@BCTheEntity@Jamesyco@ShwiggityShwah@Lady Selune@BangoSkank

Two months beyond the south-eastern boundaries of the Segementum Tempestus...

Rudyard Falcon-Cook, most recent and most youthful of the Falcon-Cook traders, could not believe what was happening; even as the slowly flashing glare illuminated himself and his entire bridge with the Hellish crimson of the Steels warning lights, his bright blue eyes looking down again at the... the what? Artefact? Idol? Prized art piece? The item held loosely in one of his hands, nothing more than a geometrically shaped 'statuette' of pure bleached bone, which had appeared otherwise to hold little signifiance to anyone.

They had been 'on the run' as it were for almost two days now, the vessel that had pursued them from their latest exploratory venture - a four day trip down to a rather dead looking planet, the remains of ruined buildings being the only things left of interest - not seeming to take the hint to just leave them alone.

Fire had been exchanged, a blow to the engines of the Praetorian Steel slowing them down even as teams worked around the clock to repair the damage done, the unknown attacker having backed off but seemingly sustaining little to no damage in return.

It helped not a jot that they were nearly a months travel, through realspace at least, away from any Imperial help or at least known Imperial-alligned planets or sectors.

"Choir-Master Tecca," he queried through an vox channel open to the bubble containing the astropathic choir of the ship, one pale hand going up to run itself through his deep brown hair in frustration, "has there been any responses to our astropathic messages? Would it be possible to send another?"

They had been attempting to summon help for some time now, and the Trader suspected the blindfolded Astropath Transcendent was beginning to get a little annoyed with him and his interruptions.

Rudyard turned to the seemingly young man standing down in the section below the control throne, though he knew better than to take him at first glance, Isaiah Hussian not unknown to him or his family.

"What do you think, 'Captain'? This isn't like any Imperial ship I've ever seen before. Do you think we can even stop it from blowing us apart?"

"You, Laeveyla?" He questioned, glancing over to a more shadowed area of the bridge where he knew his families 'retained' Aeldari would be watching, probably mocking him and all his species internally, "this is not one of your kin, as far as I can tell."

Lastly he opened a vox-channel to the crews working on the engine, but one in particular, "Priest Hierophox, how long will it take to get our engine fully functioning again? I wish to be far away from here before we are blown into space debris, if you please."

For the moment the unidentified ship was simply trailing them, possibly to observe them and how they would react to an attack, but Rudyard knew this would not last forever and time was not on their side.

To the Aeldari, a little bit of heavy fire wasn't really too much to concern herself with. She had escaped worst situations without losing a hair on her head; this was nothing unusual. Maybe to the Mon'Keighs it was something to worry themselves over, but she had hope, and when hope didn't work, she had the fact that she was superior to the rest of the crew instead. When the Rogue Trader asked his question, she shook her head. "Nae, despite the similarities t'ween the weaponry it carries and that of my Commorite kin, it's nae wraithbone and I dinnae see any Aeldari markings on it." Her hair danced about her head with every movement she made; a mesmerising display that distracted from her face.

"Could be scavenged Aeldari technology. Or they nicked it from us. Either wae, nae to do with my peoples any more. Tha' being said, might be worthwhile for me to get my armour on, jus' in case we end up with some boarding actions goin' on." With a brief nod towards the owner of the vessel she would leave the bridge, heading towards where she bunked and where her armour was held. She had her weaponry on her at all times; the fusion pistol and power sabre snugly fit to her thighs, but alas, a fetching double breasted jacket and her tight fitted trousers did not deflect shuriken fire.

A few moments later and she would emerge once more; although Biel-Tan's colours were white and green, the mesh armour wasn't hers, and she was fairly sure the corsair it came from had hailed from Saim-Hann with its deep crimson colour. The flecks of gold were certainly not standard though, and the felarch helmet she held underneath her arm was the same red as the armour; not the white that standardised guardian armour would be.

Moving to the vox-channel that linked her to Rudyard, the smugness in her voice was palpable. "Are there any folks, me exceptin', who'll be needed if we take the fight t'them? Or, if they take the fight t'us."

Certainly a mess they were in.

The aft section of the frigate took some kind of ballistic fire. A rail gun the Tech Priest could gather. It shot right through the void shields and slammed right into the engines section. It exposed the massive compartment to void. The ship lost 3 whole teams in an instant. Servitors and Hierophox went to work while repair teams prepared their void suits to help out. If it was just a big hole in the ship, they'd be done by now. But the shell didn't just puncture, didn't just explode. The shrapnel... the projectile seemed perfectly designed to pierce metal and then rupture. Hundreds, thousands of cuts from the entry point, slicing fuel lines, coolant pipes, even as small as wires were severed.

Day one, patch the holes and structural damage, make sure the ship atleast has its impulse power. Day two, evaluation and begin repairs on the Warp Engine. The myriad of small annoyances mounted to a major problem. The Warp Engine was a temperamental beast even under optimized circumstances. Now it was wounded, wounded and angry. A thousand cuts throughout its body. The entire engine block smelled of blessed oils, sanctified grease, and promethium wielders.

Severus Hierophox was at the foot of the Warp Engine, near coil intake port 37. His mechadendrites a flurry of sparks, lights, and whirls as he cut, trimmed, massaged, soothed the dozens of wires, patched the hundreds of cut tubes. Cornelius flitted about him, speaking the litanies, playing the vox caster of power inspiration music that the Omnissiah good graces and glory. Through it all, the vox in his skull chirped on. "Receiving Captain Cook." Came his oddly cheery if completely robotic voice, orchestral classical music playing in the background.

He knew that the captain wouldn't have the patience needed to treat the Praetorian Steel with the loving care such a noble creation required and so, moving his hands from the computer panel, he went to his data slate currently in the mechanical hands of a favored servitor. "Thank you Abigail. Aid Support Team 6 and initiate the coajicator reloading." He took the slate from her and quickly his tendrilites did their work. "Understood. We have returned functionality to the Warp Drive, but the scans and repairs to the surrounding sectors are still on going. We have structural damage being appraised in sections 12E, 18-27E, 34E, and 39E. The stress of a jump could cause fracturing and cataclysmic failure. I might also add, the micro leaks could cause the Engine to fail, which means a possibility of being stranded. I am calculating a 33.768924 percent chance of immediate termination upon activation and a 46.983291 chance of engine failure after activation. If you can give us another estimated 5.46 hours, those numbers will decrease by 9.12 percent. Extraordinary efforts considering most of your repair teams are liberated organics." He was pushing for a full servitor repair teams but so far his requisitions have not been accepted.

"It's cause it ain't Imperial, Master Trader, the only time I had face a vessel similar to that is when I was twenty-five years old... To my remembrance, it is far more advanced then what we have, they hate anything with imperial iconography, and they like sifting through trash." Isaiah closed his eyes for a moment, "the only thing I believe can turn the situation in our favor is if we appease them, go faster than them, or if you have some weapon hidden up your leave."

Thinking a bit more, "There are two other possibilities, dumping any trash compartment we have left with munitions and hoping they go for it."

His eyes narrowed towards the statuette in his hands, "but the question is, do they want us dead, or do they want that thing you have in your hand. Some stupid little trinket might have some importance to them, so I believe we suit ourselves out like the knife-eared darling and prepare ourselves for a melee, and if we are daring enough today, we try a boarding action of our own to damage it."

"Now, Master Trader, may I retire to my chamber, I may require my shotgun for the coming fight." he asked still looking at the idol for a moment before shifting his vision up to the traders head waiting for permission.

'As before, sir, none whatsoever,' the Choir-Master confirmed, 'and an additional message will take more time to send out.' She'd been leading the choir in the process of distress signalling for most of those two days - "We are in peril, unknown enemies pursuing our ship, send assistance immediately", roughly encrypted as follows: A tide of teeth pursues a lone grox across an empty plain, attempting to devour it. It is destroyed by a solid projectile rifle from a distance, a flurry of shots shattering the teeth and allowing the grox to turn and slay what lies underneath. Well, she suspected they could destroy this unknown foe with support. The problem was getting the support, if it was even forthcoming - and since the message took several hours to even contemplate, let alone properly encrypt, they had broadcast a grand total of four actual distress signals so far. Which, granted, was a great deal better than most astropaths could pull off in just two days, helped by the fact that the actual content remained similar from projection to projection, but came at the cost of physical exhaustion and sleep deprivation even beyond the usual for her and the rest of the choir.

And it wasn't as if she hadn't tried to find life elsewhere. But, within so many Void Units, there was just theirs and the pursuing ship, and its strange xeno minds. She had yet to establish what those were, only that they lacked humanity - but then that was obvious by the ship's actual design. And whilst she had the theoretical option to insinuate fear into the attackers or make their ship appear to be in many places at once, with great effort on her and the choir's part of course, those only really mattered if and when the ship started firing at them again. Maybe she should start practicing her telekinetic abilities to try and break something on the other ship... or figure out how to convey Voidfrost across as vast a distance as its nature implied.

Still, she had the option of enfearing them if they attempted to invade, or empowering the crew if they boarded back, or even trying to make an enemy gunner aim incorrectly if they began firing again. For now, she and her choir could only continue the process of contemplation anew - and she had to ensure her choir remained healthy, as well. If anyone burned out, it was on her head; she knew very well the agony of burnout and how it aged its victims, and she was quite intent on keeping the Rogue Traders' in good health for a long time.

@BCTheEntity@Jamesyco@ShwiggityShwah@Lady Selune@BangoSkank

Rudyard listened to all that was told to him with equal attentiveness, something he had learnt from his father, intaking all relevant information while formulating the basis of a plan in his rapidly moving mind; of particular interest were the nuggets of salty space-dog wisdom passed to him by Isaiah, who had seemingly had a run-in with their attackers many decades before.

Thinking over the words of Hierophox while tapping one gloved hand on the hilt of his powersword, he knew they couldn't simply leap into the immaterium to escape, not without a significant chance of destroying themselves in the process! Nor had Tecca managed to reach help in any shape or form, not that he had held out much hope for reinforcements if he were honest.

"I suppose we shall try something old," he muttered to himself, his eyes wandering to the crafted bone trinket in his hand, his free hand reaching over to open a ship-wide vox channel.

"Hear this, this is the your Trader speaking - we are about to engage in boarding action with an enemy vessel, all armsmen and ratings report to your deck armouries, and then to boarding stations. Wait for the klaxon, and Emperor be with us."

Next he cut the channel and looked to the helmsmen bundled in their own section of the bridge, "power down the engines, but keep our weapon batteries in readiness for a broadside on either side."

Finally getting around to responding to Isaiah, he gave a stern nod and permission for the older man to grab whatever he needed for a boarding action.

A moment later he opened a vox to those he considered would be useful in this action - Tecca, Isaiah, their resident Eldar, their resident high-ranking Martian and so on - instructing them to converge on 'assault point 10/15' and prepare for action.

Rudyard meanwhile would keep an overwatch from the bridge, for the moment at least.

Assault Point 10/15 had a member there almost immediately. Lounging against one of the walls, a xenos helmet beneath one of her feet and a fusion pistol in her hand. "Lumberfoots," she would address individuals as they filtered in, making an explicit adaptation for the techpriest, choirmaster and, should he arrive, her employer. The first received a 'skinscared,' the second, a highly sarcastic 'highmind,' and the third a curt nod, rather than an offensive nickname. "I hope all of yous are prepared for this. I warn you, should any of you mayflies go down, I'm not risking my millenia to help your decades." She turned towards Rudyard. "You're centuries, so you I will stop for though."

"I suppose you'd like me to adjust from repair to medicae captain?" He only suggested it because he was the best medic the ship had. He was responsible essentially for keeping everything running, including the people. A boarding party was a risky endeavor and if some of the more trigger happy ship mates were going, he would expect to turn resources away from the sword class ship to mend their feeble bodies properly. He turned off his data slate and requested for his data gear.

He had arrived at 'assault point 10/15' with his custom revengence grenade launcher and bangolier in his main limbs, the others moving about for functions checks and dedicated to fixing machines, people, and rending both. He received a 'Scaredskin' from the resident xenos, a creature he would describe as a little too curvy. Not even nature had such strange contours. The insult of course, pretty much fell flat against his inorganic eyes. "Greetings Shipmate Laeveyla. I do believe it's my primary directive to aid downed personnel so you can focus on not joining them."

After her declaration he moved to the rear of the group, his task was support. "Considering half life of primary make up or core elements, I'll probably be functional longer then anyone on the vessel." The techpriest seemed to add as a simple statement of fact. "But no favors needed. I can just fix myself if required. There is nothing that can't be resolved with the right amount of drugs." Speaking of, he checked some of the canister rounds, making sure there was a variety for most occasions.

As soon as he saw the nod he turned on his heel and started his walk. Striding quickly as he felt the deck below him along the ridges of his boots. He had pretty much everything he needed at the time, shotgun was just for formalities. He walked through the bulkhead and turned once again as he started through the maze of the ship, getting close to the sides of the hall to let the ratings pass.

Over his vox he listened to the captain, "I will be there shortly." he said as his strides grew longer, he paced himself some, mainly so he didn't burn his old body out before the fight even begun. But he began thinking some, he is the biggest target that screams 'For the Imperium' in the ship, and if he is going over to a ship full of things that hate even seeing something Imperial, he was going to have a fun fight. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.

He reached his room and opened the door. It looked almost standard for an officer's quarters if not for the boxes. Over his bed was a shotgun mounted to the wall, he walked to it and lifted it up. Taking the sling and pulling it from the barrel. The sling was moved up his arm and around his shoulder, letting the barrel sling below his right arm. He leaned down and got another sling, and a large canister of shells putting it around his neck and left arm, sliding it under the other sling so if he needed to take the shotgun off he could easier. The box of shells wouldn't interfere with movements as much as the shotgun would where it was currently hanging.

He turned back out of the hallway and headed to where he was being sent to, bending his elbow up as he took several shells from the canister, closing it behind them, and then putting one in the barrel, and the rest in the internal. Eventually, he arrived at the point and was greeted, "Oh it's nice to see you again knife ear." he stated, rolling his eyes, "But if these things are any more deadly in person then their ship is, should we not refine a plan for ourselves and ratings once we board? I have a few idea's but I don't they are beneficial to the centuries that knife ears spent learning to be sarcastic." He asked to the rest of the room.

Ah, yes. Her desirability in the assault was not unexpected - if nothing else, her presence would be suitable for enhancing the group's resolve and ensuring the boarding action's success. Bidding her Choir continue to contemplate their next message outward, and designating one to lead them in her absence, she let them be, heading on to the assault point in due course. She had everything she needed with her, of course.

And yet, the Eldar still reached the location long before anybody else. She had a knack for physicality, not to mention intense arrogance and a soul that could be singled out from well across the ship. Granted, its potency compared to the others on board was significant, but it was the strange form that really stuck out when it came to seeing her. Naturally, this made her no easier to communicate with - especially with such mocking greetings as "highmind".

'Ah, and a distinct greeting to you too, xeno,' she replied , her sardonic grin cutting. Her glare would have been too, but... well. 'I certainly hope you get your fill of combat today - why, you must be raring to get to the front line ahead of us mere humans, mustn't you?' Even as she said this, she set her mind upon bolstering the group's resolve in advance of the attack, her soul reaching out to touch those of the others in the group. Severus', mostly gilded from fear already, but precise and specific in its function, and simple enough to add extra reinforcement to. Isaiah's, tired of the galaxy as it was, but proof against most fears, and yet worth proofing further. Even Laeveyla's. Eugh, like prodding grox refuse with her toe - not that Laeveyla had any relation to a grox, of course, because those were actually useful, but one could all but smell the pompous crap spewing from her mind if only one had the capacity to sense it.

"Yes, well, I'm glad I don't intend to rely on your services, Scaredskin." She shook her head in the direction of the mangled heap of metal that stubbornly still called itself human, before a crewmember calling her a 'knife ear' came in. Honestly, there was no originality with these mon'keighs. Knife ears this, knife ears that. At least she tried coming up with new insults for them. "Issac," she said, referring to the man's name for quite possibly the first time since she had boarded this ship (even if it was the wrong name.)

Drawing her sabre in one smooth movement, she would swing it dangerously close to his face before bringing it back towards her with a flourish. "They are deadly to you, perhaps, but a Corsair ship would have already taken anything worth salvaging from their craft and sent it towards the nearest sun in the time it's taken for you lot to meander your way to this airlock. Considering it's putting holes in this bucket of bolts so rapidly, you'd think you lot might show some urgency."

Then came her favourite memebr of the crew to mock. The psyker. She thought herself so much better than the common man for her powers, not comprehending how little it raised her from the mediocre throngs of her race. "Oh come now. The machine can't even match my insult... That man," she gestured vaguely in Isiah's direction "uses the only damn insult any of you seem to know and you can't even be bothered to think of something? What does a woman have to do around here to match her wits?" She paused for a moment to let the comedic timing work its way out.

"Oh, yes, sorry, I forgot this was a mon'keigh ship, right, yes, my apologies." Turning back to the psyker, she would toss her power sabre up and behind her, gracefully catching the weapon with her other hand, giving it a twirl, and then sheathing it once more, resting both of her hands atop the hilt. "One doesn't exactly have to rare to get ahead of you lot. I don't call you lumberfoots for nothing, after all." She rolled her eyes, but then in a surprising example of what little modesty the corsair had in her, doffed her cap towards the choir-master once she felt her magics work their way across the eldar's form.

"Now then, I believe that leaves us awaiting one more, and then we can be off and I can earn my rather large paycheck."

"Greetings Shipmate Isaiah." The techpriest had catalogued most of the names and designations of the entire crew and as they appeared, the techpriest would give them welcome like clockwork. Course some were more crucial than others, at least in terms of station. "The captain and the command staff really intend on joining a boarding action? Hardly efficient. Though should they fall in battle, I'd be happy to take impromptu emergency powers. I did maintain a research station when all others were reduced to husks of a servitor. I was always curious of the challenges of maintaining a void ship. Though of course, that would mean I shirk my duties as Medicae, which is doubtful. You'll survive. Perhaps with a few improvements. Speaking of, care for some drugs?" He held up a little syringe, the contents a clear liquid. "Oh wait, the more friendly vernacular, care for some chems?"

Severus was going to offer his suggestions for a suitable plan when there was another particularly important individual. "Greeting Choirmaster Tecca. Just in time to start developing a strate-" As the psychic powers reached out from her, there was always an odd little disconnect as his mechanical components had to to find new neural pathways inorder to compensate for the energies sparking and revitalizing the organic remnants of his mind. On the outside, it looked like the Tech Priest just stopped moving, going completely still for a few seconds before there were mechanical whirling sounds and a few beeps of his various Cogitator reinitializing. "How inefficient. A few pieces left to replace it seems." He said to his various limbs and mechadendrites. "Still, some warp effects are appreciated Choirmaster. Let me return the kindness." He pointed his syringe in her direction.

He stopped when he noticed the bickering between the three of them. His various green eyes seemingly telescoping and whirling as they went their back and forth. "I detect a slight increase in endorphins. Omnissiah bless this cohesive structure of mutual respect and cooperation. There is a lesson to be had here by our example."

Isaiah turned his head to the techpriest, and held his hand up, "No injections at the moment please, but greetings." he said smiling softly, at least there was someone vocally cordial in the room. "If I am dying then I may change my mind... those drugs affect the mind, and I'd rather stay somewhat sane for the moment."

"But, before the captain gives us our orders, and his word... we should come up with some form of a plan or a set up for how we will conduct ourselves on a ship full of enemies unknown to us. Preferably before our ship becomes a hulk and some young explorer decided to venture into it only to be sassed by the silver-spooned woman there."

"Because Emperor forbids her several human lifetimes of learning sarcasm and sass goes to waste floating in the void of space."

He rolled his eyes and checked his shotgun once again, opening the bolt slightly to see the loaded shell. He let go of the arm and let it hang from his shoulder once again. He lifted his hat and ran his hand through his hair, pulling a few loose strains out and looking at his slowly balding head unamused. Maybe more graphing will fix that, once he gets back. He lowered his hat and looked up and around at those in the room, maybe being old isn't that bad. Although, if he hadn't have had some graphing previously his looks would have soured like aged milk. Well, at least his personality didn't sour as the knife-ear did in her youthful age of older than the dirt beneath him when he was born.

He continued to think about it, I wonder if she can read minds, I wondered if the psyker can read minds. He was waiting for the Rogue Trader to tell them to do something before he got bored and started trying to figure out some way to push the Eldar woman's buttons or find a way to get a drink of some kind.

@BCTheEntity@Jamesyco@ShwiggityShwah@Lady Selune@BangoSkank

"You can form your plans in the few seconds between impact and bursting into an alien ship then, Isaiah." Blurted a crackled Traders voice over the comm system, the two-way comm as it happened, Rudyard having rolled his eyes several times at the back-and-forth between his allegedly most experienced crew members.

++Assault Point 10/15 engaging, please enter and stabilize++

Rudyard gave a small nod on the bridge as the fully automated voice rang out across numerous points in the ship, monitors showing him gangs of ratings and armsmen armed to the teeth readying themselves, as well as the group of bickering 'experts' he had been mostly forced.

The circular doorways to the assault pods unlocked with a pneumatic hiss of the seal, rolling away to reveal the red-lit interior of a pod capable of carrying two dozen armed warriors, not as efficient or expensive as Astartes-issue technology but fully capable of chewing through hull plating with a drill and melta-charge in order to get to a vessels soft innards.

"My lord, the enemy vessel is coming alongside us."

A curt nod was given to the bridge officer and Rudyard ran a hand over his chin - this had to be timed to perfection, assuming his crew were boarding the pods and not fussing about.

"Ready broadside, but do not increase power to systems or fire until I give the command. I want those pods launched in tandem, so make sure the aim is Emperor-blessed."

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into beads of sweat, the young Trader keeping his cool even under pressure, giving his boarding parties time to enter the pods and get themselves strapped in.

"Come on you bastards...." he muttered to himself, lifting a hand and them thrusting it down with as much force as he could, "bring all systems online, and in the name of the Imperium, FIRE!"

All along the side of the Sword-class guns opened up, probably to little damage, but it was more about covering fire as the assault pods were shot into space.

"Pod 10/15, we need to disrupt the enemy ship in a large way, if you can reach the engines, weapons systems, or the bridge safely then I would make them your primary objective. If not, then do what you can. You are my elite, I trust you will do all that this situation requires. God-Emperor's speed."

Mere moments after being launched and the pod was hammering into the side of the oddly ramshackle, yet sophisticated, alien ship, burning and drilling into the metal of its shell and opening up to spew forth the invaders...

Not the cry normally associated with Eldar, but Laeveyla was not the usual sort of Eldar. With her helmet donned on her head, the corsair saw the enemy in perfect clarity. Their slit-like noses, the thick goop covering their skins... And the splinter weapons and monomolecular wires in their hands. She swept her sabre through the air, eyes barely able to follow the hair-thin length, but she could see as the field of her weapon cleaved through the material, stopping it from slicing through her mesh. "Careful, halfblind. They're using monowires." She barked out her warning as she raised up her own gun and squeezed the trigger.

Eldar fusion pistols were a wonderful thing. The brief spool as energy was built up within the battery, the faint glow of sub-atomic particles as they left the end of the device, and then the horrifying sight of agitated molecules snap-evapourating. Armour, flesh and bone were gone in an instant, the foe she had been aiming at howling in agony and terror, just before her sabre came down and sliced through his chest, twirling him down and burying his face into the ground.

"A bullet through the stomach and a blade through the neck," sang-shouted the eldar as she twisted away from another shot returning fire with two pulses of what the Imperium so crudely called 'melta' blasts, "that's the way we swab the deck!" Two of their foes down, but there were still more in this corridoor alone.

"Come then, mayflies. Show me what you can do in a boarding action!"