“Here are the charts,” Anton said nodding to the adamantium case carried by a hulking combat-servitor. The Intercessor smiled with its unnaturally pristine face and bowed. “I trust my seneschals have seen to the Writs?”

        “Oh my, yes,” the Intercessor sibilated. “And the Jokaero?”

        “A day’s work,” Anton said. “They have a workshop aboard my ship.” It was half a lie. “You will take what you wish worked on there. Leave it at midnight tonight, collect it midnight tomorrow. Agreeable?” Anton asked in the Intercessor’s own tone.

        Another smile. “Quite.” Other Intercessors quietly, and reverently, took the documents from the automated brute. “The secrets?”

        “Ahh!” Anton said, snapping his fingers. A hololith fell from his left sleeve and he handed it over. It disappeared quickly into the metal man’s dull orange robes.

        Minutes passed as one by one the Intercessors all turned towards Anton and smiled, approving each piece of holopaper the servitor had given them. The rogue trader smiled even wider as the other rogue traders arrived with their own payments. Some bared their teeth in return.

        Anton paid them no mind. “I’ll need a receipt for all of these things.”

        “Of course,” a female Intercessor said handing several bound scrolls to him. She spoke softly. “Tomorrow. Midnight. Come here, and you will be lead to the cell--”

        “--No need,” Anton said, accepting the scrolls and handing them to the combat-servitor which painstakingly began to insert each one into the adamantium case.

        “I beg your pardon?”

        “Oh, I won’t be attending.” Anton spoke just loudly enough for the entire abandoned cathedral to hear him. “Pick up your item, or items, by tomorrow midnight off the Blessed Enterprise after a full day’s work by the Jokaero--you can even send an observer to wait there. But I won’t be staying after that.”

        “But--why?”

        “I have no need, as I said.” Anton stepped forward, realizing that the combat-servitor was still only on the third receipt. “I already know where it is. I just wanted less competition to start with.”

        The Intercessors’ smiles fell.

        “Oh, I won’t interfere. These four,” he nodded in their general directions without looking at them, “can have their minds violated by however many witches they wish.”

        The combat-servitor finished its precise work and took a step forward, echoing his own step. Anton nodded, took another step then turned back quickly, enjoying the servitor’s literal interpretation of the order to follow his every step.

        “The Heart of Majesty,” Anton said. “You know, one of the bids you rejected?”

        “Yes?” the female asked.

        “I’d like to buy the hulk’s location, if you gauge it warp-worthy.”

        The Intercessors bowed. “We will contact the master of the Alter Locus at once.”

        “Don’t tell my seneschal.”

Lord-Seneschal Goddard Thraves looked weary. Anton hoped the man was only letting it show just now. The day had been busy with re-negotiations and recriminations that he had entrusted to the man and his servants.

        “That shouldn’t have happened.”

        Anton poured himself a glass of water. There was an irritation in Goddard’s voice that he couldn’t identify.

        “Six? You bought six of the ten seats!” the seneschal whispered furiously. “You’ve sold away some of our holdings, and for what?”

        Anton drank the water, slowly. It took a few moments but Thraves gradually regained his composure. He bowed his head in defeated obeisance.

        “Have I ruined your carefully crafted plans for my dynasty, lord-seneschal?” The words cut. “A moon, tainted by the Yu’Vath, whose crystalline mountains are receding like melting glaciers. Any ship that enters Svard will be subject to customs and tariffs. We’re practically forcing them to do business with us and in the shadow of a forge world. There will be no cold trade there.” Anton swirled his drink. “Do you worry for the dead world? You had plans for that? It’ll become a pirate base on its own--let the excavators plunder and keep raiders away. We can even offer escorts.”

        “What of the ‘pirates’? Would Battlefleet Calixis care--”

        “--No, they wouldn’t. They’d punish whoever was in charge of the operation for being found out. Privateering should not be the Navy’s way, in any case.”

        Goddard began nodding, the anger seeping away with every breath.

        The rogue trader continued. “A passage out of the God-Emperor’s Scourge is, well, unique. But it required the Jokaero’s aid for us to survive that, and look what happened to us.” Anton exhaled slowly. “Yes, I bid a day’s work--which should be finishing soon--for one Jokaero. It’s unlikely anyone knows they’d need the orange space apes’ help with their Gellar Fields to survive the journey out, though I don’t even know if there are any passages into that warp storm.”

        “Which leaves the Stromchart.” The lord-seneschal was not giving up.

        “Don’t call it that,” Anton said, putting down the glass. “Idris was never going to share it. She’s admitted that much to me, and that would have been catastrophic. One copy I bid away, another copy we’ll sell, fulfilling all our obligations. A small bit of profit, a loss really, for a piece of curio. But it will be proven correct, in time. That’s when we’ll truly profit.”

        “Cut your bullshit, son.”

        Anton’s eyes widened. Then he laughed, long and hard, he laughed. Sinking into his chair he pulled off his boots, still cackling.

        “I taught you how to lie like that, didn’t I? It makes sense, but don’t you dare claim you planned it all out.”

        “No,” Anton said, wiping away the tears, “I never claimed that.”

        There was silence and Anton drained the rest of his glass.

        “You’ve humiliated all the dynasties in attendance.”

        “Did I?”

        “Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it. Are you still that angry that you became the Warrant Holder?”

        The question caught him off guard. “I’m not--”

        “By the Emperor’s cramped buttocks, you are! You sneer at your peers every chance you get. You plot their deaths! How many died in the Heathen Stars?” Anton reeled. “How many did you let die? Oh, in Svard,” Goddard raised a hand to forestall Anton’s response, “you tried to assuage your conscience, thinking of your fellow voidsmen who’d die if you didn’t reveal your brilliance to their masters. But you didn’t even try to convince them at Svard. You knew exactly how they’d react, how they’d ignore your warnings.”

        “I gave them all the augury logs we had!” Anton shouted. “What else could I have done?”

The older man shook his head. “I’ve had it, boy. I’ve had it with your misplaced anger! Do your duty to the dynasty or make way for someone who will!”

        Anton’s jaw clenched. “Is that why you let Lyza buy off Thaar?”

        “Yes.”

The word resounded in the cabin as the lord-seneschal stood. He was waiting to be dismissed, or dragged off by armsmen, or even be shot on the spot. Anton considered all three.

        “Sit,” the rogue trader said wearily. The old man sank back down to his customary chair.

        “You’ve met the Eldar ranger?”

        Goddard nodded.

        “I have made a deal, with him and,” Anton said quickly, “with his leaders.”

        “What have you done?”

        “What every officer on this ship should do: I sacrificed four to save six.”

A single and long piece of brutal rectangular voidsteel had been set on a few pegs and called a table. Slightly more comfortable chairs were brought in to ring it, and benches were set just behind those. Anton had appreciated the meeting room  for what it was; a reminder to not deliberate but act.

        His senior officers had chosen the more comfortable galley instead, and he preferred that for its informality. Anton had true few peers, and the ones he did have he did not trust. So they had conducted their private meetings there since, attended to by fine servitors as they partook of drink and delicacy. Then, he saw to his officers in this sparse place. It was the first time all his senior officers had been here in a long time.

One by one, the senior officers of the Blessed Enterprise stumbled into the grey room. Anton had made one adjustment in all the time since the cruiser had launched; the glow-globes were too bright so he had them shrouded--and embedded with picters. Once the last officer entered, the armsman at the door bowed and sealed it behind him as he exited.

No armsman remained. No servant waited to bring refreshments.

Flutes of water waited for each of the officers, and several decanters rested in the middle of the long table. Hololiths and quills waited for each one as well.

Anton sat at the head of the table, in full uniform. Goddard Thraves sat to his right, and Bain Iosef sat to his left. Various lieutenants sat further away, allowing for the delegations from the Adeptus Mechanicus, Navis Nobilite, and Adeptus Astra Telepathica to sit closer to him, his senior officers at their head.

He held staff meetings here. The officers, the lords of their own domains, he met in the galley. They were all uncomfortable and Anton realized he didn’t care. He nodded and the lights darkened to reveal holograms above the table.

        Commander Iosef stood and began the briefing. “Our recruitment drive has ended, and has done so quite successfully,” Bain smiled, “despite having just a little over a day.” Tight smiles and muffled laughter spread across the room.

Anton nodded his thanks to the officers. “I know there was little warning. I saw an opportunity to effect changes--no, to restore the dynasty fleet to its traditions.” The lord-captain looked at each one willing to meet his gaze. “Discipline, Duty, and Danger,” Anton added to the smiles of the few remaining original officers. “Those are the Stromfleet’s words, though the third should go without saying. We were never about the lash.”

        They were unconvinced. Most had gone through other dynasty fleets or the Imperial Navy, not promoted from within. Not nurtured as professionals, but beaten and forced to learn, to obey. He had to start now, even if it meant flushing the press-ganged crewmembers and ratings off to Footfall and taking on newcomers.

        The lord-captain nodded for Bain to continue.

“The Vivat, Toriah, and Lord Hantel have finished their exchange of cargo. Finally.” There was laughter. “You may not be aware, but we tried to return these three to their owners. Or their owners’ creditors. None have been found.” Bain paused for any questions before continuing. “Commander Vers of the Lady Zhar and Commander Tuch of the Bocephus have arrived in-system and are holding position. Both the Arrowhead and the Buckler are on final approach and will escort the transports, Lt. Miri will coordinate with them,” the commander nodded towards the distantly seated master of aetherics.

        The holograms changed. “The transports will lead the convoy we’ve assembled to Svard. Mission accomplished,” Bain said with a smile. Anton mirrored it. “They’ll take on cargo and will join us for our journey through the Maw.”

        Incredulity spread through everyone’s faces. Some hid it better than others.

        “But,” Lt. Miri began. “Sir, may I ask a question?” Bain nodded. “I thought--Lord-Captain Strom bought six and--are we not searching for the Dread Pearl?”

        Anton shook his head. “We are not. Mostly because we already know where it is.” He nodded for Bain to continue.

        The commander cleared his throat. “We will proceed to Port Wander where the transports will, of course, unload their cargo. The frigates will remain on escort duty. The cruisers will remain with the Blessed Enterprise as we journey to the Lathes.” Magos Binar and Magos Tevla both seemed pleased with that announcement. “Then, we’ll return for the Dread Pearl.”

        Confused glances and murmurs accompanied the returning lights. The younger officers had the sense not to speak too loudly.

        “The Dread Pearl,” Anton began, “is a world encircled by PHX-2879-1jc.” He smiled. “If that makes no sense to you, then you need to brush up on your stellar cartography. It’s a warp storm, localized, much like Raakata there is no penetrating it. Not unless it is acted upon by another warp storm. And of course, we know of one. In fact, we know exactly when it will fall.” He looked at each one that could hold his gaze. “We will be there when it does.”

        “Sir?” Ensign Kem raised a hand.

        “Yes, ensign?”

        “What will we do in the meantime? I mean--while we wait for the transports’ return?”

        Anton nodded approvingly. He didn’t grant that honour for anything, especially as many looked about confused. The convoy would take a month, maybe two, to journey to nearby Svard and transfer cargo. Maybe another month before it can journey back. With the Blessed Enterprise already en route to the jump point, it was unlikely they would remain stationary.

        “Are you that eager for more work, ensign?” Commander Iosef called out. “The void barnacles could use some attention...”

        The ensign’s hand sank back down.

        Anton laughed along with the room and pressed a rune engraved on the cold metal. “Ensign, do you know that I believe in second chances?”