In the frozen wastes of Medusa, Ferrus Manus led Santor and the Iron Fathers deep underground.
With massive excavators, they had broken through a subterranean bunker, breaching into the remains of a colossal manufactorum buried beneath the ice.
Manus stood before a wall, his silver hand knocking against a surface as wide as a voidship's transit deck.
The wall was made up of data machinery, within it a seat wrapped in cables, embedded into a shattered niche.
Manus turned his head toward Santor, his most trusted son of Medusa.
Santor met the Gorgon's silver eyes, dazed for several seconds before regaining himself.
"Gorgon, the Iron Fathers' initial analysis confirms this wreckage fell from orbit. They are searching for anything useful within."
"Not enough," Manus said in a voice like molten lead, echoing heavily as his silver hand struck the wall.
"This allows a man, through a spinal nerve interface, to connect directly to the database."
"In this virtual thought-space, data transfer can occur at super-high speed, with combat simulations possible as well."
Santor looked at the Gorgon with reverence. Only he could, without restoration, divine the function of a machine-spirit's work through observation and touch alone.
Gazing at the cables and cogitator banks making up the wall, Santor asked in confusion:
"This is a monumental find. Not only can it process the massive data of war, but it can also simulate battle scenarios. With this, can we not ensure victory?"
The Gorgon's silver eyes were fathomless. "There is no absolute certainty."
"If Nareth is like me, and he very well may be, then to secure victory, one must uncover the true origin of the Garuda."
His coin-like eyes turned to the distance, where a mechanical eagle approached.
The automaton was forged from grey steel and brass. The Medusans, after their own myths, had named them Garuda.
Ten of the Garuda circled down to Manus, beating their wings with shrill cries.
The silver of Manus' eyes rippled like liquid. "They will not find it."
Santor, long at his Primarch's side, heard in his tone the faint trace of loss.
"Gorgon, I believe this wall alone may be enough to win us the contest."
At the same time, Nareth had finished hearing "Spirit Medium" Adams' report and turned to "Student of Ratiocination" Arsenna Dunn.
"Arsenna, which location do you judge most valuable?"
The acolyte did not answer immediately. Instead, he said:
"My lord, to ensure the accuracy of my reasoning, I must review the records first."
Adams produced a data slate, transmitting his findings to the Primarch, his aide, and Techmarine Gabriel.
After reviewing, the "Student of Ratiocination" spoke:
"My lord, I believe the site pointed out by the noble ghost and others is the most valuable relic."
"Furthermore, the structure he described was likely built by xenos before humanity ever came to Medusa."
"Based on current evidence, we cannot determine its full worth."
Nareth inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the acolyte's logic.
"Then we go to the human-built ruin."
He turned to the "Spirit Medium." "Summon the ghost to guide us."
Adams drew forth a spirit-crystal and uttered a Dunnic invocation.
"In my name I summon thee, spirit bound within crystal, manifest and obey my command!"
A cold spectral wind arose, and the noble ghost appeared before them.
The shade looked with dread upon the towering black giant. Even as a ghost, he could feel the crushing pressure.
The "Spirit Medium's" voice was airy, ethereal:
"Lead the way to the oldest structure your people built."
The noble ghost circled uncertainly before finding his bearings and walking ahead.
Following the shade for over forty kilometers, the party's sight fell upon a massive iceberg.
From afar, its silhouette was visible.
Unlike most worlds' glaciers, or even those of Fenris, this one was strangely irregular.
The mountain of ice rose and fell chaotically, as if shaped by the careless hands of a child molding a toy.
The noble ghost halted abruptly, muttering:
"It is called Mount MacKenna of the Black Snow. It was born from the wars fought by the first colonists for control of Sthelenus."
The "Archaeologist" Gabriel asked curiously:
"Black snow?"
The noble ghost sank into ancient memory, speaking after several long seconds:
"After nuclear fire, vast amounts of carbonized or sulfurized particulates were hurled into the atmosphere. When cooled, they fell as what we called 'black snow.'"
The "Archaeologist" exchanged a look with the "Student of Ratiocination," then stared at the iceberg in shock.
"If that is true, it was a dreadful war indeed."
"My bound spirits do not speak falsehood," the "Spirit Medium" said calmly.
Nareth knew the ghosts were real, yet he was troubled. By any measure, the Medusan system was unfit for human life.
To shed blood for such a system, was it worth it?
"Why would you fight so fiercely for this place, paying such a heavy price?"
The noble ghost glanced up fearfully and replied:
"Because here we discovered xenos ruins. It was for them we waged war."
Nareth's eyes grew deep. He thought of Medusa's hostile environment, of the debris adrift in void, and of its alien relics.
And he remembered Asirnoth, the silver wyvern suspected to be a shard of a Void Dragon, freed when Ferrus Manus' incubation pod crashed into Karash's Black Snow mountain.
'If Asirnoth truly is a shard of a C'tan, then perhaps Medusa was one of the Necrons' prison-worlds sealing it away.'
As he pondered, the noble ghost continued:
"The war dragged on and on for possession of the relics. Thus was MacKenna born."
"After I discovered alien ruins in the far north of Sthelenus, I landed here, building a subterranean base within the mountain to excavate them."
The company soon reached the foot of MacKenna.
The Techmarines found the chill extreme, forcing them to keep their servo-arms in constant motion lest the joints freeze.
The Savants, however, endured without trouble.
Following the noble ghost along winding paths, they came before a vast metal gate.
The "Spirit Medium" asked: "How is the gate opened?"
The noble ghost studied it, speaking only after long thought:
"With a key."
"Where is the key?"
"I do not know. It was once borne by my attendants. I do not know where their bodies lie, nor whether the key yet endures."
Gabriel stepped to the gate, his mechadendrites whirring as drills scraped away centuries of ice from its surface.
Then he stopped. His probes tapped carefully against the terminal before he turned to the Primarch.
"My lord, no force must be used. This door is no less than five meters thick. Breaching it may trigger its defenses."
"In fact, it is ten meters," the ghost said with pride.
"Even orbital bombardment from a voidship could not destroy it."
"It was once the hull of a voidship. My artificers reforged its void shields to protect the entire base."
"If you fail to crack it properly, the defense protocols will detonate the whole installation."
The Techmarine frowned. "What powers these defenses? After millennia, the energy arrays of the Dark Age should have long gone cold."
"A Punisher-class reactor," the ghost answered.
The term was alien to the Techmarine, but familiar to Nareth. He recalled after a moment,
Punisher-class reactors were unique to the Iron Hands' ships.
Compared to the standard plasma drives of Imperial voidcraft, Punisher-class reactors yielded far greater output, powering more devastating weapons and auto-recharging void shields.
'Perhaps this technology came from these very ruins. If so, the relic's value is immense.'
But Nareth also thought of what would happen if a Punisher reactor detonated. Even if he survived, his sons would be slaughtered.
He asked: "So it cannot be forced. Gabriel, can you open it?"
"Father, I need more time to probe it."
The "Archaeologist's" mechadendrites skittered across the terminal. After ten minutes, he said:
"Father, I can. But I cannot say how long. I have never seen such intricate and impossible systems."
"The codes within the gate spawn sub-ciphers, and each requires separate decoding."
"They multiply like an ecosystem, ever-evolving in response to my intrusion, growing into more complex systems."
Nareth considered. He and Ferrus Manus had no fixed deadline. Neither would stoop to endlessly excavating ruins without limit, nor would Huang Lao allow it.
But he trusted the "Archaeologist's" skill. And if the Punisher-class reactor's secrets lay here, they might secure him victory.
"Begin. Break through the defenses as swiftly as you can."
"As you wish, Father." The "Archaeologist" was thrilled; such living code fascinated him.
As he and his cognitors set to work, Nareth ordered the 4th Chapter Shadows of Order to keep watch, then said to the "Spirit Medium":
"Bring your spirit. I have more to ask of him about the xeno relic."
With his aide and the Spirit Medium, Nareth left the gate, walking a kilometer away before halting.
.....
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