Fiction interlude, orientation

This part wasn't written by me, this is all Karl.

The following was taken from a pre-recorded holo-vid disseminated among newly enlisted ratings aboard the Parte Visiblis, a Chalice-rated battlecruiser currently in service to Lord-Captain Issaak van Bale.


***begin audio-video transcription***


FADE IN:


INT. VOIDSHIP - CENTRAL COGITATION VAULT


Omnissianic Congregator ARCOMUNDIS, commissioned by the Latheic Archmagi to serve House Bale, age 105, cybernetic transhuman, stands awkwardly in front of camera. 


ARCOMUNDIS

Yes, hello, and welcome. I am Magos Errant Arcomundis, currently serving aboard the battlecruiser known to men as Parte Visiblis. Join me, won’t you, as we explore this noble embodiment of the Machine God’s Will, for soon it will be your home among the stars. And what a home it is.


ARCOMUNDIS walks towards camera, tracking shot.


ARCOMUNDIS (CONT’D)

I am what is known as a Congregator. My primary function aboard this vessel is to guide the many technoarcane rituals that appease its mighty machine spirit and confer the blessings of the Omnissiah upon our endeavor. If you have no understanding of these concepts, do not be alarmed. You don’t need to know. Just remember that the tireless, esoteric devotions of the Cult Mechanicus are keeping you safe from a gruesome death, and that you must not, under any circumstances, obstruct these efforts. You don’t want to end up like former Munitions Clerk Second Class Lucky Costas. Right, Lucky?


Pan to reveal Calligraphus Servitor 1117-Gamma-B12, formerly LUCKY COSTAS, transcribing ARCOMUNDIS’ dialogue without comment.


ARCOMUNDIS (CONT’D)

Yes, indeed.


CUT TO:


ARCOMUNDIS standing in passageway next to Chief Bosun IP WOT, age 48, grizzled veteran, eye patch.


ARCOMUNDIS

Oh, look, it’s my friend, Ip Wot, lifelong voidfarer and head drillmaster for the general crew. How are you today, Ip?


IP WOT

(shockingly loud)

Blessed to be in the Emperor’s service, that’s how I am! Now look alive, maggots. This ain’t no pleasure cruise. You’re here to work, and by Emperor, you will work!


ARCOMUNDIS

A salient point, Ip. The Parte Visiblis is a 29 megatonne warmachine stretching over 5 kilometers in length. Among its many divine instruments, the ship houses four Stygies-pattern macrobatteries on its port and starboard sides, a Titanforge lance battery mounted on the dorsal ridge, and, most holy and terrifying, a Martian Nova Cannon affixed to the prow, the barrel of which projects half a kilometer beyond the hull. Maintaining this formidable arsenal requires tens of thousands of hands, to say nothing of the vital systems and other tertiary components that allow this wondrous vessel to ply the stars in search of knowledge, profit, and honor.


IP WOT

(louder yet)

Profit and honor? Not for these recidivist scum! You wretches don’t even deserve to live, let alone serve the House of Bale. Only in death can you earn the Emperor’s grace!




ARCOMUNDIS

(aside to Ip Wot)

Wrong vid. We’re doing this one for the enlisted voidsmen. They’re volunteers. Slave labor orientation was yesterday.


IP WOT

Are you kidding me? Why wasn’t I told?


ARCOMUNDIS

There have been twenty production meetings about this.


IP WOT

Not with me there haven’t! You couldn’t send out a servo-skull or something? You officious cu


CUT TO:


ARCOMUNDIS walking slowly down corridor, tracking shot, indistinct shouting and sounds of machinery in background.


ARCOMUNDIS

While most hard labor aboard the Parte Visiblis is performed by monitored gangs of penal indentures, planetary levies, mutants, servitors, and other expendable labor units, there are yet hundreds of skilled and semi-skilled tasks that require greater degrees of autonomy. That’s where you, the ratings, come in. Conduit maintenance, bulwark repairs, cog polishing, registration and cataloging of munitions, auspex monitoring, vox announcements, cable routing, fuse changing, cooking, flogging, and deck patrol, to name just a fraction of the myriad tasks that keep our enterprise in motion. But no matter the task to which you are ultimately assigned, remember that each of you has been given an opportunity to serve aboard a Rogue Trader vessel. You are more than just ratings. You are emissaries of the Imperium and conquerors of the Wild Void. Where this vessel goes, it brings with it the light of Civilization.


CUT TO:


ARCOMUNDIS standing in well-appointed quarters next to Purser FRIEDRICH ZOLACTZ, age 67, well-groomed.


ARCOMUNDIS

Now here’s someone who really knows the value of a hard day’s work. My good friend, Friedrich Zolactz.


FRIEDRICH ZOLACTZ

(stilted)

Good to be here, Magi Arcomundis.


ARCOMUNDIS

Magos.


FRIEDRICH ZOLACTZ

Beg pardon?


ARCOMUNDIS

Magi is the plural form. I am one Magos.


FRIEDRICH ZOLACTZ

Emperor’s Beard. Let’s take it from the top I guess.


ARCOMUNDIS

Still recording.


FRIEDRICH ZOLACTZ

(even more stilted)

Good to be with you, Archmagos Mundi. Damn! I flubbed it again.


ARCOMUNDIS

Why don’t you just explain your role to the enlisted voidsmen.


FRIEDRICH ZOLACTZ

I’m the senior chartered accountant aboard the Parte Visiblis. Have been for almost twenty years now. Uh, that’s about it. Not sure why a bunch of dirtfolk need to know the particulars of the Lord-Captain’s finances. Seems inappropriate.


ARCOMUNDIS

Are you certain there are no other duties in your wheelhouse, my friend? Some small matter which might be of interest to the average rating?


FRIEDRICH ZOLACTZ

Oh! Yes, as the ship’s Purser, I am also in charge of allocating pay and rewards to the general crew twice every Solar month.


ARCOMUNDIS

Goodness, that’s a lot of paydays. So you can expect to see a lot of Friedrich in the years ahead.


FRIEDRICH ZOLACTZ

Well, you’ll see my subordinates. I’m in charge of balancing the books, not handing throne gelt to every voidsman and petty officer on the ship. What a spectacular waste of my time that would be.


ARCOMUNDIS

(mechadendrites coiling with agitation)

The point is, when you’re away on shore leave, spending your salary on...whatever it is an able-bodied layman spends his salary on...you’ll know whom to thank.


FRIEDRICH ZOLACTZ

Now that is a gross misstatement of my duties. I’m a chartered accountant, not a labor negotiator. Pay is set by the High Factotum. I just apportion it out.


ARCOMUNDIS

(losing temper)

Well I don’t know how the uninitiated economy works! The Adeptus Mechanicus utilizes a massive transaction database to assign standardized units of value to every good and service. We don’t rub two pieces of gold together and pretend a rock is worth as much as a lasgun or a control module or a pile of sustenance crackers. A wink is as good as a nod to a blind horse, to borrow an ancient Terran saying.


FRIEDRICH ZOLACTZ

What in the Emperor’s name are you on about?


CUT TO:


ARCOMUNDIS sitting in busy mess hall. VOIDSMEN sit next to him, eating unidentified meat comestibles, eyeing the tech-priest suspiciously.


ARCOMUNDIS

(to VOIDSMEN)

As a devout servant of the Deus Mechanicus, I abhor the Weaknesses of Flesh. A continuous stream of calorie-rich triglyceride gel provides my body with every nutrient it still requires.


Turns to camera.


ARCOMUNDIS (CONT’D)

But for laymen crewmembers who are not fortunate enough to bask in the Omnissiah’s blessings, the mess hall serves as both a dispensary of adequate nutrition and a common area for social interaction.


VOIDSMEN relocate to another table.


CUT TO:


ARCOMUNDIS standing in large galley next to Ship’s Steward, ORNETTA REX, ab-human of the ‘ratling’ strain, age 35, large gold earing, affable smirk.


ARCOMUNDIS

What’s cooking, Ornetta? Something delicious I assume.


ORNETTA REX

Uh, groxroast, probably? You should ask the galley master.


ARCOMUNDIS

Oh. I thought you were the galley master.


ORNETTA REX

What? Is that a fucking joke? I’m the ship’s steward you incompetent halfwit. For those of you watching this holo-vid, just know that I manage every scrap of food and water on this blasted jalopy. I’m your best-fucking-friend.


ARCOMUNDIS

My apologies, Ornetta, I just assumed


ORNETTA REX

What, you assumed I was the cook? Because I’m a woman? Or because of my mutation? You know, that’s just so typical of you baseline humans.


 ARCOMUNDIS

I am no longer a baseline human, and there’s no need to talk to me like that. As a devotee of the Omnissiah, I too experience prejudice in the form of


ORNETTA REX

Shove it up your rectal vent, or whatever it is you guys have down there. You might not eat or drink like the rest of us, but you still need air, and I’m in charge of that too. You’d better think about that next time you


CUT TO:


ARCOMUNDIS with Ship’s Confessor, PATIENCE KESWICK, age 33, white robes and hat, smoking censer in hand, standing before a massive, alabaster statue of the Emperor with a temple built into its base.


ARCOMUNDIS

This is one of our many places of worship, where prayers and the like may be offered to the God Emperor of Terra. Voidsmen have their choice of temple, depending upon their preferred cult, which takes up a lot of valuable space.


PATIENCE KESWICK

The Emperor protects, Brother Arcomundis. Truly, these temples form the most vital component of the entire ship. Faith.


ARCOMUNDIS

Yes. The most vital component that isn’t a plasma engine, Warp drive, life support cogitator, or any other piece of divine technology. Obviously. We can agree upon that.


PATIENCE KESWICK

That is not what I said.


ARCOMUNDIS

And this is Patience, the Ship’s Confessor. Anyone with a working knowledge of the Imperial Creed knows exactly what she does, so let’s move on.


PATIENCE KESWICK

Now wait just a min


CUT TO:


ARCOMUNDIS standing in crowded hab-block, which closely resembles a lower-hive neighborhood.


ARCOMUNDIS

Ironically, space is a luxury on any voidship. The labor required to maintain these holy artifacts far exceeds their original schematics, which call for a variety of mystical automata now lost to human comprehension. But with decreased automation, new opportunities are created, allowing more Imperial citizens to experience the joys that come from service aboard an interstellar vessel. And as enlisted voidsmen for a rogue trader, you will be granted dispensations undreamt of by ordinary ensigns of the Imperial Navy.


CUT TO:


ARCOMUNDIS standing in maternity ward, surrounded by medicae and pods full of restless infants.


ARCOMUNDIS

Yes, here on the Parte Visiblis, the general crew is free to pursue their heart’s desire. You can start a family. Raise the next generation of voidfarers. With good genetics and proper mate-selection, you might even give rise to a mighty dynasty. Unless of course you decide to pursue the Mysteries of the Omnissiah, in which case, sexual desire will be another Weakness of Flesh that you must disdain. You’ll never see the love of your life again, but at least you’ll further your Comprehension of the Universe, and that’s got to count for something.


ARCOMUNDIS stares forlornly at nearest infant, gently strokes the pod with metallic claw.


CUT TO:


ARCOMUNDIS standing with IP WOT, ORNETTA REX, FRIEDRICH ZOLACTZ, PATIENCE KESWICK, Calligraphus Servitor 1117-Gamma-B12, all clustered around a tall, gilded portrait of Lord-Captain Issaak van Bale.


ARCOMUNDIS

This concludes Part One of your holo-vid orientation. Thank you for joining us. We look forward to voyaging with you. And might we add


Klaxons blare. Audio-feed cuts out as artificial gravity is lost. ARCOMUNDIS tethers himself to floor with mechadendrites as the other crewmembers float away, visibly irate.


***end of audio-video transcription***