Crew Logs: Differences of Dogma
Roland's
log: Chapter 2
Verse 1: Hermitage. This station is a dead world, but no one has told
that to
the monks who live here. It used to have a purpose. You can almost here
the
long distant footsteps of those who came to renew their faith. But the
universe
is filled with such places, and out of the way ones like this simply do
not have
the draw they once did. Lord Draconis has gone to inquire about local
affairs
from the abbot, and most of the other officers are either assisting him
with
that, or searching the cathedral for secret messages from other Rogue
Traders.
I may as well arrange a meeting with the other ship docked here, the
Enduring
Profit.
Verse 2: Well we've had dinner with Captain Fortunas of the Enduring
Profit
now. Enduring Profit may be what he is seeking, but he's certainly not
in
possession of it. He is either very new, very inept, or a
pirate/unauthorized
trader. Unskilled or treacherous, what a lovely choice. Upon learning
of our
destination, he jumped at the chance of convoying with us. Fairly
audacious of
him as he has nothing to offer, and everything to gain. More baffling
was the
fact that Lord Draconis accepted this offer asking for nothing in
return. Does
he think he's still in the Navy? How are we ever going to turn a profit
if he
never asks for payment? At least he's trying by setting up an outpost
with some
of the crew here. Poor sods, marooned on this dead world. If it was me,
I'd be
tempted to embrace the void sans suit rather than stay here among the
forgotten
relics listening vainly for news.
Verse 3: Ahh, battle. Our world craves it, and as one of it's denizens
I do as
well. I prefer a profitable battle, of course, but even an unprofitable
battle
allows you to see what mettle there is in those around you. I already
know
about the other officers, but it is a perfect chance to see Lord
Draconis in
action.
Lord Draconis is definitely still playing by Navy rules of engagement.
A minor
holy war breaks out with the missionaries we're supposed to be
transporting on
one side and the guns and the chainswords are singing their songs of
death.
Lord Draconis's plan was to order the less well-armed crew ahead of the
officers
with orders to minimize casualties. Perhaps he's forgotten that the
Navy is not
going to send him more men, and so expending them as canon fodder is
foolish
indeed.
Fortunately, Quenn and I are more than happy to give the explanation of
"scouting to minimize casualties" as an excuse to drive right into the
hot spot.
I would have thought Quenn climbing on top of the vehicle, rather than
in it
would have looked odd, but when the bullets are flying, things can get
overlooked. Frost also jumped into the "scout" vehicle, which surprised
me a
little. He's no coward, but he hates my driving, attributing my style
to the
fact that I'm wearing power armor, and in little danger compared to him
in his
flak armor.
We managed a hard stop at the altar, giving Quenn a chance to leap into
battle
with the leaders of this little war, and Frost to bounce around the
backseat
like a loose ball bearing. Quenn and I are not used to fighting to
subdue,
we're killers. Still, Quenn is the only man I know willing to fighting
someone
who is using an eviscerator with his bare hands. Sure, I've seen him
rip people
in half with his bare hands before, it doesn't make the display any less
satisfying.
The head abbot was nearly killed, but that doesn't count as killed. The
rest of
the holy war was quelled with Frost threatening our head missionary (Oh
what a
fun ride they'll have together for the rest of the trip) and the crew
subduing
anyone else who did not wish to stand down. It turns out that the two
sides
were fighting over whether the same saint should be remembered as a
warrior, or
a condemner. Not quite the stupidest reason I've heard for a fight, but
definitely up there.
Alberecht's
JOurnal
Dearest,
We made station-fall at Hermitage. We promptly took shore leave on an
assortment of errands; this gave us an immediate and indelible
impression of the place â€" if there had been soil beneath it, it
would have been one of those ancient abbeys on a hill from those
romances you love â€" it gave me the willies. It was in such bad
disrepair that I elected to go about in my power armor â€" great
sections left to void, others to well there were no rats â€" I
suspect they left some ages ago.
I thought I might find some clues about the transept, so I spent a bit
of time poking around there. It was pretty heavily guarded so I kept my
nosiness to a minimum; resulting in nothing found. I got the bright
idea that maybe old Lucien or former crew might have left something in
the form of an offering to the ship’s patron â€"
that’s when we discovered that no one had a clue who it was.
We’d been staring at the back-side of that colossus for what
seems like an eternity â€" yet none of our ship-fitting had
prompted us to venture to where we could see it face. I actually
resorted to looking at the back-side of a bunch of saints, trying to
identify ours from that aspect â€" you would have laughed hard
enough to split your side.
Finally Draconis himself called the chapel aboard â€" St Drucis
the Condemner (that last part is important â€" read
on…).
The following day I accompanied Draconis to the library â€"
apparently the library, nay the entire hulk of a station â€" is
dedicated to St. Drucis the Warrior. The monks went on at great length
about how they had the finest collection about St. Drucis the Warrior,
yet pointedly ignored the possibility that anything, anyone, or even
any aspect of the cannon could merit any interest at all. We should
have packed up and fled right then…
Next day, the shift is going routinely when we get a call from one of
our patrols that all H*** is breaking loose in â€" of all places
â€" the transept. We start calling around while a company of
troops is being formed to discover that the mewling missionaries
we’d boarded for Footfall had joined an all-out battle with the
local clergy â€" right there is the center of the cathedral!
The blood-and-guts types took off on a vehicle charging straight into
the midst of it (after a brief and fruitless inquiry whether we had any
ordnance aboard which wasn’t lethal), leaving just me and the
balance of the company which didn’t get on the truck to escort
Draconis straight into a literal holy war â€" on a failing space
station!
We made the best time we could, and picked up as many of the
ship’s company as we could gather on the way, but we luckily
missed out on most of the fun. That gung-ho Frost had actually attacked
and nearly killed the abbot â€" on his own station â€" and
threatened our own passenger father Brontos â€" to get them to
stand down. This was of course after the driver had also plowed the
truck into the altar itself; taking out a nice chunk in the process. We
quickly exited and retrieved most of our passengers, without further
incident! â€" there may be something to this miracle stuff
â€" and departed. (Without getting the blessing Draconis had
arranged for â€" I guess the miracle won’t be chalked up
to the side of Drucis the Warrior). It only occurs to be now that I
should have snatched a bit of the “true altar†while I
had the chance.
Faithfuly yours, forever,
Alberecht