Chapter Text
“Who wants a tasty snack? Is it you, girl? Is it you?”
Vox Master Vigdis Surri Otta Toliman always appreciated an opportunity to observe the Lord Captain’s communication style. Como von Valancius did not commonly resort to bribery and baby talk. The combination worked spectacularly when wrangling the Expanse’s most spoiled lacerax.
Lord Captain Como’s chief weapon in their charm offensive was a large plasteel bucket full of fish, a recent acquisition from their latest trip to Janus. They bought pet food in bulk, freezing it in batches and saving the precious treats for days when Ravora needed a little extra incentive.
The Rogue Trader brandished a large half-thawed scomber by the tail. Vigdis did her best not to make eye contact with its mortified-looking fish face. She focused instead on the Lord Captain’s personal mechadendrite - its silvery metal coils were currently wrapped around the Rogue Trader’s neck. Bessie must be in sleep mode.
“Do you see the fishy, Ravora?”
The lacerax adopted an excited play stance, wiggling her head-tentacles excitedly and letting her long tongue hang out of her mouth. Ravora was very, very interested in the fishy.
“Asclepius, I hope you’re watching closely. Okay Ravora! Give me five plus seven.”
The lacerax settled her weight onto her back pairs of legs, extended her right front paw and began to excitedly tap her claws against the deck. A shredded patch on the bridge’s carpet, obliterated by excitable gouging swipes, indicated where Ravora had been practising her latest trick. Eight, nine, ten, eleven… twelve taps, then the beast withdrew her paw and promptly opened her jaws for her reward. Lord Captain Como tossed the fish over and Ravora gulped it down in one bite.
The first time Vox Master Vigdis had seen the lacerax feeding, she’d almost fainted - and then promptly cursed Jae Heydari for offering the Rogue Trader such a dangerous gift. Time and careful acquaintance had since taught her much about Ravora’s body language. The lacerax slept for hours at a stretch, and tended to hibernate during Warp journeys. It was wise to not run past her appointed ‘territory’ next to Lord Captain Como’s throne, and she was very protective of her Chosen Human (who happened to also be the Emperor’s Chosen).
As long as one took a few sensible precautions, Ravora was surprisingly easy to work around. The Chief Enginseer had persuaded her not to eat the servitors by supplying her with a massive custom-made rubber chew toy, which could be stuffed with nutripaste for added enrichment. She enjoyed being scratched behind her tentacle-mane with a well placed mechadendrite or autoquill stylus. Ravora and Vigdis had come to a mutual understanding. If anything, the beast was less cranky than her namesake. The Vox Master rather missed Timun Ravor’s mid-Vigil rants and dry sense of humour, but she’d always had to be mindful of his headaches.
“The Lord Captain’s hypothesis is improbable. This unit requests further demonstrations to establish whether results of behavioural experimentation are replicable.”
Magos Errant Asclepius crossed their augmetic arms, then entwined their dorsal-mounted mechadendrites over their shoulders. In this way, the Tech-Priest could broadcast their displeasure from both angles.
“Open yourself to the untapped possibilities of animal intelligence, unit Asclepius!” The Lord Captain made a kissy face at Ravora. “Look at her, isn’t she a clever girl? Aren’t you, sweetheart?”
Asclepius’s human eye gazed up towards the bridge’s vaulted ceiling, and possibly beyond it into the Void itself. The Tech-Priest steeled themself for the martyrdom of hearing yet more baby talk.
“Which mathematical applications have you tested, unit Como?”
“Just addition and subtraction so far. Ooh, do you think she could handle multiplication if I demonstrated it for her? That’d take a lot of fish though… I’ve been using them as counters as well as rewards, since they’re about the only thing she’ll concentrate on.”
“This unit proposes the addition of a variable to the exercise. Let us repeat the unit Ravora’s test while obscuring her direct line of sight.”
The Rogue Trader tried walking around the Lord Captain’s ceremonial throne until the lacerax could no longer see them. This worked poorly. Ravora immediately started to trot after them, thinking she was being taken for a promenade. A couple of junior officers squawked and backed out of the way. Vigdis had instructed them in the subtle art of lacerax evasion: she was pleased to see that none of the deck officers broke into a run. That would have resulted in a percussive love-tackle and possibly, some First Aid. The Vox Master instinctively oriented her onboard auspex towards Master Surgeon Lettard Forius’s customary lurking-spot. He seemed content to watch the situation play out.
“Shit, this isn’t going to work. Magos-Errant, do you mind standing right there and fanning the skirt of your robes out a little?”
Vigdis sighed into her vox-array, and it let out a faint hiss of static. Lord Captain Como was about to do something undignified again, she felt sure of it. Sure enough, as soon as Asclepius had arranged themselves in position, the Rogue Trader ducked behind their legs with all the seriousness of a hip-shooter taking cover during a firefight. Once they confirmed that they were well concealed behind a curtain of Martian Red synth-drill, the Lord Captain called out another set of instructions to the lacerax.
“Okay Ravora! Give me thirteen minus four.”
The beast stood expectantly with her front paw hovering over the carpet. Ravora tilted her tentacled head to one side, sniffing the air. She let out a low rumble, the kind she made when she had been waiting a little too long for a treat.
“Thirteen minus four. Come on, girl! You can do it?”
The lacerax scuffed the disheveled carpet a couple of times with one half-hearted claw. Vigdis felt a pang of sympathy for the beast. She really was trying her best. Ravora let out a throaty noise of confusion: her naturally low-pitched voice meant that her complaint sounded like something between a gurgle and a bleat. Lord Captain Como relented, emerged from behind the Magos Errant and gave Ravora a fish as an apology.
“I still think she’s smart. Maybe it was a stretch to assume Ravora’s intelligence extended to understanding mathematics… Emperor knows how she was figuring out the calculations earlier.”
Vigdis raised the wrist-mounted stylus that currently stood in for her left hand.
“Vox Master Toliman. Any ideas?”
The Chief Enginseer had also turned to regard Vox Master with polite interest. Ravora was far too busy savouring her scomber to pay attention to the humans analysing her.
“Janusian Laceraxes are social animals. They form small, close-knit packs…” Vigdis tapped her stylus against the side of her leg, feeling the reassuring contact of metal against leather-clad metal. “Given the bond that Ravora has formed with you, Lord Captain, perhaps she is less interested in mathematics and more interested in whether you are happy.”
“This unit appreciates the opinions of a communications specialist.” Asclepius unwound their mechadendrites and let them float outward in a sinuous dance. “Your hypothesis has merit.”
“Hey, social intelligence is still intelligence!” Lord Captain Como was worrying at the left side of their neck again, a sign of mild distemper. “What was she doing? Telepathy?”
“This statement is false.” The Chief Enginseer’s vox-modulated tones were even more mechanical than usual. “Laceraxes are not psykers, unit Como. We have been over this.”
Vigdis interjected before they could get into another bickering match.
“It’s more likely that she was watching your body language, Lord Captain. I have noticed that Ravora’s head-tentacles always turn towards you when she is counting. Perhaps she can sense when she is getting close to the correct number of taps simply by picking up on your movements.”
“Ah, shit.” Lord Captain Como pulled a face: Ravora immediately purred and began to groom her front paw. “Iceman’s right, I do need to work on hiding my tells. Well, you’re still a good girl and a very intelligent girl, Ravora!”
The Rogue Trader put extra emphasis on the word ‘intelligent’ and shot Asclepius a mischievous look. The Magos Errant responded with a discordant binharic noise that, to Vigdis’s senses, somewhat resembled a mechanical fart. She decided it was probably best not to translate its meaning into Low Gothic. For a member of an esteemed gestalt consciousness, Asclepius Amarnat could be surprisingly immature.
Lord Captain Como offered the rest of the fish to their enormous pet. Ravora’s head-tentacles gripped the outside of the bucket while she thrust her whole muzzle inside. The visceral sounds of chewing and happy growling mingled with the low noise of the bridge elevator’s sacred mechanisms. Vigdis’s onboard comms relays received a discreet ping. The Rogue Trader’s errant swain had finally decided to show up.
Bessie the mechadendrite reactivated out of sleep mode, perking up from Lord Captain Como’s shoulder and twitching its manipulator array. The Rogue Trader’s reaction to Lord Inquisitor van Calox’s arrival was far more understated. Vigdis noticed that they made no effort to dissuade Ravora from her noisy repast: perhaps they had decided to trade one minor discourtesy for another.
Instead, it was the beast who looked up. The plasteel bucket fell to the carpeted deck with a juddering thud. A lone fish-head skittered onto the floor in front of the Lord Captain’s throne. Its rheumy wet eye stared up at Vigdis. The Vox Master’s buccal implants and face mask did little to suppress her nausea. The fish wasn’t to blame.
Vigdis Surri Otta Toliman did not have augmetic eyes. She could not see the outline of Lord Captain Como’s anti-psychic miasma. Experience had taught her to listen to the Gaussian crackle of her auspices and the revulsion of her instincts, and maintain her distance accordingly. The indistinct chill washed against her like the impact of a gigantic wingbeat. Ravora shook her tentacled mane and bared her teeth in a low roar. Asclepius’s mechadendrites reared up above the Chief Enginseer’s shoulders. They had both sensed the Rogue Trader’s displeasure.
Como, the Shadow of Rosetta. Como the xenos-tamer. Como the Daemonifuge. The little Rogue Trader wore no fancy white uniform or badge of office. Their bloodline was proof of their mandate, and their will could call the very Immaterium to heel.
Every deck officer and crew member instinctively looked to their Lord Captain, then at the Lord Inquisitor. Heinrix van Calox had arrived with no entourage or guards, nor did he need them while he was aboard the Venatrix. Doors would open for him, people would offer him polite reverence either out of respect or out of fear. He met Lord Captain Como’s flash of temper with iron-willed equanimity.
The friction lasted for only a moment. Seneschal Sauerback took it upon herself to call the bridge crew to order and herald the Lord Inquisitor’s arrival. The collective snapping of heels and thumping of fists against chests rippled along the bridge. Vigdis listened for the whine of servomotors and the clank of metal on metal as every nearby servitor saluted in unison. Moments like these made her feel proud of the Venatrix and its brave crew.
Como von Valancius spread both their arms wide, advanced a few strides and in that action, they dispelled the miasma that had just swept the space behind them. Vox Master Vigdis felt a familiar surge of warm vitality in the organic parts of her limbs. A psychic Blank’s entropy always left a shimmer of relief as it dissipated. Asclepius seemed unbothered by the Lord Captain’s outburst, but that always seemed to be the way with Cogs. Ravora remained in a protective stance with her head-tentacles turned towards Lord van Calox. Smart girl.
The rest of the performance was predictable: the courteous embrace, the good-humoured exchange of pleasantries, even the light-hearted laughter that would have seemed so uncharacteristic for van Calox a decade ago. It was all rote by this point. Como’s hand was the only variable in the routine: the Rogue Trader held out their fishy palm instead of resting it in the crook of Heinrix’s arm, then got on tiptoe to whisper something in the man’s ear. As usual, he showed no sign of minding the proximity.
Lord van Calox placed the flat of his hand against the small of the Lord Captain’s back, and the pair began a leisurely promenade towards the small side elevator that descended to the Rogue Trader’s private quarters. The bridge crew relaxed just long enough for First Officer Sauerback to issue more orders, then went scuttling back to their respective posts. All was orderly and normal on board the von Valancius flagship.
As Master of the Vox, it was Vigdis Toliman’s duty to ensure that the crew always saw their commander in precisely the manner that Lord Captain Como sought to project. She made eye contact with Ascleius’s augmetic lens. The Magos Errant responded with a quick binharic chirp. The Rogue Trader’s quarters were to be sealed for the duration of the meeting: not even Lieutenant Commander Vent would have access.
Let the Protectors of the Expanse have some privacy for once.