Rogue Trader Emberlyn Driftwood picked herself off the ground and dusted herself off, voidcoat wildly flapping in the wind. The first thing she checked for was the status of her Kroot pup – it was dazed but otherwise unharmed – phew! One day the Imperium would make a shuttle that didn’t explode, but today was not that day. Her retinue had also survived, it was a good job they bailed when they did. Her prized Aquila Lander had been absolutely eviscerated.

“Greg, status report!” Emberlyn shouted.

“Lord controller, your forces are alive and re-grouping. Hostile signatures inbound. We recommend dying in glory to the – zzzzzzz // [data-retcon engaged] // zzzzz – recommend signalling the Inquisitor of our location,” Greg said in a broken robotic voice.

“Great idea. Hethellana, please signal the Inquisitor,” Emberlyn said to her Aeldari bodyguard.

“Yes, Lord Captain,” Hethellana replied as she plucked Blim, the medic, out of the wreckage.

“I’m telling you, it was Greg!” Blim accused as soon as he was free. “That Servitor sabotaged the shuttle!”

“Blim! Stop with the Greg slander,” Emberlyn said, as she strutted over and hauled Blim to his feet. “Now pull yourself together – we need to find shelter before-”

Wildly fired shots popped into the rocks next to them as they vaulted towards the nearest ruin.

“How far are we from the Archeotech we detected?” Emberlyn asked. “Is the signal in the same place?”

“Not far,” Vior’yo said, appearing out of nowhere. The former Tau – now Culexus – Assassin was as silent as a mouse when moving.

Emberlyn nearly jumped out of her skin. “By the Emperor! We need to get you a bell or something.”

Through a cacophony of explosions and lasers, they made it to the safety of some WTC-approved ruins, still in one piece, but shaken.

“Lord Captain,” Inquisitor Stella said, sitting on a pile of rubble. She took a drag from the cigar she had acquired. “I’m glad you could make it. The Archeotech is closeby. Although, we have a problem.”

Emberlyn crossed her arms. “Stella, I swear to the Emperor that if the next words out of your mouth begin with Adeptus Custodes…”

“Worse,” Stella said, taking another drag from the cigar. “Orks.”

Emberlyn’s eyes lit up. “Finally! That’s the other reason we’re here. Plans within plans.”

*

Emberlyn charged across the battlefield, towards the sounds of the Waaaargh! In a truly Ork-like fashion, Emberlyn threw herself into battle, skipping past dozens of Gretchin (not worthy of her time) and Boyz (not big enough), dancing through the attacks of crude weapons until she came face-to-face with the biggest and most beautiful Ork of all: the infamous Warboss Uzblitz Gogbusta. Were it not heresy, it would be love at first sight.

By now, all of Emberlyn’s Imperial Navy breachers had fallen to the green horde, leaving her alone to face the Warboss. Emberlyn’s Kroot pup barked at the Squig atop Uzblitz’s head.

“Well, aren’t you a beautiful specimen?” Emberlyn said, pointing her monomolecular cane-rapier towards the Ork. “I, Emberlyn Driftwood, challenge you to a duel.”

Uzblitz’s grinned. Emberlyn grinned. They were on the same wavelength.

Then the Warboss’ chest literally exploded.

*

What was this? Some sort of love at first sight between two egotistic captains? An assassin thought to himself in the ruins nearby, watching the fearless Rogue Trader face off alone against the biggest Ork he’d ever seen. 

His orders came direct from the Inquisitor: ‘Shoot the biggest and scariest Orks you can see, but let the Rogue Trader get at least one stab in, for her ego.’

Dead-eye Duncan couldn’t tell if she’d stabbed it yet due to a well placed smudge on his scope. Well, he better do his best anyway. He lined up the shot and pulled the trigger on his Exitus Rifle. This was love in more ways than one, love for the Imperium, the Lord Captain and…

According to a rare mis-print of the Imperium’s Guide to Making a Family on Hiveworld HK-47-Terra-Sierra-Lambda, “The definition of ‘love’ is %*%&”^£$@¬¬¬ making a shot to the heart of a target 40 kilometres away using an Exitus Rifle with a tri-light scope attachment.” This definition was controversial. But when you think about it, ‘love’ is just a matter of odds. Not many people could make such a shot, but putting your objective in your targeting reticle, and together, achieving a singular purpose… against statistically long odds…

*

Back on the Illustrius Vexation, the crew were buzzing with excitement, despite the losses.

“Did you hear?” Said a Voidsman in the mess hall later that day. “The Lord Captain single-handidly defeated an Ork Warboss in hand-to-hand combat.”

“Is there anything she can’t do?!” His colleague replied.

“Are you kidding?! She-“ Stella said as she passed by, interrupting herself. After all, she knew how important the chain of command and legends were. “No. There is not.”