Chapter 18: Mechanicus
Several members of the Adeptus Mechanicus lay prostrate across the massive Ork vessel, examining every surface with religious reverence.
They could scarcely be called human any longer, for beneath their deep crimson robes, no trace of flesh remained visible. Only mechanical appendages of varying configurations jutted out, some resembling serpentine tentacles, while others bore the precise craftsmanship of specialised manipulator arms.
"Hiss-ha Hiss-ha This aroma! This blessed scent!"
"Pure Ork technology, one hundred per cent authentic! Observe these crude conduits and these magnificently illogical circuit connections, even this sacred malodorous lubricant speaks to their genius!"
"Hiss-ha Hiss-ha Truly wondrous!"
Fabricator-General Kelbor-Hal prostrated himself upon the Ork vessel's hull, continuously inhaling the emanations that rose from its blessed machinery. He tapped and prodded at various components while his emotional states cycled through rapturous fascination, frenzied analysis, and occasional melancholic contemplation.
His fellow Tech-Priests mirrored his behavior, each claiming portions of the vessel for their own exhaustive study.
"These... entities are what you described as high-ranking leaders of the Martian Adeptus Mechanicus, Sixth Brother?"
Francis's expression grew troubled as he observed the seemingly disturbed individuals aboard the battleship.
"Uh... indeed. Do you not perceive them? Those Warlord-class Titans upon their vessel?"
Leman Russ twisted Francis's head toward the opposing battleship with characteristic directness.
Multiple Warlord-class Titans stood arrayed upon the Apocalypse-class battleship's deck, war machines that towered dozens of meters in height, second in might only to void-capable vessels themselves.
Precisely calculated alloy plating encased their massive forms, while their frames bristled with weapon systems. High-energy laser cannons, graviton destructors, particle beam projectors, and plasma missile arrays covered every surface, each armament capable of altering the course of battle.
Beneath the massive shadow cast by the Apocalypse-class vessel, countless "Servitors" gathered upon the ground below.
Yet these were beings even lower than standard Servitors who retained basic obedience protocols, these were mechanical revenants.
Their entire forms had been replaced by corroded, rust-stained machinery, and the portions of their brains responsible for consciousness had been surgically excised, leaving only the biological "wetware" necessary for command execution.
It appeared less like machinery embedded within flesh and more like fragments of flesh imprisoned within mechanical shells. Even if ten thousand such creatures were dismantled, it would prove impossible to reassemble a handful of complete human corpses.
"By the Throne..." Francis swallowed hard as he detected the metallic stench that arose from the fusion of rust and organic decay.
"He appears to hold some manner of generalship within the Mechanicus hierarchy and declared that should they be denied research access, they would consider reducing production quotas." The thought brought fresh pain to Leman Russ's skull.
Magnus surveyed the scene with growing unease, his features darkening as he observed the Servitor masses.
"Who even called these... here? Surely not the Mechanicus priests aboard your vessel?" Francis inquired with confusion.
"Indeed, my lord Francis! It was I who revealed your location!" came an excited response from an approaching figure.
Leman Russ "..."
Francis "..."
Leman Russ regarded the speaker with wordless exasperation as the priest guided several high-ranking figures from the Ork vessel toward them.
"Reporting, Fabricator-General, this is Lord Francis. I personally witnessed him commanding the Ork vessel and leading our evacuation from the greenskin world to this location."
The priest prostrated himself before his superior, not daring to rise.
"Salutations. I am Kelbor-Hal, Fabricator-General of Mars. You may address me as Kelbor."
"We of the Adeptus Mechanicus possess a profound interest in Ork technological principles. Lord Francis, would you consent to assist our research endeavours?"
Francis studied the Martian leader, who matched his own considerable height, though he was feeling uncanny vibes from him.
The figure possessed impossible solidity, his facial expressions unnaturally rigid, as if he merely wore a mask of human flesh over mechanical components.
"Greetings, Fabricator-General. Perhaps your subordinate has misunderstood the circumstances. I just convinced an Ork to assist in activating the vessel's systems. I genuinely have no understanding of their technology."
By this time, Francis had completely reverted to his natural human form.
Witnessing Francis's denial, the priest became agitated and cried out, "Fabricator-General, believe my testimony! Everything I have reported is... Ahhhhh!"
Before he could complete his plea, multiple mechanical appendages from Kelbor's form had already extracted the priest's brain matter. Under the ministration of dozens of mechadendrites, he absorbed the totality of the priest's memories.
"Now I can confirm with certainty, you truly possess the ability to interface with Ork teknology." Kelbor forced what might generously be called a smile, his optical sensors cycling through rapid numerical calculations.
"Haha, perhaps my memory failed me. I do seem to possess some small understanding; however, we must return to Terra with all haste. We currently lack sufficient time for such research."
Francis scratched his head, realising his attempts at evasion had proven unsuccessful.
"We can expedite repairs to the Heracla Fenrir and prioritise construction of a replacement vessel of equivalent class. Would this arrangement prove acceptable?"
Kelbor's voice emanated from behind his flesh-mask, and despite his lengthy speech, his lips barely trembled.
"Hiss, hiss, hiss..."
The offer proved remarkably tempting, causing Francis to waver.
Even if the Ork vessel remained functional, only he knew how to operate greenskin technology; even he could hardly pilot every expedition vessel personally!
A Primarch reduced to mere shipwright duties?
More significantly, if his memory served correctly, Kelbor-Hal had been among the Mechanicus leaders who supported Horus during the great rebellion.
If circumstances allowed... hehehehe.
Francis's eyes glittered with calculation as he reached his decision. "Fabricator-General, might we speak privately?"
Both Kelbor and the accompanying Primarchs regarded him with surprise.
Observing Leman Russ and Magnus's bewildered expressions, Francis clapped their shoulders reassuringly. "This concerns core Ork teknological principles, Brother. You lack the necessary background to comprehend such matters, and your presence would only prove... detrimental."
Francis also dismissed Kelbor's entourage, declaring their need for an exclusive "technical consultation." To facilitate the demonstration of Ork teknology, they relocated to the greenskin vessel itself.
The interior might typically overflow with chattering Gretchin slaves and industrious Mekboyz occupying every available space, crammed into holes, corners, and crevices throughout the ship. After passing through six chambers riddled with openings, they finally discovered a seventh room containing only minor fissures.
"Lord Francis, you brought me here to consult additional matters, right?" Kelbor fixed his optical sensors upon Francis's back, detecting the scent of conspiracy.
"As expected from Mars's Fabricator-General! Indeed, I have other topics to address." Francis turned suddenly to face him.
"Do you possess dreams?"
"... What?"
This abrupt shift in conversation caught even Kelbor's artificial neural networks off-guard.
"Do you not yearn to comprehend the Abominable Intelligence teknologies of humanity's Golden Age? Do you not desire to obtain additional STC templates from the Dark Age of Technology? Do you not wish to master the remarkably sophisticated principles underlying Ork teknology?"
Francis posed these soul-piercing questions, knowing how Kelbor could fail to covet such knowledge. The fundamental tenet of the Adeptus Mechanicus held knowledge as the most sacred existence, declaring all creatures or artifacts possessing knowledge to be holy.
"Yes! Naturally, I do! Do you possess the means to convince the Emperor to permit Abominable Intelligence research?"
All of Kelbor's mechanical components rumbled with anticipation.
"Of course!"
Francis paused.
"Absolutely not."
He waved dismissively. How could the Emperor permit the very Abominable Intelligence teknology that had destroyed humanity's Golden Age to resurface?
CLANG!
"You cannot jest regarding sacred knowledge."
Dozens of mechanical appendages erupted from Kelbor's form as weapons, extermination ray projectors, melta blasters, plasma pistols, and power axes all trained upon Francis.
Francis stood motionless.
"Restrain your agitation. I have not finished, I mean that should you cooperate with me, I can provide you with Ork teknology. Moreover, I can secretly furnish you with certain Abominable Intelligence-related research, and when the Emperor eventually abdicates... then the decision shall rest with me! I can grant you whatever you desire."
Francis gestured expansively, as though describing a vast, circular feast.
"Why should I place faith in your words? How can you prove your future authority?"
Kelbor withdrew his weapons, though he found himself increasingly convinced.
"Did you not observe the Custodian Guard and Silent Sisterhood escort beyond? Have you ever witnessed a Primarch receive such treatment? Not only commanding the loyalty of brother-Primarchs, but accompanied by so many personal guardians?"
Hearing Francis's explanation, Kelbor admitted the logic appeared sound.
Francis continued in conspiratorial whispers: "I shall share a secret, but tell no one else."
Kelbor's attention sharpened immediately; he treasured secrets above all else.
Francis leaned close to his auditory receptor: "In truth, the Emperor concealed my existence from fear I might suffer harm. You understand the implications."
"If you know, you know!"
"Hiss, hiss, hiss..." Kelbor's modified brain whirred rapidly as the information overload proved staggering!
Before he could fully process these revelations, Francis dragged him toward the bridge.
"Come! To demonstrate my sincerity, I shall now instruct you in the fundamentals of Ork teknology operation."
"Observe carefully!"
[End of Chapter]
Do you like music?? I do, though I only listen to it.
I wonder how it would feel to be a musician in the 40k world. Perhaps a fic about a musician, singer, or even a cook would be good in 40k. I mean, if we could listen to music that would be great.
What do you think?? Hm??