Thinking about it, heading towards the veiled region by way of the south-east approach was a sensible one. An Astartes fleet nearby meant that there would be opportunities for both work and political gain. The work part was important, as Astartes' work was always something that involved enemies to mankind. And where there were enemies, there was opportunity, and from what I had been able to learn, there were both unclassified worlds and dead worlds in the area. Not as many as the other directions I could have gone, but still enough to pique my interest.

  There was also the issue with Vigilance Quadrex, the Imperial world with orbital dockyards. The biggest dock facilities in the segmentum and home to a very deep-rooted genestealer cult that had operated for literally hundreds of years, it would be dangerous to go there for ship repairs. But I could work around the genestealers. The crew would not be happy with strict curfews and a general lockdown of the ship, should we dock there, but they would accept my will one way or the other, at least if they knew what was best for them. Of course, this was not known in the wider Imperium, and if I blew it open then questions would be asked, questions to which the answers would get me branded as a heretical being by existence alone. The implications of such a thing were disturbing, to say the least. So the only thing I could do was minimize the risk to my ship. I would come up with an excuse, I needed at least one of the armed freighters refitted as a general-purpose ship with its own cathedral section. With the number of people I was beginning to haul around, it was only a matter of time before my confessors would hound me for a more magnificent place of worship than the simple shrines set up on my flagship, and if I provided them with the chance to compete amongst themselves for the honor of attending what in time could grow to be a spectacular cathedral ship, carrying the word of the Emperor into the far fringes of unknown space and serving as the soul of my fledgling rogue trader fleet, they would be unable to disturb me with minor issues out of fear that their competitors would use it against them. With enough ambition, it could attract pilgrim ships to follow it around, providing ample grounds for zealous recruits to be found and future sisters of battle to cultivate their fanatical faith, which would further improve my ties with the ecclesiarchy.

  I sighed deeply. The politics of the Imperium were as intriguing as they were frustrating. If I remember correctly, I would also pass relatively close by a watch station, Prescience, an observation post of the Deathwatch space marine chapter, the metaphorical last armed bastion of the Inquisition. My thoughts lingered around this fact for a moment before I realized I could visit them without risk of punishment. I was sanctioned by the Inquisition to be a rogue trader and I had encountered a, to the Imperium, unknown xenos species. They would be very interested to receive every scrap of knowledge that had been gathered on them so far. It could also never hurt to make myself known as a friend to the Deathwatch, as well as offering to shoulder the burden of scouting ahead in my travels. They would no doubt have someone double-check my routes, but still. Being useful to them could never hurt.

  The first thing I did back on my flagship was issue an order for several copies of a complete report on both the Skaven and our dealings on planet Slud and the space station above it to be made ready on several data slates. The Imperial fists on Bakka station would send a representative to speak to me, and I knew his goal was ultimately to collect as much information as possible. So as the good Imperial servant I was, I would have it stored, sorted, and cataloged, ready for them to be given freely upon arrival. Of course, I would be making more copies, to both ensure the information was not lost in the bowels of a cogitator and to make sure I had a copy for the deathwatch when I passed by the watch station.

  I also sent word to Farsyn about the direction of our travels so he could start plotting a route through the warp. And unlike our trip to Slud, this would be a series of small jumps, since I had a few stops on the way. I sent word to Farsyn to prepare a trip for watch station Prescience, and had barely sent the messenger on his way before I was informed of an incoming Thunder hawk. That would be the Imperial fists, who I had so gleefully ignored such a short while ago. As I waited on the bridge, I took the liberty of freeing one of the scribes of his copy of the events from my arrival above Slud until this very moment. With dataslate in hand, I took up a position at the heart of the bridge and waited. It didn't take long for the heavy stomps of Astartes in full power armor to reach my ears. They approached without interference, most of the people on the optimized route they took were either awestruck or kneeling in reverence at the sight.

  An Astartes, one of the Emperor's angels of death, was a sight that was beholden to the few, the powerful, and the unlucky common citizens of the Imperium, as the presence of Astartes usually meant trouble, too grave for any PDF or Imperial guard force to handle singlehandedly, and the reactions of everyone, from armed voidsmen to zealous confessors, was one of worship. When they reached the bridge, they were approaching at speed, instantly locking on to me the moment they turned the last corner and I did the only thing I could do in this situation without risking their wrath. I held out the dataslate I had taken from the scribe mere moments ago.

  The Captain in ornate terminator armor flanked by 5 Astartes wearing a pattern of power armor I didn't recognize, closed the distance between us at speed, and I had to fight a primal urge to scamper away from something so large and menacing pressing down on me, but I managed to stand my ground and keep the dataslate presented. The Captain only stopped when he was inches from hitting the dataslate, and he took it without looking at it.

  "I am Kaheron, Captain of The Wardens, 9th company of the Imperial fists. You are a new rogue trader with ties to the Inquisition. Why do you seek to inflict this indignity upon us?" His voice was.. impossible. Stoic, commanding, intense. Ancient. There was an age to his voice, even through the filter of his helmet, a sense of wisdom and experience that only comes from hundreds upon hundreds of years of living. The fact that he was wearing Terminator armor also told its tale about his abilities. Being given such a rare and sophisticated piece of equipment was reserved for those exceptional few that stand out even among Astartes. Though I was not surprised, he had an aura of menace about him. Tightly controlled, but the sense of impending and extreme violence that radiated off of him was crushing.

  I knew what he meant. By refusing to deal with the Imperial fist that approached me at the station, I had forced the hand of this company captain, making him suffer through the humiliation of having to leave their command center on Bakka station and travel to my ship. It was unthinkable to all but the most powerful individuals to act in this way, but I chose to do it anyway. I had already run one of their errands, and I did not wish to enforce a standard where I was beholden to them. We were equals in terms of rights within the Imperium, with me having the greatest freedom, and I planned to exercise that freedom as much as humanly possible.

  "Forgive me, Captain Kaheron, but I have taken this opportunity to make you a small part of a greater plan. We will be heading into the unknown within days, and while the faith of my crew is strong and their loyalty without question, setting up a situation where they are blessed with the visage of the Emperor's angels of death will do wonders to bolster their morale in ways I could never achieve without the presence of you and your knights on my ship. In the report you hold in your hand, you will find answers to every question you might have regarding my actions since leaving this station the last time, charged with exterminating the corruption that had taken hold of planet Slud, up until my arrival back here." I emphasized my words with a small gesture towards the dataslate, and in response, Captain Kaheron flicked it on and skimmed through the report at a blazing speed, putting the superior mental faculties of the Astartes on full display.

  "You were tasked with disposing of the planetary governor. Not picking his replacement. Neither were you instructed to lay claim to the planet under this newly formed dynasty." He rumbled as his eyes flickered back and forth between the lines of text scrolling past the display. "But you exterminated a previously unknown mutant infestation that had reached the space station above, cleared out the corrupt nobility, increased production and tithe rates, and you have ordered the construction of a branch of the schola progenium. This is.. acceptable. Do not presume to think yourself above the orders you receive in the future." He made ready to leave, but before he could finish turning around, I raised my voice ever so slightly.

  "Captain Kaheron. While the mighty Astartes who live only to serve our Emperor can indeed throw around orders left and right, I dispute your right to exercise authority over me. I am a rogue trader, and as such I am an agent of the throne, tasked with expanding the Imperium. I will not be able to fulfill my purpose if you and every other chapter treat me as if I were a mere serf. I am not a serf, and you have no right to order me around. I assisted you. It was in my best interest, because it is the proper thing to do for an Imperial, and because I have no desire to make enemies with a fellow Imperial. However, I will not receive orders. I will receive requests, and I will most likely respond positively unless I am bound by another task or time restraint. I wish to see the Imperium prosper, and for that to happen we all need to fulfill the role given to us. And my role, Captain, lies beyond the Imperium. Not within it." I was being bold, perhaps too bold, but I needed to make a stand. If I allowed this to go the way the Imperial fists wanted, I would become nothing more than an errand boy for them. Despite the danger of openly opposing an Astartes, and a company captain at that, I had to do this.

  The captain responded as I had feared. Turning around and looming over me he said. "Those words border on heresy, Lord Captain." His hand crept toward the massive paragon blade strapped to his back. The emphasis on my title made me wary, but I had to press on. I had drawn a line in the sand, and backing up now would only cement their belief that I was theirs to command.

  "An unsanctioned attack on a rogue trader is akin to an attack on the high lords of Terra, Captain Kaheron. I would advise against killing a fellow Imperial servant, especially so shortly after he successfully rooted out corruption and increased tithes of a woefully under-utilized planet. If you lift your blade against me, you commit treason against the Imperium itself. Not very fitting for a son of the unyielding one. As for your accusation, how can it be heretical to carry out the duty that was assigned to you? I dare say, that preventing me from doing what I have been tasked with by having me run errands and function as a glorified cyber mastiff, is what borders on heresy. I have no desire to fail my Emperor given task and I am certain you feel the same way. But our tasks are different. You must protect the Imperium. I must expand it. And I cannot expand it if I am doing your job, honored Kaheron, captain of the Wardens. " I could feel the conflict rolling around in the ancient Astartes, his guards were poised for attack and his hand was frozen near the hilt of his blade. To say I was gambling with my life was a gross understatement. I could physically feel the desire for violence in the captain in front of me, as real and palpable as the clothes I was wearing. Striking me down for my insolence would go a long way to brighten what was no doubt a very sour mood.

  "Let me mend the situation, Captain Kaheron. I will swear an oath of moment to assist the Imperial fists in whatever way possible, as long as I remain in Imperial space. I will not accept new tasks or missions through the oath, but I am willing to swear that I will assist however, and wherever, I might be needed within Imperium-controlled space. Would that be satisfactory to the VII'th legion?" My mention of an oath of moment was shocking to the Astartes, even with their helmets on. The shock translated into a stiffening of their limbs and the heads of the captain's honor guards shifting their full attention to me.

  "Few people outside the ranks of the Astartes know of this oath. Fewer remain alive to speak of it. However, taking an oath of moment would be... admissible." Kaheron relented but he did not remove his hand from near the hilt of his sword. "But tell me, Lord Captain, how you know of this ancient and sacred oath." There was a growling undertone to his words, an unspoken accusation, and I realized I messed up. I had to thread very carefully in the next few minutes.

  "The secrets of a rogue trader is just that, honored captain. Secret. If my methods were known to the wider Imperium, what would set me apart from the common rabble and mightiest warriors? But I can tell you that I have a keen interest in Imperial history. But enough of that, let me summon a scribe to put my oath to parchment and affix it to my armor so that I may forever be reminded of the pledge I am about to take." I snapped my fingers and a scribe came hurrying up to us, parchment and quill in hand, head bowed low in reverence.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "Record our words, scribe." Kaheron rumbled as he slowly drew the massive paragon blade and held it horizontally in front of me. I placed my hand on the blade with as much piety as I could and looked into the helm lenses of the Terminator armor.

  "Do you, Bj?rk, accept your role in this? Do you promise to lead your men into the zone of war, and conduct them to glory, no matter the ferocity or ingenuity of the foe? Do you swear to come to the aid of the Imperial Fists against the enemies of the Imperium when called, despite all they might throw at you? Do you pledge to do honor to the VII Legion and the Emperor?" Kaherons voice had become something else as he spoke the ancient words of the oath, a hint of the man he used to be when he was young and eager to bring the blade to the Emperor's enemies, oblivious or maybe even wilfully ignorant of the politics at play within the Imperium. It was both a beautiful and sad thing to see, the young warrior's spirit filled with exuberance, trapped in the old warrior's body ground down by the age of centuries, possibly millennia, of fighting for the Imperium.

  "On this matter, and by this weapon, I swear it." I was surprised by the zeal with which I spoke the required answer, my voice was filled with fervor and righteous devotion. All around the bridge my crew had fallen to their knees, presenting the aquila. They knew they were witnessing something unique, something that even most Astartes would never witness. They would most certainly know about it, but an oath of moment was not something that had been done since the Horus Heresy. And to have someone outside their ranks of the Adeptus Astartes commit to it was bordering on ridiculous. The scribe fixed the oath to my carapace armor, the small parchment.

  But it also carried a heavy responsibility. If called upon, I would have to show up personally to lend whatever aid was within my power to give or send a big enough force that it could be of actual use to the Imperial fists. Which meant clearing most of my ships of fighting men and women, as things stood right now. But it was a way out of this rather uncomfortable situation, and I did what I had to do.

  "So shall it be done. Emperor protects, Lord Captain." With these words, captain Kaheron spun around and walked away without another word, his guards reacting as one when they fell into step behind him. My legs felt like jelly under me, but I had to keep up a strong facade while surrounded by people on the bridge. With that horrifying experience out of the way, I took my seat on the command throne and supervised the preparation to warp jump.

  I studied the star maps before we jumped, and we had an opportunity to drop by hiveworld Cruach Mhorn on the way, but I had no interest in that. Ever since a chaos uprising some 100 years prior they had been reduced to a slowly dying hive world, unable to meet the tithe and people quotas, and thus were doomed to work themselves to the bone trying until they were eventually shipped off-world to repeat the process on another hive world. There would only be suffering and misery to find there.

  So I stuck with my plan of reaching Prescience. It didn't take long, a few days warp travel and we entered realspace within the communication range of the watch station. Almost immediately I was informed that we were being hailed by the death watch. With a simple nod, I let the master of the vox know to open a channel.

  "Unidentified Imperial vessel, You are approaching restricted access areas of the Imperium. State your business." The voice being transmitted was calm and collected, sounding more like a regular person reading from a script than an actual threat.

  "This is the rogue trader Bj?rk seeking permission to dock at the station to deliver detailed reports of a newly discovered xenos species," I replied and the silence hung in the air. Their lack of response made me imagine the kind of stir I was causing, communication personel would be scrambling to deliver this news to someone of high enough rank to take over the conversation, and thus the responsibility of what was to follow. For almost 2 minutes we hung silently in the void, waiting for the station to respond.

  "Docking permission granted. Approach bay 5, do not leave your ship. A representative will be waiting." The vox cut off as abruptly as the message was delivered, and I knew it was an Astartes that had answered the call. The dismissive tone, the impossibly deep voice, and the weird detachment from humanity, all fit the mold of a space marine. The Deathwatch were especially detached from the rest of humanity, given that they left the only brotherhood they knew to join them. No matter the honor involved, it would still be devastating in its own way. Removed so far from baseline humanity, all the Astartes had were their brothers, and cousins from other chapters. Becoming part of the Deathwatch meant giving up that identity to serve the xenos hunters. And by arriving the way I had, I was messing with one of the few established routines they had left.

  But I was a rogue trader, and as such I had a reputation as a scoundrel and general menace to established norms to consider. Of course I could have stopped well outside the restricted space and sent messages, waiting patiently for the watchstation to bother sending back a reply, keeping to all proper channels and protocols. Or I could rustle a few feathers and just do whatever I pleased, within reason. And with the knowledge I carried, I had quite a lot of 'within reason' to work with.

  We did as instructed, but I took the liberty of positioning myself and a small retinue of guards at the entrance to the ship, negating the need for the Astartes to enter my ship. As promised, a single deathwatch Astartes in full battle plate was standing ready, flanked by an apothecary, no doubt there to verify the claims of my findings. I walked down the ramp, taking great care to stop before I hit the actual station, before presenting the Aquila and presenting the dataslate with the same information I had given the Imperial fists, to the apothecary.

  He flicked through the data and I could swear I heard the faint click of a vox bead activating. They had to be communicating on a private frequency.

  "This can be verified?" The question took me by surprise, especially the neutrality with which it was delivered. I would have expected more, I don't know, confrontation from a a space marine whose airspace I had just violated.

  "Witch hunter Hann of the Ordo Hereticus fought alongside me in the battle. He can verify this information." I responded. It was true, Hann could, and would, collaborate with everything I had documented.

  "This is extensive in its detail. You have our thanks." The apothecary chimed in and I saw he was studying the autopsy reports that had been performed on the different ranks of Skaven.

  "Nothing is free, and you have provided us with valuable information against the enemies of the Imperium. Name your payment, rogue trader." The Deathwatch marine inclined his head, possibly wondering how brazen I would be. Being able to name my payment was a test as much as a courtesy. I wondered for a moment before I got an idea.

  "I have an Ogryn bodyguard in need of a replacement arm, as well as a vocal implant for myself. If I could request the materials and expertise of your chapter specialists to make this happen, I would consider myself fully repaid, and I would also offer to share my findings upon my return from the unknown, as a show of goodwill." I would have tried smiling, but it would have been wasted on a space marine.

  "A generous request and a fine offer. But one is left wondering, why would a member of your ranks put courtesy before profit?" There was no mockery in the question, merely an honest interest. But we were approaching dangerous waters. Time to think fast.

  "Wealth should only be hoarded to the extent it is required to spread the influence of the Imperium of Man. Any more would only be a result of greed and desire, both of which can be paths to heresy. No, my efforts must be focused on my task, I must spread the Imperial truth to the unenlightened amongst the unknown stars. Praise the Emperor." I finished my explanation with the Aquila, but I was speaking honestly. Well, maybe not so much about spreading the Imperial truth they wanted me to spread, but my letter of marque allowed me to deviate, within reason. And no one would join an Imperium that didn't treat them as least a little like the humans they were if we found any.

  "Your proposal is acceptable. We will send an apothecary to your ship to perform the operations. There will be a recovery schedule, but your ship's medics should be able to handle that easily enough. Good luck, Lord Captain." With a simple clenched fist over his chest, the deathwatch marine and the apothecary left without another word, and instead of standing around like an idiot, I decided to make my way to the medicae area to get prepared for the surgery. As the de facto owner and master of the small fleet, only the best care and finest anesthesia would be used to ensure I simply fell asleep and woke up with everything taken care of. But I was still nervous, who wouldn't be at the prospect of having technology shoved into your throat?

  But a vocal implant would do a world of wonder in a combat situation, being able to raise my voice even above the cacophony of battle. My rally ability would become relevant again, and I could continue working towards the class I had been given. I was supposed to be a warrior priest, but I was stuck as a 'charming' rogue. Not that I could not use my position in synergy with my class, but I would have to start experimenting with skills again, and continue the rather rudimentary combat training I had received from the PDF and combat experience. I had the funds and position to secure some of the finest teachers in the Imperium. And by the holy Emperor did I need a command staff, an inner circle beyond my illustrious bodyguard.

  When I woke after the surgery I was informed that a day had passed. I would be sore for a few weeks, but I was already able to speak, even if I was advised to refrain from using the new vocal implant before the soreness subsided. A surgeon would come by every 12 hours to administer pain medication and I was free to leave once more. But being put under is not the same as sleeping properly and I was tired to the bone. I gave the orders needed to get us underway toward planet Calderia before I withdrew to my quarters and went to sleep after a generous helping of cool water to soothe my throat.

  __________

  I was walking along the corridor of an ancient library, the shelves overflowing with dusty, leatherbound books as far as the eye could see. I tried reading some of the titles but the letters, for lack of better words, didn't sit still long enough to read them. I reached a 4-way crossing of corridors that led past more dusty books with that strange scribbling. I stuck to the left and kept walking, looking for book titles that could maybe be read, and new corridors that could lead me out of here. Every time I had an option, I chose the left, otherwise I followed the corridors.

  "How interesting. It keeps a cool head and tries a stubborn solution. Or does it already know and attempt to trick us with a deliberate action?" The voice in my head was multifaceted, as if it was made of dozens of voices turned into a single vocal chord.

  "I pick the left because I read somewhere when I was a child, that in a maze or labyrinth, when lost, keep choosing the left path and eventually you will get out. As for trickery, try to hide your identity better next time Tzeentch. It was the most obvious hint in the history of obvious hints." I replied. At this point I wasn't even surprised by the attempts from the gods of chaos. What surprised me was the time it had taken this particular chaos god to manifest itself.

  "YOU ONLY KNOW THAT BECAUSE OF YOUR HIDDEN TRUTH!" My head felt like it was going to split open from the inside as the fury of Tzeentch was directed at me. But I knew they wouldn't destroy me, not yet at least. If they reached out, they wanted something. They wanted me. But note taken, do NOT antagonize a chaos god.

  "My hidden truth is my business. What do you come to tempt me with? Khorne and Nurgle have already tried, so what is your offer?" I tried my very best to sound nothing but sincere, and I was rewarded with a delightful lack of psychic shrieking in my head.

  "Honesty. How detestable. But still useful in the right hands. I have no offer for you, mortal. I simply illuminate a path for those who seek to transcend mortality. You must earn the knowledge by seeking it out. And should you prove useful to me during your searching, just know that I reward great minds." The voices were made of silk and laced with honey, they whispered of unimaginable power and status far beyond the wildest dreams of the greediest rogue trader. They plucked at my ego, at the primal urge to be recognized as king among kings.

  I knew what they were doing. Tzeentch in a nutshell. Promise nothing, hint at everything, laugh in the shadows. I had to be straight in my answer and conviction. "You say you offer nothing, but your words say otherwise. You are indeed crafty, God of change, but the great mind you speak of rewarding would also see your true intentions. To gain influence over it and control it like a puppeteer, dangling fractions of a fraction of a reward in front of it to keep it working for you. As you said, my hidden truth gives me the knowledge that has helped me understand what is going on when most others would succumb. Knowledge is indeed power. But I have my own knowledge to seek out, and it is not the one you speak of. So I must decline the path you so graciously illuminate. Good luck with your scheming, I gotta take a piss." I had barely finished speaking before the same psychic shrieking rang out in my head, but this time it felt like it was invading, searching for something.

  It took almost 10 seconds of the most intense pain I had ever endured before I heard the screaming and it took another second before I realized it was coming from myself. It could have been hours if the feeling was anything to go by. I couldn't take it, I wanted it to stop, I wanted it GONE!

  In a flash, the shrieking fell silent, and the world came back to me once more. I was kneeling, my arms and legs shaking like I was going to fall over, and sweat poured down my face and body. That's when I noticed the glimmering. Lifting my head felt like trying to lift an Ogryn, but I managed far enough to see the dome. Shimmering faintly around me, I had time for a single thought before the world started spinning. "That's a psychic telekine dome."

  I crumbled to the floor of the library and as the world grew dark, I could have sworn I heard the faintest of laughter from dozens of voices.

  ______________________

  When I woke up, I noticed a new blinking color in the corner of my eye, a shiny silver that was almost impossible to ignore.