Terms and Conditions

The bridge was quiet. Some would say peaceful. Tybalt would not. In his mind was a constant stream
of binary, both audible and visual feeds filling his databanks with the diagnostic updates. To him, the
crewless bridge was anything but silent. As he worked at making minor tweaks to various systems
within the Yagboudha in a never-ending push towards optimisation, he simultaneously catalogued
the data stream into varying degrees of importance, from optional to urgent. He paused in his work
as an alert cut through the ocean of automata error codes.

///ASTARTES CRUISER DETECTED – MURDER CLASS – IDENTIFICATION CODE: Iron Wolf///

Astartes? Tybalt clicked on the ship-wide vox. “Captain Ashkazar to the bridge. Captain Ashkazar to
the bridge.”

A few minutes went by as Tybalt waited for the acting Captain to arrive. In the meantime, the former
Magos ran through all the data he could gather from the unknown vessel. No record of allegiance.

That’s good, Thought Tybalt as he worked. Unlikely to be Imperial. He couldn’t determine Legion of
origin at this distance, though he gleaned some weapons signatures. The new information did not
alleviate his tension.

“I do hope we are under attack.” The Rogue Trader looked bleary eyed as he wandered through the
bridge doorway. Tybalt did not avert his gaze from the console as he replied. Ashkazar winced as the
scratchy response came, the words sounding far too loud as they came from the vox emitter that
served as Tybalt’s mouthpiece.

“Negative. No obvious signs of aggression. Approximately thirty minutes till visual contact.” Ashkazar
instinctively looked towards the occulus.

“Visual contact of what? Throne of Terra, tell me what is out there!” He squinted as he spoke, trying
to see the incoming ship in the midnight ocean of the void.

“My apologies, Captain. We are being approached by a yet unidentified Astartes Light Cruiser. It’s
not loyalist, judging by probability.” Cecil pulls his eyes from the occulus at this.

“Astartes? What could they want here?” He knew the likely answer before he said it. Nothing was in
these parts. That was why they were here. Nothing besides the Yagboudha itself. He did not like
being surprised, least of all by Astartes cruisers. Tybalt seemed to ignore his question.

“I have incoming vox.” The hollow pits that should have been eyes met Ashkazar’s own. The Rogue
Trader looked back into the void.

“Put them through, bridge wide.” A few moments later the vox speakers scattered across the bridge
crackled to life. Ashkazar opened his mouth to introduce himself but the first word died in his mouth
as a voice filled the bridge.

“Captain of the Yagboudha. This is Lord Apothecary Veredicus Mendax, VIIIth Legion. I require
Thunderhawk docking permission. The Consortium requests an audience.”

* * *

The ramp of the Thunderhawk connected with the adamantium flooring of the Yagboudha docking
bay with a dull thump of metal on metal. The armsmen surrounding the gunship trained their
weapons on the black maw that the ramp had revealed, the sergeant visibly tense as he waited to
give an order he hoped wouldn’t be needed. The armament of the men varied greatly. Most carried
shotcannons, a weapon of choice amongst Imperial armsmen and one the Yagboudha’s crew had
taken a liking to for the relative safety of its use within the confines of battle within a void ship.
Several of the men had the lever action creations of Tybalt, the TLC II. The standard high calibre
mass reactive rounds had been replaced with ‘Shipsafe’ rounds that fragmented upon contact,
resulting in negligible damage to the ship’s hull and devastating wounds against unarmoured targets.
The wielders of these unusual and powerful weapons were not confident. Astartes were rarely
unarmoured. Ashkazar placed a hand on the sergeant’s shoulder in a vague attempt to reassure the
man before he spoke at no one in particular.

“My name is Cecil Ashkazar, acting captain of the Yagboudha. Show yourself if you wish to parley,
Lord Apothecary.” There was silence for a moment that felt like an age to Ashkazar, though he knew
better than to show any unease. He knew little of the VIIIth Legion but had heard stories.

Footsteps, too many to be a lone Astartes, echoed from within the Thunderhawk. The first figures
Cecil saw were not Astartes. Two men, at least he thought they were men. Their skin bulged from
the enhancements to muscles and they both held well crafted autoguns in their clenched fists. It was
the look they gave him that made Ashkazar instantly loathe them. Loathe and fear them. It was like
that of the fisk wolves of Urvine IV. He had seen them hunt prey in packs, the giant beasts of the
plains brought low under the sheer number of claws and fangs that the wolves had brought to bear.
Not only were they brutally strong, they had perfect instinctive coordination with each other.
Ashkazar saw this in these men as the pair became six. Their movements were in sync in a way he
had never seen in men. The concerns he felt about them however were made somewhat null when
the last of figure emerged from the Thunderhawk. The vox grill on the Astartes helm burst to life
with a cruel metallic sound.

“My thanks to you, captain Ashkazar! I,” The Astartes made a rasping sound that might have been a
chuckle. “The Consortium thanks you for your hospitality.” He hadn’t stopped in his approach as he
spoke, his entourage matching his strides despite the difference in size. “I apologise for the
unexpected visit.” Ashkazar frowned at this.

“No apology necessary, Lord Apothecary. I am curious as to the reason of your visit.” He took a
moment to take in the fully armoured Astartes. The power armour of the Apothecary was a midnight
blue and while it looked well maintained, it was clearly made of several differing marks. A bolter was
maglocked to his back, the weapon as clean and well cared for as the armour. The helm of the
demigod made Ashkazar’s stomach churn as he beheld it. Ruby red lenses and a bone white visage
of a grinning skull looked back at him and he noticed the sergeant at his side visibly shiver.

“I come with an offering from the Consortium. The Clonelord desires knowledge from across the
galaxy and has deemed the Yagboudha to contain such sought-after knowledge. Notably your aptly
named Empyrion Convertor Array. I am here to offer a deal of sorts in exchange for an opportunity
to study your ECA.” Ashkazar blinked.

“The ECA?” He rubbed his chin for a moment, the years of hard fought trade deals and bartering
rising to the surface of his mind. “And what has the Consortium got to offer in exchange?”

“My presence aboard your ship for the immediate future, of course. That and the services of my
master’s glandhounds.” He gestured to the things that flanked him, their eyes still fixed on Cecil.
Ashkazar smiled, knowing the value of the two Astartes currently on board. Another would make a
great deal of difference. He gestured through the crowd of armsmen who were lowering their
weapons as their captain made his way towards the docking bay doors.

“Of course, right this way. We can hash out the terms in the Museum.”