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The day had been a long one, and not nearly as fruitful as Abelard would have liked given all the blood spilt. Still, the dubiously competent governor of Rykad Minoris had been located, replacements for the crew secured, and also… the Lord Inquisitor’s Interrogator had been found. However, the last was something that Abelard wished they had failed to accomplish more with every passing moment.
Not only was the errand already below the dignity of a Rogue Trader, but the man had had the unmitigated gall to put them all under his custody upon their meeting. The Lord Captain had raised no fuss, as Abelard was realizing was common for her, but he dearly wished she had. It was important to set the tone with disrespectful ilk such as this Interrogator. Otherwise, they were unlikely to remember their place. Just like now, when, having finally arrived back on the Seeker’s Haven, the Interrogator was trying to prevail upon the Lord Captain yet again to have a private discussion of some kind.
Abelard was considering how he might extricate the Lord Captain from the situation when she did something unprecedented in the short time he’d known her: refuse a request.
“Sorry, I can’t right now. I need to—” The Lord Captain cut off, covering her mouth as a hacking cough erupted from her. Abelard made his way to her side immediately, and with the now scant distance between them, he could see the white knuckled grip she had around her psyker staff and the faint tint of scarlet on her palm when she pulled her hand away.
The Lord Captain wiped her hand on her robes, battered by a day of combat, and continued talking as if nothing had happened. “I need to rest for a few hours. But after I can… oblige…?” She said the word hesitantly as if unsure of the meaning. When no one interrupted, she continued with more confidence, “Oblige you, yes. Let’s talk then.”
The Interrogator’s cold expression grew more icy as he looked down at the Lord Captain. It made Abelard grit his teeth, but the Lord Captain seemed unaware of it as she pulled her cowl farther over her face and shifted her weight to lean on her staff.
When the Interrogator spoke, however, he sounded appropriately deferential. “Of course, Lord Captain. Whenever is most convenient.” He paused, his gaze sharpening as he opened his mouth to say something more, but the Lord Captain was already speaking again.
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” She looked over her shoulder at the rest of her retinue and bowed her head to them all—even Abelard—in an all too obsequious manner. “I’m glad you’re all alright. Good work today, though let’s hope the Navigators are a bit easier to deal with than Rykad Minoris, eh?”
Her lips curved in a small, short-lived smile, the first such expression Abelard had seen her make, and she turned and walked away without another word. There was a lopsidedness in her gait that had not been there earlier in the day, but she was quickening her pace with every step, and she swiftly disappeared around a corner that Abelard was certain didn’t lead toward her quarters.
As soon as she did, he found himself following after, something between worry and suspicion growing in his chest. He had not been directly involved in the acquisition of the heirs, and of the two found, the new Lord Captain was certainly—
Abelard stopped the disloyal thought before it could fully form. Doubt was not particularly helpful at this point in time, when options were so limited and the Lord Captain had yet to prove herself irredeemably lacking. Every Rogue Trader had their idiosyncrasies, and every witch their discomfiting ways. He had simply… yet to discover all of hers, though perhaps getting lost in the voidship would turn out to be one of them.
So, he continued on. The sound of the Lord Captain's staff clanging against the floor was an easy enough trail to follow as he tracked her on a sharply twisting path into the bowels of the ship. They quickly left behind any of the open pathways taken by the officers and moved instead into the narrow confines of maintenance tunnels, the lumens above growing dim and sometimes flickering. That uneasy feeling grew in Abelard as he tried and failed to understand her purpose, as well as how she had any idea where to go.
Then, a few minutes into the disconcerting walk, the clanging of her staff ceased, and Abelard’s stride quickened to something that was not quite a jog (some part of him needed to maintain decorum even with none to witness it.) He rounded a corner, fully expecting to see her paused in the tunnel for whatever reason, and instead came upon emptiness. He didn’t tarry and continued on, striding past a nearly pitch black recess that housed an ancient cogitator. The machine had no signs of life, and Abelard would not have spared it a glance were it not for the shine of brassy metal that caught his eye.
He paused, turning, and saw the Lord Captain’s staff held limply in her hand, the woman herself sitting jammed in the meager space between the cogitator and the wall. She was curled up in a ball, her forehead pressed against her knees. As Abelard stood there a few seconds longer in shock, her body shook with a cough.
“Lord Captain? What are you doing there?” he asked, the impertinent question unable to be curbed in the face of his complete bewilderment.
Her head jerked up like she’d heard a gunshot, nearly slamming against the bottom of a pipe that ran across the wall. “Wha— Oh. Uhm… I’m…” She trailed off, looking about the alcove as if for an answer, and then said almost reluctantly, “R-Relaxing…?”
The pipe above her head was thick with condensation, and a murky drop of it chose that moment to fall, landing on the top of her hood and sliding down, leaving an oily stain in its wake.
Abelard blinked, but when he opened his eyes, the scene had not changed in the slightest. With carefully measured words, he said, “I believe there are infinitely better locations to do that, Lord Captain, such as your chambers. I can guide you to them. Or, if you would prefer, I could take you to the medicae.”
“My chambers…? Oh, no. No I don’t want, or, uhm. I don’t need to, thank you. Here is… good. And I don’t need the medicae either. I'm fi—” She cut off as she quite obviously swallowed a cough, and then continued tiredly, “I… will be fine. I promise. It’s just been a very long day. I haven’t had to use my powers this much without—”
The Lord Captain went stiller than a corpse, her eyes suddenly wide with fear as she stared at him. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe, and Abelard found himself doing the same. Then, after a few seconds crept by, she shrank deeper into the crevice she’d wedged herself in and said rather desperately, “They’re, they’re under control. I swear. I’m just exhausted because I’m used to my familiar helping me, but he was killed. So everything is more tiring now.”
She was still staring up at him, fear evident in her eyes. They gleamed an eerie green even in the darkness of the hall—no doubt some pernicious side effect of her sorcery. Abelard did his best to ignore it. Instead, he knelt, disregarding the protestation of his knees, and said, “Of course, Lord Captain, I understand. If I might ask, however, how are your chambers lacking that this spot is the better place to rest?”
“I don’t feel safe there. People died in them less than two days ago.”
Abelard doubted she’d meant her words to be a twist of the knife, but the pain of his failure flared anew all the same. He squared his shoulders in the face of it, however, and continued on. “That is… fair. But there is no longer an insurrection aboard the ship, nor are we flying through the Warp. I promise you that your chambers are perfectly safe.”
“I… I want to believe you— No, I mean, I do believe you. It’s just…. that place is so bright and, and open. There’s too many ways in, and there’s no doors, either, for some reason? Plus, there’s windows to space, too? Wh-who would want to look out into the empty void?” Another cough ripped its way out of her, but the Lord Captain continued, “Ugh…it makes me nauseous just thinking about it. After being outside all day, that’s the last place I want to be. It barely feels like it’s inside at all.”
Abelard paused briefly as he glanced around the dark, cramped hall. “Do you… not like being outside, Lord Captain?”
She shook her head and said dispiritedly, “Of course not. Pretty much whenever I am, there’s fighting and people are dying. It’s been like that ever since I joined the Guard.”
“I see…” Abelard thought for a moment, then said, “Well, they are your chambers, Lord Captain. You can change them to suit your tastes once our situation is less fraught. In the meantime, I’m sure some more minor adjustments could be made. Setting a guard and dimming the lights, for instance.”
The Lord Captain hesitated before saying almost pleadingly, “I’d like it if it could be darker, but I don’t—that is, uhm, I think it’d make it worse if there were strangers around. I’m a light sleeper...”
“They can keep silent, Lord Captain, do not worry.”
“Yes, but you can’t really make them stop being a-alive, too, now can you? Or, well, I guess you could, but that’d be horrible and defeat the point. I just—I can sense living things. And I can’t really turn it off. And everyone here is still a stranger… Like that odd man in the bathroom. He kept just… being there while I was trying to use the Rogue Trader’s office yesterday. It was driving me ins—” The Lord Captain closed her mouth abruptly, and only after a few moments did she say simply, “It’s just hard to ignore.”
“Why not say something, then? If someone is bothering you, you can simply dismiss them.”
Perhaps some amount of his exasperation leaked through, for the Lord Captain did not say anything immediately. Instead, she merely stared at him. In the silence, he could only watch her in turn. Her expression was unusually hard to read.
“I’ll try to remember that’s an option, now,” the Lord Captain said softly before turning her attention to the floor.
Abelard paused, weighing his words, before he said, “You must grow used to giving orders, Lord Captain. I know you were… reticent to take on the mantle of Rogue Trader—” How mad it had been to hear her plead to give up a title most would kill for. But then, he supposed, she was a witch. “—but you must learn to wear it quickly. There is no other way forward except under your leadership.”
“For now, at least. I’m sure there have to be better heirs somewhere in the Expanse. Though I understand I’ll need to keep the seat warm until we find them,” the Lord Captain said.
Abelard grimaced. “Lord Captain, you will not learn to shoulder the responsibility of your position if you’re always looking for someone else to bear it in your place.”
The words were impertinent. It was a testament to the last few days that he had spoken thus. And yet, they were the truth, and Abelard could not regret saying them. The new Lord Captain was wanting, though not unforgivably. Still, they did not just need a Rogue Trader in these desperate times. They needed a competent one—and how could she hope to be that with one foot out the door?
The Lord Captain looked up at Abelard, chagrin obvious on her expression. However, rather than the nervous, shrinking reaction he had been growing to expect, she merely nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
The apology grated, so too did the way she ducked her head in agreement, lowering herself even further. Still, he did his best to ignore this excess of humility. To nitpick every part of her behavior was as disrespectful as it would be self-defeating.
Before he could reply, the Lord Captain let out a sigh and said, “It’s just, I really only know how to do two things: heal people and kill them. That doesn’t really feel like… enough.”
Abelard felt the corner of his mouth curl up in a grim smile. “In all fairness, Lord Captain, it has served us well enough so far.”
This startled a laugh from her, weak and short lived as before, but clearly genuine. “That’s true. Nice to have a bright side, at least, eh?”
“Indeed, though in addition, you now have time to learn, and you do not need to know everything. Your officers and retinue stand to assist you, and as your Seneschal, I will ensure they are people you can rely on.”
“I don’t doubt that at all,” the Lord Captain said as she smiled widely enough to show her teeth. Pearly white and straight, they were the first thing about her that did not seem sickly. As if to counterbalance that, however, her gums glistened with blood. “You did save my life, after all. I… With everything that’s happened in the last few days, I don’t remember if I’ve thanked you properly for doing that. If not: thank you. I’m sure there’s some kind of reward—award?—that you deserve for that. I’ll make sure you get it the second it’s possible.”
“I was simply doing my duty, Lord Captain,” Abelard demurred, but he saw that she was unconvinced. He hesitated momentarily, but in the end, Abelard found himself telling the truth. “And it would not rest well with me to be rewarded for that when, the very same day, I failed to protect Lady Theodora.”
The Lord Captain’s smile disappeared and she nodded. “I understand. Forget it, then.”
Her tendency to acquiesce remained worrying, but at least in this moment, Abelard was grateful for it. A silence fell between the two of them that she seemed to have no inclination to break. After a little while, however, Abelard found the words to do so.
“Shall we go to your chambers now, Lord Captain?”
“No— I, I mean… not yet, sorry. I just need a little more time. It’s easier to focus here, so I can finish healing myself.”
Abelard started and rose to his feet. “You’re injured? Then we should go to the medicae at once.”
“I’m not injured,” she replied quickly.
“Then why do you need to heal yourself?” Abelard asked.
The Lord Captain stared at him for a moment before saying, “I’m sick. I… thought it was obvious.”
Abelard blinked, and he briefly scanned the Lord Captain’s face. The dark circles beneath her eyes were deeper than any he had seen. Every part of her face was gaunt, the skin sallow and dull. She looked patently unwell, but so had practically every witch Abelard had crossed paths with. He had thought little of it, especially with her powers being unfamiliar to him. A witch of the body rather than the mind was rare indeed, and if he hadn’t had the second example of the Lord Inquisitor’s minion for comparison, he would have just concluded her appearance to be another working of the Warp. Now, however, he could not help but feel an itching shame creeping across him.
Bowing his head to her, Abelard said, “I thought it was your sorcery, not an illness. I apologize for this oversight, Lord Captain. I should have inquired after your health rather than assuming.”
From the edge of his vision, he saw her wave a hand dismissively. “No, don’t apologize. It’s fine. I mean, you’re kind of right. I’m like this because of my sorcery, but that’s because the alternative was, well, being dead.” Abelard’s head jerked up at that, and the Lord Captain made a face, seemingly regretting the words. She continued quickly, “That… sounds bad. It’s nothing to worry about. I’ll be better soon.”
It was too late for platitudes. “Why are you ill, precisely? And how are you going to recover if you haven’t already?” They were pointed questions, but he could not help but ask them. As before, the Lord Captain took no offense.
“I just… Well… I haven’t…” She seemed to flounder, rubbing her temple as if to stave off a headache. Then, she lowered her gaze and said, “My Guard unit was… under-supplied for a long time—years—and so there just… wasn’t much food to go around. That’s all. I’ve been using my powers to make up the difference, but there’s a limit to what I can do after this long. But! It’ll, it’ll be fine because I can eat now. I just need time, and until then, I just need to keep myself going with my powers, and so when I use them for other things… I get worse for a bit.”
The Lord Captain spoke hesitantly, as she was wont to do, but something in the hesitance nagged at Abelard. Or perhaps it was the way she stared so solidly at the ground. Still, it could be that he was reading too much into her meekness. If nothing else, he knew that she was telling the truth about being able to heal herself, for it was at that moment he realized she had stopped coughing some time before.
“I see. Then, take all the time you need, Lord Captain. And, until you’re recovered… you do not need to overstretch yourself using your powers. Your retinue's purpose is to protect you, not be the cause of you falling ill.”
The Lord Captain looked up at him then, staring in what was beginning to become a familiar way. Then, she gave a tiny shake of her head. “You aren’t, and right now, we don’t really have a lot of options. I just… don’t have much to offer besides my power. The Guard only ever needed that. I’m not a good shot or experienced with blades, but I’ve served as a psyker for decades. Like I said, it’s the one thing I know how to do. Might as well do it.”
Abelard’s only response was to bow his head obediently. Though the Lord Captain’s poor health had given him new worries, he had no inclination to argue with her. The conversation had made it obvious how little he knew of her capabilities, and though he would endeavor to correct that going forward, for now, he could only trust her judgment. If nothing else, a psyker who had lasted that long within the Astra Militarum had to have quite the knack for survival.
As he thought through this silently, the Lord Captain did nothing to interrupt him. She barely moved but to shut her eyes—a relief as it hid their uncanny glow. Whatever solace she found there in the dark, enclosed in that long forgotten alcove, it must have been far more rejuvenating than Abelard could hope to understand. A scant minute or two later, she let out a sigh that at last sounded free of strain. Then, she stood up, careful not to bump her head or arms against the metal closing in on all sides.
The Lord Captain walked over to him, rolling her neck as she did so. The motion was carefully stunted to not knock her head against the thick, metal collar of her psyker implant. Though she looked no less wan than before, her gait was now even, and she only slightly leaned on her staff as she came to a stop. She looked up and down the corridor she had turned off of without even the slightest hint of recognition appearing in her eyes.
Turning her attention back to Abelard, she made no effort to hide the mix of hope and embarrassment on her face as she said, “I… don’t suppose you know where we are…?”
“I can guide us back, Lord Captain, do not worry.”
She let out a relieved breath and then motioned for him to lead the way. Abelard paused briefly, his eyes returning to her staff, or rather the strong grip she had upon it. Then, he offered his arm to her, waiting for her to take it. She stared at the proffered limb uncomprehendingly for a few seconds before hesitantly placing her hand on it. Abelard inclined his head to her and began walking far more slowly than he had before.
If the Lord Captain noticed this, she gave no sign, but as they retraced their steps back to the more open halls, she gave him a grateful look and said, “I’m glad you followed me, now. It would have been pretty bad if I’d spent the next few hours wandering around in the maintenance halls. Especially since that Inquisitor still wants to talk to me. I doubt ‘I got lost in my own ship’ would have been a good excuse.”
Abelard’s lips thinned in a line at the mention of the man. “You do not need an excuse at all, Lord Captain. You simply do not need to speak to him if you do not wish to.”
She tilted her head in curiosity. “Why wouldn’t I want to speak to him? I mean, he’s the reason we’re even in this system, isn’t he?”
“Indeed, and what problems that has caused us so far, even before his farce about taking us into his custody.”
“That was strange,” she agreed, but the complete lack of annoyance or offense in her voice made it obvious to Abelard it wasn’t for the right reason. This was only confirmed as she continued blithely, “I don’t know why he’d think he’d have to make us help him. I mean, if the reactor blew up, millions of people would have died. I’m just glad we were there to stop it.”
Nonsense, of course, given that the Rogue Trader’s well being was worth a far greater number of civilian casualties. However, Abelard held his tongue as he was rather certain his new mistress would neither agree nor take heed of such a thing.
“...Indeed. However, associating with him is unlikely to benefit you. And, as Rogue Trader, you can simply refuse to do so.” It would be quite the relief if she did.
“Wouldn’t that be kind of suspicious, though?”
“He is an Interrogator, Lord Captain. Anything anyone ever does is likely to be suspicious to him.”
The Lord Captain seemed to ponder this for some time. The silence gave Abelard heart (and another reason to appreciate her seemingly pliable nature). At least until she gave a shrug that was far too carefree for Abelard’s tastes and said, “Well, no harm in talking to him then if we’re screwed either way, right? And at least this way, I’m not breaking a promise.”
Abelard managed to keep from wrinkling his nose as he realized his mistake. He also managed not to sound begrudging as he said, “You have a point, Lord Captain. I would simply urge you to take care in what you say.”
The Lord Captain nodded immediately. Obediently, even, for all she was going against his counsel by speaking to the man at all. It irked Abelard even as it gave him some relief. There was a mind, a will, there beneath the timidness. He could only hope that it would reveal itself to be strong and decisive enough to see them through this mess.
As he was thinking this, they finally made their way out of the maintenance tunnels and back to the hallway she’d originally turned off of. The brighter lights were a welcome sight to Abelard, for all that the Lord Captain seemed to shrink slightly beneath her hood in the face of them.
However, her voice was both more cheerful and louder than he had ever heard it as she said, “Oh, great! Now can we go to my rooms? I want to kick out that weird guy in the bathroom so I can actually use it. I haven’t seen that much water in one place since I was on my homeworld, and I could kill for a bath.”
For some reason, Abelard found the corner of his mouth curving up in the vaguest suggestion of a smile. “Certainly, Lord Captain,” he said before leading her down the hall to do exactly that.