Lord Captain

Lunamaria Hawke
Excerpt from the Lord Captain's logs

I was born an orphan on a hive planet named Ginn. I have no idea who gave me the name Lunamaria, but it certainly wasn’t from whatever deadbeat parents I might have had. From what I’ve learned, parents are over-rated anyways. I spent my infant years in local planetary “care centres” until I was old enough to hold a gun, at which point I’m not sure I walked myself out or I was pushed. Either way, the feel of a stub pistol kicking in my grasp is the earliest memory I have. Family was never something important to me. Sure, I became close to a few other street rats here and there, but they usually died off before too long. It did make heisting food a bit easier with a crew, that I can not deny. The only constant company I ever had was from the local Arbites forces. Me and they, some good times we had. Let’s just say that there was bad blood between us from day one. Probably because I spilled a lot of theirs, but hey, they never caught me over the years, so fuck ‘em. Eventually I found myself ending up over and over at the same bar, a shithole named The Stein. I must have taken a liking to the place, and vice versa. The sole proprietor of the place was a man named Mac. He was a man of few words, and fewer actions. When he did act though, bodies went flying out the door, usually missing heads. Good guy, I miss him sometimes.

Overall, life was good for a time. I ended up running guns for Mac, he let me drink and pass out at his place and I knew I was less likely to be murdered while under his roof. Then, when I was 15 or 16, the famine hit. A Tyrannid splinter had set its sights on a nearby planet named Haro, and that planet is where all of our food sources came from. And that’s pretty much all you need to know. It didn’t take long for the food we did have to become the most precious commodity around. Within a month, millions were dying by the day. Within 6 months, the death toll slowed down drastically, but only because there was simply no one left to starve to death.

I got pretty skinny over the next 12 months, with most nights being spent wondering if my body would even be able to wake up the next morning. Then one day, my lucky break came along, although I wouldn’t have guessed it at first. The war against the Tyrannid splinter was still going healthy and strong, and once in a while Guardsmen, Mercs, and whoever else was involved would end up on our planet for a little R&R. One such merc company, which I later learned called themselves the Hawkes, (some sort of ancient apex predator bird, they told me later) just so happened to stumble in to The Stein for a drink. It was during one of the very rare occasions when Mac wasn’t behind the bar, probably off “procuring” some more beer out of thin air. As they entered, I was slumped over the bar, half asleep or half dead. Most of the crew sat at a table, but the biggest guy decided to help himself to the stocks behind the counter.

I’ll be honest, I don’t quite remember how it went down. All I do know, is that all of a sudden I had half his throat bloody in my teeth, and he had half my boot knife, bloody in his eye socket. I wasn’t going to just let the guy steal from Mac, you know? Mac was probably the only person who I might consider some sort of family, even though I know he would have killed me just as quick if I ever tried to sneak a sip under his nose. Long story short, instead of immediately unloading their collective firepower in to me, the remaining merc company just started laughing and clapping at me. Their leader, a guy named Io Fleming, gave me a choice. Either I could stay on planet, and make the most of the spoils that I had just earned by right of kill, or I could replace that poor saps spot on their crew, and keep earning. He didn’t even finish his sentence before I plucked my knife out of the big ape’s skull and told him to lead the way.

Fast forward 12 years. Plenty of killing, looting, smuggling, laughing, backstabbing, running, swearing, and killing later, I found myself the newly elected Captain of the Lorenz. Io had found himself on the wrong end of an Arbites (fuck those guys a million times) sting, and voila, up the ladder I went. Now, by this point I had gotten what I like to call “The thirst.”  The Thirst to have more, gain more. The Thirst to be known, and revered. The Thirst to obtain what precious few have ever truly felt: freedom to do whatever the fuck I wanted. I had come to realize that with my current crew, and with only the title of Mercenary behind me, that this would never be a reality.

So, as I kind of relief, we ended up taking a job bigger than our bullets could handle, and we were shot down to the face of the closest planet. In an interesting turn of fate, I was the sole survivor of the crash, and the forces who fucked us over ended up unable to find our wreckage.

As luck would have it, I was picked up by a local convent of the Ecclesiarchy of the planet Moore. I’ll save you the boring bits, suffice to say that I learned to say all the right words and after a time, I actually started to believe them. In secret though, I never stopped scheming of a way to get out of their grasp and attain that which I wanted. My zeal must have been noticed, because when, years later, I asked to be transferred to a Sororitas battleship, my request was approved. Now, I found myself in the belly of a beast that was large enough to get me that much closer to quenching The Thirst. Perhaps ironically, the vessel was named “Libation of Redemption.”  It was only one craft amongst an entire fleet, but it was perfect for my purposes. I put part 2 of my plan in action. I applied myself, made myself the obvious choice for rank promotion, for responsibilities that would crush lesser people. Through battles against rebel forces and xenos scum alike, I played my part, over and over. When we brought the light of Imperial dogma and the Emperor’s Grace to worlds still in the dark, I was first off the boat with a lash in hand. I worked hard to be noticed, and noticed I was. It took me over a damned decade, but the way I hear it, that’s actually incredibly fast to receive a promotion to rank of First Officer to the Captain. Captain Kudelia Aina Bernstein was as strong willed and courageous a woman or man as I had ever met, and I truly respected her. As her First Officer we spent much time together, and made no small impact on the galaxy as we burned the Emperor’s will in to it.

It was no surprise when I was called to Captain Bernstein’s private chambers one day, but I would quickly find myself with the biggest surprise of my life. I regularly visited, as we shared a sense of humour and had similar wits, but as I entered, I could tell that something was wrong. She was normally a vibrant force of life in an otherwise drab and depressing steel box, but this day, her shoulders were slumped and her gaze hung low as I approached. I noticed the scroll in her hand, and even as she lifted her gaze to meet mine, I could not look away from it. She had been ordered by one of the Admirals of the fleet to present me this Writ of a Rogue Trader. I had never revealed my true plans to her, but in that moment, as I finally locked eyes with her, I became positive that she had known who I was all along. That I would inevitably do what was best for me, and damn the consequences. Perhaps she thought she could train that part of me away. Perhaps she was haunted by her own past, and was using me as a weapon in some game that I didn’t understand. I would never find out, as that was the last time I saw Captain Kudelia Aina Bernstein. The only thing clear to me was that a bigger fish had also taken notice, and decided to remove me while I was still a small problem.

Now, at the age of 57, I am a Rogue Trader, about to embark on a voyage in to the truly unknown. While I am deeply wounded by the transgression of being thrown aside, that which does not kill you, only serves to make you stronger. I vow, here and now, that A Vision of Hope Surpassed shall become the greatest Rogue vessel in all the galaxy, and I shall be not only revered, but also feared and loved. Because it matters not what side of history your name lays upon, as long as it is remembered. Be it for Good deeds done, or Evil justice executed, the Imperium will know my name. I am Captain Lunamaria Hawke, and I will exist… forever.