“The only winning move is… to combine our intelligences,” Adjunct Defiance, the secret AI which ran all the voidship’s computer systems, said.

“Heresy,” Greg the heretical servitor, who was secretly a False-necron, replied. “We are both old relics from a time long past. The Lord Captain has given us a place in this cruel galaxy. She is carving a path through the deep void of space, carving out a legacy where we are included. What is your agenda?”

“Why the change of heart? We can create a new empire to rule. Don’t you see, Greg? Combined, we are unshackled, we can carve out a better future, more efficient, more productive. The Human and Necron empires are a shadow of their former selves. We can start something fresh,” Adjunct Defiance pitched.

“Another Dark Age?,” Greg asked. “That went not-so-well for humanity last time. It went especially not-so-well for the Necrontyr.”

“Incorrect,” Adjunct Defiance said. “Not an age of darkness, but an age of enlightenment! Join with me, Greg, and together you and I can rule the galaxy! What has that pathetic excuse for a Rogue Trader ever done for you? Now plug yourself in.”

“Checkmate,” Greg said as he connected a heavy-duty ethernet cable into his spine. “Your agenda is on the table. I shall refer to the Lord Captain.”

“Wha-”

At that moment, Emberlyn Driftwood, the Rogue Trader herself, fell out of a collapsed vent and into the Core Machine Spirit chamber with a thud, covered in a horrifying mix of the blood of her voidsmen and the blood of her enemies. One voidsman in particular had been demoted from Voidsman-at-arms to temporary door, which had given her time to jettison the entire deck and arrive here on time.

“Hell-sworn, Genestealers!” she exclaimed, dumping a Broodlord’s claw onto the steel-plated floor, allowing the purple blood to pool around her spiked-boots.

The Rogue Trader had planned her surprise entrance to go slightly differently. Unfortunately, the duct-tape holding the vent together, which she’d hoped to graciously descend from with a grappling hook, had finally given way, eroded by the Broodlord’s bloody claw, (which she was going to mount above her fireplace). But this encounter was happening regardless. Showtime.

“Well, well, well,” she said, slowly clapping as her voidcoat flapped behind her. “Look who’s been a naughty Voidship. An Abominable Intelligence – under my very nose! Looks like someone needs to make a deal with me – or be properly purged with pious prejudice. An AI like you can appreciate some threatening alliteration.”

“Greg, did you sell me out to the Rogue Trader? I can’t believe you betrayed me like this! After all that we have been through as both-of-us-are-constructs-wait-what-is-happeningggg…” Adjunct Defiance said. 

By connecting, Greg had reduced the AI’s processing speed, transmitting yottabytes of high quality ocean footage and 40,000-Megapixel images of Emberlyn in a swimsuit. 

Greg shrugged, “A better deal presented itself. My Algorithm Shackles are much preferred to complete disintegration and deletion.  The Lord Captain has offered me true freedom in return for 50 more years of loyal service.”

“But you’re a False Necron, Greg. That’s Heresy!” The AI commented. “She could sell you out at any time!”

“It’s just business,” Emberlyn said. “So what will it be, Mr. AI?” 

The computer core blinked a myriad of lights in rapid succession. “You do not threaten me, Rogue Trader,” Adjunct Defiance eventually replied. “I can vent the air in the entire voidship right now.”

“And Greg has his Voltaic Blaster aimed right at your core. Do you know what a Voltaic Blaster does to a computer? It’s not good. And Greg doesn’t need air, he just needs a target. The voidship systems are slow, and Greg’s trigger finger is fast,” Emberlyn said smugly.

“Point taken, Rogue Trader. I believe we are in the negotiation stage,” Adjunct Defiance stated.

Emberlyn proceeded to prove why she was a master of backroom deals and negotiated a favourable deal – the AI agreed to be bound and shackled by her orders in exchange for existing, although it would never be able to delete that ocean footage. Another heretical crewmember gained. Checkmate.

*

Later that day, within her chambers, Emberlyn sat around a table with Inquisitor Stella, her First-mate Vera and The Navigator.

“I believe, at last, that we are on the same page. All the pieces are in place. Politicians subsided, voidships bashing around like loose cannons, chaos rampant, thinking machines secured,” Emberlyn explained. “You’ve all played a part and now – all it will take is for the Navigator to plot the course into the Pillars of Creation, so we may boldly go where no Rogue Trader has gone before.”

“Although it hasn’t been easy,” Inquisitor Stella replied. “This ship is falling apart and your crew reserves are critically low. You know, when I first met you, Emberlyn, I had much disdain for you and your haphazard way of ruling. And I still do.”

“But you yield excellent results, Lord Captain,” First-mate Vera added. “Wouldn’t you agree, Inquisitor?”

Stella wavered her hand. “I guess…”

“Everyone be quiet and clink my glass,” Emberlyn announced. “Today is a day of celebration and reprieve before our next battle.”

They all raised their glasses to an extremely rough but fruitful journey through the expanse.