To think someone could insert themselves into matters personally overseen by the Fabricator-General… that's not mere meddling. That's practically rearranging the whole table.
The visiting Mechanicus Priest stared at Father Jacob like he'd just confessed to heresy.
"Father Jacob… forgive me for asking, but… what is it exactly you do?"
"Drive," Jacob replied flatly.
Just drive. No more detail than that. Jacob was already regretting agreeing to speak with this busybody. The man was on a completely different wavelength—full of noise and suspicion. He shouldn't have taken that little 'benefit' earlier; his hands had been too greedy.
"This… lets you drive?"
"Yes. I just drive."
"Alone?"
"No. There are four of us in the crew. One of them is the Archmagos' daughter—like I said before. The other two are also male Priests."
The Mechanicus Priest's jaw dropped. "By the Omnissiah…!"
Four Priests—including the Magos' daughter—reduced to attendants. Aside from the Fabricator-General himself, who else could pull that off? Or be that shameless? Or that enviable? Priests, treated as little more than toys a father gives his son.
The man's tone shifted at once, becoming respectful—almost reverent.
"I knew there was something strange about that batch of nurtured ones. The explanations were absurd, unprofessional. So… it was all for him!"
Jacob could hear the wild speculation tightening like a ratchet. He didn't want any part of it, so he killed the link. "Stop talking nonsense. I've got no idea what you're babbling about, and I'm not in the mood for your fantasies."
Of course, Jacob's brusqueness only convinced the other man that he was right. In the Priest's mind, this meeting had been worth it—more than worth it.
---
Gamma, meanwhile, was in the library rounding up self-study apprentices to hand out canned goods. If they didn't come when called, he took it as a slight—an insult to Tech-Priest Gamma himself. And slighting Gamma could result in him showing up with a power sword and a very persuasive tone.
The last box and a bit went to Beta.
"Take 'em. Eat when you should. Look at you—skin and bones. I've fattened up every Mechanicus apprentice in my reach."
"You—"
"You what? Just take it if I'm giving it. I can't hand over the whole half-crate in my ride—others need theirs too. Finish these and tell me, I'll send more."
Swallowing hard, Beta muttered, "...Thank you, 139876‑9527‑Gamma. Are you giving these to all 1,299 of us? Why?"
Gamma waved it off. "Eh, no reason. Even if I told you, you wouldn't get it. Just answer me—cans or starch sticks?"
"Canned. Higher energy content, balanced nutrients, more efficient protein absorption. Triggers higher dopamine output in the brain," Beta replied in the same cold, lifeless tone he always used.
Gamma cursed inside but smiled outwardly. "Exactly. Remember, your big brother's got you—cans at every meal from now on."
The Temple never treated the nurtured like people. In their eyes, they were no different from servitors. Same daily routine: wake precisely, receive a starch stick, read precisely, sleep precisely. Years of this, and whatever spark of humanity had been in them was ground into mechanical habit.
"I'll be back. Next time, I'll bring you a comm panel so we can keep in touch. You'll be able to talk with the others too. Emperor help me, I can't believe you've said less than ten words to anyone in a year."
"Why?"
"Don't ask. Just do as I say, you'll have cans. Refuse, you get nothing. From now on, call me 'Big Brother.' Understand?"
"...Okay, Big Brother."
Gamma exhaled. Good. First stage of domestication complete. Psychological food-conditioning still worked in the 42nd millennium. Choosing canned goods was the right move—cheap in bulk, spectacular in results.
---
Outside the library, Gamma spotted Jacob waiting—his usual kind face noticeably taut with impatience. The moment wasn't right for questions, so Gamma just walked with him to the vehicle.
As they pulled away, Gamma remarked, "Polite fellow, that one. Even walked us to the door."
Jacob's guilt spiked. "Don't take him seriously. He's got something wrong with his head."
Gamma simply thought: anyone who could irritate Jacob of all people must really be unwell.
---
In the weeks that followed, the four Priests took turns accompanying Gamma. They still had Temple duties—they were proper Tech-Priests with paychecks, not ceremonial titles—but Magos Lauster was quietly playing favorites.
Even with the extra workload they had to cover for each other, they still carved out hours for Gamma's orders.
Leia and Louis weren't directly on "Blue Ocean Project" duties yet—their role was freeing up Jacob and Ade for the critical work: designing and modifying the comm panels, and building the dual platforms for apprentices and teachers.
In the Imperium, comm panel modifications were so low on the tech hierarchy that as long as you didn't engrave a Chaos icon on the casing, you could jury-rig them however you pleased.
Under Gamma's relentless, inhuman management style, each of the four threatened to strike more than once—but failed. Every time they tried to quit, he'd drag them right back up.
His methods included:
- Pointing at their dwindling funds to lecture them on "sunk cost" and "time is money."
- Brandishing a borrowed power sword and forcing them to shout slogans like:
- "To succeed, first go crazy!"
- "One win is all you need—every time is for amateurs!"
- "Quitters never succeed, and the successful people never quit!"
- And: "People are forced into greatness!"
It was little wonder Magos Lauster was suddenly flooded with reports of suspected cult activity nearby.
Gamma also taunted them with his ongoing tutoring-catalog royalties, reminding them he was still making money even before their platform launched. "Jealous? Hate me? Want to beat me? Then work harder!"
When their envy, jealousy, and hatred were spent, he'd soften—praising their progress, talking unity, giving out snacks and small encouragements.
Under this psychological siege of money, ambition, rivalry, and false camaraderie, the "Blue Ocean Project" was operational in two months. The 1,299-teacher contact network was in place, the custom comm panels and platforms were ready.
But feeding those same 1,299 had bled them dry—there was no budget left for production scaling or promotion. Gamma swooped in with a fresh injection of funds, buying out their shares and securing total control.
In private, he told Ade, Louis, and Jacob not to let Leia's father get a foothold—lest Magos Lauster take over. "The male Priests must stay united!"
Lauster, secretly monitoring, nearly bit through his augmetics in rage. Gamma had PUA'd his daughter into joining, and now was locking her out entirely. The old Magos feared that given a few more years, he really wouldn't be able to beat this boy.
---
Two months into preparations, a rumor began to explode across Forge World Thedan. It was heretical, blasphemous, and thick with Mechanicus-style scandal.
According to it, the Fabricator-General had once arranged for a premature batch of nurtured individuals to be born to cover up the identity of his illegitimate son. The boy—hidden among them—was placed under the care of another Magos, one who publicly opposed the Fabricator-General but was secretly his disciple. The Fabricator-General's own daughter was assigned to personally look after him.
The "favored heir" had reportedly visited over a thousand Temples, taking along a quartet of Priests as personal attendants—three men, plus the Magos' daughter.
Even grainy black‑market video supposedly showed the Great Sage himself personally manning the assembly line. Whether the Fabricator-General was flaunting his power or simply didn't care, no one dared tear the veil.
Both Tech-Priest Gamma and Great Sage Will—named as central figures in the gossip—claimed ignorance.
Lauster immediately imposed a gag order in his Temple. "Maybe I started this by accident," he admitted, "but the fact it's snowballed like this? That's on all of us. If Will actually investigates, none of us walk away clean." Within hours, hundreds of Priests had scrubbed every record of the rumor linked to Gamma. Officially, everyone had "heard nothing" and "knew nothing."
On Will's side, everyone knew about the whispers—but no one would confront him. Some parts of the gossip were absurd—Will hadn't been physically capable of producing offspring for centuries—but technically speaking, in the Mechanicus, certain "technical workarounds" existed. Which meant… investigation wasn't off the table.