[i][sub]featuring the magnificent [@Bright_Ops][/sub][/i]

“Apologies accepted,” Apollyon said, following Rupert around the room with his eyes. They glowed faintly in the half-gloom of the firelight. His smile widened. “Though you don’t answer to me, I believe, so there’s no need to apologize. Come, sit,” he said and gestured for a chair on the other side of the table. The aristocrat sat up straight and placed his elbows on the table. Rupert looked gruff and common, but there was a touch of pride to him. It looked well-earned, a hard worker’s pride, not the soulless vanity of upperhivelings. 

“You help the new crew adjust? How interesting,” he continued and rubbed his clean-shaven chin. “I know very little about the workings of such great ships, I’m afraid. Perhaps you can tell me more? My name is Apollyon Kaicero. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He inclined his head gracefully.

Rupert… didn’t seem so sure of himself as to take a seat, despite the bowl of stew in his hands. However, after a moment he found himself accepting the invitation as he respectfully answered “Rupert O’Donald. It’s not so much helping the new crew adjust as it is… well, keeping everything in order. The nation crews are prone to fighting over those new personnel who are considered the creme of the crop… and since the new guys don’t know what the rules or boundaries are there are going to be a number of minor incidents for a long time.”

Getting settled into his seat but before he started on his  meal, he politely asked “I’m guessing you’re one of the new hires that the captain is bringing on. If you don’t mind me asking, what duties are you being tasked with?”

“Nation crews,” Apollyon repeated back to him, tasting the words in his own tongue. It only made sense, given that the ships were crewed by tens of thousands of people, but it had never occurred to him that they would form something akin to nations to organize themselves. He’d simply never given it any thought. “That’s fascinating. You must be an important man.” 

Apollyon leaned back and draped an arm over the back of the empty chair next to him. In doing so, his coat fell open and the laspistol and its power cells that were holstered there became visible. “Security,” he said, his voice a slow drawl, as if the answer bored him. “I suppose our lord and master considers me a cut above the common rabble, considering he invited me here.” Apollyon gestured at Rupert with his glass of amasec, gently sloshing the amber-colored liquid. “Just like yourself, Rupert.” His smile tightened into a smirk and he tapped his index finger against the rim of the glass; it chimed like a bell. “To us, important men.”

While the compliment about him being an important man was taken with a humble smile, when Apollyon mentioned his profession Rupert almost choked on a chunk of meat. Thumping his chest a little to clear his pipes, he took a second to calm himself down before he answered what had shaken him. “That… is going to be somewhat problematic.”

“You see… long ago in the ship’s history, the last head of security launched a coup that rocked the ship down to its foundations. While he failed, the nature of the fighting that took place between security and the rest of the crew causes the crew to view the position in a… very negative light, even to this day. Honestly, it was after the mess that the first of the nations was formed and the Janitor Union took over most of the duties that were normally tasked to the now gone security... “ Pausing for a second in thought, an idea quickly came to him. 

“Tell you what. I’ve already got most of the internal stuff of the ship taken care of as far as security goes… but I can be the first to admit that my ability to keep our captain safe outside of it is… somewhat lacking? I’m happy to give you status reports on anything that you need to tell the Captain about if you’re content to let the Janitors take care of internal matters.”

Apollyon listened with rapt interest and had to resist the urge to laugh at the end of Rupert’s tale -- there had obviously been a misunderstanding in communication. “My dear Master O’Donald, my apologies. I never meant to imply that I would be in a position of authority over the crew of the ship. I was trying to be… polite about my profession, but I see that I should speak plainly.” 

He put the glass of amasec down and made sure that his face was free of any visible tracers of humor. “I’m a killer. It is indeed the captain’s security, and his alone, that concerns me. If it is the… Janitors, you say? The Janitors’ job to maintain security aboard the ship, then by all means, as you were. My job is to keep the captain alive and to… well,” he explained with a shrug and a languid grin, “kill who or what he commands me to kill. I hope that clears up our little misunderstanding.” 

It was rather clear that Apollyon’s answer had a calming effect on Rupert, since he leaned back into his chair as a relaxed breath escaped him. “Oh good. I’m glad we got that sorted out here and now before any misunderstandings happened. I’m already going to have enough trouble with that when it comes to the bloody tech priests.”

That drew a raised eyebrow and a chuckle from Apollyon. “The Mechanicus, eh? My father would complain about them at length as well. What are they doing now? Insisting on blessing the whole ship before anyone is allowed to step aboard?”

A sigh escaped Rupert as he shook his head. “It’s another one of the duties that the Janitors took over. Maintenance and the like. Didn’t have a whole lot of tech priests left after the failed coup and by the time the ship got more it had become one of our standard duties. Historically, almost every time we get new Mechanicus staff, it becomes a struggle over sovereignty… people have died in the past because of something that should have been repaired and sorted out sooner was left to get worse because the bloody cog boys refused to let anyone else who knows what to do actually do the job.”

The topic was clearly a sore one for him, but he recovered enough to ask “So how do you and the captain know each other? I doubt he would trust his personal safety to some random mook.” before he went back to sampling the stew. 

Rupert wasn’t looking at him when Apollyon stiffened at the suggestion that he was some [i]‘random mook’[/i] if he didn’t know the captain personally. “I don’t know him,” he responded levelly and tilted his head as he watched the High Janitor eat, like a raptor observing a mouse wandering through the grass far below. He took a deep breath and smiled again. “My reputation must precede me. Truthfully, I don’t know exactly what purpose the captain has for my skills. I can only guess that it must be something more intimate than making the rounds on the ship,” Apollyon said and rapped his fingers on the tabletop. His brow twitched. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be [i]here[/i]. Don’t you think?” 

Looking up at the slight change in tone from his companion, Rupert took a moment to look over his former conversation and quickly review it for any blunders he may have made… and found it fairly question. “Forgive me, I didn't mean to offend. From what my predecessor told me about the former captain, his personal bodyguard was from a vassal family who had a long and proud history of serving the Livingstone family. I had assumed that if the current captain invited you personally it was a similar arrangement and I’ve made an ass of myself because of it.”

“Still, at least I can trust that you’ve been hired for your merit and skill rather than just because of who you are related to.” The fact of which seemed to increase the standing of Apollyon in the Head Janitors own eyes a bit. “For what it’s worth, I’m sure you’ll serve the Livingstone family well… if for no other reason then a deadstone pays no wages.” A dark, morbid joke, but an attempt at humor nonetheless.  

It took a second for Apollyon to realize that Rupert had made a joke and he was pleasantly surprised -- the man had seemed like too much of a stoic, honorable sort until then. He laughed and raised the glass in appreciation. “Quite so, my friend, quite so,” Apollyon said and sniggered. “It is indeed in my best interests to ensure the captain’s safety, though I have to admit that it’s not the wages that concern me terribly,” he continued and finished the last of the amasec. He put the glass down and leaned forwards again, interlacing his fingers beneath his chin. 

“You see, I find this prospect of traveling by a Rogue Trader’s side to the far-flung corners of the galaxy greatly exciting. I suspect that you and I come from very different [i]social climates,[/i] as it were,” the aristocrat said, and for the first time during their conversation, an authentic sense of passion crept into his voice. “Well, I am bored of mine. Adventure, glory and danger, my dear Rupert, that is what I am after. Something to make me feel…” 

The words hung in the air for a second as Apollyon inhaled sharply through his nose. [i]“Alive.”[/i]

Rupert shrugged a little at the rather passionate speech the man was giving. “I don’t know so much about glory or adventure… to me, this is just a way of life. Between you and me…” He actually learned for a little and lowered his voice, as if sharing a major secret “...This is the first time I’ve ever left the Pride in my whole life. It is… honestly going to be a little humbling when we go to board the ship and I’ll be able to see the whole world I grew up and lived in for all of my life from an outside perspective…” 

Apollyon was astonished. To live and die a whole life aboard a vessel… he could not imagine a more perfect microcosm that captured the meaningless lives of the riff-raff. [i]No, not meaningless,[/i] he reminded himself as he looked at Rupert. Without him, and men like him, the voyage they were about to embark on would not be possible. He nodded slowly to himself, as if weighing the newfound appreciation he had for Rupert… and then it was gone. Short-lived, like all of Apollyon’s feelings. 

“I shall be sure to be respectfully silent for the occasion,” Apollyon said in his most reassuring tone before flashing Rupert a winning smile and nodding towards the tray of food and drink -- he was seated closer to it than the aristocrat. “Say, be a good man and hand me that bottle of amasec, would you?”

The smile that Rupert offered back wasn’t a winner, but it was a solid second place… maybe a bronze depending on who was running. “Thank you.” He muttered back before turning towards the table with its many, [i]many[/i] offerings of bottles to pick from. “Which bottle is the amasec?” He asked, slightly confused by the wide selection.