"+I will join you for the meal, though I will not partake myself. I am interested in what you have to say.+"
Camilla had long ago precisely calculated the correct levels of nutrition that her body would need, and consumed a nutrient paste she'd designed for herself. It was more efficient that way. Nutrition was optimal and waste was minimal.
What a sad life. (see below)
Down in the Proposal's lighter bay, or more specifically the rather dented Shark Assault boat nestled among the various lighters and cargo haulers like a wolf among a herd of its prey, Eggbert watched as the last bolts holding the new physik kit and shipboard emergency kits where tightened down, a grim smile accenting their gaunt features.
As the last squeak of the wrench and the last chant of tightening dying away the smile becomes a grin and a bottle of amesec is revealed and passed to the work party.
"May the God Emperor never give us need for these stocks, but they do lend a certain piece of mind, do they not? Good work. You earned this. Just remember to share and share alike."
That task complete he turns and heads for the closest point where the Proposal is linked with the station.
Standing-by to supervise maintenance did carry with it some risks--Eggbert almost missed the dinner! (see below)
"Ah, excellent! Dinner would be perfect after such a voyage." Food on the Indecent Proposal was higher quality than normal rations aboard star ships, due to the exorbitant wealth of the Rouge Trader's family, but they were still practical in nature. A proper dinner would be a welcome relief after the journey, and before the trials to come. Plus, it would be a good opportunity to ascertain the depth of the interest in Animus.
"Dinner would be charming, I cheerfully accept your invitation." I'm not entirely confident in the culinary skills of those who seem so close to metal, especially given the quality cookery I grew accustomed to long ago. Still, the ability to choke down even shoddy fodder is invaluable to a trader such as myself. I can at least manage enough to be polite, no matter the quality.
"Nuthin' around. Ehn." Though Tork didn't find any skimmer or hover-vehicles aside from a grav-palette, he was undaunted. The helmsman was about to begin his search anew when he caught wind of their host offering them dinner. Refusing food wasn't polite, except when one thought it was poisoned, and that didn't seem to be the case. In fact, good food in generous amounts had been one of the many benefits he'd been enjoying ever since he started working for Rogue Traders. Joining the Navy meant not having to worry about short shortages, but they were still frugal with their rations.
"I will accompany you, if you don't mind."
Yes. Food is good, I like food. Both I and my real self like food; this is something that I cannot deny as part of a character facade, it's in my soul. Good food is good.
"Very well then, I invite you to the hall upstairs..."
Within the crux of the station, a grand hall awaited the Rogue Trader's circle. Here a table was already prepared by scores of biomechanical servants, setting the stage for a discussion intermingled with the clashing of utensils upon metal and ceramic.
Despite the remoteness of the settlement, the servo-chefs can be programmed to cook just about anything.
Over dinner, the esteemed Napolitanus Daunten, the imperial envoy, brings up an idea of his.
"Should the system be explored, and a suitable warp route be found, I would like to introduce the possibility of sending a colonial fleet."
"Such would serve our interests well," quips Gaius Caligula Galustian, who introduced himself as a cleric studying ancient treatises in collaboration with the local scientists. "...should there be humans in the cluster."
"Indeed, and our observations show some promise," says the scientist, Linsay Arildsen.
"Radio emissions from the cluster are difficult to interpret with our limited equipment. However, depending on the habitability of the cluster, it could range from primitive societies indicative of a xeno threat... or it may indicate human settlements untouched by the Imperium since the age of the Great Crusade."
Raioyris is uninterested in dinner. He'd prefer to snoop.
Find out about the station's garrison. Any talking soldiers that I could trade banter with? An armory or barracks? Explore.
Raioyris abandons the researchers parlaying their ideas and instead broods over the temple guards.
"I heard the galaxy is chock full of heresy," muses one guard unironically. "Really boggles the mind."
"Leeds, you been drinking?" says the other. "That's the third time."
"Billions of stars out there... it's so hard to imagine..."
Maxwell lowers his hood, revealing the blank spot where his eyes once were.
"A brother to those you guard, humble custodian. My name is Prescott. I have just arrived aboard a trader's vessel and I wished to meet with my fellows."
"I was told of your presence among the visitors," answers the guard. "Welcome aboard."
The astropaths, clad in simple robes, immediately sense your presence walking into their midst. Those who do not wish themselves to be interrupted in their meditations, make it clear as such. One of them turns to you, and asks what you inquire of the Choir.