[Rogue Trader PbP] The Heir Apparent Act I

[Kaelan]

Macharius makes sure his third eye is carefully hidden beneath his silken headscarf and underneath the cowl of his robes. His armor and clothing are freshly cleaned of dirt and blood from the earlier scuffle and so he heads to the speeder.

He seats himself opposite Thraxus and waits for the rest of the party to take their seats before asking "Do we know anything about the Administrator, I think his name was Kraal something or other? or any of the guests that will be attending tonight's soiree?"

 

[Uthic]

Mordekai quietly dreads having to endure this dinner as he follows the group into the car, he gives his bolt pistols one last check of their magazines before he enters, fixes their safeties and holsters them, buttoning his coat up. He takes a hold of the coffer bearing the plasma rifle - he figures he doesn't need it, but better to have it and not need it than the reverse - and sits in the back of the car.

"Good question, Navigator. Would get interesting if some Azymus people were to show up."

 

[The Bashar]

One of the Arbitrators in the front seat turns his head to address Thraxus.

"Greetings M'Lord. We will be taking you to Administrator Farellus’ residence at the center of the station. I heard you and your associates were attacked during the ‘demonstration’ on the tram earlier. The Arbites are investigating the demonstration and the attack. We take this very seriously. These refugees have been used as a cover for many criminal elements on the station. We will find them and bring them the Emperor’s justice.”

He turns back around as the driver of the vehicle goes the ritual of activation. The speeder hums as the antigrav drive warms up. The vehicle slowly rises above the hab complex. You can see the tops of the buildings around you and the large Cathedral and Administration building at the center of the station. The speeder begins to accelerate forward. You notice the occasional speeder sporting the colours of the Arbites or station security fly off in the distance.

As you get closer to the central tower the speeder begins to climb a toward the top. It is apparent that you heading towards a platform which has a few speeders parked on it. The Arbitrator lands the speeder. Two men are waiting on the platform and run up to the speeder to open the doors for Thraxus and the party.

“Greetings M’Lord Thraxus. We are servants of Administrator Farellus. We are here to escort you to the dinner.”

They lead the party inside what appears to be a command center for the Arbites and Security force. It is in a large hall with a number of tables and desk. At one end there is a giant vid with a map of the station with various glyphs and lights all over it. Scribes and Adepts sit around it working cogitators and listening to vox transmissions. At the other end there appears to be large metal cage with various weapons up on the walls inside. You see a few Arbitrators and a tech priest in the cage repairing and storing weapons. One of the servants speaks to Mordekai.

“Sir, no large weapons are allowed in the Administrator’s residence.”

He points toward the cage.

“You may store your gun here and pick it up when you leave.”

 

[jammastaj]

Zander approaches the servant, using his shock staff as a walking stick. He has left his lasgun behind and brought the staff instead as it is emblazoned with the cog of the Mechanicus and is a more fitting ceremonial weapon for occasions like this.

"Is this going to be a bother?" Zander asks, motioning to the staff.

 

[The Bashar]

The servant looks at the staff.

"That should be fine, you can hold on to it."

 

[Uthic]

Mordekai shrugs and beckons of the Arbites in the cage over, handing the arms coffer to him. "Take care of that, I'm rather fond of that rifle."

 

[The Bashar]

The Arbitrator in the cage accepts the weapon. He looks it over and nods with approval.

"I can see why. A beautiful piece."

The servant directs the party out of the room and through some double doors that leads into a long hallway. There are a number of doors arranged along the each side of the hallway. The servant stops at one with a hole near the door. He inserts a cylinder into the door and wait. About five minutes later the door opens and he motions everyone in. It appears to a large lift device. It could easily fit fifteen people.

"This will take us directly to the administrators apartments."

The trip takes about ten minutes. During the trip you feel your ears pop as the lift climbs further up. The doors finally open onto a spartan lobby which stands in contrast to the large double doors in front of you. The doors must be at twelve feet tall and have a large Imperial Aquila across the front which is gilded in gold leaf. The servant knocks on the doors three times. The large doors are pushed outward by two well armed and armoured men who stand at attention once their task of opening the door is complete.

Before you is large foyer. Two large staircases descend down from the floor above you like two arms wrapping around a large statue of the Emperor. Above you is an interesting chandelier which has 9 glow globes of varying size and colour orbiting around a central orange globe. Past the chandelier you can see a window which appears to be looking out into the blackness of space. There are a number of people in the room with drinks talking. Only a few of them have noticed your arrival.

The servant steps in and produces a data slate from inside his jacket. He clears his throat and speaks loudly.

"Now presenting the Rogue Trader Lord Thraxus Argentum Vespus quae Septimus of Theta Secundus and his retinue."

Those who weren't paying attention not turn to regard the new guest. A short portly man with silver hair excuses himself from a group of Imperial Navy officers and heads toward Thraxus. He is exquisitely dressed in rich robes and sports a large chain which hangs low to his stomach baring an Imperial symbol. He has an ocular implant in his right eye which he regards Thraxus with and breaks into an easy smile.

"Welcome to my humble abode Lord Captain. I am the station Administrator Kraal Farellus. I must apologize about the violence you are your people experience earlier. These refugees are a burden on the operation of this station. One cannot simply push them out an airlock, as some would think best. But let us not drag on about this. I hope your trip here was blissfully pleasant. The view from above the station is quite breath taking."

 

[Gregor]

Thraxus eyes the man cooly and then proceeds to remove his antique pipe from within his inner jacket pocket. Without answering the Administrator, indeed in an attempt to make the man wait, Thraxus then proceeds to light the pipe and take a few pulls to ensure it is lit. Pausing to remove an unsightly fleck of tobacco from his lip, he then looks at it on his finger and flicks it away casually before returning his casual glance towards Administrator Kraal.

"I hope you do not mind if I smoke?" asks Thraxus rhetorically with a grin as he waves down a servant bearing tumblers of some spirit or another. Inspecting a drink and selecting one to his liking, he takes a sip and begins to chat with the Administrator. He makes a point of keeping his voice low so as not to embarrass the man.

"Administrator, thank you for the invite. You honour both myself, my retinue and above all, my family. You would honor me further by explaining why it is that your administration allows these refugees to be hired by enemies of my house and set loose upon me with violent intent? Is it your intention that the illustrious Rogue Trader families' abilities to acquire wealth for our glorious Imperium be hampered by your lack of iron fisted policies with respect to controlling your rabble? I am eager to do business here Administrator, but I am having trouble seeing why I should given your lack security and casual hand waving of today's incident."

 

[The Bashar]

The Administrator blushes a deep crimson. He attempts to start speaking, but nothing comes out. He finally gets out a few words, but does not control the volume of his voice.

"Well...I... the situation here is difficult. These refugees stow away a board ships and then sneak on to the station. There are too many of them for my security forces and the Arbites to control!

Your enemies take advantage of the situation on the station. Why should I do?! Send Scribes down into the under-station to inquire about how the refugees are employed?! Unless the Imperium sends me more men and more weapons there is only so much that can be accomplished here.

No if you'll excuse me I have other guests to attend to."

He storms away through a door in the back of the foyer. You notice a man looking at your Thraxus, he smiles at you and begins to walk over. The man is a bit shorter than you with pale red hair and a rather plain face. He is dressed in an exquisite looking carapace armour and sports a sword on one hip and what looks to be an Inferno Pistol on the other. As he walks forward to you he extends his hand.

"I must shake the hand of the man who made Kraal blush like a woman. He is so used to people stroking his ego, that he takes great offence to those who suggest he is incompetent. I should know, I tell him every time I'm here.

Oh where are my manners? I am Rogue Trader Jonquin Saul. And if I heard the page correctly you are a Rogue Trader as well?"

 

[Gregor]

"Well met Rogue Trader" says Thraxus as he takes Jonquin's hand, "my name is Thraxus Argentum Vespus quae Septimus of House Vespus from the Hive World of Theta Secundus." Thraxus grins slightly and adds, "it is a mouthful I know ... the legacy of proud parents I'm afraid. I am indeed a fellow Rogue Trader and you may refer to me as simply Thraxus." He then waves his hand to the party and introduces them each by name as his friend and as a member of the command crew aboard our vessel.

Thraxus enjoys a few pulls on his pipe as hands are shook and then he drains his glass before continuing.

"As you say Rogue Trader Jonquin Saul, this Administrator Kraal is a fool. He is no different than any other Imperial bureaucrat: grown fat on plentiful food, ample drink and the comfort of station. If I could hasten my exit from this dreadful affair and set out amongst the stars, I would be a happier man." Thraxus waves over a server for another drink. "But where are 'my' manners," he adds with a smile, "where do you hail from and what brings you here this night?"