Emperor’s Wrath

In the meantime, the shuttle had entered high orbit and the demonstration screen showed the Wrath of the Emperor. Not in all its glory, we walked in on it from the front, but still, the ship was impressive. Though I had seen and even flown in a "reconnaissance sloop" of the same type, this fierce kilometer-long fool was HUGE!

And I must confess, apparently, that I have to put my rationalism to rest somewhat, because within the realities of the Imperium it is really a "pleasure boat".

However, I reasoned, while the shuttle was approaching the ship, it has a lot of advantages, like high relative speed, maneuverability, short time to enter warp. And I rather like the redundancy of Geller's fields - let the immaterial not harm me personally, but I will not be able to control this craft, and the society of mangled mutants for the next decades (at best) certainly does not tempt me.

Finally, the shuttle flew up to a perfectly fierce-sized open gate, flew in, and lowered itself onto the deck. And when I came out, I somewhat... put off my bricks when I saw the gates not closing and a crowd of at least a thousand people standing in a huge hangar. And they weren't wearing spacesuits. And I was in no hurry to die, so obviously some sort of distortion field of the sorcerer type, I concluded.

Some stirring in the ranks of the "small group of greeters" caught my attention. It was a group of officers, judging by their more pretentious uniforms, calibrating their location relative to my person. Finally, the most flamboyant type stood out from their ranks. Generally, the colors of the Inquisition were dark maroon and gold, which I had never seen on my colleagues. And here it was the uniform of the crew. Not to say that it was ugly, but gloomy and pretentious for sure.

But the type's smartness was expressed in such an abundance of gold sequins. However, I was not a blonde personally, so I mentally chuckled and stared at the flowery man.

An older man, about fifty years old by the look of him, his head bare, his cap on the bend of his elbow. The face was quite correct, though sharply outlined, and he had a short army lock of gray hair. The look, it should be noted, is brave, but not enough of a jerk. Of course, he did not embarrass me by his intellect, but his face was marked with a stamp of intellect, which was both indignant by trampling of subordination, and sincerely glad. Because there was a hope, that the captain of this ship would not foolishly destroy us.

- The crew of the reconnaissance sloop Wrath of the Emperor is built and happy to welcome you, Mr. Inquisitor! - the fellow gave it away. - I, Captain Francis Borrini, First Mate," a man spoke from the officer's ranks, "Conrad...

And then, somewhat ahead of me, the performance was interrupted by Comrade Reducer. With charming unceremoniousness (really well done!) the magos kicked out the heavily laden attendants. Eagle surveyed those present with his eyepieces, aimed them at the captain, and asked:

- Is the workshop at the Inquisitor's disposal ready? - He gave the cog to the captain who was gaping at him.

- Yes, Magos, ready as ordered," he said quickly, wanting to continue but not in time.

- Well," the Reducer said, catching the first mate's volunteer under the elbow with his mechadendrite, "show me the way," the magos demanded, to which the prisoner gave a hiccup and nodded in a dole and motioned the cog away.

I was admiring the caravan as it moved away, and I couldn't decide which phrase would be more appropriate for Magos in the current situation. Two variants were equally iconic and appropriate: "Goodbye, losers, I've always hated you!" and "kiss my shiny metal ass!" would be equally appropriate in the current situation.

After watching the departing company with a dazed look, as I did, Captain Francis shook his head and turned his gaze back to me.

- Ahem, yes," he commented darned gracefully. - Happy to greet you, and here, navigator...

- Captain," I decided to interrupt, before introducing the three-eyes to the captain. - Are you going to introduce the entire crew?

- I beg your pardon, Inquisitor," blushed(!) the captain, "Wrath is not such a big vessel, and there's only a small part of the crew on the airlock deck.

- I asked about the show," I reminded him, already frowning.

- No, Inquisitor, only the officers," the captain stretched "humbly.

- Here, then, let's go to some appropriate place, and the men will take care of business. They'll get a good look at my face, but it's enough for the first time. It's not to be an overdose," I said, and I could tell by the slight twitch of the corner of the captain's mouth that he "appreciated it.

The bustle of dispersing the meeting surprisingly took not more than five minutes, showing the high level of training and professionalism (in my layman's opinion) of local wastelanders. After that the group of twenty senior officers, the captain and me went to the wardroom, though rather a small banquet hall: taking into account the fierce size of the ship, the standard "sea" definitions seemed to me somewhat inappropriate.

The performance went smoothly, except for one, what I thought was a comical moment. The local chief ecclesiarch, the ship's chaplain, a man with a beard, who reminded me of the orthodox priests of my first world, muttered "Blessings of our God, the Emperor of Mankind on you!" causing me a certain grimace, which did not escape the eyes of an opium dealer for the people. Stretching his hand out toward me, with his (surprisingly index finger) outstretched, he muttered:

- I know that you and your kind do not believe in God and our protector as in God," he said. - But never mind that! - he proclaimed. - For He believes in you, having laid down His burdens for His glory!

- Well," I commented on his faith in me, staring at the pointing finger of the bishop.

- And still he believes! - the priest sealed, looked at the finger for irreparable damage, hid his hands behind his back, and went to the tables, to eat stress.

Funny fellow, I mentally chuckled, joining the meal and limiting myself to a sip of wine on toast (the previous drinking, and especially its results, did not inspire me to alcoholic feats). If I wasn't "cooler and fatter" by all canons and convention, I might even have fought. But as it was, I was fine. Believes in me, so that's good.

And an hour later, at the end of the banquet, I designated the Astra Militarum Sector Base as our destination, the place where my thirteenth unkilled regiment was waiting for me.

And headed for the apartments, fierce as stadiums. I had a lot of information, both necessary and simply necessary to master, which I did.