I laughed. It was a robust laugh, albeit hard and grating to my ears. 

"What is it, scum? You think we stowed away? A liaison to a quaint agri-world on the fringes?" I inquired in seemingly good humor, but my grin was cruel. 

"This is-" Emmaline began, but I backhanded her across the face. I was not gentle. I cringe now thinking of it, but as I sit here thinking of the moment, I am certain it saved her life. The Eldar was not convinced by mere words, no matter how clever. It needed a performance, and though I like to think of myself as more... congenial than many of my contemporaries, I am still an Inquisitor. I can steel myself for brutal acts and carry them out if need be. Even to the woman I cared for, if it meant saving her life. The stike also had the added benefit of jumbling her thoughts, disrupting whatever probing the dark eldar was no doubt attempting.

"Silence," I said with all of the authority of a warlord, my words dripping with venom as I loomed over her. "You've spoken enough, foolish girl." Emmaline lowered herself with widened eyes, no doubt from shock but also for the act she intrinsically knew I was no doubt performing. After she seemed sufficiently cowed, I turned to the Eldar, who's eyes were fixed on me. I had met the eyes of a Dark Eldar before, and I was well trained in the area of quelling psykers from Master Kronus. It lent credibility to my lack of fear. Additionally, I had read Emmaline's facial expressions whenever she had utilized the power, her face contorting with concentration or ecstasy through varying minute nuances in her usage of it. I could tell the Elder was attempting to read my mind even now, but I allowed the rage of having to stoop low enough to strike Emmaline to fill my mind, as well as the anger I felt for being so close to such unholy denizens as traitors and xenos.  

"Do not forget your position, alien. We only suffer your disgusting presence because of Great Tzeentch's insistence. It is the only reason I do not have these men eradicate you. You may think of us as mere apes, but on this ship, you would do well not to forget your place." My eyes flicked to the left, seeing the spacer, Heretogius, who was still beglamored begin to attend to Emmaline. With the casual grace of a commissar fulfilling their duty, I unholstered my gun, placed it to his temple, and pulled the trigger. A sudden discharge of blood and bone spewed out of the opposite side of his skull, and he fell limp to the floor. 

"There," I said sardonically, and turned my pistol on the contingent of men watching with confusion. "If you find yourself bored, xenos, you may clean up the flooring while we do real business for the true Gods of this universe." With a closed mouth smirk, I held my aim for a long moment before continuing. "Now Lieutenant, shall you come with us as commanded or will you stand there until I turn your contingent into a squadron. There are plenty more followers of the dark gods to recruit." 

"Very well," Naftor Sybdol said, now standing at attention. I had noticed the Eldar was still standing there, rigid and ready, but not moving toward its weapon. With a sniff of derision, it spun with the grace of a fish in water and began stalking away. I watched it leave, not letting the walls of my mind come down for a single second. The officer asked me: "But first, may I know whom I serve, my lord?" 

Satisfied, I holstered my pistol once more, so used to the motion I did not even glance at the gun-sheathe. The men still watched, at attention. "You did not believe your master was the only inquisitor who had received the calling, did you, Lieutenant Sybdol? Now move to the elevator, lest I lose patience. As for the rest of you, carry on your duties. Your commanding officer shall return shortly, or you will meet the Changer of Ways far quicker than expected." 

The men hustled away in formation as we turned back to the lobby that contained the ship's main lift. Mercifully no one else passed, and as Lieutenant Sybdol keyed in the codes, I gave Emmaline an apologetic glance. The baroque chamber opened up, the pneumatic lift ready to ascend. Clara followed close behind, her submachine held casually in both hands.