Chakotay gave a curt nod before turning and leaving the bridge, undoubtedly heading straight to whatever quarters the Maquis had been assigned. I leaned back in my command throne and exhaled slowly.
I hadn't expected the Maquis to be the source of my headaches. I had assumed Starfleet would be the ones constantly challenging me, but so far, they had been surprisingly cooperative, keeping to themselves and finding ways to keep busy.
If anything, it was the Maquis who seemed to be struggling the most. Perhaps it was because their entire existence had been built on resisting authority. Now that they were aboard my ship, they had to play by my rules and lose the freedom they were fighting for.
"How much longer until the next jump?" I asked.
An answer was soon in coming.
"Another four hours, Lord Captain," my navigator responded.
Four hours. Just enough time for Chakotay to get B'Elanna in line, and I would have someone assign her some unpleasant duties that would make my displeasure clear and make her think twice about breaking any further rules.
I had no intention of letting this ship turn into a battleground between factions. If the Maquis wanted to make it back to the Alpha Quadrant in one piece, they were going to have to learn to live with the Imperium's way of doing things.
Soon I turned my attention to my special datapad, wondering if it would offer me something that would amuse me for a few hours or if I should return to my chambers to enjoy spending time with concubines either in bed or doing some sort of psychic training.
500 CP
+100 CP
600 CP
Bank or Roll?
Once I was on my way to my chambers and out of sight, I selected the option for a roll and waited to see what would come up.
Failed Roll. Insufficient CP. Points Banked.
600 CP
I cursed, and when the alarm went off, I realized this was just going to be one of those days. I quickly made my way back to the command centre of my frigate, only to find out that my ship was under some sort of attack. As I returned to the bridge, I heard that we were already firing back—then, before I knew it, I was thrown to the floor and I hit my head on the metal plating of the deck.
If I had blacked out, it hadn't been for long, because by the time I picked myself up and moved to sit in my command throne, no one had come to my aid—which would have been unthinkable given my rank. Given the alarms going off, I'd have needed to fall into a coma to sleep through all of this.
The bridge had changed drastically in mere moments. Fires had broken out, though they were already being extinguished, and sparks flew as vital monitoring equipment overloaded. The air was starting to fill with smoke and the sound of people barking orders.
"What is going on?" I demanded to know.
"Unknown, Lord-Captain," reported an officer. "The long-range auspex is not functioning. Until repairs are made, it may be difficult to ascertain exactly where we are. All we do know is that when we destroyed the unknown vessel, something resembling a Warp Rift came into existence, and we were dragged into it before we could do anything".
I was immediately reminded of when we first arrived in this galaxy, and I couldn't help but wonder if there was another Caretaker out there who had decided to yank us into yet another part of the cosmos. I had to wonder if the force or forces behind my new life were rewarding me or punishing me, or maybe they just had a sick sense of humour.
"The short-range auspex is still functioning," reported an Enginseer. "We can detect several unknown starships close by. They seemed to be in a powered-down state".
So we weren't totally blind. That was a very good thing.
"Lord-Captain an unknown vessel is moving towards us" reported an officer "We are defenceless. The machine spirits of our weapon systems are not responding. But the unknown vessel is moving slowly. It will take some time for them to get close to fire on us if their weapons are as limited as that of the Kazon".
I took a deep breath, forcing down the feeling of frustration that was building in my chest. Panic wouldn't help me now, nor would I be lashing out at my officers in my anger. This wasn't the first time I had been thrown into the unknown, and it likely wouldn't be the last. I had survived it before, only to become stronger in many ways, and I would do so again.
"Damage report," I ordered.
The bridge crew moved quickly, checking their consoles and relaying information.
"We have multiple minor hull breaches," one officer reported. "Void shields are down and we can not fire our weapons. No reports of critical failures yet. The Tech-Priests are already starting their work to restore the systems".
By the time they got the candles and incense lit, we could be under attack.
"Casualties?" I asked.
I wasn't exactly lacking in crew but I could only afford to lose so many.
"Minor injuries across the ship. No confirmed deaths on the bridge crew, but we haven't received full reports from all decks" I was told, "That will take several hours".
That was better than I had expected. Whatever had happened, we had survived. Now we just had to figure out where we were and what we could do about any trouble we suddenly found ourselves in.
"Have the unknown vessels made any moves?" I asked, "Is it just the one heading towards us".
A single vessel wasn't a big treat if we could get our weapons back online even for a short time. They might not even be hostile as this wasn't the Warhammer 40k universe, but somehow I doubted we would be that lucky.
"Negative, Lord-Captain," the officer trying to make sense of the Auger replied. "They are holding position".
I leaned back in my command throne, considering my options. We had stumbled into unknown territory once again, and I had no idea whether these ships were friendly, hostile, or just curious about us.
As for the vessel heading toward us. If they were damaged too then they might not have long-range communications or weapons. Might they be planning to dock with us?
"Open a vox-channel," I ordered. "Let's see if they want to talk before anyone starts shooting".
The bridge crew worked quickly, aligning our communication systems to broadcast on all standard hailing frequencies. A moment later, the officer at the comms station gave me a nod.
"Communication channel is ready, Lord-Captain" she reported.
I cleared my throat and spoke in a calm, authoritative tone once I had opened the channel using the control on my command throne.
"This is Lord-Captain Thrax of the Rogue Trader vessel Endless Endeavor. We have been displaced by unknown forces, we are not hostile and we seek to establish communications. Identify yourselves" I said.
There was no reply, and the unknown ship kept moving toward us—but at least they didn't open fire.
"Intruder alert!" I heard a servitor announce in a loud yet eerily calm voice.
I moved over to the holoprojector at the centre of the bridge and saw an image of the ship. Red sections indicated where the hull had been compromised while blinking dots marked the locations where intruders had been sighted. More dots soon appeared.
"Reports are coming in of unknown humanoids appearing on the ship and taking what they can. Firefights have broken out all over the vessel," an officer informed me.
Before I could respond, a whirling noise filled the air. I turned just in time to see a group of humans in mismatched armour materialize on my bridge. My first thought was that they were pirates but I didn't have any time to dwell upon that as they attacked us.
An alien lunged at me from where it had been hiding. I barely dodged its attack—a bayonet of all things was attached to its rifle. For Star Trek, that was certainly a rather odd sight, and the humanoid did not know how to use its weapon as it ran right past me.
T'Pol, who must have left my private chambers to find out what was going on, stepped forward and disabled the hostile with the Vulcan nerve pinch and the humanoid figure dropped to the ground.
Without hesitation, I gunned down an intruder with my autopistol. The armour obscured its form, so I didn't know if the person belonged to any species I was familiar with.
I had no time to play guess the species, as more intruders beamed in and soon I found myself grappling with a particularly strong invader—one stronger than me—and to my surprise, it actually had some skill in close-quarters combat unless the others.
Not that it mattered in the end. As the warrior raised its curved sword—making me suspect it might be a Klingon beneath that armour—I unleashed my Blood Boil psyker power. It didn't kill the intruder outright, but it left it staggered long enough for me to put a round through its head.
"There's something wrong with our weapons!" I heard someone shout.
I hadn't noticed it before but there was a lack of energy weapon getting fired.
"Go hand to hand!" another voice yelled, "The Emperor Protects!".
Then, as if the Emperor himself had answered that call for his protection, a massive figure in blue armour stepped onto the bridge. The fight came to an abrupt end as the lone Space Marine gunned down every remaining intruder with brutal efficiency.
"Lord-Captain Thrax!" the superhuman warrior called out. "My Sergeant sent me to ensure your safety and secure the bridge. My brothers are cleansing the vessel of any remaining intruders".
I took a deep breath, steadying myself as I holstered my autopistol.
"Thank you," I said to the armoured transhuman.
The Space Marine simply nodded and then began to make sure all of the intruders were either dead or captured
By now, the bridge was even more of a mess, shattered consoles sparked intermittently, and the bodies of fallen intruders littered the floor.
"Status report," I ordered, turning to my bridge crew.
An officer quickly stepped forward.
"As you can see the intruders have been repelled from the bridge, Lord-Captain, but they are still present in several sections of the ship" I was informed "They appear to be raiders—boarding parties that are seizing whatever they can before retreating. Reports indicate they've taken weapons, supplies, and even a few crew members".
I scowled. We'd run into Space Pirates. I was supposed to be the Space Pirate!
"Lord-Captain, permission my Sergent wishes to lead a counterattack once it becomes possible," said the Space Marine.
That was something we could look into later. Right now we needed to make It possible for us to counterattack. We would need to recover what was stolen, not just the material possessions but the crew as well.
"Get me an update on our void shields and weapon systems" I ordered "We need to be able to defend ourselves if these raiders return. Begin work on repairs I want to be ready to return the favour and punish these raiders"
A few moments later, an enginseer spoke up.
"Lord-Captan will be able to bring some of our weapons online within the next few hours" the cyborg let me know." However, damage to our targeting array will limit our effective range and there seems to be a sort of dampening field hampering our efforts by subduing the machine spirits of this vessel. I will have a more complete report for you as soon as possible"
I exhaled sharply. That wasn't ideal, but it would have to do.
"Then we'll make do with what we have," I said making sure to address the entire bring "Keep us on high alert. I want to know the moment any additional ships appear on any of our Auspex. Assume there will be more boarders so I want teams set up to respond".
Normally trying to board an Imperium vessel without a small army of your own was a bad idea, but there had been mention of a dampening field, that might have something to do with why the raiders had used melee weapons. But then how did they use transporters to board us? Why had the laser weapons stopped working but the Space Marine bolters and my autogun functioned just fine?
"Aye, Lord-Captain!" many voices called out.
I turned back to the holoprojector, watching as new reports came in. The raiders were still causing havoc in the lower decks, but my men—and the Space Marines—were pushing them back very quickly and reports of the raiders fleeing were now reaching us.
One way or another, I was going to make sure these bastards regretted ever stepping foot on my ship even if I fired the Space Marines at them with a torpedo. Which to be fair was something the Space Marines were now for being able to while in battle.
Part 19
The Bridge. The Endless Endeavor.
By the time all the boarders had been dealt with—via extreme prejudice—their weapons and equipment had been collected (to be either destroyed or put to better use), their bodies dumped into an incinerator, and any supplies they had attempted to steal secured once more, some semblance of order had been restored to the bridge.
Acting Captain Janeway and Captain Ransom both wanted answers as well as to be involved, but for now, I ignored them and kept them contained This was neither the time for debate nor diplomacy and we certainly couldn't technobabble our way out of this situation—after all this wasn't a Starfleet vessel.
However, I did invite Chakotay to the meeting. Not only because B'Elanna Torres had been among those taken during the boarding action—which I rather hoped meant she was gone for good as otherwise I might have had to shoot her at some point—but I also had the distinct feeling that we would need the transporters aboard The Val Jean. That meant involving the Maquis and at least getting dragged here meant that people would forget the incident she had been involved in as they had other matters to deal with such as getting out of this region of space.
"The Endless Endeavor has been transported to an unfamiliar region of space," reported one of the senior officers on the bridge. "The Augur tells us that there are many disabled vessels present, some more intact than others, and we've tracked the raiders to a collection of starships that appear to have been repurposed into a starbase of some kind".
The holoprojector flickered to life, displaying the makeshift starbase. Among the ships cobbled together to form the structure, I immediately recognized a Terran Empire Starfleet vessel—a Constitution-class ship, to be precise—along with several others I couldn't identify. A Klingon Bird-of-Prey was also visible among them.
Spoiler
"We have detected an energy-dampening field suppressing the machine spirits of this ship, as well as our more conventional weapons," reported a red-robed cyborg.
A dampening field—or damping field—was an energy field that interfered with power emissions within its area of effect. Such fields could drain power, disrupt communications, interfere with sensor readings, and render phasers and other high-energy weapons inoperative.
"To be precise, at least some of our weapons are affected," the Magos clarified. "The equipment of the Adeptus Astartes remains functional, and our hull is strong enough to shield us from the worst of the effects".
That explained why the lasguns wouldn't fire, while those with cybernetic augmentations were still operational—though the servitors had grown sluggish. The dampening field simply wasn't very effective against certain types of Imperial technology.
Interestingly, it also did not affect kinetic energy. That made me wonder: why hadn't the raiders switched to projectile weapons instead of relying on energy-based arms? Shortage of resources perhaps but making bullets isn't that hard.
"This explains why they didn't simply blast our ship apart and scavenge the wreckage upon our arrival," I mused. "And why their boarding parties relied on melee weapons—their power sources weren't working properly either".
Chakotay frowned upon hearing that
"Then how were they able to use transporters? Or even manoeuvre their raiding vessel?" he wondered.
A good question—and one of my people had an answer.
"We interrogated the prisoner we captured and managed to gather some useful intelligence about our situation," T'Pol explained.
She had performed a Vulcan mind-meld on the captive—a human from the Terran Empire, though from a different time than T'Pol herself.
The senior tech-priest brought up a 3D image of an unfamiliar structure. It was a massive space station, unlike anything I had seen before—even in the shows. It vaguely resembled a globe balanced on a stand, with an outer shell consisting of scattered, jagged structures.
Spoiler
"This space station is called The Forge," T'Pol informed us, speaking with cool professionalism—despite the way I insisted she dressed.
She seemed pleased to put her keen mind to use in solving our predicament, and I was glad that I found ways to keep her mind stimulated as she was proving to be quite a valuable concubine.
"It is responsible for generating the dampening field that is disabling this ship and the others in the area. This is why we are trapped here" the Vuclan stated.
We all studied the projection in silence for a few moments.
"Do we know who's running it?" Chakotay asked.
Another good question.
"We do not," T'Pol replied. "It could be an automated system, a remnant of a long-extinct civilization, or something else entirely. However, the age of some of the derelict ships in this region suggests that The Forge has been active for a considerable amount of time. At least a century".
The holo-image zoomed out, revealing the full extent of the dampening field—or at least what our impaired sensors could detect within their limited range. Not that the AdMech would describe it in such terms.
Debris was scattered everywhere. However, the scans offered only vague details due to the field interfering with our technology. One thing was certain: the floating wreckage was all that remained of many, many starships.
"Even if most ships are destroyed upon arrival, there should be more debris than what we're seeing," T'Pol noted "From what we know the probe we encountered seeks out starships and then test them, should the starship be capable of destroying the probe before it is destroyed it somehow opens a rift to this part of space and the starship is forced into this region of space".
If the Magos or my other officers objected to an abhuman—as they viewed her—providing critical analysis, they were too polite to say anything. Likely because I was the one allowing her to speak.
"It is safe to assume that The Forge possesses a substantial energy source," the tech-priest added, "and that this is also the source of the technology that pulled our vessel into this region of space".
At this point, I decided to offer my own thoughts.
"Assuming 'The Forge' is an accurate translation of its name, the missing ships may have been used to create something," I speculated.
The room fell into thoughtful silence.
"A forge is used to create tools or weapons," T'Pol added. "Any civilization capable of constructing such a device could easily acquire raw materials from multiple sources. That suggests there is another reason for drawing starships here—something beyond simple resource collection. Though I do not yet know what that is".
I didn't think The Forge was a research station. If it were, its operators would take greater care in capturing ships intact for study.
"Perhaps we will have an opportunity to discover more," T'Pol continued. "For now, I wish to inform you that the raiders—an assortment of different species banded together for survival—have found a way to partially shield their systems from the dampening field by using a chemical compound called Isodesium that they can produce in limited amounts.
The Space Marine who had been standing watch over the bridge stepped forward.
"I have consulted with my Brother-Sergeant, and our course of action is clear," he declared.
The Marine must have kept a comm channel open to his superior during the meeting.
"We must board this collection of starships," he continued. "Once pacified, we can recover any surviving crew, reclaim stolen supplies, and obtain as much Isodesium as possible for our own needs".
Sounded like a plan to me.
"If we can obtain a sample, we may be able to replicate it," the Magos offered.
That was promising. Now, all we had to do was find a way to execute the operation.
"That settles it then," I said "The Space Marines will board this enemy base. Once they have secured the base we can start to send more people over. The priority is securing a sample of Isodesium, recovering our stolen supplies, and gathering further intelligence".
Which would be just one part of the plan to get out of this region of space.
"Once we have recovered what we have lost and gained materials needed for repairs we can deal with The Forge" I stated.
I had no desire to go near that space station until we had repaired as much damage to the frigate as possible. Who knew what kind of defences it could have?
"The Brother Sergeant will lead a strike force while your forces secure the sections we will clear," informed the Space Marine "We will lead the securing of prisoners and the gathering of materials to others".
I nodded again, feeling much better about our chances with an Adeptus Astartes squad doing the heavy lifting.
"That works. I'll also need a small technical team from the Mechanicus to analyze any samples we recover" I said.
The Senior Magos was eager to volunteer. No doubt the robed cyborgs would be eager to take the starships apart and not just because we needed the raw materials for the repair work.
"I will assign my most skilled Enginseers to the mission" the cyborg promised.
Chakotay spoke next.
"How are you planning to get aboard the scavenger vessels?" he asked "Even if this ship can resist the effects of the dampening field that might not be true for your shuttles and the Val Jean isn't shielded".
I had already considered this.
"We don't need the Val Jean just its transporters" I pointed out "That's why you're here, Chakotay. We will need to find a way to power your ship's transporters to allow the Space Marines to transport aboard".
He hesitated for a moment before sighing.
"Fine. I'll help, but I want Torres back and I want to know what's really going on here" he said.
Keeping him informed by sharing information was a small price to pay for his help. If only I had transporters of my own, alas that would have to wait until we reached a friendly port and the tech-priests were able to perform all the rituals required when a new piece of technology was installed on an Imperium starship. Which was something that could take quite some time.
"The raiders have taken what is ours" stated the Space Marine "They have spilt blood on the decks of a ship under our protection and we will have our righteous revenge".
A slow grin spread across my face when I heard that. The poor bastards within that collection of starships had no idea what was heading their way. They had thought us helpless prey and soon they would be the ones preyed upon.
"Then let's make some preparations. It's time to show these scavengers what happens when they pick a fight with the wrong ship" I declared.
As the meeting broke up, I returned to my private chambers for some alone time. As soon as I entered, my special dataslate beeped, drawing my attention. I glanced at the screen and read the familiar text:
600 CP
+100 CP
700 CP
Bank or Roll?
I selected the Roll option and waited to see the results.
Power Sword
100 CP
Warhammer 40K: Kill Team Chaos Vol 1 0.1
Wreathed in a disruptive energy field, power weapons slice through armour and flesh with ease. They are symbols of status and terror, wielded by those who hold authority or skill in battle. Whether a blade, axe or another form, a power weapon's energy field allows it to cut through nearly anything, making it a highly sought-after tool of destruction.
Accept/Deny?
While this wasn't something that could help with our current situation, it was still nice to have a successful roll after two failures in a row. If I had interpretedthe text correctly, the power sword would serve as much as a symbol of my authority as a weapon. With that in mind, I pressed Accept.
Suddenly, within my audience chamber, an ornate shrine materialized, displaying the power sword as if it were meant to be venerated. It reminded me of the noble families in Game of Thrones that kept ancestral swords as symbols of their legacy rather than mere weapons, only more excessive.
Spoiler
I stepped closer, examining the blade and admiring the craftsmanship that had gone into its creation. Of course, there was one problem—I didn't actually know how to use a sword.
That, however, was an issue that could be easily corrected. I would simply need to find someone skilled enough to train me who could be district about my need to learn.
I stepped closer to the shrine, reaching out to brush my fingers along the hilt of the power sword. This was a weapon of war, of authority, a symbol of authority. Far more impressive than the Klingon sword I'd put on one of the walls as a trophy.
Carefully, I lifted the sword from its resting place. When I turned it on the energy field flickered to life, shimmering with an eerie glow as it encased the blade. I gave it a few experimental swings, feeling its weight and balance. It was lighter than I expected but still carried a sense of deadly purpose.
T'Pol wisely didn't make a noise so as to get my attention until I had put the very dangerous weapon back on its stand.
"Captain," she said with a slight nod. "I wish to inform you that before the prisoner expired I was able to collect data on the ships in this region, particularly those that form the raider station"
I gestured for her to continue and again I reminded myself that this was the Mirror Universe T'Pol. Naturally, she would be much more ruthless than her main timeline counterpart when it came to gathering information and there would be a lot for her process even without a mind meld.
"So far I have identified at least three distinct factions among the raiders," she said, stepping forward. "The largest group appears to be composed of remnants from the Terran Empire, but there are also Klingon warriors and another race that we have yet to identify".
For the Terrans to get along with the Klingons was odd as they were enemies. I wondered how they had learned to work together.
"Their technology is an odd mixture of scavenged components, but the Isodesium we discussed earlier is at the heart of their ability to resist the dampening field" she shared with me "While this vessel is partly shielded from the effects of the dampening field I can not stress how important it is for us to acquire this chemical compound".
I nodded, absorbing the information.
"So, they're not just a bunch of desperate survivors. They're organized" I mused.
Not that this would matter much to the Space Marines. The people of this galaxy just weren't prepared for the brutal warfare of the Emperor's Avenging Angels. They would be slaughtered unless they got very lucky and even then I doubted they would be able to do much more than slow the transhumans down.
"To an extent," T'Pol agreed. "Their leadership appears united but they cooperate out of necessity rather than loyalty".
I considered what to do with this information.
"Make sure the Ultramarines get a copy of your data and then let them get on with it" I decided "Once we've cleaned up after them and taken what we need, I plan to let the Maqius and a few of the Starfleet officers poke around a bit just to keep them occupied".
Sometimes you had to let the kids go out and play if you didn't want them messing about when you were doing grown-up work.
"As you command, Lord-Captain," said the Vulcan female before she departed.
I decided to check up on Kes and my space cat before getting some rest. I should sleep now as I might not get much chance to do so once we were ready to move against the riders and The Forge.
Rogue Trader
Part 20
Cargo Bay. Terran Empire Starship.
Learchus Abantes, a Brother-Sergeant of the Ultramarines 4th Company, was the first of his squad to materialise onboard one of the strange and small vessels that had been brought together to make up the raider base.
Due to the dampening field and energy drain, that even Imperium technology was only partly able to resist, it had been deicded that it would be best to beam over one person at a time, and there was always a risk of transport failure so he had volunteered to go first so as not to put any of his brothers at risk.
Communications were also affected by the dampening field, becoming unreliable so the signal the Space Marine sent to indicate his successful arrival was a simple one that repeated a few times before another short burst told him that his message had been received. Soon his brothers would join him.
Sending such a simple signal did more than help to work around the interference of the dampening field. It also reduced the chances of the raiders intercepting any communications and becoming alerted to what was about to happen to them.
This sort of mission was nothing new to Brother-Sergeant Learchus Abantes. He had used teleportation technology before—albeit of a different kind—to enter an enemy base and thus was well aware of the risks to himself and his battle-brothers. However, this was the only viable way to complete the mission with any real hope of success.
Even if one of their support craft had been able to attempt the journey, the raider base had defences, and The Endless Endeavour was not yet ready for battle—nor would it be for some time. With the urgent need to recover lost supplies and acquire resources for repairs, taking the raider base was an urgent necessity.
Another critical factor was the captured crew members—all of whom, as it turned out, were female. They needed to be recovered, as they were under the protection of not only the Thrax Rogue Trader dynasty but also the squad that Brother-Sergeant Abantes commanded.
Allowing the raiders to go with their crimes unpunished was simply not an option. This injury done to The Endless Endeavour and the insult to the Ultramarines had to be avenged. The honour of the Ultramarine Chapter could demand nothing less.
As soon as Learchus Abantes fully materialised within the cargo bay, before sending the signal, he raised his bolt pistol and fired a single shot at a human clad in red. To the raider's credit, he did not panic or flee but was instead attempting to raise the alarm when he died.
The bolt round tore through the raider, creating a gruesome mess and drawing the attention of another enemy—this one wearing a gold uniform instead of red. The Space Marine did not care if the different colour was an indication of anything he just did his duty.
Alas for Terran, the man barely had time to react before Abantes gunned him down. By the time one of his battle-brothers beamed aboard, having been told the transport was successful by the signal the Brother-Sergeant had sent, the cargo bay was already secured.
As an Ultramarine, Learchus Abantes had no interest in taking trophies or obtaining material possessions. He was content to let the Rogue Trader and his crew strip the base of anything valuable—so long as the Ultramarines' needs were met.
They required serfs to help to maintain their armour and weapons, as well as supplies to keep their war gear in working order. Their other needs were minimal, and in return for their service, the Rogue Trader would provide for them.
This was the arrangement which had been made with the Rogue Trader and which bound him and his brothers to the Lord-Captain via an alliance of mutual need. Which was required since he and his battle-brothers had been brought so far from the Imperium.
When they had been discovered by the Rogue Trader, the Space Marines had been drifting in a crippled Thunderhawk, which had later been stripped for parts, near what had been known as the Caretaker's Arry, and they would have died in the vastness of space without the aid of the Rogue Trader.
Once they had been recovered it had been a simple matter of agreeing to aid one another and they would continue to do so until the squad either returned to the Ultramarine Chapter or they all died while performing their duties to the Emperor and the Primarch.
"Brother-Sergeant, the raiders seem to be limited to melee weapons as we suspected," one of his squad members observed. "Shall we conserve ammunition by relying only on our melee weapons?".
While some might consider this a more honourable way of fighting these raiders, there was also a practical reason to do so—their ammunition reserves were not infinite.
Cut off from the rest of the Chapter, the squad had little chance of proper resupply. The manufacturing capabilities aboard a frigate were limited; while the Tech-Priests might be able to produce a small supply of bolter rounds, they could not provide what was required for an extended conflict.
"Conserve ammo when practical," Learchus ordered, holstering his bolt pistol and activating his power sword. "We march for Macragge!"
"And we shall know no fear!" his battle-brothers roared in response.
As if their cry had been heard, the cargo bay doors slid open, revealing a group of men in red shirts. Unlike their previous foes, these raiders had managed to fashion makeshift weapons instead of relying solely on the daggers they kept on their belts.
While his squad included two heavy weapon specialists, they did not open fire. There was no need to waste resources on such weak opponents—and sadly this could mean no opportunity for them to earn glory in this battle.
Abantes moved with astonishing speed for a warrior clad in such heavy armour. With every swing of his power sword—its blade crackling with deadly energy—he cleaved through the raiders, bisecting them with brutal efficiency and leaving a gruesome mess for the servitors to clean up.
In truth, there was little glory to be found in this fight for any of them. These men, along with the Abhumans they worked with, were nothing more than opportunists—parasites who preyed upon ships crippled by their journey into this strange region of space.
Perhaps their survival skills were commendable, but in the end, they were no different from the countless pirates and raiders that plagued the Imperium. His squad had purged other such groups and they would do so again on this day.
The raiders in the corridors, who must have been rushing to the aid of the first group, barely had time to react before the Space Marines were upon them. Learchus moved through their ranks like a storm of ceramite and steel, his power sword carving a path of destruction.
Each stroke of his blade cut through cloth, flesh and bone, leaving the air thick with the scent of ozone, hot blood, and burning meat. His squad followed in his wake, bolters held at the ready but left silent for now as they cut down the enemy with their combat blades.
A raider, braver than the rest, lunged at him with a weapon that looked as if it had been made by an Ork. The crude blade was wielded by an Abhuman with a deformed forehead, who yelled something that the machine spirit in Learchus's helmet translated for him:
Today is a good day to die.
Learchus did not waste time parrying the strike; he merely stepped aside and brought his armored fist crashing into the raider's skull. Bone shattered, and the Abhuman collapsed lifelessly to the floor despite being tougher than an unaugmented human. At least he got the death he seemed to desire.
"Poor equipment, poor training, and yet they fight with courage," remarked one of his battle-brothers.
The Brother-Sergeant was not impressed.
"They fight because they have no other choice," Learchus replied. "They die because they chose the wrong prey, that is all".
The surviving raiders hesitated. They had seen their comrades cut down in moments, their makeshift weapons proving useless against the transhuman warriors. Some broke and ran, but there was nowhere to flee—nowhere on this ship they could hide.
Even if they managed to find some hole to crawl into and managed to avoid the notice of the Space Marines, the Rogue Trader and his crew would be arriving soon, and they would scour this place while stripping it of anything of value.
When they entered a section of the ship's living quarters, they found a group of terrified women and the young offspring of the raiders. They all cowered away from the mighty Space Marines.
"Prisoners," commented a battle-brother "Or perhaps slaves".
Now, the reason for the raiders taking female members of the frigate's crew made sense, they needed women to be mothers and the captured members of Lord-Captain's crew and guests had been brought here as well. They would soon be returned to their rightful place.
Some might have information; others could be pressed into service. The Ultramarines had no need for slaves, not when they had loyal serfs and these females would not be suited for such roles. It would be best to let them join the crew of the frigate. Their fates were now in the hands of the Rogue Trader.
"Ignore them," ordered the Brother-Sergeant. "They can be dealt with by others when these ships are under our control".
Learchus turned his attention to the rest of the Terran Empire vessel, knowing that other ships made up this raider base. They, too, needed to be pacified and it was time to get on with that important work not to stay here and terrorise these harmless females.
With that in mind, he activated his vox-link.
"Move forward. Cleanse the ship," he ordered.
With that, the Ultramarines marched onward, their blades eager for more work. The Ultramarines moved with the precision of seasoned warriors, their heavy boots pounding against the metal deck as they advanced deeper into the raider vessel. Resistance was sporadic but determined—cornered prey often fought the hardest, after all.
Soon they discovered that a group of raiders had fortified themselves behind makeshift barricades, metal plating salvaged from somewhere had been bolted together in an attempt to block off part of the ship from any intruders.
Some of the defenders turned out to have projectile weapons, though their firepower was insufficient to penetrate the kind of power armour worn by Astartes. Had they been armed with phasers and disruptors, they might have slowed the Space Marines down for more than a few seconds.
Learchus barely acknowledged the pitiful attempt to repel them. He gestured to one of his heavy weapons specialists.
"Cleanse them, brother" he ordered.
The warrior raised his heavy bolter. A moment later, the corridor was filled with the deafening roar of mass-reactive shells. The barricade might have been useful against more common foes, but against the might of the Adeptus Astartes, it might as well have been made from cardboard.
Within seconds the heavy bolter rounds had torn through the raiders' cover, detonating, and blasting apart, metal, armour, flesh and bone with brutal efficiency. The screams of the dying echoed through the corridors, but the Ultramarines pressed forward without hesitation. The Emperor's justice was swift, and there was no room for mercy.
Learchus's power sword crackled as he advanced. A wounded raider, one of the Klingons that the latest intelligence reports had mentioned, who missing an arm and bleeding pink blood profusely, tried to raise a crude pistol with his remaining hand.
Learchus's blade cut through the weapon, severing fingers in the process. The raider gasped, eyes wide with terror, but the Brother-Sergeant had already moved on—he did not bother to finish off the enemy.
He had more than one ship to cleanse today and there was little joy to be found in this work so it was best to get on with it. They would need to secure the bridge of this ship, for Captain Thrax's people and then move on to cleanse the other vessels.
When it came time to make their way to the bridge, they did so one at a time, with Learchus going first. When the doors of the turbolift opened he was met with some projectile fire but not much and he returned in kind with his bolter wanting to cleanse the bridge quickly.
Once the bridge, which was hardly worthy of being called such a thing, was secure the transhuman warrior sent out another signal so that the Rogue Trader would know that he could start to transport over his people and secure the bridge.
As they began to beam in as the Maquis involved in this operation called it, the Space Marine left as he was free to move on and return to finding what little glory in battle there was to be found when facing these raiders. He didn't have high hopes.
Part 21
The Bridge. Captured Terran Empire Starship.
There was no need for me to oversee the stripping down of this vessel in person; I had thousands of crew members who could handle the manual labour and officers to oversee the work, who would pay me tribute without needing to be asked.
That second part had already been done. I didn't even need to pick out the best of the spoils myself, as the highest-ranking officers under my command ensured I got my share while taking what they wanted from all the loot. The rest was claimed by whoever got to it first.
By the time we were done here, I was sure that everything that was not bolted down would have been taken and that later people would be coming back with bolt cutters to take everything else. We needed to make use of any resources that we could find.
While the tech-priests handled the technology and gave out some of the machine god's bounty to those they deemed worthy and wasn't needed for the repairs or their own needs, everything else, such as food, clothing, containers, decorations, simple weapons and personal effects would find their way onto my frigate and into someone's possession.
I had already been presented with an ornate dagger and a phaser pistol—the former blessed by a regular priest and the latter by a tech-priest—and I now carried the dagger on my person. However, I'd armed myself with my autopistol upon leaving my chambers, as it was a more useful weapon with us still under the effect of the dampening field.
A golden sash that Terran officers wore as some sort of belt, had been presented to me as well, but I had given that to Kes to wear as she had commented that the one T'Pol wore with her slave girl outfit looked pretty.
Given enough time, all that would remain of the ISS Hood would be the bulkheads. Not only did we need more materials for repairs, but my crew also needed some form of payment for all their hard work, so letting them loot the place was good for morale and it amused me to be able to act like a bit of space pirate.
The Space Marines in my employ, who saw themselves as my allies, didn't care for trophies or claiming any sort of treasure—something they might have done if they were say Space Wolves rather than Ultramarines. I just had to ensure they had supplies and serfs, and they were content with that so they took nothing from these ships.
Since there was no real work for me to do here, the main reason I was sitting on the bridge, watching the red-robed cyborgs slowly take everything apart while the Servitors carried equipment on and off the bridge, was simply because I wanted to sit in the captain's chair and pretend I was Captain Kirk.
Sure, this wasn't Kirk's Enterprise, but once the Terran Empire symbols had been taken down—no doubt to decorate some officer's quarters—I could pretend this was Kirk's ship and just enjoy the experience that was still amusing even if I had a powerful starship of my own to command. Somewhere deep inside me, my inner geek was very happy.
Granted, Kirk's bridge never had incense burners and people calling out prayers, but I was still enjoying myself, even though I made sure not to express how much I wanted to smile like a berk while making the red alert siren ring out just for fun.
What distracted me from my amusements was when one of the women, who had been used by the scavengers as comfort women and breeding stock—and who should already be in the process of getting integrated into my crew—was brought to the bridge to be seen by me.
Not all the women who had been scavengers had been used that way, certainly not the Klingon women, but they didn't matter anymore as those who had been deemed a threat had all been killed even if they ran and hid from my forces.
"Lord-Captain Thrax," said one of my officers, "We are uncertain what to do with this woman, she is different from the rest, she claims to have useful skills and I wished to bring her to your attention".
I was sure that this officer—whose name I would have to learn—was well aware that concubines were more than arm candy and wanted to curry favour with me by presenting to me a potentially suitable female for the group that could be considered my harem.
The woman now standing before me, wearing a rather plain outfit, was Seven of Nine, a.k.a. Annika Hansen—only her hair was brown, not blonde, and she had no visible implants. Again, I was forced to keep my features controlled despite this latest surprise.
Spoiler
Her resemblance to Seven of Nine was uncanny, though the absence of her Borg implants made her seem much more human. But the steel in her gaze was unmistakable—this was no common slave or a broken prisoner. There was some sort of calculation going on behind those eyes.
"What's your name?" I asked as if I didn't already know.
I kept my voice low but there was an edge of authority to it that came from the Imperial Navy Officer background that made up part of my new life.
"Lord-Captain Thrax, I am Annika," she replied after a pause, her voice clipped but steady "Miss Annika Hansen".
She did not refer to herself as Seven of Nine, but that made sense given the lack of implants. If she'd had those, the tech-priests would either be dissecting her, burning her for some sort of heresy, or trying to reprogram her because they thought she was a malfunctioning servitor.
"How did you end up here, Annika Hansen?" I questioned.
She began to tell me her life story.
"My parents were research scientists for the Terran Empire," she told me.
I was under the impression that by her time the Terran Empire had been entirely conquered by the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance. Spock's reforms, inspired by his contact with Prime Timeline Captain Kirk, as well as the problem of dwindling resources, had left the Terran Empire unprepared to defend itself against the emerging threat of a united Klingon-Cardassian Alliance.
The Alliance managed to conquer the Terran Empire, turning the Terrans themselves into a slave race, much as the Terrans had done to many other species before then.
"While the Alliance would like everyone to believe this is the case, it is not the truth. The Terran Empire still controls a few key systems in Sector 001 that are too heavily defended for the Alliance to overcome without weakening their fleets to the point where they might not be able to withstand a Romulan invasion," Annika Hansen told me.
Perhaps she was from a different timeline than the one T'Pol had come from. Given the existence of so many parallel universes and time travel, there was no way to know for sure. The ISS Hood could also be from a different timeline than T'Pol and Annika Hansen. Interesting to think about but it didn't matter unless we were in one of those timelines.
"So how did you end up in the Delta Quadrant?" I questioned.
She did not hesitate to share that information, as she had accepted that she had no choice in the matter other than to tell me what I wanted to know.
"My parents were granted a small vessel, the ISS Raven, which had a cloaking device," she answered. "Their mission was to leave the Sol System and go beyond known space to find some technology or allies that could aid in the restoring of the Terran Empire. They became interested in a race known as the Borg after they discovered that the Borg had attacked Alliance and Romulan outposts on the borders of the Neutral Zone. So they believed these Borg might hold the key to defeating the Alliance".
Interesting how some things in your life could work out the same even while you were in a very different timeline.
"When my parents found the Borg, however, the cube ignored the ISS Raven despite having detected it—such a small vessel was deemed unimportant to the Borg they assumed—and my parents spent months studying the Borg from a distance, even after following the cube through a transwarp gate of some kind to the Delta Quadrant".
This story sounded like what had happened to the Prime Timeline Hansen family, just with different motivations.
"When my parents finally made contact to offer an alliance between the Terran Empire and The Collective, this was when things went wrong," she continued by saying. "The Borg finally deemed the ISS Raven worthy of their attention. They captured the vessel and assimilated my parents, but for reasons I don't understand, I was not added to their collective".
That didn't make sense. The Borg would have either assimilated her or ignored Annika.
"I was placed in a device of some kind, like a stasis tube and remained unaware of my surroundings for years as I grew into a woman," Annika Hansen let me know. "Perhaps they would have begun to assimilate me, but the Borg Cube was brought to this area of space and badly damaged".
Since I'd known that The Forge had been active for some time, the fact that she'd been here for years did not shock me. The human scavengers living here were descended from the crew of the Terran Empire ship, they had not the original crew even if they had dressed like them. The Klingons on the other hand seemed to be from the TNG Era.
"I was recovered from the wreckage by the scavengers and awoken once I had reached my maturity, but I was mostly left alone when I proved to be more useful as a servant than as just a bed warmer," she shared.
Once she had finished speaking, I leaned back in the captain's chair, glancing around the bridge as I wondered what to do with this alternate version of Seven of Nine.
The Ultramarine who watched over this ship seemed motionless, the Brother-Sergeant had posted his warriors around the captured vessels and a few at key points on my own ship to aid in driving off any more boarders, and the one here did not seem to pay this conversation any attention.
Neither did the tech-priests and servitors, who just continued their work. They were indifferent to Annika Hansen, and she should be grateful for that.
"I might have a position better suited for you than becoming just another member of the crew," I said.
Simply being a character I knew and found appealing to look at would not be enough to earn her a place at my side. She had to have useful skills or natural talents. She was no psyker or cyborg, but that wasn't much of an issue if she could be useful to me in other ways.
"What skills do you have?" I asked.
Annika stood a little taller when I asked that question, and I could hear a hint of pride in her voice.
"I was young when my parents were taken from me, but they ensured that I was well-educated. I assisted them in their exploration efforts when possible," she replied quickly, wanting to seize the opportunity I was offering. "As a slave of the scavengers, I performed a number of tasks that make me useful to a starship captain, including some minor repair work and I was trusted to take inventory of captured supplies".
Perhaps it would be best to leave the details to T'Pol, who was on the bridge looking through some information on a dataslate. She was able to do so despite all the background noise.
She wasn't the only non-imperial to be allowed to explore this ship. As planned, I'd allowed the Maquis and Starfleet officers to come on board to look around so they could indulge their scientific curiosity. I figured that letting them do that now would reduce problems with cabin fever later.
"T'Pol!" I called out.
The Vulcan soon came to my side.
"Yes, Lord-Captain?" she said.
I gestured to Annika Hansen.
"This is Annika. She'll be joining us in my chambers. Get her cleaned up and suitably dressed. Then find out what tasks she is suitable for," I ordered. "I'm trusting you to ensure she adapts to her new life".
T'Pol was smart enough to know that I wasn't just giving her work to do that I couldn't be bothered with. I was giving her somewhat important responsibilities. Since I was building myself a harem, it would be good to have someone capable of managing it for me, given all of the demands on my attention.
Annika might not be well suited to joining the lower ranks of the crew if she lacked social skills due to having spent part of her childhood and teenage years apart from other people, but that was fine as she looked good in the slave girl outfit and find ways to make herself useful to me.
Not long after the two women left, I decided to explore more of this ship, and when I entered the turbo-lift, my special dataslate beeped at me to get my attention.
700 CP
Bank or Roll?
I selected the roll option while hoping for something big, and while I wasn't exactly disappointed with what I got, I would have liked to get something more helpful for my current situation—like more Space Marines.
The Deep Dark
100 CP
Generic Warhammer 40K: FanFiction
You are going to spend many days, if not years, staring into the void with no one to keep you company. Such a job could drive even the greatest of men insane if they had nothing to do. However, your mind works differently. You don't seem to care about the voyages. I would even go as far as to say that you find the nothingness of the void to be peaceful. You don't suffer from the isolation of space travel or the boredom of mindless journeys.
Accept/Deny.
Something to help protect my mental health was welcome, given how much depended on myself, so I accepted the offered perk. Besides, I'd make back the spent 100 CP before long.
700 CP
-100 CP
= 600 CP
With that, I closed down the dataslate and began to explore more of the captured vessels before they could be totally stripped of anything my crew either wanted or found useful.