Jeremiah walked toward the three Imperial Fist Astartes.
Even as a Rogue Trader, he felt a trace of unease when facing Astartes.
Especially since they were not the Ultramarines he dealt with regularly. Jeremiah had heard that the Imperial Fists were a bunch of obstinate stone-headed freaks who would not yield to either reason or force, though he did not know whether that was true.
Their tactical helmets concealed their faces, but by instinct, he judged that they were not as powerful as that Night Lords leader.
The difference in sheer presence was enough to distinguish the strong from the weak. As a seasoned Rogue Trader, Jeremiah might not have excelled at everything, but his eye for people surpassed that of most.
He knew very well who could be provoked and who would cost him his life if crossed.
"The navigation logs show that you have been lost in the Warp this entire time?"
The lead mortal inspector asked sternly. He linked into the Cogitator of the Blessed Destiny, then imported its records into his data-slate for backup and inspection.
It was easy to tell whether a warship had been in realspace or the Warp, because the Gellar Field had to be activated in the Warp. One only needed to see how long the Gellar Field had been active to know how long the ship had remained in the Warp.
And their ship's Gellar Field had barely been shut down at all. That could not be faked.
"My lord." Jeremiah steeled himself and directly interrupted the inspector's review.
The other man fixed the Rogue Trader with a sharp gaze. Jeremiah could even see those black pupils, ringed by three whites, staring straight at him.
There was suspicion and scrutiny, but no other emotion.
Why did these people all look so