Chapter One

"For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the Master of Mankind by the will of the gods and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium, for whom a thousand souls die every day

To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruellest and most bloody regime imaginable. This is the tale of those times.

Forget the power of technology, science and common humanity. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for there is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter and the laughter of thirsting gods".

The Dauntless-Class Cruiser His Glorious Aspirations. Space Dock.

So here I am Lord-Captain Maximinus Thrax, a Rogue Trader, which is as I understand it, a combination of freelance explorer, conquistador and merchant. I've been given a warship, a skilled crew, a large contingent of Guardsmen and carte blanche to roam the worlds beyond Imperial control. Once I get out there my task will involve exploring and exploiting the uncharted regions of the galaxy.

Thanks to my knowledge of the lore of this setting and the information the teaching engines shoved into my head, I understood that a Rogue Trader such as myself might come across worlds harbouring long-forgotten human civilisations which will need to be incorporated into the Imperium. Other times they will find uninhabited or alien-dominated planets ripe for colonisation or exploitation. It rarely ends well for the aliens.

Another thing I knew was that all Rogue Traders needed to be highly exceptional individuals who are driven to prosper, even though these exceptional people often have extreme character quirks. It is not unheard of for A Rogue Trader to destroy entire worlds for the slightest reason, or to include alien warriors and mutants among their entourage. Some are highly pious while others are no more than legitimised pirates, and I had joined the ranks of these people who ranged from wanderers to warlords.

Whatever their origins, all Rogue Traders are first and foremost masters of their own fates, and upon their shoulders can rest the success or failure of not only of their endeavours and that of their bloodlines but also of countless future generations and sometimes even the fortunes of entire worlds. They are as so close to free as any human can be in this grim, dark future.

Since they operate in isolation from the central authority of the Imperium, the Rogue Trader must decide for themselves how to react to unknown alien cultures, other new discoveries, and uncovered threats. If they judge an intelligent Xenos race to be potentially dangerous, they may attempt to destroy it or to gather as much information as they can so that others may do so during a crusade. The less dangerous aliens and isolated human worlds might find their world being plundered for all it is worth.

The most valuable possession of a Rogue Trader is his or her Warrant of Trade; an important legal document that describes the accepted limits of the Rogue Trader's operations. These charters are hereditary thus creating a Rogue Trader dynasty, I would need to set up one of my own. These dynasties are granted a personal coat of arms identifying them amongst the Imperial elite. They were nobility who answered to no one, at least in theory, and could travel as they wished.

I'd joined their lofty ranks for something I didn't even remember doing. There are good sides and bad sides to having a chunk of your memory removed. On the good side, I can't remember facing the forces of Chaos which I approve of if only because I don't want to recall such horrors, even a minor exposer to the creatures of the warp can drive men man and I'd like to hold on to what little sanity I had left for as long as humanly possible.

The bad side is that I don't know how I got to the scary Warhammer 40k universe or why I'd been working a dead-end job on sector capitol world when it was invaded by the enemies of The Emperor. As such if I'd gone through the stages of emotions you'd expect when finding out that you are a huge nerd and science fiction fan who has been transported into one of his favourite fictional universes. Then when it had sunk in how screwed I could end up I'd spent some time freaking out.

Unlike most Star Wars fan or Star Trek fans, who would be overjoyed to find themselves in the Star Wars galaxy or the Trek one despite the dangers, you won't find many 40k fans who would even be willing to spend a day in that fictional setting because of how messed up and scary it is. As such, I'd cried, screamed and laughed while crying, all while hiding the covers of my new bed, which was part of a very nice bedroom and if you're going to have a panic attack you might as well have it somewhere nice.

Given that I'd turned the tide of a major battle for the IOM singlehandedly saving an Admech Fortress in the process I had to have some kind of superpower and that I was someone who actually mattered. I'd ruled out me being a lost Primarch or just a space marine hiding out with the mortals as the Admech had done some gene enhancing to my form so they would have noticed any odd DNA patterns and besides I hadn't even reached six feet tall until after they'd enhanced me.

One of my theories was that I could be a high-level psyker, but if that was the case the Inquisition would have killed or recruited me regardless of what anyone else had to say on the matter because it would be too dangerous to do otherwise. I might be an Imperial Saint, as in someone who was directly empowered by The Emperor, but I only paid lip service to Big E because I knew he wouldn't want me to worship him. I'd even considered it possible that I had a shard of The Emperor within me, a bit of his great soul mixed with mine, which could explain the Saint like powers without me having any of the faith.

If Big E had given me some of his power then at least I didn't have to worry much about Chaos corruption as the golden guy could be considered to be anti-chaos and worrying overly much about corruption would just make things worse. Besides a lot of people in the Imperium don't even know that the Ruinous Powers even exist outside of stories they may have heard which means Chaos should be possible to avoid even for a few centuries.

It would also explain why people of all sorts were bending over backwards to help me. Even now members of the Ad-Mech were installing some sort of super rare Dark Age of Technology Warp Drive that should be way better than the normal kind and while their reasoning had to do with my new ship having way more power than it needed, and therefore extra juice for this drive. The fact that it was being entrusted to me meant that there must be more behind my ascension than me saving some relic while some fighting Chaos warriors who were trying to destroy some Ad-Mech factory-shrine. Assuming that was what actually happened and I had in fact turned the tide of a battle that altered the course of a whole war.

As for my ship, the Dauntless-Class Cruiser His Glorious Aspirations, it was an Imperial Dauntless-class Light Cruiser, a cruiser meant for scouting that could also serve as an escort vessel if needs be. This class of cruiser has always been a mainstay of the Imperial Navy's fleets throughout the Milky Way Galaxy. An ideal light cruiser such as mine carries enough firepower to drive off opposing escorts along with enough fuel and supplies to remain away from Imperial fleet bases for solar months of subjective time.

The teaching engines told me that the Dauntless-class is a popular model of a light cruiser, because it is as fast and manoeuvrable as a frigate but with more ferociously powerful armament than expected for its size. The Dauntless-class is a vessel more commonly seen operating on its own or in squadrons in either deep space or planetary systems. It is a very reliable star ship and the class has a long history of being a dependable and formidable frigate in times of war.

Which made it a great kind of ship for a Rogue Trader. Sure my vessel had far less firepower than most Imperial Navy battleships due to having some of its guns and other features removed, but that just meant more energy for other systems, and I'd been able to arrange for a proper warship's crew to be placed on board thanks to the insane amount of money I'd been gifted as part of my reward. I even had an entire Guard Regiment in my service, or at least as close allies, all of whom were willing to go off and fight for me. More proof that Big E, or maybe another great power, was somehow looking after me.

I had mortals watching my back as well. One of the services they offered on the forge-world my ship currently orbited involved using some more dark age of technology stuff to produce gene-sculpted superhuman warriors. Alas, they were not on the scale of space marines, they didn't have power armour or any of those extra organs, but each of the twenty women I'd paid handsomely for had been enhanced for combat with the intent that they would serve as my personal guard and perform any other duties as required.

The machine involved in creating the battle harem as they were called, somehow saw my memories and then created the battle harem using women from my memories that I found pleasing to look at as a template for each of the twenty women whose looks were based on famous actresses even if they had no personalities of their own due having been programmed and created quite recently. The importance of them being 20 superhuman warriors at my command who were created using Dark Age tech was not lost on me.

I could not produce new members for my battle harem due to the rareness and high demand for such technology, which was fine as with my cloning facilities I could replace anyone I lost given enough time. With the cloning vats, I could also replace lost crew in a matter of years rather than have to wait for children to grow and take their parent's place, or pay for replacements of equal skill. Accidents often happened on a ship this big because they were more flying cities with lots of guns than anything else. People on my ship could live out entire lifetimes and never venture beyond the lower decks and since their lives would be shorter than mine I would need to replace them.

It wouldn't just be the crew who would make their own replacements if given enough time. The guard regiment on board, who were mostly Cadian even if none of them had seen that world since they were children, were made up from a few different single-sex regiments who had been merged and since this wasn't a military vessel it had more relaxed standards of behaviour so I could end up requiring a nursery and school onboard before long. This would take some of the female guards out of action for a time, but I could supplement the guard with navy armsmen if needs be.

Lucky for me this ship was a city in space so we weren't exactly lacking for the extra room even with so much of the ships eternal space being used for some purpose or other, as I'd made sure while paying for the upgrades that there would be enough room for the crew to be reasonably comfortable even if our numbers grew by a few more thousand. Perhaps this ship was more of a colony in space than a city as its people would be able to survive for months without making port as we had much in the way of supplies and the ability to manufacture replacement parts and equipment. Assuming that we could harvest the needed raw materials.

My own quarters made me feel as if I was living in a fortress/palace within a city, a citadel of sorts, as not only was it the height of opulence, it was also very secure, and as I'd already mentioned I had several elite bodyguards to keep me safe who were programmed for total loyalty. Combine that with the checkpoints you needed to get past to reach this part of the ship then I was the safest person onboard.

The sheer amount of luxury around me bordered on the silly and perhaps went a little past it. My private quarters, which was where I was right now, had a grand dining room, a ballroom, in case I wanted to entertain important guests with a party, my own swimming pool, training centre and a bedroom that had a carpet that was softer than any bed I'd ever slept on and the bed seemed as if it wanted to swallow me with comfort. I even had what I suspected was a sex dungeon of some kind, but I'd ordered that room locked up in case someone used it and drew the eye of the Prince of Dark Delights.

In the lower parts of my private quarters, I found a wine cellar full of something that came in bottles that weren't actually wine. These were bottles of Amasec, which I knew to be a popular alcoholic drink distilled from wine. It can range from lesser brews barely fit for use as firebombs to well-aged and flavourful brands suitable for only the finest of the Emperor's servants.

Also, I had bottles of Dammassine - An alcoholic beverage that has a sweet herbal taste with a hint of almond if my taste buds could be trusted. Something called Estufagemi Wine, a name I wasn't even going to try to pronounce out loud. Then there was some Raenka which I somehow knew to be a highly prized brandy made from fermented Ploin juice and crafted through careful distillation in used Amasec barrels.

On several Feudal Worlds, it is the main export and secures a great percentage of yearly revenues. It is prized for its rich, dark yellow hue and subtle bouquet, Raenka connoisseurs eagerly watch for news each season on the stages of ageing and which areas are releasing their vintages. Many traders make a small but tidy profit carrying barrels by special request from fermentation yards to impatient buyers willing to circumvent the normal flow of the liqueur.

I even found a bottle of Rahzvod, which is a very strong vodka-like alcoholic beverage hailing from Vostroya, distributed as a common ration amongst the Imperial Guard regiments of the Vostroyan Firstborn. Why the last captain of this proud vessel desired to collect all of this I didn't know and I cared far more about how I knew all of these details. Had to be psyker bullshit of some kind.

Aside from all that I had a personal armoury, filled with the weapons of this ship's last captain, a study, a vault for my most treasured possessions and a slightly less secure room for less personal treasures, such as gifts that I might be given. There were other such spaces on this ship for the storage of tribute that I could collect and looted valuables.

Of course, people were working behind the scenes a lot of support staff, all of which had been chosen for their loyalty towards the ship and its captains, such as servents, chefs and others. They would be watched by my battle-harem for any signs that their service to me remained at a high standard.

"Lord-Captain Thrax," said a voice over the vox "Please come to the bridge".

That message had been sent to me over the vox unit which was built into a floating servoskull, they were little robot things that flew around the ship performing errands and use to be part of a person who had donated their body to the Ad-Mech after death. I know that plenty of people back home were organ donors who would have their organs given to others after they died, but to donate your skull, that took a special devotion to mankind.

"I'll be there soon," I told the floating skull.

Before leaving the secure part of the ship I made sure that I looked the part of dashing Rogue Trader, at least as much as I was able to manage. I wore a set of light carapace armour as well as expensive clothing since I wasn't foolish enough to go without armour in such a dangerous universe. Despite the cost, my clothing was plain black meant more for protection than style as the material was tougher than it looked.

Aside from my belt which had a silver skull buckle and the rings I wore, one on each hand, as well as an Imperial Aquilla as an amulet, I did little to display wealth. This was good as I didn't have much left after spending so much on the ship's refit.

As for weapons I carried a hellpistol, a more powerful version of the standard laspistol that many Imperial Guard and Navy officers would use. This along with a power sabre had belonged to the last captain of this ship, who had served as part of the Imperial Navy before dying as his ship limped back to port. Once His Glorious Aspirations, had arrived at the Forge-World the work had begun to refurbish it as a Rogue Trader vessel. I made sure to have a dagger strapped to one of my buckled boots.

Once fully dressed I headed to the bridge, which required riding on a huge monorail train, as while I had what I'd think of as a ready room near the bridge the ship was just so big that needed many lifts and a whole monorail system just so that the crew could get around.