Empiricist Adrift

The gigantic fortress, the Grandcruiser Empiricist, is cast adrift in the nameless system deep in the uncharted depths of the Koronus Expanse. The manipulative betrayer, the vile and toxic Xeno Iazesira, left only destruction in her wake as she fled her erstwhile "companions". As the phalanx of techpriests attend the engines, and cast their auguries to the Machine Spirit, it is evident that her poisons have spread further than just the engines. With time, they are infiltrating other systems.
The first system to show symptoms is the Gellar fields, winking momentarily, before shutting down completely.

The two Torturer-class cruisers that the Empiricist fought mere minutes earlier, have been regrouping. While the ships are no longer functional, and in the absence of a dry-dock, probably never will be again, their crews survive and have been readying small craft for an exodus.

The Empiricist's turrets power down. No entreaties to the Machine Spirit yield any response. It remains stoic.

Other systems are only sporadically being powered. There is a scramble among the crew as every able-bodied staffer seeks breathers and voidsuits.

The Xenos' ships spew disorganised waves of fighters and shuttles, all bound for the Empiricist.

All across the vast Imperial ship, an ominous silence descends.

-----INCOMING TRANSMISSION-----
*@//--- SHUTTLECRAFT IMP#$%)OR *//!!
---EMERGENCY DISTRESS BEACON---
---CO-OR##$&^ES TO FOLLOW---
---ENCRYPTED C0#MUNIC&#%ON DOWNLOADING:
FOR THE ATTENTION OF TARKEEN, FORMERLY OF HOUSE IRONCLOUD---

***DECRYPT FOLLOWS***
Lord Commander.
I am in possession of details relating to some items that you are seeking. I am also in considerable peril. I believe a trade is in order.
My co-ordinates are attached to this message. My current location is being encroached upon by Orks. Find me, remove the threat and grant me passage.
In exchange, I offer you the whereabouts of some of the most precious treasures you have ever encountered, and the current location of your traitorous crew members.

***CO-ORDINATES AND IMPERIAL AUTHENTICATION STAMP ATTACHED***

The House Warden's Statement

Kemitt, Warden of House Ironcloud, looks into the camera, with a scowl that his snowy beard can not hide. In a gravelly tone he relays the following on the House channel, to the entire family, wheresoever they may be.
"Brothers and Sisters, Cousins, Family and Attendants, our investigation in to recent events is complete, and after consultation with the Upper House and with representatives of both House Belisarius and the God-Emperor, we have reached a mutual agreement, for the good of the Empire.
"House Belisarius is recanting its condemnation of our House. We will be working closely with them in upcoming Battlefleet Koronus actions, as well as in several more private endeavours. The Expanse will know that we are friends and allies.
"Such a reprieve, however, has not come cheaply. There has been a grave cost to us, one that will doubtless hinder our growth for the foreseeable future. We will, however, survive, persevere, and, with time, prosper once more."
He pauses, looking away from the camera and taking a deep breath; readying himself for what comes next. When he resumes his monologue, his green eyes glare into the camera, as if they peer directly into your soul.
"In the last hundred hours, Port Wander fell foul of a Xenos attack. Genestealers and their vile hybrids landed in the docks of House Belisarius, and by stealth, insinuated themselves into the colony. That done, they launched a devastating attack that caught much of the Port Wander security forces off-guard. The damage would have been apocalyptic, were it not for the presence of a regiment of Adeptus Astartes. Their mission was originally to fall upon the Orks and thin their herd; by the Emperor's graces, their transports were delayed, and they were able to repel the initial attack and hold off the Xenos long enough for a full scale response. By the time Port Wander was fully purged, not only of soldiers but also of victims gestating the next waves, the death toll had broken a million souls.
"The Xenos," he pauses again, struggling to continue, "the Xenos wore ancient heraldry of House Tarkar... they arrived aboard transports we had provided them. A colony found by our Rogue Trader. A colony that was evidently not ready to be brought back into the fold.
"And that brings us to the price of peace. As of this moment, House Ironcloud disavows Rogue Trader Tarkeen, his assets and his crew.  We do not know whether these actions were the result of negligence or malice on the part of the Rogue Trader, but we have agreed that his sacrifice is the condition of our survival. We offer a bounty of Throne Gelt," he holds a promissory scrip in view for a moment, "for the return of Tarkeen, dead or alive. Smaller bounties will be considered for his crew and for his whereabouts."
The screen transitions to a map of the Koronus Expanse, with three areas highlighted. Kemitt continues speaking.
"These three areas represent the last known possible locations for Tarkeen and the ship Ironcloud bestowed upon him, the Problem Child." A system in the Rifts of Hecaton is highlighted: "Intelligence indicates that this region was of interest as it potentially contained an abandoned fleet that he could recover." The highlight moves to a system in the Unbeholden Reaches: "Tarkeen also indicated to us an interest in tracking down a Hive World here. Given the present circumstances, this may be a grave concern." Finally, the highlight moves to the third area: "He also indicated that there may be a lost Mechanicus forgeworld in this region. An attractive prize for any Rogue Trader.
"We do not know for sure which of these he has pursued. We have, however, shared this information with House Belisarius and with Battlefleet Koronus.
"For the Emperor!" He salutes and closes the channel.

Hasran Tarkar's Statement

[This piece is a handout for my current Rogue Trader campaign. In isolation, it is silly. Deal with it. :D]

From the journal of Lord Commander Hasran Tarkar:

By the Emperor’s grace, we located the foul traitors hiding in a maelstrom within the Rift of Hecaton. The Tarkar’s Prejudice was sufficiently large to negotiate the maelstrom unaffected, though the rest of my fleet were not so fortunate.

I ordered the transports to hold position and had the Glory and the Ghost circumnavigate the maelstrom in opposite directions, to cut off any attempts at retreat by the vile enemy.

The maelstrom was dense and made good on obfuscating our sensors. The Will of the Emperor was with us, however, and guided our divinations into the abyssal dark. A pair of cursed raiders lay dormant, running silent in their efforts to hide from Imperial justice… A justice I refused to deny them. My voidmaster served admirably, ensuring our lance struck true, cleaving one of the abominations in twain, purging the foul influence of Chaos therein.

The other vessel, alerted to our presence, sought to flee. True to my expectations, it flew directly into the waiting Ghost. The Ghost unleashed its torpedoes and disabled the fell foe.

I assembled a boarding party – I led Voss, my archmilitant, Carrolus the Missionary, the Tech-Priest Condus, and a dozen conscripts aboard the disabled ship. The moment the shuttle doors opened aboard that stricken vessel, battle was joined. The air was thick – smoke, bolts, las-fire – and neither side sought nor offered quarter. This battle would end only in complete and total annihilation. Fortunately, the fiends graciously accepted the annihilation we offered them.

By the time our beach-head was established in their hangar, half of our conscripts had nobly sacrificed their lives for the Emperor. In contrast, we had purified over two score of the feeble denizens of the ship. A good start, though our casualties brought our zeal into question.

I allowed Carrolus to provide some further motivation to our assembled forces. His potent words, combined with the impromptu immolation of the most cowardly conscript, were commendable, and fostered inspiration and a renewed vigour to our efforts.

With our devotions properly in order, we stationed Condus and some enslaved servitors to hold the hanger, while we penetrated deeper into the ship.

The corridors were dense with bodies and smoke. It became quickly apparent that the damage from the Ghost’s torpedo volley was more extensive than we had initially thought. Indeed, without voidsuits, half our remaining conscripts died before reaching the Bridge – an ignoble death, to be sure. The others were sufficiently blessed to think of stealing breathers from the fallen enemy. (I would sacrifice them to spare them the ignominy of succumbing to chaos, once the mission was complete.)

The Bridge saw battle rejoined – numerous minions dressed in twisted and misshapen approximations of Space Marine carapaces lay in wait for us. Once again in a secure atmosphere, we were deafened by the roar of two dozen bolters and some chainswords screaming life and death in the close quarters. I admit, in those moments, my zeal to the Emperor overcame me. My own recollections did not fully return until their had leader had been thoroughly dismembered by my thirsty chainsword. The all-consuming rage blinded me to the casualties, and the patina of blood that coated me. As the smoke cleared and our victory was confirmed, I was able to tally the death toll. While Voss’s beloved pistol and sword claimed many foes, he was also lost. Carrolus lay mortally wounded, both arms severed. Of the conscripts, one remained. He too was daubed in red by the blood of the fallen. It was only now I noticed both that he had discarded the corrupted breather, and that he was wielding the enormous hammer that originally belonged to one of the Champions of the foe. I reconsidered my initial plan; this one may, with adequate training and devotions, serve as an adequate replacement for Voss.

Having taken the Bridge, it was a trifle to flush the rest of the ship. With that done, we were free to appraise our prize. Obviously, the ship itself was only suitable for destruction. However, its hold was laden with a variety of archaeotech and cold trade that would yield a food measure of profit. There were also a pair of items that warranted further investigation. Once we were safely restored to the Prejudice, I assigned Condus to the task of more properly considering these items.

While he could not be sure without the aid of the Ministorium Archives, he was reasonably confident that we had recovered the bolter of Saint Genevieve Almace – truly a unique and divine relic without peer. Were this to be the case, we stood to profit greatly from establishing a pilgrimage. This thought pleased me; especially now Carrolus was in no position to demand that we restore the artefact to the Ministorium. It also hinted that we might be able to find the Banestar for ourselves.

The other device was evidently Xeno and powerful, though Condus identified that proper investigation would take significant time. He was confident in labelling a Halo Device, however, so we instigated severe quarantine protocols upon it, securing it in a hold on its own.

With our fleet reassembled and our prizes stowed, I ordered the Navigator to return us to Footfall, that we might sell our bounty and liaise with the Family about a more fitting (and profitable) home for the Alamacian Artefact.

The Navigator drew his divining circle in blood on his dais. He uttered his prayers to the God-Emperor and kissed his Aquila, falling to his knees within the circle. His third eye, though closed, glowed furiously as he sought out the distant Astronomican to triangulate our passage.

As always, a tense silence fell over the bridge as we waited for his calculations and the subsequent manifestation of his powers.

A warphole opened. While it seemed very fast, none of us thought anything of it; we assumed it was the work of our navigator.

Which meant that none of us were prepared for the counter attack. The minions of Chaos fell upon us without mercy. Their opening salvo crippled our shields and our Gellar fields. The Emperor clearly smiled on us that their fury was so minimally effective. Further, in their misguided ways, they had focussed their assault entirely on the Prejudice; the Ghost and the Glory remained unscathed and able to deploy their fighters to intercept.

Our response was swift and brutal; the Void filled with fighters and return salvos from our macro-batteries.

We tore their fleet to ribbons in short order.

In our hubris, however, we did not notice the most sinister aspect of their assault. In the heat of the battle, a psychic war had also been engaged, leaving our Navigator twisted in a cruel mockery of humanity. He had turned his pistol on himself rather than suffer the depredations of the foe. While brave and honourable, his actions did mean we would need to abandon a ship of the fleet.

Adjourning to my Ready Room, I called an emergency meeting of my captains. At length we discussed the merits of each ship to the fleet, to ascertain which would be the most expedient to scuttle, so they may have the honour of providing the Prejudice with a replacement Navigator.

As we did so, I received an urgent notification from my Astropath, Ederan. The House had sent an urgent, top priority communique to all holdings. I cut my connection to the conclave and allowed Ederan to deliver his message.

As the message took over, his pallid flesh went limp, vacant, as distant voices manipulated the bare minimum of his body. The voice that spoke was distant and full of echo, yet resonant and forceful.

“Lord Commander! All is lost. The House stands accused of heinous crimes against the glorious God-Emperor. We are betrayed.

“Commence plan Alpha Zero Nine Omega.”

In that instant, our squabbles about which ship would be abandoned became irrelevant. Through Ederan I submitted a brief response – an affirmative, and the location we would move the fleet to – local, but not so close the enemy could fall upon us – in the ancient Tarkarian secret tongue.

Our treasures, our glory, were lost. It is my hope that this villainy will be promptly overturned and we can properly honour the Golden Throne. Until then, we have secured the fleet as best as possible in the Rift and gone into hiding.

Lord Commander Hasran Tarker

Ever loyal servant to his majesty, the God-Emperor.