XXIV - Caterers

[This chronicle is best read from the beginning.] 

Rogue Trader Kitty Schrödinger's reputation is, quite rightly, that she is a force to be reckoned with: single-minded in her mission, tactically ruthless in both negotiation and conflict, and fiercely protective of every soul in her armada. She is highly respected as a serious agent of the Imperium, but that certainly does not prevent her from enjoying the varied luxuries of the forty first millennium. Her Catamaran is a superbly efficient ship, but not at the expense of comfort and aesthetic appeal. A team of servitors manages her wardrobe while Re'em, her own personal rejuvenat adept, ensures she stays healthy and beautiful. Of course, Schrödinger would argue that her physical appearance is an essential element of making the right impression, whether dealing with trading partners or mortal foes. 

Of course it is not unusual for envoys and ambassadors - and indeed the Imperial dignitaries accompanying her fleet - to require entertaining aboard Schrödinger's Catamaran. Keen to preserve and celebrate the cultural traditions of Barfunweltz-2, she occasionally treats visitors to lavish performances from entertainers such as the Toxophilites. But the Rogue Trader knows that the best route to a delegate's heart is their stomach. For this reason (as well as her own pleasure), Schrödinger was sure to maintain the catering team which her father had carefully recruited and trained aboard the Anotoecus. The family had always demanded high culinary standards, so it was no surprise that every one of these cooks was a ratling, for the diminutive abhumans have traditionally provided the most superior chefs known to the Imperium of Man.

Nonetheless, in Schrödinger's Syndicate every soul must play a role in the search for Barfunweltz-2 and that means bearing arms, especially in the absence of the Brethren of the Tenebrous Shield. And so, taking inspiration from their traditional role in the Astra Millitarum, the Rogue Trader reluctantly instructed that her precious kitchen staff be trained up and equipped to fight as snipers. Carrying down-sized yet lethal rifles and led by head chef Gordo Ramseye, Schrödinger's diminutive 'Catering Corps' has rapidly become a highly effective and dangerous military force - so long as the enemy is kept at a safe distance.

Gordo and his squad still regard themselves as, above all, masters of the culinary arts, which is why most insist on wearing their 'chef's whites' into battle. This is perhaps not always ideal from the point of view of camouflage, yet the ratlings' size and inherent skills generally seem to be sufficient to keep them concealed from the enemy. 

The Ratlings have in fact embraced their new role and proved to be as adept with their sniper rifles as they are in the kitchen. This has produced plenty of healthy competition, including regular shooting competitions for the coveted title of ‘Master Shot’. Their newfound military enthusiasm has even spread to their ogryn galley maid: Granny Faddock is fiercely protective of her ‘little ones’ and occasionally accompanies them into battle wielding an enormous rolling pin and swinging around heavy pots and pans to lethal effect. In fact, quite a few of the Ratlings have repurposed kitchen equipment or discovered transferable skills that prove useful in combat.

Olly James (Spotter) & Roux 'Sauce' Jnr (Sneak)

Jon ‘Cuppa-Tea’ Roads (Big Shot) & Headstrong Bloomin’tall (Hardbit)

Samwise (Battlemut) & ‘Ain’t-asleep’ Haricot (Vox Theif)

Tommy Kedgeree (Stashmaster)

The Two Pauls, ‘Ain’t-worth-it’ & ‘Oily Wood’ (Purloined Rations & Lucky Round tokens)

Mickey Kanes (Bomber)

Nate the Outlaw (Raider) & Richy ‘Grease-Stain' (Sniper)

Granny Faddock (Bullgryn) & Gordo Ramseye (Fixer)

Military expertise notwithstanding, the caterers still insist on continuing to prepare food wherever they may be, which has often seen them cooking meals on makeshift camp stoves while enemy bullets and lasrounds whistle overhead. None of the Syndicate's other forces ever object to this arrangement, for every army marches on its stomach, and those of Schrödinger’s armada are exceptionally well-fed!

XXV - Attack