'Captain on the bridge!' declared First Mate Cristobel, his perfectly modulated voice cutting through the energetic din of activity. Swathed in rich purple robes of smooth velvet, esoteric symbols of power and prestige picked out in golden thread, capped with a dazzling fur-trimmed collar, the origin of the chequered fur from some impossible creature on some unknown world, the captain strode purposely to the central command throne. His gloved hands were clenched tightly, ring-encrusted fingers playing across the grips of sheathed weapons.
Against his right thigh, a masterful example of art and functionally hung loosely, sheathed in a delicate webbing of silver wire. The blade was the product of alien genius, nothing a human mind could ever hope to replicate, of that there was no doubt. Three feet of shimmering steel, interwoven with a lattice of glowing crystal. A single blood-red gemstone accented its flawless surface. With a single press of the stone, the weapon's energy field would spring to life, ready to cleave the heaviest of armour with the smallest of effort.
The weapon had been a gift from a rather strange passenger, an Inquisitor of the Ordo Xenos. The Eldar sword was payment for services rendered, the Inquisitor requiring transport that was both quick and discreet. The captain had been more than happy to oblige, noting with mirth the destination as an Eldar Exodite world which he had somewhat regular contact with. When the Inquisitor had said his farewells and departed to continue the so-called 'most holy of endeavours', the captain was curious to hear of the Inquisitor's fate. According to his contacts within the more business-minded of the enigmatic eldar, the Inquisitor had long dreamed of living amongst the Eldar. A human living amongst eldar, what a strange man indeed! The captain did not dare even contemplate the excruciating punishment the Inquisitor would likely receive at the hands of his former Ordo associates if they discovered his radical behaviour. Nevertheless, the extraordinary weapon never left the captain's side. One of his most treasured possessions, the captain cherished it like a loyal companion.
Against his left thigh, stored in a sleeve of exquisite obsidian leather, a master-crafted bolt pistol could be found. A gift from the artificers of Terra, acknowledgement of a distinguished list of heroic actions while in service to the noble Adeptus Astartes of the Imperial Fists Chapter as they campaigned through the Argent Worlds, persecuting a war of cleansing against the brutish orks of Warlord Gazbuggin. Upon the bulky weapon's gold plated surface a host of holy scripture and litanies of hatred, against the alien and their infernal tools, had been meticulously inscribed. The irony was not lost on the captain.
With an audible sigh of relief, Rogue Trader Sebas Hamilton settled into his command throne. For over three hundred years, Sebas had plied the starry gulf of space, always seeking adventure and fortune in the proud naval tradition of his merchant family that spanned millennia. On occasion, Sebas wondered if he was getting too old, his bones too tired for the younger man's game of gallivanting through space. But a lifetime of service to the Holy Emperor, facing alien horror and exploring the darkest regions of known space, could not extinguish the flame of desire that roared in his heart. His thirst for new experience could never be sated. Sebas knew his destiny was to die in this very seat, to burn a path of glory through the stars. When his time came, it would be in the heat of battle, surrounded by his most loyal of crew. The lure of a docile world and a well-deserved retirement was not for him, and he knew his crew would not want it any other way.
An air of muted excitement permeated the bridge, now was another of those occasions of doubt. Was it worth the risk, the peril, the undeniably jeopardy? Yes, Sebas knew the answer was yes. While his determination was always being tested, with his faith in the Emperor encasing his soul, he would always pull through not only for himself, but for his ship and her crew, and it did not hurt if a tidy profit could be made along the way. With a curt nod to First Mate Hans Cristobel, Sebas Hamilton took command of the Unstoppable Pride once again.
