Prologue
Beniamin "Ben" Corell frowned as the Rogue Trader vessel
Double Negative docked with the
Eoraptor, allowing the other shipmaster- a young-looking man with what his father's concubines described as a "charming smile"- to enter the finely furnished airlock used to greet honored guests and business partners.
"Smile, Ben," Hans Corell admonished his 10-year-old son. The older Rogue Trader's smug grin revealed nothing but the self-confidence he radiated, as two beautiful women followed his new business partner aboard the
Eoraptor. "You need to make potential customers feel welcome at your future place of business."
"I feel something... bad."
"What, you need to defecate?" Hans' jokes were often crude, as befit the former Vendetta gunship pilot; he spent more time in muddy trenches alongside Astra Militarum guardsmen, than he did on pristine decks alongside Imperial Navy officers.
"There's something... bad... in Trade Lord Mars," Ben growled.
"My business sense trumps your feelings," Hans retorted, only for Chaplain Timotheus Zahn of the Imperial Sons to march towards the two.
"Describe what you sense in Jarjarab Mars. Be as detailed as possible," the Space Marine Chaplain ordered, shocking both father and son.
Suppressing his fear the way he saw his father do whenever negotiations failed, Ben focused on the approaching Rogue Trader. "He's hiding something... dark... confusing..."
"Chaotic?" Interpreting the boy's shivering as confirmation of his concerns, the Chaplain drew his plasma pistol and stepped forward to shield Hans from the other Rogue Trader; two other Imperial Sons blocked Jarjarab's concubines' path. "Trade Lord Mars, please disarm and consent to being searched, before meeting Captain Corell."
The young-looking Rogue Trader maintained his "charming smile," though his eyes now expressed anger only an older man could control. "Trade Lord-"
"Captain," Hans interrupted. "I never cared for fancy titles."
"Captain Corell, please maintain control over your ship's crewmembers," Jarjarab continued. "I can forgive one transgression-"
"If you do not disarm and consent to being searched, you will not be allowed to meet someone under the Imperial Sons' protection."
Jarjarab's smile widened to reveal more teeth than a human mouth could accommodate; then he drew a rosette, an Inquisitor's badge of office, from beneath his cloth-of-gold shirt. "By the power vested in me by the Ordo Hereticus of the Emperor's Most Holy Inquisition," the disguised Inquisitor declared as his concubines raised their hemlines in a flirty manner, "I hereby sentence Hans Corell to death!"
With that, the Inquisitor's acolytes- death cult assassins disguised as concubines- launched themselves towards the Marines standing between them and their target. One used the chainsword teeth hidden beneath her skirt's lacy hem, to slit one Imperial Son's throat and bring him to his knees, drowning in his own blood; before she could kill again, the second Marine grabbed her ankle and then slammed her against the floor, stunning her before a single shot bolt pistol could travel along the rail extending from her "sleeve gun" compartment to her hand. The assassin's last word was a cry of pain, as the Imperial Son avenged his battle-brother by shooting her in the head.
The second assassin drew two power stilettos from sheaths hidden under her skirt, and reached for Zahn's throat, only for his crozius to blocked her thrust. She squeezed a hidden trigger to fire the stiletto's integral hotshot laspistol, but the Chaplain- who survived innumerable encounters with assassins bearing combination weapons- simply tilted his head out of the laser weapon's line-of-fire. A kick sent the assassin crashing into a wall, before she could attack with her second blade; then a plasma beam vaporized the assassin's head.
Though the Inquisitor's acolytes were dead, their actions drew away his target's defenders, buying Jarjarab time to draw and aim a Drukhari splinter pistol. Hans reached for a customized plasma pistol at his side, but the Rogue Trader couldn't possibly...
"Noooo!" Ben's panicked cry accompanied a burst of psychokinetic energy launching everyone off their feet. Jarjarab's back broke from the force applied to his body; the Inquisitor's face distorted in pain to look downright Daemonic, as he was thrown back aboard his own ship.
Hans quickly pressed a gold button on his coat collar. "Bridge, this is Lone Eagle, confirmation code Alpha-Seven-Seven-Beta-Eight-One-Omega-Zero-Five," he declared into the hidden microphone. "Undock; raise shields; fire on the
Double Negative, I say again, fire on the
Double Negative. Blow it out of the sky." The
Eoraptor's gunners complied with his orders, making the deck shake as Mars' vessel exploded only meters away; despite this, the Rogue Trader had no difficulty climbing to his feet and walking towards his son, who lay unconscious on the floor. "Ben!" A crozius barred his way; knowing he couldn't overpower the one wielding the weapon, Hans tried to calm down as he turned towards the Chaplain.
"Psyker." Zahn's word made the Rogue Trader fall to his knees, knowing his son was condemned to a haunted future.
Edited by Bjorn Firewalker, 02 February 2020 - 04:53 PM.