"His loyalty couldn't be bought at any price; but it could be rented remarkably
cheaply." -Inquisitor Allendyne after the execution of Rogue Trader Parnis Vermode
for trafficking in interdicted Xenos artifacts

M31.005 10:34/Volk, the Volk System/The Skies above the Scorched Sands, Hot Side

I'm personally quite a fan of the Arvus Lighter. It is exactly what it aspires to be, utilitarian, ubiquitous, and uninspiring. Sure, it may not have the firepower or maneuverability of a Valkyrie or a Vendetta, but it's not trying to be a gunship, instead opting to do one thing best; move up to twelve people from one place to another, whether that be from orbit to a planet or from one city to the next at the lowest cost possible.

In many ways, the Arvus Lighter I was flying on was much like I was, or, what I aspired to be. It may have been decorated with the royal regalia of Volk, and it may currently be carrying the heir to an entire planet (and me of course) and it may well be quite comfortable, but even behind the above-average seats and the gold trim, it's original purpose is still clear, etched on the walls and the steel floors which make a clang sound when you step; this flyer, however modified, is still an Arvus Lighter.

And I was still a soldier.

Still a man.

Still human.

The woman seated next to me on the surprisingly plush bench was an entirely different story, however. If we are to extend this metaphor well past its due and mutilate it a little, I may well say that she was a Battleship. She was unique, she was awe-inspiring, and she showed up in propaganda picts all the time. People cared about her, they knew her, and the things she did were important.

Because she was a princess.

She was a woman.

And she may well have been an angel with a beauty far exceeding every other woman on this accursed sphere.

Lost in thought, I immediately realized I was staring, and tried to shake myself out of it without her noticing. I failed, of course, because that only caused Freya to turn to me with her head tilted slightly.

"Are you ok," She asked, "Not too cold, is it?"

"Ah, no," I responded. And, in trying to assuage her concerns, I lied, "Just a bit odd being out of my uniform in an aircraft like this."

"you're not out of uniform," She said, pointing at the baggy fatigues which felt like they were only loosely hanging around in the general vicinity of my body.

"You know what I mean, I'm out of my carapace, it's odd," I said, continuing the hasty lie well past its expected lifetime.

"Hmm, You know," I braced myself for another of her infodumps, "I've read about that, soldiers, especially those who are on the front lines, often gain a sense of post-traumatic anxiety, which can flare up for any number of reasons, including but not limited to-"

I unfocused my eyes and let her words wash over me, only vaguely paying attention to whatever she was saying.

Minutes (or hours, I couldn't often tell) later,  The hiss of static crackled into my ears, and the pilot's voice came through my comm-bead, "We'll be landing at site Theta-13 in five minutes."

I turned to Freya, "Are you ready to tell me where we're going?"

She only shrugged in response and said, "There's a psyker who likes to be left alone, but he's the best diviner in the system, and he owes the House Foxway a favour, so we're going to go cash it out."

"A Spook?" I asked, my hands going clammy.

"Indeed."

"W-why?"

"I want him to look into some of my suspicions."

"Why am I coming with?"

"Because one of those suspicions involves you."

Cold sweat dripped its way down the back of my neck. That couldn't be good.

* * *

Upon landing, the first thing that struck me was the sheer heat. I'd been to the Hot Side before, for training, but I never got used to the heat, so coming out he heavily cooled Arvus Lighter felt like it would kill me then and there.

The second thing that hit me was the oddness of the Spook's abode. When I mention a desert hermit's abode, you probably think of something particular. Now that's nothing like what I saw. The hermit's residence looked to be a small, single-family hab-block, and wouldn't look out of place in a small town or the newly developed outskirts of a city, even being half covered in sand as it was.

Freya led as the two of us walked calmly and collectedly towards the abode of the psyker.

Just kidding, Freya was as collected as ever, but I shook with fear I hadn't felt since I was in the palace at Vrantanius, though I stilled it quickly. If not for her, then for the shreds of pride I had convinced myself I still possessed.

As we reached the door Freya raised a balled fist in an attempt to knock, but her aim fell short as the door opened just in time to have her fist fall awkwardly forward towards the psyker, who held the door open, appraising us.

The psyker was a relatively short man, a few inches shorter than myself, and seemed my senior by thirty years, if not more, he had begun balding but maintained an air of dignity I didn't expect from a hermit. His eyes were a piercing grey, which studied me with unrelenting interest.

He got the first words out, "You must be the Foxway girl." He said, before looking at me, "And you are...?"

I swallowed, and steeled my resolve, "A personal guard."

"Hmmf." He responded, "Well then, come on in, can't have you waiting in the hot sun."

"Thank you very much" Freya managed, as I still reveled in my part of the talking being over.

We followed the old psyker through his odd abode to what would be contemporaneously defined as a sort of lounging area, complete with a pair of couches and a small glass-top table, upon which, the psyker deposited a small pot of fragrant tea, a trio of cups, a small thingy (I don't know, it was like a little pitcher I guess?) of milk and a little platter of sugar cubes.

"So, child Foxway, what brings you?" The Psyker asked after adding a gentle splash of milk and a single sugar cube to a cup of tea.

"I come looking for your insight upon two things," Freya responded, taking a proffered cup of tea and adding a much larger helping of milk and a pair of sugar cubes.

I took the cue to take the final cup and add a healthy heaping of milk and a trio of sugar cubes.

"And what would those two things be, child Foxway?" the psyker responded, "And how will you make it worth my time?"

"You owe my house a favour," Freya responded, shooing away the psyker's concerns, yet he persisted.

"I owe your father a favour, you, are very clearly not him." The psyker said, slightly too smug for his good.

"My father is unable to exact his favour so I am doing it for him," Freya responded, engaging in the intriguing dance that was playing out before me.

"So you are just a messenger? Not here on your own interests?" The Psyker smirked, leaning back into a relaxed position.

Freya grimaced, "I am here on the interest of all of House Foxway, including that of its head, my father."

"Hmm..." The Psyker tapped his chin with the hand that did not contain a cup of tea, "I think I'll allow you to use this favour of your father's, but only for one of your requests, which, as you will note, you have not told me."

"Very well." Freya said, her bottom lip momentarily twitching into a frown, "My requests are thus, I wish to know if you can divine the whereabouts of my sister Aleksandra, and I desire a reading on my Einherjr here."

For the first time, it dawned on me that Freya probably wasn't an only child. Which should have been expected, she was a member of a royal house, but still, being an only child myself it was slightly odd to me.

"Easily done." The Psyker responded, before pausing to sip his tea, "I know a bit about the whereabouts of your sister off the top of my head."

"You do?" Freya said, leaning forward so fast she almost spilled her tea on herself.

"Indeed. She was here only a month prior." the psyker said. "She wanted a reading of her own."

"Did she say where she had been?" Freya asked, "Or where she was going?"

The psyker smiled and said, "She said she was off finding herself, engaging in some spiritualism. She mentioned that she'd be back to Sokarin soon."

"Good." Freya leaned back, and took a sip of her tea, "Why did she want a reading? And come to think of it, how did she pay?"

The psyker's smile didn't falter, though it twitched, "I'm afraid I cannot tell you why she wanted a reading. As for how she paid, well, I personally owe her quite a bit. Now, for your Einherjr's reading."

The psyker stood and walked over to a nearby shelf, where he acquired a deck of cards and moved back to the table, where he glanced at me before looking back to Freya, "If you would, a reading such as this one can be incredibly personal, If you could finish your tea and go out into the hall, that would be best."

Freya looked concerned, "Ah- But-"

"No buts, if you truly wish to know the results of the reading, you may ask them after." The psyker said, with a calm, almost practiced ease.

"Fine," Freya said, shooting me an almost apologetic glance as she left.

The psyker looked at me, making my skin chill and my hands go clammy, "before we begin, I'd like to ask you a handful of questions."

"O-ok," I responded, trying my best to keep calm and failing miserably.

"First question, do you ever hear voices?" The psyker asked, seemingly peering directly into my soul.

Tell him no. The little voice in the back of my mind said, and so I listened.

"I can tell when you're lying." The psyker responded, seeming irked, "I do know some rudimentary Telepathy. So tell me again, do you ever hear voices?"

"O-o-only the normal amount," I responded shivering, my words tripping over themselves.

"The normal amount is zero." The psyker responded, seemingly still quite irked.

"W-w-w-well s-sometimes, but it's j-just my s-subconsious," I responded, relenting.

"Hmm..." the psyker seemed to make a mental note of that, before moving on, "Do you ever... see things? Things that have happened, things that will happen, symbols or metaphors, visions or hallucinations, do you ever get stuck on a problem before falling asleep for a moment and receiving a dream which reveals the answer? And remember, I can tell when you're lying."

I froze.

"Y-y-yes."

"Hmmm... So I was right." The psyker nodded, seemingly content, "Now, can you try your hardest not to freak out and instead act rationally when I tell you this?"

"M-m-maybe."

"Well then. It's come to my attention that you are almost certainly a psyker."

The little voice in the back of my mind became very loud, and and very big, and all it did was scream.