Nav Station Vox Log

Recorded via dictation to servo-savant 683 aboard the Ark, Navis-Tower Quarters 817.M41
- Navigator Superior Hades.

Session 1; Our return to Footfall has been delayed. The holder of the Arkaidos Warrant is summoned to a distant location. I pluck the coordinates from Sarvus' mind; the journey will take us 2 weeks off course. The Maw, as usual, is turbulent and uncooperative. Our arrival is awaited by Captain Keel of "the Righteous Hand"; I sense the Captain's discomfort at encountering a superior warship. We are invited to a banquet aboard his vessel, though have rather the sense of being a prisoner. I enjoy a sparkling beverage I have never encountered before. Keel displays little grace, condescending to the Captain and his retinue. The Captain jokes that he often forgets our names. It is a horrible thing to say, and I contemplate killing him. I decide against it though, knowing I will feel guilty later. I am sure the Captain was making an attempt at levity. The Captain is offered free access to the plunder of a system settled long ago by his ancestors, in exchange for his aid in finding a lost Imperial traveller. Based on my understanding of the matter, he was entitled to it whether Keel offered or not. Keel chooses to skulk at the system's edge. He seems embittered; perhaps he recognizes the growing statistical likelihood of his age-death.

Svard is a moon, as it turns out, made of ice. I find the surface to be quite beautiful, though Sarvus reminds me that long exposure can cause me harm in some fashion. Their ruler is a friendly man called a Speaker… probably because he talks as much as the Captain. These two disappear into a negotiation chamber while I go exploring. Most of the people I meet seem unhappy, though I have trouble distinguishing such expressions from fear. Arthis tells me I might inspire fear, so I try not to talk to anyone.

We leave on our 'cutter in search of conspiracists called "Whisperers." The colonists of Svard have suffered attacks as members of their own society convert spontaneously to this deviant philosophy. Our quarry pursued these Whisperers to the Asteroid of Silence, and we decide to investigate further. It is a silly name for the place, as at the very least the drone of the atmo-shield constitutes a persistent annoyance. Finding little space to deploy our ground forces, we are forced to enter the facility alone. We break through a number of nonsensical security measures to unlock uninteresting rooms, each littered with corpses and non-fiction books. For a time I feel I have failed the Captain, as of everyone present, only I could contribute nothing. My powers were useless against our foes, and Sarvus' more developed psychic senses often revealed what mine could not. The final construct is the largest. Arthis and Reth deal impressive damage, though seeming unnerved by it's resemblance to humanity's ruler. I employ my powers, but the creature is immune. Once it is slain, we discuss the resurrection of the mining works on Svard, and how we will service this goal.

Session 2 The Captain is pleased with me today. He accedes to my plans for the salvage effort, deploying a portion of our archivist and missionary complement to evaluate the contents of the tower. I am quite polite to Confessor Marksis, but seems to resent the effort. He tells me I have no right to tell him how to conduct his business, which is patently untrue. A trend I observe in all human interaction is that one with the ability to kill another invariably holds authority in that relationship. Arthis commands his troops as he is the most skilled killer among them. The Captain controls the crew, as he has come to command of a powerful warship. Keel commands us, as his warship is stronger still. I have observed no better demonstration of this trend than in human sexual pairing. But I digress. When I tell him as much, the Confessor displays quite the oddest expression, as though battling a sneeze. Arthis tells me it's fear again, though he takes my side in the debate. I hope we properly impressed on him the need to preserve the most valuable works, whatever their small divergences from mainstream religious dogma. The propensity of humans to place immense value in the most inane of objects will be of great use in this instance; a diary of a long-dead saint's daily doings will apparently attract quite a sum, though quite why in particular noone seems able to tell me. I speculate that they may record some common thread of divinity which several saints displayed; a path which others so inclined might follow to sainthoods of their own. The only prerequisite I have discovered is being dead, though my research is far from complete.

Leaving the excavation teams to their work, we proceed to the Psyker's Avery. It is without atmosphere or gravity, and we enter the station in void-suits. I always enjoy the sensation of weightlessness. There is some primordial comfort in it, womb-like I suppose, which the rest of the party little appreciate. Reth performs some manner of tech-witchery and gains entry to the Skyhook's command bunker. Within we encounter more possessed automatons, though to my joy they contain just enough dusty brain matter to give my powers affect. I even kill one with my hellpistol! Invigoration! Reth displays his expertise once more by reigniting the atmo and grav generators, but we find no trace of our quarry. Docking records suggest he visited, but did not remain. The Psykers are all decades dead. I suggest we repair one of Svaard's transport ships to tow the Skyhook into the system. I foresee that it will be useful as a waystation or fueling dock when the trade lanes are reopened. However the ships are beyond repair, and after our visit I resolve that the generators and atmo-regulators would be best put to work on the Ice Moon.

The Captain's translation of the records from Silence are completed as we return to Svaard. In a burst of enthusiasm, he reveals that his ancestor housed a captured Xenos Artifact within the system. The others seem surprised at his honesty, but I consider it a show of trust. I am glad I didn't kill him. We gleefully speculate on the nature of the device as we approach the system's main industrial site. The moon is heavily irradiated, and populated by strip-mining land-crawlers that are defunct with disuse. Our recon-flight is interrupted by the destruction of an accompanying Halo lander. The moon may have hidden defense-platforms. The Captain becomes distressed, but Reth and I convince him to press on. The lander's crew quickly succumb to the toxicity, and apparently, acidity of the atmosphere, somewhat vindicating my view that a rescue attempt would have been pointless. Reth interrupts the Captain's prayer recital by smashing our voxcomm; apparently such transmissions are easily traced. We locate one of the crawlers and make an insertion run, but are shortly fired upon by missiles and lascannons at the sump-level. Evading these attacks, we are dropped on a platform astride the treads, and gain access to the city by las-cutter. Our void-suits are dissolved by mere minutes of exposure, and we abandon them. Reth discerns an encrypted loop-message transmitted by the Admech forces on board; they are barricaded within their temple at the crawler's core, and the lower levels are overrun with Whisperers. We soon learn the truth of that, as we encounter an armed patrol. Arthis stages a masterful ambush, and the Captain himself engages the deviants. Reth captures one for interrogation; I rapturously slaughter the remainder, and feel at last that I am giving a good account of myself. My powers have wearied me though, and I hope we may rest soon. I decide to recommend our last remaining naval trooper for a promotion, though the Captain insists that is Torque's prerogative. I hope I have not offended him with my transgression; he gave me a suit of armor today, to replace the one which turned into a snake. I like it immensely.

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