Chapter 10: A Man's Dream is to be a Big Mecha King!
"Status on the repairs?" Leman Russ stood at the command table, his fingers tapping an impatient rhythm against the metal surface.
The Tech-Priest's voice emerged flat and emotionless from beneath his crimson hood. "The machine spirits are severely agitated, my lord. They require extensive ritual appeasement."
"How long?" The Wolf King's eyes narrowed.
"Additional priests are needed. More servitors for the proper ceremonies." The Tech-Priest rose, revealing a form more machine than man, servo-arms and mechadendrites writhing in constant motion. The air carried the scent of blessed oils and ozone.
"Where's Francis? Has he made contact with the local population?"
The Custodian beside the table stiffened. Colour crept across his usually stoic features. "He is... in the process of unifying this world."
Both Leman Russ and the Tech-Priest turned to stare at him.
"This is an Ork world," the Custodian continued, his voice carefully controlled. "The Primarch assumed their form. Started as a minor chieftain." He paused. "He's conquered half the planet's greenskin population."
The chamber fell silent except for the Tech-Priest's mechanical whirring.
'A Primarch, infiltrating xenos ranks. 'The Custodian's face darkened; only their explicit orders to protect Francis at all costs had stayed his hand.
The Tech-Priest leaned forward, optical sensors focusing intently. "Lord Francis can achieve perfect biological mimicry? This grants him access to their technology?"
Despite the Custodian's attempt at neutrality, the priest saw confirmation in his micro-expressions.
"By the blessed Omnissiah!" The Tech-Priest's voice acquired a trembling, electrical quality. "A human consciousness mastering alien principles! He must come to Mars! He belongs with the Mechanicus!"
Energy weapons emerged from the priest's mechanical appendages as fervour overtook logic.
Leman Russ grabbed the augmented figure. "He serves the Emperor alone. Even if you found him now, he will not abandon his mission." The Wolf King's grip tightened. "Instead, you should speed up those repairs. Once we complete the Emperor's task, perhaps we'll discuss your expedition."
The priest's weapons retracted slowly. "Your logic... is sound." He swept from the chamber in a whirlwind of crimson robes.
"Throne's blood," Leman Russ muttered. 'Francis, forgive me this necessity. All for the Emperor's glory.'
The Great Mecha Battle
On the vast plain, two mechanical titans faced each other like gods of war given form. Between them stretched the final battlefield that would determine planetary control.
Francis rubbed his nose from within his war machine's command throne. 'Strange. I haven't encountered any females recently. ' He pushed the idle thought aside, focusing on the towering construct before him.
His mech stood thirty meters tall, massive iron fists gleaming with reinforced plating. Across the field, his opponent's machine bristled with enormous chainblades, their teeth catching the harsh sunlight.
The rival pilot was an Ork named Adol. Francis found his orange mohawk particularly amusing. While Francis had unified the eastern hemisphere, Adol had started his own Waaagh in the west. Now, only this confrontation stood between Francis and total planetary control.
'Time to end this properly.' Francis gestured for his followers to quiet their bellowing.
Francis roared, "Whatz' your WAGHH ye' munchkin?"
Adol raised his own hand and roared in return, "I wants to conquer dis planet, den just keep killin', killin', killin'! Hahaha!"
His greenskins erupted in cheers. "Waaagh! Waaagh!"
Francis grimaced. 'Typical Ork ambition. No vision beyond the next fight.' "I thought ya might turn out worth somethin', but yer ambition ain't nuffin' but disappointment."
The opposing Orks bristled with indignation.
"Wot's your Waaagh den? Our boss iz da best!"
"Yeah! Your Waaagh ain't just 'ot air, iz it?"
Adol preened, allowing his subordinates to heap scorn on their rival.
Francis smiled coldly. "After I krump an' unify this world, I'll build a huge war-machine, den I'll go an' smash a whole 'uman world on me own."
The opposing Orks fell silent, recognising the superior scope of Francis's vision. His own followers erupted in triumphant celebration. "Waaagh! Waaagh!"
Adol released an enraged bellow. Both mechanical titans activated simultaneously, the ground trembling under their combined weight.
"Kill, kill, kill!" Francis grasped the control sticks as his war machine took thunderous steps forward, each footfall sending tremors through the earth.
The enemy colossus charged to meet him, chainblades spinning with predatory hunger, their mechanical shriek echoing across the battlefield.
'Standard Ork mech design, all offence, minimal defence.'Francis had studied enough 40K lore to recognize the pattern. Orks built for spectacle, not efficiency.
The titans collided with devastating force. Iron fist met spinning blade in a shower of sparks and rending metal. The impact sent shockwaves across the plain, dust and debris forming towering clouds.
Francis's mech moved with surprising agility for its bulk, iron fists seeking openings while avoiding the lethal chainblades. His opponent relied on raw cutting power and momentum, trying to overwhelm through sustained assault.
'There is a defensive gap after each combination.' Francis had been watching, learning the pattern. Ork pilots fell into predictable rhythms when frustrated.
The battle raged without quarter. Francis's colossus would leap and strike with mountain-crushing force, then retreat before the chainblades could find their mark. Each collision filled the air with the shriek of tortured metal and cascading sparks.
Both machines accumulated damage, but neither yielded. Then Francis saw his opening, Adol overextended on a particularly aggressive combination, leaving his mech's torso exposed.
'Now.' Francis channelled power to his fist actuators, striking the enemy's chest with thunderous impact. The opposing war machine staggered backwards, chainblades losing coordination.
Francis pressed his advantage, iron fists falling like hammers, each blow precisely targeted at vulnerable systems. The enemy mech's death-rattle echoed across the battlefield before it collapsed in a cloud of dust and wreckage.
Victory.
Francis's war machine stood triumphant amid the debris. The surrounding Orks, his Orks now, raised their crude weapons and released deafening cries. "Waaagh! Waaagh!"
'First Victory in New World, One planet down'
On Distant Prospero
Magnus the Red opened his eyes, hands trembling with uncontrolled spasms. "Another vision. Why do the prophecies come so frequently now?"
Only half a month had passed since his last glimpse of ascending the Golden Throne, yet he had witnessed a vision of Horus's betrayal again. This time, the Warmaster looked even more enraged, clawing at him with desperate fury.
"Father chose me for this burden," Magnus whispered to himself. "But why would Horus betray? Such treachery serves no purpose."
He wavered between belief and doubt until understanding struck like lightning. "Of course! Father intends to recall me to inherit his throne, and that will drive Horus to jealousy!"
Magnus struck his thigh in apparent revelation. "If I simply refuse Father's proposal, surely Horus will never turn against him. Yes... that must be the solution."
'I will change the future, for all of us'
[End of Chapter]