristine hall. Faust gritted his teeth in a wince, blood dripping from the bottom of his fist.
Everyone turned to look at him, silenced by his outburst in varying degrees of emotions. Shock. Respect. Nervousness.
Francine opened her mouth as she glanced at the new wound on his hand but Faust glared with enough fury to rival a melta-gun, shutting her down quickly.
Faust cleared his throat, leaning forward, "We are wounded. We are stranded. And we are cut off from the Emperor's light."
Davis shook his head, "My friend, the Emperor is with us as we speak, surely you–"
"Our Navigators can no longer see the Astronomican's light."
That shook Davis to his core, shock filling his expression, as did most of the others. Francine sat in silent contemplation, being the second most affected by this. Except for Brogg, who already knew, and Ymmîr, who didn't know what that was.
TE-61 turned to face Rulk, "Navigator Rulk, is this data inquiry true?"
"It is skitarii… but there is something else. The warp… it is calm."
Ymmîr's seat creaked as she leaned back, bringing a hand to her visor. "I noticed that too… my calculations were computing a zero percent error, but I wrote that off as needing a maintenance check."
"Heh, haha, this… this is some sick and elaborate joke, right?" Colonel Reginald asked nervously, twitching anxiously in his seat.
Brogg shook his head, "Nah, it's tha' truth, Sah. Ain't nothin' funny 'bout it neither."
"B-By the Throne…" Francine hunched over, her hand on her heart as it seemingly pounded against her chest.
Faust looked strangely at Rulk, dabbing his wound on a handkerchief Brogg produced, "Hold on a moment, you said it the warp was... calm?" Faust didn't know much about the warp, but he knew the navigator's always fought for a path into and out of it, keyword being fought.
"Yes Faust, calm... I hadn't noticed it at first, my survival and my sister's being our priority, but the warp… it is not a perilous maelstrom any longer. It was still and lifeless as I gazed into it earlier; there was no ebb and flow, no pull nor push. The warp is… different here. Changed."
"My calculations are recommending we do not test this until much later. I would not want to do this without Rell." Ymmîr noted, a clenched hand on her hammer's hilt.
"...Put that down under things to investigate. As I was saying. We are at our lowest. Stranded and without His light or protection. The crew is scattered and our situation may grow worse with time. The ship's systems are mostly down, and our astropaths are either dead, or not in the best of shapes. We are alone here with whatever is outside these secluded walls. So, I FRAGGING suggest thoroughly knocking off the infighting. Our best chance of survival is with each other, not against each other!"
"What authority do you still hold," Davis asked glumly, "If we are absent from the Emperor's light, what says that your Warrant of Trade still holds firm?"
"My gun and the loyalty of my men do." Faust replied immediately, some of his guards shifting eagerly in response. "They hold no ties to the Imperium, only to me. Wherever I go, they follow, and however I act, they respond in turn, because they know I have their best interest in mind. I suggest you hold the same, and that goes for all of you. I am the Imperium's representative and the Emperor's might on foreign lands, sea, or void, and whether we are gone from his vision or not won't matter. My mission as a Rogue Trader remains the same. I would have thought you knew better, Missionary?"
Davis had a moment of clarity on him as his expression brightened, before immediately kneeling from his chair, and praying. "Forgive me Master of Mankind, for even if you don't see us, I will never lose my faith in you. Oh forgive me, forgive this soul of mine." Davis continued praying, repenting in his own way.
However, Colonel Reginald's expression told one of remaining unconvinced. He stared at his helmet, holding it directly in front of him. "...How do I know this will keep my men safe? How do I know this won't result in a loss that would set us back and make us vulnerable?"
Faust nodded. He understood the reasoning and the healthy doubt in Reginald's mind. After all, doubt keeps one from making foolish decisions and leads to the path of discovering truth behind lies—something Faust should have put into practice.
"I don't intend to squander the lives of my crew, colonel. You are under my command, and as such, are my responsibility. I make sure you are supplied, fed, and armed for the necessary measures to act in my stead on the battlefield. I don't intend to betray that trust now. I have a plan."
"...Go on."
Faust nodded, tapping on a data slate in the table, bringing up a hologram of the ship and its current surroundings. Delta's specialty.
"Our ship is currently a wreck, and while I wish it could be repaired easily, it likely won't be restored to its glory." Faust pointed at the several key weak points highlighted now, with the plasma drives currently out of commission and several chunks of hull, cargo space, and armor missing.
"However, as we're cut off for the time being, we must make the best of the worst we have. My father used to say that, and now, I will put it to the test. Crew aboard and outside the Clad in Ire report a clean, breathable atmosphere. That is a safe start. There's also signs of civilization, so we definitely aren't alone here. Whether or not they're hostile, mutants, or otherwise is a separate matter entirely, but exactly what does a voidship entail that still has most of its crew and its somewhat intact hull? Especially when there are no other reliable places to shelter in?"
"...a fortress!" TE-61 and Reginald shouted in unison, both staring at each other afterwards.
"Exactly. The Clad in Ire may be heavily damaged, but we have both the manpower and the supplies necessary to keep it running and repair it to a successful degree. But... we are also divided across the land and some of our artifacts have been scattered in the wind. I cannot do this alone. Repairing the ship and reclaiming the lower decks is top priority. Afterwards, recovery of our men and my exotic goods comes next, as soon as we scout our surroundings. Whatever else is in that mixture, we will do it in the Emperor's name, as well as in House Decimbrus' honor. This, you have my word."
Colonel Reginald nodded slowly, before scratching his beard, "I… suppose my men and I should help. It's not like we'll have much better to do. Maybe I can finally get that break I need…"
"It would seem so, Colonel, it would seem so," Davis responded, before looking at Faust. "I thank you for reminding me of this one's place in the Emperor's guidance. I had almost lost myself to despair, but the Master of Mankind would never allow such a practice."
"Think nothing of it Davis, just do what you need to. Colonel Reginald, I ask for you to retake the ship into our hands while we find more survivors. Use as much necessary force and destruction as possible. I won't care since this voidship is permanently grounded, but I would like some of it intact. Missionary Davis, continue to do your sermons. Restore the faith of the lost so that we won't have dissenters and so that morale remains steadfast. Francine… er, do what you need to. Meanwhile, I'll be working on the ground perimeter and exploring our environment, gathering information, and whatever else I can find. This meeting is now dismissed. Let's hopefully meet in better circumstances by the Emperor's Throne, wherever that may be now."
A heavy silence sat in the air, before Francine interrupted it. "...I suppose my work won't end anytime soon, I must be going now," Francine sat up from her chair, leaving already in a hurry. She pushed open the doors at the opposite end, the burdensome metal creaking as she left.
"Always in a rush, ain't she Sah?"
The rest of his private crew aboard the ship made their own departures. Rulk gave a glance at Otto, shivering slightly, before leaving.
Faust finally nodded in response, watching everyone take their leave "Of course. She has just as much work cut out, same as us." Faust glanced at TE-61, who was still here, awaiting something. "May I help you skitarii?"
TE-61 nodded, his eyes glowing a brighter shade of green as he held a dataslate."Yes, I have a location file based on the potential landing site of Magos Xenobiologist Delta 71 and assistant Enginseer Rho-Q 22/4. It is imperative you find them. The various tech-priests and enginseers efficiencies are weakened significantly without their presence, thus analysis confirms a decrease in response."
"Where," Faust asked hurriedly, grabbing the slate and plugging it into the table. A holographic map showed up, revealing a trail where the ship had crashed, as well as potential sites that were circled in sky blue. It was… relatively close by. Not by much, but it would be reachable by any land vehicle.
"Locations 1-3-7 are the best estimations to finding them. Skitarii cohorts have already been deployed at locations 2-4. Location 5 is… not of value, but an observation. Close by, possibility of information gain due to biological presence. Worth checking out?"
"Thank you TE-61… alright, I can't call you that, what's a name for you?"
"Name? This mere skitarii has only that designation."
"Brogg, you got a name I could borrow."
"Shiny?" Brogg rumbled.
Faust paused, looking backward at a snickering Brogg.
"I am joking! How 'bout Teg?"
Faust nodded, satisfied, turning back to the skitarii, "From now on, I'm calling you Teg. Remember that name."
"...Understood, rewriting database." Teg replied mechanically.
Faust nodded, "Alright. Teg, work on whatever Rho-Q assigned you. If you need me, get Stazia here to speak to me."
As if on cue, Wundertolg who'd been staring off into space and been dead silent since the revelation shook awake. "What? Oh, err, yes of course."
Faust looked at Brogg, who gave a shrug. Stazia seemed a bit… airheaded, more so than the hours Brogg had after he got his chip implant. Whatever, she was still proving her worth.
Faust walked to the door, allowing Brogg to open it. Faust looked at Otto briefly, who was snoring, apparently asleep the entire time. Old man couldn't ever stay awake through a meeting. Least he kept the place safe.
"Wundertolg, wake him up and tell him to meet at the private armory. He'll know what it means. Brogg, we're leaving and getting ready for an expedition outside."
"Sah, yes, Sah!"