Part 34
The Endless Endeavour — Orbit of Planetos
After dropping the Starfleet officers and their Runabout back at Deep Space Nine, following the conclusion of a successful joint mission with Starfleet, I had finally decided to have my frigate set sail for the feudal world that had been gifted to me some time ago from the Codex Celestial.
Well, perhaps gifted wasn't quite the right term to use, given that its population wasn't going to simply prostrate itself before me the moment I landed. I would have to bring this world and its people to heel using my vastly superior technology, politics and whatever other tools I needed to use to get the job done.
The planet was located within a remote star system that I had purchased from the Federation, and while no one could track my FTL, at least, not as far as I knew, even if they could, my ship was merely loitering in a system I legally owned.
So I hoped that no one would pay much attention to what I was doing out here, and given that the Federation was now at war with some third-rate local power, not to mention everything else going on in this part of the galaxy, it wasn't a foolish thing to hope for. I even had a perk to help me out with that called What's Done in the Dark
The discovery of a Founder aboard my vessel, one that had managed to bypass all of my ship's security and get within meters of the Navigator, one of the most heavily protected individuals onboard, had deeply unnerved me.
Quite understandably, it had led me to accelerate my plans and travel to this remote system sooner than originally intended, when I had been planning to make contact with the Marquis or to make other alliances. Not that I would be staying in this system forever.
I would have headed here sooner rather than later anyway, as I needed a planet that could serve as my base of operations in this part of the galaxy. Reducing the risk of any more shape-shifters infiltrating my vessel by staying out of the way for a while merely gave me an added reason to come to this system.
Besides, there was much more to a Rogue Trader dynasty than simply having a fancy warship that I could fly wherever I pleased. I required more than this—I needed a world to serve as the capital of my fiefdom.
I also needed a population I could draw upon for manpower. I wanted a place to set up centres of industry, barracks to train troops, schools to educate future navy officers, farms to feed my people, and mines to supply essential minerals.
Simply put, I needed a world to call my own. And the one we were orbiting would soon be it. I would subdue its people, conquer its nations, and shape it into something that would serve my dynasty. Those who resisted this new order would have to be destroyed.
To my surprise, though perhaps it shouldn't have been shocking, given how strange my life had become, the world below was already known to me. It was the setting of the Game of Thrones series. "Planetos," the fans had called it, though I would certainly need to give it a better name.
I was just about to enter a meeting about our plans for this world when my data-slate beeped at me. I ducked into an alcove, deciding to deal with the matter before the important meeting began.
700 CP
Bank or Roll?
Since I had plenty of points, I saw no reason not to roll.
Commissar-Cadet
100 CP
Imperial Guard — Jumpchain
Experienced Commissars are often assigned a Commissar-Cadet to shepherd in the field during the final, vital step toward becoming a full-fledged Commissar. These cadets have graduated from the Schola Progenium. While still young and inexperienced by Commissar standards, their faith in the Emperor is unwavering.
They come armed with a bolt pistol, flak armour, and a power sword. You may purchase this companion multiple times—indeed, it is not unusual for Commissars to oversee groups of cadets.
Accept/Deny?
Since I did not need multiple Commissar-Cadets, I decided to purchase only one, confident I could find work for a single junior Commissar despite how busy I would soon be.
700 CP
-100 CP
= 600 CP
Since the cadet didn't appear in front of me once I had spent the points, I assumed he or she would turn up later, or was already somewhere aboard the ship, hopefully making themselves useful. That was a matter for later. For now, I have an important meeting to attend.
Soon, I found myself standing in the Strategium—a part of the ship dedicated to long-term operational planning. With me was Learchus Abantes, the Brother-Sergeant of the Ultramarines who led the Space Marines tactical squad.
Spoiler
Kes, T'Pol, and Annika were already present, staying in the background as they went over their data-slates. New information was being fed to us all the time via scans and scouting missions carried out by our support craft, and they were staying on top of it all.
Not for the first time, I was very grateful that my three concubines were more than just attractive women. Aside from two of them having psyker talents, each was highly intelligent, able to process large amounts of information and convert it into actionable reports, while also offering insightful commentary.
I looked at an incoming report to see that the Tech-Priests were making use of their new transporters to abduct locals, whom they would then interrogate. I didn't know what happened to those people afterwards—and I was quite sure I didn't want to know.
All that mattered to me was that the data gathered helped us to paint a more complete picture of the world we now orbited and that we could make use of this information to conquer it for my dynasty.
One of the red-robed followers of the Machine God stepped aside, allowing me to see Commissar-Cadet Kayla, whom, upon sight, I now remembered having known for some time, despite having just purchased her from the Codex Celestial.
She had been a passenger aboard my frigate, hitching a ride somewhere, when we were pulled into this galaxy. Since then, she had indeed been trying to make herself useful.
As promised, she was armed with a bolter and power sword, the latter of which was a rare weapon to see in the hands of such a young warrior, as the Imperium preferred to mass-produce the much cheaper chainswords for melee combat.
Since children who are trained to become Commisars are often the offspring of Imperial officers who died serving in the Imperium in some noticeable way, the sword could be a family heirloom, but her possession of it wasn't something I intended to ask about at this time, despite my curiosity.
"Lord-Captain!" she called as she approached.
I now recalled how Cadet Kayla, I wasn't sure if that was her first or last name, was currently organising my Household Guard, drawing potential personnel from among my large crew. This was not an easy task, even though the ship had a population of over twenty thousand, as only a certain kind of person would be suitable.
It would be a while before I had an entire regiment under my command, but it was important to have loyal troops to serve both as bodyguards and as frontline soldiers when needed. Even a few hundred troops could make a difference.
The young Commissar-Cadet, who would be fully promoted once the Household Guard was operational, so she could oversee it, was an attractive young woman with red hair that she kept tied back in a ponytail.
From what I knew about her, she was also level-headed, smart and hardworking, these were qualities I appreciated in her as she built my all-female Household Guard.
Given that we were about to spend a lot of time dealing with a male-dominated feudal society, having male guards might have helped me be more accepted, but I preferred having beautiful women around me. And as a Rogue Trader, I got what I wanted.
"Lord-Captain," she said, "I've finished the uniform design for your Household Guard".
She showed me an image on her data-slate of a woman wearing a form-fitting outfit known as a hardened body glove, a specialised variant of the standard body glove, designed for elite troops engaged in covert operations or serving as bodyguards.
The suit was made from a flexible mesh-fibre material that tensed on impact to disperse force, making it ideal protection against swords and arrows. It could be worn under heavier armour if needed.
These body gloves accentuated the female form without veering into lewdness, as would have been the case with something like bikini armour. They were also functional across a variety of environments.
"I've added a dark blue cloak to the uniform for cold weather," she continued. "Each of your guards will carry a sash with a dagger and a pistol, worn in the style of the Terran Empire since we acquired so much material from them".
A mixture of Imperium and Terran Empire design would give my dynasty a style of its own.
"I went with autopistols rather than laspistols for the sidearms, so they'll be able to engage targets at range even if we're subject to another energy-dampening field" the cadet told me "I know we aren't likely to be subjected to another field of that power, but it seems best to be prepared".
That wasn't all they'd be armed with, and I wondered how the Borg, if we ever ran into them, would deal with the kinds of weapons my people would carry. Not that I was in any way eager to find out.
"I also found a suitable model of chainsword," she added. "The cogboys will coat the mechanism with the chemical that protects the machine spirits from dampening fields, but that will slow down production a bit".
These chainswords were silver in colour, with curved, cutlass-like blades and spiked basket hilts. They were slimmer and lighter than other chainsword models—ideal for the female warriors who would likely be engaged in boarding actions.
"They're elegant," I said, admiring the image on the data-slate. "Graceful, but deadly. I approve, Commissar-Cadet."
Kayla nodded with a proud smile.
"Thank you, Lord-Captain. With your permission, I'll begin the training of the first selected candidates," she told me. "I've also drawn up a list of likely officers for your consideration—women with leadership potential, loyalty, and enough experience to command your guard".
While Commissars have led soldiers before as officers, Colonel-Commissar Gaunt of the Tanith First and Only, for example, their actual role is to advise officers, handle discipline, and maintain morale, not to lead. So Kayla would not be in charge of my Household Guard; she would confine herself to more of a support role.
"Very good," I replied, sounding very satisfied. "Make sure they know their loyalty is to me and me alone".
That meant the officers, at least, would have to be single women with no husbands or children who might distract them from serving me. That greatly limited who could be an officer in my private guard because I was sure there would be enough suitable women for training.
"They'll perform their roles," she assured me. "I'll make sure of it".
With that matter handled, I turned my attention back to the Strategium's hololith, which now projected a slowly spinning image of Planetos. It was a strikingly beautiful world in many ways, with blue oceans, green landmasses, deserts, and mountain ranges.
There were also 2D maps on display.
Spoiler
Once the world had been pacified—or at least the populated parts brought to heel—a city would have to be selected as the planetary capital, and I would need to choose a suitable location for my palace.
The planet had no shortage of resources or manpower, and its feudal societies were all pre-industrial. This meant I could swoop in with superior technology and reshape the world in my image.
However, I would need to be smart about how I took control. I couldn't simply glass the surface from orbit and rebuild from ashes. Not if I wanted willing subjects, and besides, it wouldn't do to destroy the very resources I wished to claim for my dynasty.
"This world is fractured," T'Pol noted from where she worked. "It's filled with kingdoms that war with one another constantly. But their technology is primitive. From what we can gather, Valyria was the centre of true civilisation on this world before it was destroyed".
Given that this was supposed to be a Warhammer 40K feudal world, it was likely the Valyrians had been the elites—those with access to advanced technology, that they'd used to dominate everyone else until their homeland was destroyed.
"It's not the technology that concerns me," I replied. "It's the magic, or what they will think of as magic. We know that all sorts of things are possible when you have sufficient psychic powers".
That guy from the old Star Trek pilot—Gary Mitchell, I think his name was showed that he was able to alter reality around him in small ways before he died.
"Initial scans indicate pockets of anomalous energy," Annika informed me. "Most noticeably near the planet's north polar region, where Valyria used to be, and in a far eastern location. There might be more, just too weak for us to detect".
Well, this was a world with dragons, White Walkers, and shadow demons. Not that such things worried me too much, as even the Night King isn't getting back up after a lance weapon hits with an orbital strike.
My concern was bringing the Seven Kingdoms and the Free Cities under my control. I needed their people and what little industry they had, since it would be easy to upgrade their cities rather than build whole new ones.
Magic was of little interest to me, given that I was developing psyker talents quite well, and messing about with that stuff might be more than my Imperial supporters would tolerate. Besides, I was bound to be gifted with more psykers' powers by the Codex Celestial in the future.
Brother-Sergeant Learchus soon got my attention as he had an idea that he wanted to share with me.
"Lord-Captain, I have a suggestion on how we can begin claiming this world for the Thrax Dynasty and the Imperium," said the Ultramarine.
The Space Marine drew my attention to a part of the globe I recognised as the Iron Islands. Knowing what I did about them, I was tempted to have the islands wiped off the map with an orbital strike.
"I suggest that my battle-brothers and I use the support craft to land on each of these islands in turn," said the Emperor's Avenging Angel. "Backed up by navy armsmen, we can secure the castles one by one and gift command of them to low-ranking officers who have served your dynasty well so they can be used as garrisons".
Given that the population of my frigate was over twenty thousand, you'd think I would have plenty of people to spare, but Imperium ships are like armoured cities in space, and cities tended to need their population to function.
As such, I couldn't just deploy thousands of people onto the surface of the planet even if I had the support craft and transporters required. However, sending down a few hundred men and women to secure some castles wasn't that big of a deal.
"Replacement crew can be recruited from the local population as required, they won't care which masters they serve," stated the Ultramarine "The same will be true of those who provided service to the reaver-lords I wish to slay. They will serve or be killed".
He had more to say about this.
"These Iron Islands, as they are called, are close enough to the mainland of Westeros to serve as a staging area," the power armoured warrior told me, "And we will have to destroy the local culture in any case, to prevent their raiding ways, this way can complete the objective of destroy this culture and gaining a beachhead at the same time".
That seemed like a good use of our resources, and the Ultramarine was right, the Ironborn would have to be destroyed as they would never give up their ways and become good Imperial citizens.
"Agreed," I said, folding my arms as I studied an image of the Iron Islands.
Spoiler
"With your blessing, we will purge their leaders, tear down their idols, and break the chains of their thralls," said the Brother-Sergent "The lower orders will serve, or they'll die".
Brother-Sergeant Learchus would disapprove of the worship of some old sea god, and I had no interest in tolerating any backwards customs that might ferment rebellion down the line; it was best to be rid of the Ironborn as a culture.
"We can also deploy a few Adeptus Mechanicus teams once the islands are secured," I added. "Let them establish outposts, tap into any mineral resources, and begin construction of the first manufactoria".
In time, proper manufactories would be set up, each the size of a city, but to start with, smaller outposts could be built, which would construct some of what we needed for the later stages of the conquest.
"Understood, Lord-Captain," Brother-Sergeant Learchus replied. "I shall brief my brothers and begin preparations."
The Space Marine, who was no doubt eager to get stuck in, soon left, leaving me free to plan other operations, such as finding out exactly where the Dothraki city could be found so it could be turned into a crater by a lance strike.
That was a command I would be happy to give when the time was right. Until then, I had a lot of information to go over and other plans to make. I had a world to tame, and I would have to be smart about it.
Part 35
Pyke – The Iron Islands
Balon Greyjoy, the Lord Reaper of Pyke, again prayed to the Drowned God, even if it did no good. The deity of the Ironbord did not answer his prayers, just as it hadn't all those years ago during Balon's failed rebellion against King Robert Baratheon.
Not that Balon had ever seen it as a rebellion. After all, it was the Targaryen dynasty that the Greyjoys had been sworn to. They had bowed to the dragon, not the stag, and now the dragons were gone; a Targaryen king no longer sat the Iron Throne, so why should they bend the knee?
Not that it mattered anymore. If Balon Greyjoy was right, then soon there would be no more rebellions, because there would be no more Ironborn left to rebel, or to plunder the greenlands, or just to sail the seas. Somehow, he knew they would be destroyed.
This new enemy they faced was something beyond any mortal man's means to defeat. They were giants in unbreakable blue armour who slaughtered anyone who dared go against them with ease.
As for their leader, he was a knight decorated in blue and gold, who carried a massive sword that crackled with energy and cut through any armour with ease. That was what the messages said.
Even veteran warriors had fled before them, according to one message. Men who braved the seas and ravaged settlements from the Stony Shore to the Stepstones had run away, some taking to the sea, unlikely to ever return, not unless they were very foolish.
These invaders must be warriors in service to the Storm God; that was the only explanation that made sense to Lord Greyjoy. The Drowned God had abandoned them because they had not lived by the old ways as they should, and now the Storm God would end the Ironborn.
The attacks on every castle and port in the Iron Islands had been as swift as they were brutal. Balon Greyjoy only knew about them because, while these invaders quickly slew anyone who resisted, they were not faster than a raven carrying a message.
He didn't know for sure, but from what little they had learned, these blue giants were not killing everyone, slaying only those who resisted. They killed only the true Ironborn. Not the thralls or the smallfolk who fished or built the ships their betters sailed.
Perhaps the Storm God planned to make the smallfolk and thralls into his servants. Balon Greyjoy did know, and somehow he knew that he would not be around to find out.
Every time another raven arrived, it was the same story: news of giants in blue armour, wielding swords that crackled with power or screamed as they turned men into bloody, meaty chunks.
They had devices that could blow men apart from a distance, and no one who resisted them ever survived. If you were lucky, they just ignored you and went on to the castle or port to find someone they would kill.
"Uncle Rodrik has sent us a message from Ten Towers," Asha Greyjoy, Balon's daughter, informed him. "They are attacking his home. He's calling for help".
By the time the message had reached them, it was very likely that Ten Towers had already fallen, as had all the other castles they had received word from.
Balon's knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the Seastone Chair, his throne, and likely the seat he would die upon. Earlier in the day, mere hours ago, he had been hard at work studying maps, trying to plan some sort of defence, but he had quickly given up.
Such plans no longer mattered. There were no ships left to sail, not once word of the attack began to sink in, and people saw the strange metal things in the sky. Any captain who could have escaped had already set sail, and any ship caught in port would no doubt be burned or wrecked, as the reports coming by raven had said was happening elsewhere.
"They come not for conquest," he muttered, almost to himself. "They come to render judgment".
Asha shifted uncomfortably upon hearing that. She did not agree with her father that these giant blue knights were some kind of divine wrath made manifest.
"We can still rally the men, gather our strength here," Asha insisted. "If we send ships—"
Balon Greyjoy knew there would be no point in doing so. He was unsure how he knew this; he could feel it in his bones, the Drowned God had abandoned them.
"By the time any ship that sets sail to reach one of the other islands, we will have all fallen, and that is if any captain would be willing to sail at my command rather than flee," insisted the Lord Reaper of Pyke. "It has been a day, less than that, and every raven that reaches us tells the same story. The Drowned God has abandoned us, my daughter, and the captains all know it, news of it spread like wildfire thanks to that bloody Maester telling everyone what we know".
He stood up, turned from her, and stepped toward the arched window that overlooked the sea. Storm clouds were gathering on the horizon, dark and roiling, mirroring his inner turmoil.
"This enemy is not of this world," Balon continued, more quietly. "These blue-armoured giants are not mere knights. They are the Storm God's warriors".
Asha did not reply. She didn't know what to say, as in a day, she had watched her father, a man who had once worn the driftwood crown, be reduced to someone staring helplessly into the abyss as he waited for the end to come.
It took her a moment to realise that not only did her father believe the Drowned God had forsaken them, but he was accepting this punishment. Would he even lift his axe and fight when the end came?
Did his despair have to do with those metal boxes they had seen in the sky, which they were sure were linked with these strange blue knights? Were they carriages that carried the blue knights through the sky, as the Targaryens had once ridden on dragons? If so, then it was a frightening idea, because how did you fight something like that?
"If the Black Wind is ready to sail, then you should go while the tide and wind favour you," said her father.
She was going to protest, to insist that her place was here, however, she never had the time. From the corridor beyond the main chamber came the distant sound of footsteps, which were heavy, deliberate, and unnatural. Metal against stone. Not the gait of any Ironborn warrior. This was something else.
Asha reached for her axe instinctively, as Balon turned slowly to the door, his face pale as he lifted his weapon.
"No," he said. "Not here. Not yet".
But it was already too late. Somehow, the blue knights were already here, and they had managed to enter the castle without raising any alarms. Not the quiet remained for long as someone was even now raising the alarm.
Soon she was able to hear men dying, the guards just outside the door getting cut down by unnatural weapons that screamed, and others that made a deafening roar. She couldn't see anything, only hear, and that was bad enough.
Then the door to the main chamber exploded inward, torn from its hinges by someone or something with inhuman strength. A figure stepped through the smoke and splinters, carrying a sword too large to be wielded by any mortal man.
He was more than seven feet tall, encased in hulking cerulean coloured armour that was etched with golden and decorated with strange symbols. And now that she saw this thing in person, Asha knew her father was right. This was one of the Storm God's warriors.
Balon Greyjoy, the Lord Reaper of Pyke, did not scream when he charged forward, trying to carry out what some might later remember as a heroic last stand. But it was no such thing.
The leader of the blue knights simply punched her father before he could land a blow. He might not even be dead, despite having been knocked back to the base of his seat. Her father was a stubborn and tough old man.
"I'll inform the Lord-Captain that we have secured the throne room," said one of the blue knights.
Asha then saw something even stranger: a man, a human man, in strange, expensive-looking clothing, carrying odd weapons, simply appeared inside the throne room. One moment, there was a flicker of light, and then he was just standing there. What magic was this?
"Lord-Captain Thrax," said the leader of the massive blue knights. "My brothers are securing the castle and pacifying the docks. Soon, all of the Iron Islands will belong to the Imperium and your dynasty. For the Emperor and the Primarch!".
The Imperium? What was that? Asha's panicked mind had so many questions. Who was this Emperor? What was a Primarch?
"Efficient as always, Brother-Sergeant," Thrax said.
The leader of the massive blue giants gave Lord Thrax a slight nod.
"Resistance was minimal. These Ironborn are no different from the pirate scum and raiders we've dealt with before," said the massive armoured figure. "I expected more courage".
Despite the situation she was in, Asha felt herself scowl at the insult. Now that it seemed as if she was going to be killed, she was calming down and starting to think.
"They've spent their lives raiding defenceless fishing villages and attacking merchant ships," Thrax said. "I doubt there is a real warrior among them".
The Lord-Captain turned toward the Seastone Chair, where Balon Greyjoy lay crumpled at its base. Her father was unmoving, and when one of Thrax's human servants (more of whom were appearing from somewhere deeper in the castle) went over to him, Asha instinctively moved to protect her father.
"Don't do it, Lady Greyjoy," Thrax said simply. "The Brother-Sergeant will cut you down if you harm any of my people".
Asha's eyes flicked to the massive sword still humming in the Blue Knight's hand. She lowered her axe, but she did not let go of it.
"I am Lord-Captain Maxwell Thrax of The Endless Endevour, the leader of the Thrax Dynasty. I am a Rogue Trader of the Imperium of Man," he announced, as if this should mean something to her. "On behalf of the Emperor, the Master of Mankind, I declare that these Iron Islands are now part of my dominion".
For a moment, it looked as if Lord Thrax might sit upon the Seastone Chair, but something caused him to change his mind before he sat down.
"Resistance is treason. Treason is death," stated the leader of the giant blue knights.
Asha held her ground, but she did not resist, at least not with more than words. She was being kept alive for some reason, and while she wanted to know why, she wasn't going to grovel at the feet of these invaders.
"We are not yours to rule," Asha spat.
No one paid her words any mind. They took her father away, and more of the invaders entered the throne room, bringing strange tools and other things with them. It looked as if they were going to change the castle to suit their needs.
"This castle will serve fine as a regional command centre," Lord Thrax was saying.
Soon, more people began to speak as if to someone who wasn't in the room. Were they using some sort of magic?
"Dock secured. Port tower pacified. Shipyard clear. Resistance collapsing across all islands," shared someone who had been speaking into a device "More men on their way to help secure the castle".
So was this an invasion after all, and not just a punishment as her father had feared.
"The Kraken is gutted, Lord-Captain," said the leader of the blue knights as he removed his helmet. "My brothers and I will remain for a time to help ensure the pacification of these islands".
Asha was shocked that the giant man looked so human under his armour. Were the blue knights some sort of men?
"Thank you," said Lord Thrax.
Asha couldn't keep silent any longer.
"Your blue knights aren't gods," she said bitterly. "They're just men in metal suits".
The leader of the giant men didn't even bother to address her comment.
"No," Thrax replied, "They are the Emperor's Angels."
What in the Seven Hells were angels?
"I will give you a choice, Lady Greyjoy," Captain Thrax said to her. "Lay down your arms and surrender. I might have some use for you, or we can grant you a quick death here and now if you prefer".
She wondered for a moment how they even knew who she was, but her presence in her father's throne room would have made it obvious.
Not having much choice in the matter, Asha dropped her axe to the ground. She was then escorted to her chambers by one of Lord Thrax's warriors, this one a mortal man who carried strange weapons and wore fine clothes, yet otherwise seemed no different than other man.
"Someone throw that ugly chair into the sea," she heard Lord Thrax order as she left the room.
All she could do was grit her teeth as she was confined to her room. This Lord-Captain Maxwell Thrax was going to destroy everything that made the Ironborn… and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.
When she got to her room and was left alone, Asha paced like a caged wolf, her mind racing.
Who were these people? What power did they wield that let them take Pyke so easily? Her father was a prisoner, just like her, and she had done nothing to stop it. She hated how helpless she felt, and she could only wonder what the future held for her.
Why did Lord-Captain Thrax want to keep her alive, as a source of information? Or was she just some sort of trophy? Should she cooperate or throw herself out of the window in the hopes of joining the Drowned God?
All she could do for now was lie on her bed and try to get some rest. It had been a long day, and she had a lot to think about, to try to understand.
Should she try to kill Captain Thrax to avenge her people, it seemed pointless to try; she wasn't a threat to these invaders. Besides, she didn't want to die, yet she didn't think escape was going to be an option; perhaps she could bide her time and slip away later.
That was her only chance; she would escape and go somewhere far away. The world was a big place, but despite this, she had to wonder if anywhere in the world was going to be free of the invaders. If they could just appear inside a castle, then nowhere was safe from them.
They had powerful warriors and magic that she couldn't begin to understand, so was there any point in defying them? Only time would tell her fate.
Part 36
Pyke – The Iron Islands
The private chambers of Balon Greyjoy were just one part of the castle that had already been changed to suit our needs. Within hours of the Space Marines taking the island, this entire place was being gutted and made somewhat suitable for occupation.
What was taking longer was putting together the technology required to set up a command centre. That complex work was getting slowed down by the Tech-Priests' need to anoint and pray over everything before it could be put to use, but that was just something I had to put up with.
Much to my delight, the servitors had already installed some plumbing. I not only had access to a proper toilet, but one of them had already managed to install a bathtub. Such minor things didn't require the burning of incense and purity seals, so the job got done quickly.
This transformation would take place to a lesser extent in every castle on each of the Iron Islands, as each was now a small garrison commanded by a low-ranking officer who would oversee the islands as they were converted into the staging area we required for the conquest of this world.
So much of the work had just been finished so quickly here because I was staying in this castle, and because it needed to be transformed into a proper command centre before we could move on.
Even with the transporters and support craft, it made sense for me to oversee the compliance of this world while staying on the planet for the most part. I could be beamed up to the frigate if my presence was required.
Since my concubines were much better suited to analysing data than they were fighting, even T'Pol, who had served as some sort of intelligence operative for the Terran Empire, was best left on the ship to supervise gathering information, I was alone in these new private quarters of mine.
I was keeping them busy, they were working on ideas about how to bring people and places under my rule. Some might need to be outright destroyed. However, I was confident that sufficient shows of force, bribery, and promises would win over many others.
Even just the threat of force could be a useful tool, and that was why I intended to keep Asha, or Yara, Greyjoy, whatever her name was, alive. She could serve me by telling others about how the Iron Islands had fallen in less than a day.
Oh, sure, many wouldn't believe her, or would foolishly think that they could resist better than the Ironborn had managed to. But a few might listen, and Lady Greyjoy would serve as a living trophy of my conquest, a reminder that the Ironborn had been crushed.
Not that I intended to ever make her a concubine or a member of my entourage, as she could never be trusted in such a role. Yet if she behaved herself, I might let her go free once I was done using her as part of my plans.
My train of thought ended when my data-slate beeped, letting me know I could roll again.
800 CP
Bank or Roll?
I selected the roll option and waited to see what would come up.
Sister Ellen
400 CP
Warhammer 40k – Imperial Navy Jump 1.02
The good Sister was raised as an orphan in a convent on Dimmamar, joining the Order of the Triumphant Thor of the Adepta Sororitas as soon as she had absorbed the teachings of her caretakers. As a member of the Sisterhood, Ellen was trained in battle and prayer, leading counter-boarding efforts in her power armour and guiding her congregations in devotion.
As a devout follower of Saint Thor, she radiated a dim light much like her patron's sanctity, calming souls in her vicinity—a calm she could amplify through her sermons. Although this light was weaker in the poor souls she ministered to, being fueled by their calm faith in the Emperor, the combined light of a ship full of the faithful could even recreate Thor's famed miracles and calm the Warp itself.
Accept/Deny
Claiming the Warp wasn't an issue here in this galaxy, and while Sister Ellen was expensive, it wouldn't be long before I rebuilt my points total; as such, her cost wasn't too much of an issue.
Not only did I need more warriors (and people to form my entourage, because you can't be a proper Rogue Trader without one), I had just gotten two companions in a row during rolls, so I was unlikely to get another one for a while, and that was another factor to consider.
Plus, this Sister Ellen might one day be able to train more Sisters of Battle to serve me, and her abilities suggested she could maintain high morale among my crew just by being present or leading the odd prayer circle.
With that in mind, I decided to spend the CP.
800 CP
– 400 CP
= 400 CP
As the program that was the Codex Celestial shut down, there was a knock on my door. To my surprise, it was not Sister Ellen, but rather it was Commissar Kayla, whom I had promoted earlier today using my authority, since she had worked so hard to form my Household Guard and was otherwise making herself useful to have around.
Normally, even a Rogue Trader can't simply appoint someone a Commissar. However, Kayla, like many of the senior officers aboard my ships and other VIPs, such as the Space Marines, was aware that we couldn't return to the Imperium. Even if they didn't know we were the wrong fictional galaxy.
In their view, we just had to make the best of things while cut off from the rest of the Imperium, something not that odd for a Rogue Trader vessel, so she had accepted that she would have to lead a branch of the Commissariat.
Her duties wouldn't be limited to the morale and discipline of my Household Guard. She would also need to train other Commissars as best she could, apprentices of sorts, but that was a concern for much later, as potential Commissars needed to go through years of school before they got to the practical field work.
"Lord-Captain," said the young Commissar, "I have something for you".
She took a sword out of a scabbard, and right away, I knew it wasn't a normal blade.
Spoiler
"One of the new garrison commanders sent this to you," Kayla explained. "I think someone's trying to gain your favour, my lord".
I held the weapon and inspected it. The sword had a gemstone embedded in the pommel, and the ripples in the blade made it clear, this was a Valyrian steel weapon.
"It's some sort of family sword," Kayla continued. "Apparently, on this planet, swords like this are status symbols. Having one might help the local rulers take you more seriously".
This was an impressive gift, and the officer who had the idea to gift it to me should be commended.
"Commissar, I want the officer who sent this to be suitably rewarded," I told Kayla. "Would you mind handling that for me?".
Now I was wondering if it would be possible to turn this sword into a power weapon. While few members of the Adeptus Mechanicus retained the knowledge necessary to craft such deadly weapons, not all power weapons were ancient relics. Sadly, it was unlikely I had such a skilled weaponsmith on my ship.
That line of thought was interrupted when I discovered that Valyrian steel made for a crude Force Weapon. I could feel it respond to my psyker powers, and I realised I'd be able to channel my warp energy through this sword when in battle to make it even more deadly.
However, I didn't have time to dwell on that, as I saw that Kayla was starting to take off her uniform.
"Kayla, what are you doing?" I asked.
She smiled at me before speaking.
"Maintaining the morale of the Household Guard is my duty," she answered. "That includes your morale, my lord, since you are the commander of that regiment".
She spoke those words rather casually. And if she was offering herself for a bit of relaxation, I didn't mind. She was a pretty young redhead, and I was in a good mood. So why not have sex with her?
The answer was, quite simply, that I deserved it. My dynasty had conquered the Iron Islands in a single day, secured my new staging ground, and added another warrior to my growing entourage, a warrior whom I could meet later.
Kayla removed her gloves first, then the black Commissar coat, folded with military precision. Her movements were fluid, but not hesitant, she was simply disciplined, deliberate, and purposeful. That was what I liked about her.
She wasn't going to have sex with me out of desperation or fear; this was a calculated, loyal offering, I didn't even think she was interest in fucking to help advance her career since Commissars don't even have rank structure you can up once they get their red sash.
Once she got down to her underclothes, Kayla sat on the bed, and I lay down with her so that we seemed to be the same height for a change. Kaly wasn't a short woman, but there was a noticeable difference in our heights.
I pressed my mouth to hers, and we kissed. While we'd met rather recently, I could recall knowing her before that, so this didn't feel awkward as it might have with a stranger. How other men could fuck some whore they didn't know was a mystery to me, I had to get to a woman before I would have sex with her.
Then, I helped the young woman out of her remaining clothes, giving her plenty of gentle touches and kisses. Kayla seemed to appreciate the attention as low moans escaped her mouth. Once she was fully naked, she allowed my hands to wander her body.
I ran a hand up her smooth thigh so I could reach her womanhood, which she kept bare, and I could tell she was already getting wet. That she was attracted to me was rather obvious; I didn't need my psyker powers to know that.
She was a lot curvier than her uniform would suggest, and her breasts and nipples also demanded my attention. That kept me busy for a while, but not for too long, as I was eager to get to the main event.
Without any words getting exchanged, our mouths otherwise occupied, we began to align our bodies so I could get inside the young Imperial.
Her warm and snug-fitting pussy hugged my dick tightly; at first, it felt as if I might not get all of it into her. Then she let out a short, thankfully not-too-loud cry of delight as I filled her up with my manhood.
Kayla's breath was warm against my neck, her body pressed flush against mine, moving with a rhythm that matched my own. Her fingers dug into my back as we moved together, each thrust driving a soft gasp or a quiet moan from her lips.
I watched her face as we moved. I could see her flushed cheeks, how her lips remained parted, and that her eyes were half-lidded but still somewhat focused. I must not be fucking her hard enough if she could still concentrate at all.
She shifted her hips, meeting my movements with her own. The tension between us built as I began to move faster, and after some time, I felt her hold on tightly to me, as I filled her with my cum while still buried deep within her.
Once we were done, and I was no longer inside her, she rested her head against my chest, and I felt the steady rhythm of her breathing start to calm.
"I take it morale has been suitably maintained?" she asked, with some very British-sounding humour.
Her straightforward question amused me.
"Yes, thanks to your exemplary service, Commissar," I replied.
Kayla soon sat up slowly and began gathering her discarded uniform with no concern for modesty. She soon excused herself to get cleaned up and dressed in the bathroom that had been added to this room, and I would have to wait my turn to freshen up.
Rogue Trader or not, ladies first most certainly applied in this situation; it would be very ungentlemanly of me to make her wait to use the bathroom.
When I heard an urgent knocking at the door, all I had to wear was a robe—and I only answered because of how insistent it sounded.
"Sister Ellen?" I asked.
The blonde woman stood there in her power armour, holding a deadly axe. I stepped back into the room because while I could now remember knowing her as I had done with Kayla, the alarmed look on her face had me worried, and I didn't know what she was seeing that was alarming her.
Without hesitation, she raced inside. Her power axe came swooping down to kill something that had just finished climbing in through the window.
I didn't get a good look at it until after Sister Ellen had struck it down—but once I did, I knew immediately that it wasn't an Ironborn assassin, even the savages here didn't smell so bad as this thing.
Spoiler
"Mutant scum," spat the Sister of Battle with righteous venom.
Before I could even process that, an alarm blared across the castle. I reached for the Valyrian steel sword I had been gifted, the weapon already humming faintly as it responded to my presence.
There was a roughly humanoid sea monster lying dead on the floor of my chambers, glistening with saltwater, covered in scales, and far too real for my liking, so having even a crude Force weapon in my hand made me feel better.
Sister Ellen stuck her head out of the window. Whatever she saw made her recoil slightly before she turned back to me. She looked unnerved, and that was worrying given how overconfident Sisters of Battle often seem to be.
"Lord-Captain, there are mutant creatures of some kind scaling the castle walls!"
This was no time to be wearing a robe or worrying about freshening up. I needed to suit up in some armour, arm myself, and prepare to fight. The horrors of the deep were coming for us, and they might just be the start of the nightmares heading our way.