Whispers in the Warp

Nowhere to go but up

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:Log Book
:Personnel Bios
:Fund Sites
:Loyal Contacts
:Blackmail
:Operation Phoenix

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Personal Log, Entry 214-8
Location: Aboard the Icarus

I’ve only a moment. I have just returned from another brief visit to the Warp Shore, where I had been seeking the location of the missing Lord Oswald. Siinter has taken Mir back to the Premiere Suites in a similar attempt. As I’ve made it back to an empty chamber with Oswald’s room number in tow, I have to assume I’ve been more successful. Prying information from these joy girls is easier than I would have thought it to be. One can imagine that a woman in that line of work doesn’t have much to hide. I dislike having to proposition them for their…services. Although, why else would they offer me any help? I digress.

Progress has been minimal. We managed to discover the trail of blood in the ventilation system, however so did security. Despite my best efforts, Vindex was escorted to the detention center for having blood on his clothing. Seeing as he was outside the very room Sir Ryals was murdered in (as it happened), it was difficult trying to establish an alibi. Keeping a low profile has become more of an annoyance than usual. At first, masquerading as noble elite was amusing to me, but now it simply seems to hinder our available options. I don’t know if the ruse will even survive the remainder of our journey.

I suppose there is a part of me that feels shameful for not attempting to free our companion directly, but I take comfort in knowing the God Emperor has seen fit to punish him for his stupidity at the space port. Let him stew. For now we need to keep up our disguise, and there is no easy way to reclaim him unnoticed. Besides, it’s not as if we’ve missed his presence. Despite nearly cornering our prey, we have yet to confront…whatever it is. The taint of the warp is ever-present. As always, I fear our psyker does more to draw it’s tendrils towards us than he does to keep them at bay.

Two more are dead, ship workers. They’ve begun a seemingly futile effort to seal the ventilation system to keep the attacker(s) at bay. We’ve been unable to accurately gauge the strength of our adversary. For now we’ve reclaimed the weapons that Vindex smuggled aboard, but we may be forced to reclaim our own from the hold. I’m hesitant to do so unless the situation is dire. The security forces on this ship are surprisingly thorough, and I do not wish to be found with my group wielding a small armory.

Our next course of action will be to attempt accessing the crime scene within Lord Oswald’s room. Perhaps through the vents? I will let Siinter worry about the details. And speaking of…I’m being hailed on the com.

God Emperor’s Grace be upon us.


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Nuthin but Time to Kill

Interrogating for Fun and Profit


From the Personal Journal of Vindex—-
--Date Unknown—-
--Nothin’ but Time to Kill——-

You know….I thought I hated the Starport more than anything in this fraktastic ‘Verse. Apparently I was wrong.

I’m currently scribbling this on a bit o’ bum paper I found in my first cell. I’ll copy it to my slate later….assuming there is a later. So as the earlier sentence suggested I’m in jail, well the brig, to be more precise. Wouldn’t want Sciinter lecturing me again on why the fate of the universe hinges on accurate Data…that 3 hours of my life I’ll never see again.
Given my profession you’d think I’d be used to prison cells. You’d be wrong. Before this I could just shoot whoever they sent after me. Frakkin Inquisitorial mandate. I could kill these idiot guards with a well-aimed paper clip…but Nooo. Stay in your cell Dex. Don’t endanger the mission Dex. Play with your yourself Dex. Being disarmed and useless would be bad enough but the bastards are making me sit here and wait, and wait, oh hold on…..nope… wait some more. They think their letting me stew. Frakkers don’t know that I was raised by one of the best Snipers the Guard has ever seen. Burge taught me a trick for those long ops. The ones where you stay motionless, sometimes for days. The trick is you run the kill though your mind, every detail, every motion, every breath, again, and again. Sometimes I break the repetition by reliving past jobs, the hunt, stalking the prey, and finally the slow strain on the trigger till the bolt snaps forward. If you do it right I comes as much of a surprise for you as the target. They want me to stew, my team wants to leave me to it. Fine. I can be patient. Every time I run it in my head I come a little closer to perfection. Breathe in….. Breathe out slow, Squeeeeeeeeeze…. SNAP. Another soul for the Emperor. Heh, I’ve got nothing but Time to Kill. For now any way…

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Another game to play

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:Log Book
:Personnel Bios
:Fund Sites
:Loyal Contacts
:Blackmail
:Operation Phoenix

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Personal Log, Entry 214-7

It seems that not even the journey to our destination will be uneventful. Such a shame, as I felt that our most recent cover as mid spire nobles to be the least difficult to maintain among the missions thus far. Gaining a brief glimpse of the decadence lavished upon the upper classes of the Imperium brings back memories of my former life. Perhaps it is best to remember that this very lifestyle is what led to my fall in the first place. Yet, I do so yearn to be free of this Inquisitorial farce once and for all.. I digress.

I’m no longer sure where my team and I stand with respect to our mission. Our contact and guide, Sir Ryals, now stands with the rest of the Emperor’s children. To say his death was both unexpected and untimely, would be a drastic understatement. No more than a handful of hours ago I sat with the man at a bar (cleverly coined the “Warp Shore”). I recall him foolishly trying to court a lady seated adjacent to us, and then me stepping in to disarm the situation with the man that was obviously involved with her. What little respect I held for Ryals dropped steadily over the evening.

There was another woman that appeared sometime after…a striking beauty. I believe her name was Tasha…Natasha? Yes, that’s right. It occurs to me that our deceased noble mentioned she was the entire reason for our visit to the bar. Needless to say, she hadn’t even taken her seat before he was all over her. My ability to read their conversation wasn’t easy through the haze of the establishment, but as far as I could tell there was nothing of note passing between them.

Natasha and Ryals eventually departed together. I sent Vindex to keep an eye on them just in case, while doing my best to squeeze a bit of information from one of the woman’s fellow…coworkers. Several comments struck me as peculiar. Supposedly this “Natasha” was won by the ship’s Captain in some type of wager and gains special privileges due to the association. She services only the best clients and gets to keep all the money she collects. Such a business model makes me wonder if the Captain has anything to gain but notoriety..

There was no time to ponder it further, as my suspicions proved (at least somewhat) correct. Vindex confirmed via auspex that there were no longer any life signs coming from Ryals’ room. Utter carnage awaited us on the other side of the door. What we could only assume was the bloody remnants of the noble lay strewn on the bed. There wasn’t enough there to account for both bodies, but there was no sign of Natasha. I made sure to get a scan of the room before my cohorts began to comb the area for clues.

Chemical tests performed by Siinter confirmed the worst for Ryals, although there were traces of female urine on the floor of the bathroom (and a robe missing). Immediately I recalled that another noble on board was obsessed with this Natasha, a Sir Oswald. I took Mir with me as a precaution before attempting to seek him out. His status was above ours and gaining access to the premiere suites proved moderately aggravating. Try as I might, I find it difficult to follow the oaths of holy order… In my dealings with the Ecclesiarchy, I strove to be a shining example of truth in a world filled with lies and backstabbing. Such luxuries are not always available in my servitude to the Inquistion. I pray that our most holy Emperor can forgive me these affronts in the light of the path I will one day walk for Him.

Although foreign to my tongue, the lies from my mouth pour like honey into the ears of the suspicious. They readily believed I came to administer a confession to the noble lord. Unfortunately, Sir Oswald appeared to be absent. Fearing I already know what has happened, I asked them to please check his room once more. I could tell something had spooked them after they complied. I radioed to Siinter and suggested he avoid going near Ryals’ room and attempt to keep his death a secret for as long as possible. They informed me that there was no sign of Sir Oswald, and that his wife had apparently been murdered. It was also obvious they sought to implicate us in the crime. I’m no stranger to interrogation, and our alibi was too strong for them to readily hold us. We were released from custody shortly after being questioned.

And now here I sit…attempting to make some sense of this. I will admit that I originally assumed that Natasha was some kind of horrible assassin. The death of Ryals and her disappearance formed a strong case, but the urine in the bathroom concerns me. The death of Sir Oswald’s wife, his disappearance, and his supposed obsession with the lady of the night point suspicion in his direction as well. I know that the evil taint of the warp is at play here (I can feel it). I have sent my scans to Lachan, hoping that he can perhaps overcome his uselessness and uncover something we have overlooked. Normally, Siinter is quite adept at solving these puzzles. I shall put my faith in his abilities and the divine guidance of the Emperor. Ah, there is a knock at my door. I must return to the group.


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Why can't we just kill them all, again?

Scene of the Crime
///From the Journal of Vindex\\\
///Date: Error 2347.29 uknwn parameter\\\

So I seem to be going from one bad day to another. I finally get the piss-smell out of my nose and something else goes tits-up. Siintar said we should list out the “Sequence of Events” so that we can “Establish a Logical Paradigm of what has transpired” whatever in the warp that means. Anyway this is how things went down as I saw it.
Order of Events:
• Riel takes us to bar, disappointed that Natasha isn’t there. Hits on Lady Is-something or other.
• Big Poufter next to Lady tries to pick a fight, Sebastian calms him down with his Ecceasearchical yammering.
• Joy Girls show up and try to entice us to a roll. No rolling for me when on guard duty, more’s the shame. Next time I get to be the poufter noble, and wrap my johnson in silks and high-end hookers.
• Natasha walks in. Girl’s got it in spades, I’ll give her that. Everybody’s staring.
• Riel and Natasha talk for a bit then exit to his room. We need to keep an eye on our introduction so I follow.
• Riel notices me, waves me away. Can’t say I blame him. Riel and Natasha enter. I can’t tell what’s going on.
• Comm. with team, go back to bar to get auspex. Come back to room, no life signs. Somehow I have a hunch they haven’t just wandered off. They never just wander off in this job. Some days, I think working for the Inquisition makes you a magnet for all the weird and horrific shit in the universe.
• Summon team, break into room. Blood everywhere, male body on the bed. Head and gentiles removed (ouch, that just seems excessive. I take back wanting to be the Noble comment. I’d prefer not to be eaten by a space vagina). Search of the room reveals warp presence, of course. Female urine in bathroom corner. Silk robe missing.
• Siintar and I go to update Laquan, Sebastian goes to check on Lord Oswald based off info gleaned from Joygirls, Oswald was obsessed with Natasha, didn’t like to share. Natasha is owned by the ship’s captain, won her in a bet.
• Sebastian and Mir, went to the Premier Deck, security finds Oswald’s wife dead in a similar manner. Sebastian and Mir are questioned by Security Chief
• Lequan suggested we check vent ducks. I go in and find warm splatters leading away from the vent on the inside of the duct. Security have found Riel, are searching room.
• I escape sec notice and return to the room. Security knocks to question us. Sees blood on me. Is going to get Chief. I still don’t understand why I can’t flash my badge and start killing the bad guys, still orders are orders….By the way….I had to hide my guns again…..I feel twitchy.

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Without your Gun, You're Nothing

From the Personal Journal of Vindex—-
--Date Unknown—-

I frakking hate the starport, always have. Every time I go I see pissant wanna be hard-asses eyeing my piece, brazen like. Frakkers look like they either want a duel or a date. I’ve seen gangers draw and quarter folks for less. And I’m in a building where half the security wants to fondle my beloved Widowmaker like they did their daddy every night. Ain’t going to happen. Without your gun, you’re nothing. That motto has been drilled into me ever since I can remember. Where I’m from your piece is your life in every way possible. Then again, these squint eye Administratum rent-a-cops wouldn’t last 10 minutes where I’m from. New day, new world I suppose. Seen a lot of those since I gave Alistair my contract. Still, damned if I was going to let these twist sucking pissants put their hands on Widowmaker. Better men than them have died for, by, and with that gun. Sebastian didn’t seem to be having much luck so I decided to take things into my own hands. Maybe I should’ve consulted with my team first. Their not bad folks really, bit odd some of ‘em, but I couldn’t expect them to understand. They’re not Metallican. Besides which, I’ve gotten in and out of a hell of a lot tougher places than this, how hard can catching a shuttle be? Emperor’s blood, Sharps always told me not to taunt the warp like that. Should’a listened. The first bit went well enough, till the dockers came through. I tried to get into the piping, but….well….it didn’t work out so well. Neither did my explanation for why I fell on their heads. Bloody embarrassing really. One runs off yelling like the wee girl that he is. It was time to make a quick exit but the simple truth is that if I get close enough to touch the target the OP’s half FUBAR already. I ended up drawing on the other poor piss-stained slob and forcing him to get me to the tar-mac. I thought to be slick and disguise myself with his digs, slip into the cargo bay and make my way to the cabin. Of course, the Emperor must be grinning cause as soon as I put on the piss stained jumper and turn around, the damned things taxing without me. A fun run and a fine leap took me onto the landing gear, which was infested with rats….fun fact, void rats don’t mind biting people who wander into their home. To make matters worse, I can’t find the frakking maintenance hatch and I coming uncomfortably close to being spaced. I suppose Siinter must have been was wondering if I was becoming intimate with a rent-a-cops shock-maul cause he comes on the comm. Like the voice of blessed Drusis himself, he managed to help me find a door. Thank the Throne, I hear spacings a bad way to go. After all this, the rest was mercifully uneventful. All that just to catch a flight. Maybe I should have stayed with my team. Still…without your gun, you’re nothing.

MVP: Vindex
LVP: Vindex
Valuable Lesson Learned: Morality debates are boring.

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Prologue: Exterminatus
Swatted by the S.W.A.T.

From the moment the mission to Zantine began, misfortune seemed to plague the Acolytes. Their landing craft became targeted by hostile surface-to-air missiles moments after entering the planet’s atmosphere. Who had tipped the heretics off to their incursion remains a mystery. However, thanks to the skills of a nameless pilot blessed by the grace of the God-Emperor himself, they managed a crash landing in a relatively harmless patch of earth. Unfortunately, both the ship and brave aviator suffered irreparable damage. The Acolyte team gathered what equipment and belongings they could before venturing to the nearest population center.

Cursory investigation was more than enough to tell something was rotten on this planet. Decadence stained every street corner, brothels and casinos threatened to outnumber the hab buildings, and all signs of the Emperor’s glory had been removed from sight. Their investigation showed the taint of the Ruinous Powers ran ever deeper. Churches were burned to the ground, and Administratum counting houses had been looted. They were unable to locate even the lowliest servant of the Emperor, much less any sign of the Inquisitor they had come in search of. No further proof was required. After locating an Astropath, they quickly forced him to send out the coded signal for Exterminatus. He was gifted with a death only slightly less unpleasant than that due to befall every other creature on the forsaken world.

Their own extraction became the final obstacle to overcome. The team located the nearest spaceport and, over the course of several weeks, moved in secret towards it. After arriving no more than a city block from the site, Siinter took it upon himself to develop the most logical plan to secure transport. It was decided that they would need a fast ship, a distraction to obtain it, and a pilot to operate it. Perhaps he was too caught up with his calculations, but when Sebastian offered to find a pilot he dismissed him with a “Yes, yes…go ahead. Dealing with people is what you’re good at.” The rattled priest had done just about all he could to hold back the torrent of hate until now. He had tired of hiding in the face of these blasphemous heretics and marched into the streets proudly displaying his Ecclesiastical regalia. It was no surprise that the first man to approach him quickly ran in the other direction screaming at the top of his lungs. Mir had noticed the flawed judgment of the self-righteous holy man and decided to follow him, but it was too late. A crowd of angry citizens quickly formed in response to the fevered cries.

Sebastian used the opportunity to blather a stream of hateful denouncements at the mob, condemning their carnal ways and momentarily confusing them. Having seen that the situation was about to spiral out of control, Vindex committed to the distraction early, firing a single armor-piercing round at a parked promethium tanker. The explosion issued forth an angry torrent of flame, which then sent the crowd into a panic. As the crowd surged away from the carnage, Mir gathered up the still-raving Sebastian and ushered him towards the space port.

Meanwhile, the tech priest had already advanced inside, attempting to find a security panel to access. This lead to him being quickly discovered by a pair of guards who questioned why he was not seeking shelter elsewhere. A bit of analytical smoke and mirrors was all it took to frustrate the simpletons into leaving him be. Unfortunately, this is approximately the time Mir drug Sebastian into the entrance way. The officer there reacted as you might expect and ordered them to hit the floor. Mir thought this to be a foolish request, deftly manipulating his psychic forces to boil the traitor’s blood within his body. The ensuing commotion drew the other guards on duty quickly in their direction.

A massive firefight ensued in the middle of the spaceport terminal. Mir and Sebastian sought cover from the onslaught of automatic weapons fire, while Vindex and Siinter maneuvered to support them. The assassin used the excess distraction to set himself up in a concealed position. From the shadows he struck out, treating the head of each guard as if it were a ripe melon on the firing range. Siinter unloaded his firearm at the unsuspecting men that had bothered him moments before, but they weathered his sneak attack. The tech priest was nearly turned to a fine meat paste by their counter barrage.

Vindex continued to avoid detection, silently removing their foes one by one. Mir became gravely wounded, but their underestimation of him put the situation in his favor. Clueless to his unnatural healing abilities, the guards pressed into close combat range. The psyker lashed out at them with unbridled fury, even taking the arm of one heretical peon. Alas, his valorous effort was to no avail. The remaining forces of the enemy regrouped and cut him down with concentrated fire.

Injured and out-gunned, Sebastian was forced to lure the attackers away from his fallen comrades. He ducked from pillar to pillar, taking pot shots to distract his foes from locating Vindex’s superior position. Despite the odds, the remaining traitors were steadily relieved of their lives by a few well-placed shots. Once the area was secure, Vindex and Sebastian gathered up their injured and ran out onto the tarmac. It was there they spotted the abandoned Gun Cutter that was to be their salvation.

A barely conscious Siinter was set to work soothing the machine’s spirit, and before too long, he managed to activate the craft’s auto-pilot. Vindex wasted little time in using the on-board weapons to obliterate the flight tower and secured their escape. The first salvo of virus bombs from the Imperial Fleet rushed past their vessel moments after take-off. Siinter’s mechanical manipulations were all that kept them alive as the ship dodged the lances of light aiming to ignite the planet below. Although, perhaps there had been a higher power guiding their path from the beginning?

MVP: Vindex (+300 xp)
LVP: Dorn (-100000000 Internets)
Valuable Lesson Learned: DM should provide more cover in firefights!

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First Day on the Job
(Itchihara said the recoil off this gun could break my arm)

This was supposed to be simple, just retrieve some stolen xeno artifacts. Perhaps I’ve bitten off more than I can chew…or so the saying goes, I believe.

After what felt like an eternity, the shower of fragmented rockcrete began to settle. My blurred vision focused on the miniature clouds of dust forming from each ragged breath that escaped my lungs. Beyond the constant ringing in my ears, I could hear what sounded like the frantic shouts of my comrades. I didn’t want to answer them, to try and push myself back to my feet once more. I felt safe here on the ground. Perhaps I was dying?

No…no I can’t die here.

I attempted to rise up, only to be held at bay beneath a large slab of stone. Firing a rocket inside a building, what sense do these creatures have? I called out several times before I felt an icy hand on my shoulder. The psyker seemed more annoyed than anything. “ On your feet, holy man ,” he said while effortlessly discarding my impediment. His strength was completely unnatural, merely viewing it elicited a prayer from my lips. I made to thank him, but a renewed torrent of gunfire assailed our position. No time to get my bearings. I scrambled to my feet and made it but a few steps before taking the Emperor’s name in vain. Contrary to every ounce of self-preservation I possessed, I wheeled about and grasped for my fallen gun. My good eye instinctively closed as the air around my head was disturbed by passing bullets.

Nearly frozen by fear for the second time in as many minutes, I felt out for the ornate wooden grip of my pistol. The firearm had been an entirely ceremonial piece, gifted to me by a fellow member of the cloth in my “old life”. As he put it, a weapon of righteous fury that had seen duty on one battlefield or another from the founding of the Calixis Sector. The assassin had told me some days ago my weapon was my life now, that without it I was less than nothing. I think I finally understood what he meant. As I slid the weighty sidearm across the loose gravel towards me, I experienced a renewed courage. The light of the Emperor filled me from within, and I felt no fear.

“Your deaths…the Lord of All wills it!,” I shouted while rising to my feet.

I could make out several shifting shapes at the end of the hallway. I raised my arm and leveled the gun as I had been instructed years ago at the Schola, my aim falling upon one that was particularly grotesque. A trio of bullets kicked up the dust at my feet, another grazed my cheek. Whispering a prayer of guidance, I steadied my hand and slowly squeezed the trigger. The resulting roar from the cannon I held was as if lightning had struck the ground in front of me. Had I thought to use both hands I might have saved my wrist from the bone crunching recoil. The bolt shell flew true enough, despite my own inadequacies as a marksman. The explosive projectile struck its target center mass and released a torrent of bloody gore upon his comrades.

Cradling my broken wrist, I couldn’t help but smirk at my own success. Dorn yelled at me from around a corner three meters back, “Great shootin’ kid…but maybe you should get your ass to cover?!” I snapped back to reality just as the freaks opened fire once more. The old man laid down covering fire and Siinter pulled me to safety, already busy tending to my injury. Tucking the gun into the crook of my injured arm, I cracked the breach to load a new shell. My allies prepared for our renewed onslaught, and I called out around the bend..

“Lay down your arms and surrender, so that you might receive the Emperor’s mercy!”

I couldn’t understand their terse response, no matter. I snapped the gun barrel back into place and found myself smirking once more.

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Intercepted Transcrypt (decrypted)

My Lord Chancellor! Father!
May the God Emperor smile upon us, the mere servants and sacrifices to his great and inscrutable will. I address you both as a devoted son and as a loyal subject of your realm. I do not know if you have heard news of our victory at Talos, but know that we were victorious, and that I live still. Sending messages through the Warp is a strange thing, and it is impossible to guess when this will reach you. I may have already told you face to face. Or it may reach my son’s sons on some faraway date. I have even heard of messages and notices arriving to the recipient before it was sent.
In any case, I will relate the events now. Our great Tallhoffer Fleet had tracked our foe to Talos. The Ork pirate Mega’at, per our intelligence reports, commonly used the deathworld as a safe haven and training zone for his marauders. It was known that his entire Armada would be there, preparing for some exceptional scheme of his. Mega’at either detected or predicted our arrival, as his ships were all battle ready, waiting for us. Some have claimed that he intentionally let the information of his whereabouts slip to us, to spring a trap, but I believe that is crediting this animal with far more intelligence than he could possibly posses.
We outnumbered the greenskins, and I do not have to tell you that our ships were mightier, and that even the meanist of our Navy crews have five times the courage and skill of any pirate scum, be they man or xeno. What we didn’t know was that Mega’at had on that planet some kind of great batteries, weapons of horrific power, of some strange, unknown alien origin. The blasts from these powerful guns (automated somehow, for their accuracy was too precise to belong to an Ork) passed harmlessly through the hull of any ship they hit, but caused great carnage to the crew inside.
Even those ships that were unhit by the barrages (as, through the grace of the God Emperor, mine was) experienced havok and dismay, as strange phenomena and mass hallucinations made it nearly impossible for one to fulfill one’s duties. I will not recount the things I saw and heard, but know that I accounted myself as befitting one of my rank, even physically restraining the Captain once it appeared that he would take his own life with his sidearm.
The Orks were quick to take advantage of our state, but then, without warning, the batteries began bombarding the greenskin vessels. I do not know if the psykick phantasmagoria affected the savages as it did us, but we quickly turned the tide, mopping up the vermin with the vigor that awaits all that oppose the Imperium. Mega’at himself escaped, somehow spirating himself and some picked marines (using the literal term, not to be confused with our own glorious Adeptus Astartes) to one of out gun frigates and then commandeering it. He is believed to have fled Calixus, and is somewhere out in the expanse, licking his wounds.
We do not know for certain why the batteries switched targets. Scuttlebutt says that agents of the Ordo Xenos were somehow involved. What I do know is that a Quarantine has been set on Talos, and it is not hard to imagine where that decree came from, and why. But Father! Imagine if those guns could be utilized by us, rather than picked over by some Inquisitorial stooge who has no idea what it is like on the line. If we could get even one of those guns, it could insure our planet’s, nay, out solar system’s safety for generations to come. I know any garrison on the planet would be light, to aid in it’s secrecy.
But that it discussion for another time, preferably face to face and over some amasec. Know only that I am a loyal servant of the God Emperor, the Imperial Navy, and the House Hacklvr.

Your loving son,
Lt. Commander Wilhelm Hacklvr
Battleship Sigurd, Tallhoffer Fleet

P.S. Yes, I know that this message is risky, and that other eyes may see it before it reaches you. But they will never see through our family’s cypher, which we know is unbreakable.__

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