Chapter Text
Abelard would like it known that he did not approve of the decision to make landfall on this Emperor-forsaken world.
Every day they wasted indulging the Lord Captain's ill-advised curiosity was another day the worlds of the von Valancius protectorate would have to wait for their master to return and restore order. So when she ordered the augur arrays to set their sights upon the nameless jungle planet in the middle of Emperor-knows-where, he offered a silent prayer to the Golden Throne that she would find nothing of interest.
He really should've known better.
Abelard's words of caution fell upon wilfully deaf ears as Persephone von Valancius gathered her retinue and hustled them to a waiting shuttle. He allowed himself to hope that they may at least find something useful on this forgotten chunk of rock. At least then he would be able to convince himself that their time had not been completely wasted.
They touched down in what looked like the remains of an Imperial outpost, long abandoned to the whims of the jungle. The first thing that hit him was the unpleasant scent of mud and rust; the second was the intolerable humidity. His spotlessly clean uniform was soaked with sweat mere minutes after disembarking. Cassia grimaced and fanned herself with a clawed hand. Idira trailed behind the group, looking downright annoyed to be dragged out onto such an uncomfortable planet. Only Pasqal and Heinrix seemed unfazed - Pasqal likely had some kind of temperature regulation device welded into his body somewhere, and Abelard had yet to see Heinrix's carefully schooled features betray any feeling he hadn't deliberately chosen to express. Abelard did not consider himself an overly emotional sort, but the nickname 'Iceman' had stuck to Heinrix for reasons not solely related to the unpleasant warp-chill that so frequently radiated from him.
Persephone's enthusiasm remained entirely unaffected by the oppressive heat. She sprang into action like a well-trained sniffer canid, flitting between the dilapidated prefabs in search of... what, indeed, was she looking for? When he asked her as such, she flashed him a smile as bright as Rykad Minoris's lost sun.
"Anything!" she told him. "Anything and everything. The galaxy is full of curiosities, Abelard." Her gaze alighted upon a grimy cogitator half-coated with lichen. "Pasqal, if you'd be so kind?"
A few inputs from the Tech-Priest and a container he'd assumed to be rusted shut slid open, revealing an extensive stash of battery coils.
She spun to face him with her hands planted firmly on her hips. "Would you look at that? Just what Opticon-22 requested."
She'd had no way of knowing what they'd find languishing down here, but she wore her victory like she'd planned every detail. He was suddenly reminded of Theodora, of her reckless gambits, her unfailing confidence and the Emperor-given luck she seemed to draw from a font that never ran dry.
Until it did.
Abelard dragged himself from his self-indulgent melancholy and glanced around the landing site, searching for his new Lord Captain. He had failed in his duty to keep Theodora safe; he would not do the same for her successor. His heart skipped a beat as he found her by the cliffside, leaning entirely too far over the rocky abyss.
By the Throne, she was like a toddler. He took his eyes off her for a minute and she was off finding creative new ways to get herself killed.
Heinrix beat him to her, kneeling in the mud by her side without a thought for his pristine uniform. The Interrogator would catch her if she fell, surely, yet somehow his presence worried Abelard more than the sheer drop below them.
Something was wrong. The cliff did not descend into a crater or ravine as he had expected, but a void so dark it seemed to suck in all light around it. It was an unnatural blackness, devoid of form and feature, yet somehow it swirled...
He didn't like this one bit. Before he could politely yet firmly request that they get back on the shuttle and leave this place for good, the Lord Captain began to lean forwards as though pulled by some unseen force, extending a hand into the darkness.
She reeled away the edge as if stung, scrambling backwards in the mud. Abelard's relief turned to concern as she collapsed onto the ground, her chest heaving. He was at her side in an instant.
"Lord Captain-"
"Persephone!"
He glared at Heinrix, intending to rebuke him for his overfamiliarity, but a choked sob turned his attention back to the Rogue Trader. She was crying. Tears leaked from beneath her closed eyelids, tracking down her cheeks in anguished rivulets.
"I'm okay," she gasped, shooing his hands away and pushing herself up on shaking arms. "I'm not hurt. I just... I saw..."
"What did you see?”
Abelard shot him another stern glare, and was soundly ignored. Van Calox was an Interrogator to his very core.
"I..." She shook her head and took a deep, steadying breath. The imperious tone was back in her voice as she said, "Abelard, see that the battery coils are packed onto the shuttle. It's time we depart from this place."
"Are you-" It was her turn to glare, and this time he was the target. He inclined his head. "It will be done, Lord Captain."
He stood and turned to Cassia and Idira, who were hovering nearby with obvious concern. "Get the batteries," he barked. "We're leaving."
They leapt into action. The two slight women were not much help in stacking the heavy coils onto the shuttle, but the tech-priest proved surprisingly strong for his unremarkable frame. Abelard wondered how much of that was training and how much was simply augmetics. Mostly the latter, he suspected. Between the four of them they had their cargo packed and the shuttle ready to depart in a matter of minutes.
As the rest of her retinue strapped themselves in for the inevitably bumpy ride out of the atmosphere, Abelard turned back to the cliffside to inform the lady herself that her orders had been carried out. The heavy lifting had done nothing to ease his discomfort in this sweltering climate, and as far as he was concerned any minute further they spent here was a minute too long.
He trudged back to the cliffside and took a breath, preparing to call out to her- and stopped.
She was curled up in van Calox's arms, her head buried against his chest. As Abelard watched, the Interrogator stroked a gentle hand through her hair and tipped her face up to his, wiping fresh moisture from her cheeks with his thumb. He said something to her, too soft for Abelard to hear, but it made her huff a teary laugh and fall back into his embrace.
Well.
This was unexpected. And potentially very problematic.
Abelard cleared his throat. Persephone jumped, and he wondered if she'd somehow forgotten the rest of her retinue was there. He certainly hoped not. "We're ready to depart," he announced, fixing Heinrix with his best disapproving stare. The Interrogator at least had the good grace to look flustered - an expression Abelard had never seen him wear before.
It seemed this heat was enough to melt even their Iceman.
They rode the shuttle back to the Eye of Providence in awkward silence. The Lord Captain and the Interrogator sat in opposite corners, steadfastly avoiding each other's eyes as though they stood any chance of convincing him that nothing out of the ordinary was happening between them. Cassia glanced between Abelard, Heinrix, Persephone and back again, squeaked something about rushing crimson and turned her attention to studying the fabric of her skirts.
Once they were safely back on the ship, Persephone retreated into her office. He considered requesting a private meeting with her - she was the Rogue Trader and her word was law, but Abelard couldn't help the paternal instinct he felt towards her. Her intelligence was undeniable, as was her competence, but she was inexperienced in her role and bordered on the naïve a little too often for his liking. She reminded him of his granddaughters.
His hand lingered at his vox bead. It was his duty to advise her, and on occasion she had even been known to listen.
On second thought, perhaps not. He could already picture exactly how the meeting would go: Persephone would deny anything beyond a casual acquaintance with the Interrogator and make fun of him for even suggesting the idea. Then she would continue to do exactly as she pleased.
Still, he would have to keep an eye on the situation. Van Calox was, put bluntly, a spy, and his loyalty to the Lord Captain would last only as long as Calcazar willed it. Perhaps she would come to her senses and distance herself from him before the inevitable came to pass.
His duty as Seneschal was to protect his Rogue Trader, and this time he would not fail.