The foundry workshop of Raditus remained unchanged from countless cycles before.
Every breath of air carried a searing weight, thick enough to scorch the back of the throat and tighten the lungs with an instinctive, creeping sense of suffocation. The heat pressed against exposed skin like an invisible hand, relentless and unforgiving.
The rhythmic thunder of impact hammers reverberated through the base passages, each strike sending tremors through the metal floors. The sound layered upon itself, creating a persistent mechanical heartbeat that never quite faded. Beneath it all, the deeper roar of the large forge rumbled without pause, a constant growl that suggested something immense and alive, inhaling and exhaling in an endless cycle of molten consumption.
Automatic servo robots traced their predetermined paths through the workshop, their movements precise and tireless. They carried materials, adjusted equipment, and maintained the foundry's operations with the single-minded efficiency of cogs in a vast machine. No hesitation. No fatigue. Just perpetual motion supporting the foundry's ceaseless work.
Nolan's footsteps echoed through the corridors as he moved with purpose, the blue power armor's servos humming softly with each stride. His expression remained set, focused. He passed through storage rooms stacked with half-finished technological components and neatly organized piles of reprocessed metal materials, the air growing hotter with each step deeper into the workshop's heart.
Within moments, he reached the entrance to Raditus' research chamber.
"Aha! My Lord Primarch, you've returned so quickly this time!" The servo skull's voice crackled with immediate enthusiasm, the mechanical tones somehow managing to convey genuine excitement. "It seems the few small gifts I provided must have performed admirably in the field!"
The skull rotated mid-air, its anti-gravity engine emitting a low hum as it reoriented itself. The red lights in its eye sockets flared brighter, pulsing with what could only be described as eager anticipation.
"How was it? Were you satisfied with their performance?"
Nolan's eyes narrowed slightly as he reached up, fingers working at the seals of his helmet. With a soft hiss of releasing pressure, he removed the blue metal helm and set it down on a nearby platform. The surface was cluttered with various tools, half-disassembled components, and technical debris that seemed to have no particular order.
He drew in a deep breath of the scorching air, letting it fill his lungs before responding. His voice remained level, measured. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Raditus. This operation was called off early. We passed near the gang territories but never made contact, so your gifts remained... unopened."
He paused, tilting his head slightly as he regarded the floating skull. "But if you're willing to reveal what you've prepared, now would be an excellent time."
"Hahaha!" The servo skull's laugh echoed through the chamber, deep and mechanical yet somehow warm with satisfaction. "Well, since the Primarch himself wishes to know, I see no reason to maintain the mystery. It's hardly my most significant breakthrough anyway."
Raditus immediately engaged its anti-gravity engine with increased intensity, the humming rising in pitch as it maneuvered toward one of the casting platforms. Its two short mechanical pincers extended, gripping the edges of a metal container roughly the size of a laptop. The servo skull lifted with visible effort, its flight path wobbling slightly under the weight as it navigated back through the air toward Nolan.
"Allow me to introduce you," Raditus announced, its tone taking on a note of professional pride, "to a thermostatic containment device powered by an energy battery. Under normal conditions, the maintenance cycle should extend for approximately ten years... and inside this device is the gift I've been preparing for you. I call them Raditus-pattern freezing grenades!"
The mechanical pincers worked at the container's seal, and with a soft click, the lid opened.
Immediately, tendrils of icy mist spilled over the edges, flowing downward like water as the temperature differential created visible condensation in the hot air. The cold vapor moved with an almost languid quality, cascading toward the floor.
Inside the container, six round grenades sat in individual slots, each one roughly the size of an adult's closed fist. Their surfaces gleamed dully in the forge's ambient light.
Nolan's brow furrowed slightly. "Interesting. If I recall correctly, you mentioned not long ago that the magical energy within the Casket couldn't be extracted for practical use yet."
He extended one hand, the blue metal gauntlet moving with careful precision as he reached into the container. His fingers closed around one of the grenades, lifting it free from its housing with deliberate care.
The moment the grenade left the thermostatic field, a small indicator light near its ring-pull shifted from green to red. The transition was immediate, unmistakable.
The servo skull's chassis bobbed up and down in the air, a gesture that might have been a nod or perhaps a shrug. The mechanical pincers waved in small, almost apologetic motions. When Raditus spoke again, its voice carried a distinct note of regret mixed with resignation.
"Your memory serves you well, as always. To be entirely honest, I have not yet overcome that particular obstacle. Even now, the Casket's magical energy remains beyond my ability to fully extract and control." The skull paused, the red lights in its sockets dimming momentarily. "The freezing grenade is merely an... accidental byproduct of my research. And, if I'm being precise, an unsuccessful byproduct at that."
Raditus drifted slightly closer, as if sharing a confidence. "As you correctly surmised, I was attempting various methods to extract the magical energy from the Casket. Most approaches failed outright, the materials unable to contain or channel the forces involved. However, during one particular experiment, I wrapped a small amount of the essence in a composite shell: Uru metal as the primary layer, reinforced with ceramite steel and plasteel to create a containment vessel. To my surprise, this combination actually held the magical energy."
The skull's lights flickered, brightening again. "Unfortunately, success was... temporary. After a brief period, the containment vessel suddenly exploded, causing rather substantial damage to my research laboratory." A pause. "But it also provided valuable data. Inspiration, if you will."
"So I replicated the metallurgical composition of the vessel, made several adjustments to the material ratios, and carefully regulated the output intensity from the Casket itself. After numerous iterations, I successfully produced a functional freezing grenade."
"Initially, this approach was little more than a desperate attempt, what you might call a last resort. But the energy-absorbing properties of Uru metal combined with the extraordinary structural integrity of adamantium created an unexpected synergy. Together, they managed to stabilize and balance the internal magical energy..." Raditus' voice took on a more cautionary tone. "Of course, this balance is inherently temporary. Over time, it will inevitably degrade. Only by maintaining a constant temperature can true stability be guaranteed."
"In its current design, a single freezing grenade can maintain stable containment for approximately twelve hours after removal from the thermostatic device. I emphasize: twelve hours after leaving this container. While stored within the thermostatic field, they can be preserved indefinitely without degradation."
The servo skull rotated to face Nolan more directly, its voice becoming noticeably more serious. "However, if a freezing grenade has been separated from its thermostatic housing for more than twelve hours, then my professional recommendation is this: rather than carrying such a device on your person, you would be better served simply walking into enemy artillery fire. At least that way, your death would be quicker and considerably less... fragmented."
Nolan remained silent for a moment, turning the grenade slowly in his grip. His metal-clad fingers adjusted their hold, examining the device from multiple angles as Raditus' explanation settled in his mind. The weight felt substantial but manageable. The craftsmanship was evident even in its deliberately simple exterior.
Then, with a single smooth motion, his finger hooked through the ring-pull and yanked it free.
"Wait, my Lord—!"
Before the servo skull could complete its warning, Nolan's arm moved in a fluid arc. The grenade left his hand, sailing through the air in a clean trajectory.
It flew across the laboratory corridor, tracking toward an automatic servo robot that was methodically sorting components near one of the work stations.
The explosion came with a sharp crack, less thunderous than a conventional grenade but accompanied by a peculiar crystalline chime. In an instant, dozens of icicle spikes burst outward in a radiating pattern, each one gleaming with that characteristic faint blue luminescence. The spikes punched through the servo robot's chassis, piercing clean through metal plating designed for industrial durability.
But the damage didn't stop there. Ice spread rapidly from each point of impact, expanding across the robot's frame in branching patterns. Within seconds, the entire machine was encased in thick, translucent ice blocks that glowed with an otherworldly cold light. The servo robot remained frozen in place, its last movement captured mid-task, a mechanical sculpture trapped in eternal stasis.
Nolan studied the results with narrowed eyes, taking in both the immediate destructive effect and the lingering containment properties. The dual functionality was clear: devastating penetration followed by total immobilization.
He turned his gaze back to Raditus, his expression neutral but his voice carrying a note of genuine approval. "Well. That's considerably more effective than I anticipated."
"It's merely the duty of a loyal Tech-Priest!" Raditus replied immediately, the excitement flooding back into its mechanical voice. The servo skull began orbiting Nolan in tight circles, driven by its anti-gravity engine, like an eager pet celebrating its master's approval. "Nothing more than what should be expected of one devoted to the Omnissiah's work!"
Nolan let the skull complete a few rotations before raising one hand in a gesture for calm. His expression shifted, settling back into the serious focus that had marked his arrival. He took a slow, measured breath.
"Now that we've finished discussing your gift, we should address the actual reason for my visit."
The servo skull's circling slowed, then stopped. It hovered at eye level, attentive.
Nolan's voice remained steady, but his words carried weight. "A Heretic Cult. Five hundred thousand believers, at minimum. At least sixty confirmed aliens embedded within the organization." He paused, letting those numbers sink in. "What options do I have if I want to eliminate the threat while minimizing casualties and resources?"
"A Heretic Cult?" Raditus' voice rose sharply, the mechanical tones crackling with immediate outrage. "Damn it all! You're telling me there are chaos filth heretics on this world?"
Without hesitation, the servo skull declared: "Exterminatus! The Exterminatus protocol must be executed immediately and without mercy!"
The red lights in its eye sockets blazed with intensity. "Lord Primarch! Give me seventy-two hours! Just three days! I will personally construct a nuclear torpedo with a yield exceeding one million tons! I guarantee complete effectiveness! Every last heritic and their cultist thralls will be eradicated from existence!"
Nolan's eyebrow rose slightly, though his expression showed no anger at the servo skull's zealous response. If anything, he seemed to have expected exactly this reaction.
"Raditus," he said calmly, "if the solution were that simple, I would have already instructed David to acquire or appropriate official nuclear weapons through whatever means necessary. Why would I come to you?"
He crossed his arms, the power armor's servos adjusting to the new position with barely audible mechanical whispers. "The cult has established itself within a slum district. Think of it as an open-air underhive: cramped, densely packed, chaotic. That area alone contains hundreds of thousands of innocent who have no connection to the cult. And surrounding those slums? Millions more ordinary people living in the adjacent districts."
His voice remained level, but there was an edge of finality to his words. "Deploying nuclear weapons would certainly be... efficient. But the consequences, both immediate and long-term, are unacceptable. That's not the outcome I'm willing to accept."
The servo skull fell silent, hovering motionless in the air. The frantic flashing of its red optical sensors slowed considerably, dimming to a steadier pulse as it processed Nolan's constraints.
"According to the Imperium's standard protocols," Raditus began after a long moment, its voice more measured now, "saturation bombardment with Cyclonic torpedoes would eliminate all concerns. Thorough. Final. Permanent." The skull tilted slightly. "But with that option removed from consideration, the difficulty increases substantially."
The mechanical voice took on a contemplative quality. "I know a formula. An early-stage Mechanicus prototype for a phosphex-catalyst reaction. It should be synthesizable with local resources… yes. A volatile phosphide compound designed to ignite in atmospheric conditions and trigger large-scale incendiary cascades. The resulting firestorm would be magnificent. Its cremation efficiency borders on the sacred!"
Another pause, then: "However, if you're committed to avoiding civilian casualties as you've indicated, then the optimal solution becomes more... specialized. Extract the genetic sequences of this creature. Use that data to engineer a targeted virus bomb. A living pathogen designed to attack only those specific genetic markers. It would eliminate the xenos and their directly corrupted followers with perfect precision while leaving unmodified humans completely unharmed. The virus would be engineered to self-terminate after completing its function, preventing any long-term contamination."
The servo skull's lights dimmed further, and when it spoke again, there was something almost apologetic in its tone. "But therein lies the problem, you see. I am not a Biologis adept... I'm not even a proper Magos, though that's hardly the relevant issue here..."
"More importantly," Raditus continued, "I have serious doubts that Terra's current technological infrastructure could successfully manufacture a virus bomb of the sophistication required. The biotechnical knowledge, the genetic sequencing capabilities, the viral engineering precision... I simply don't believe the facilities exist on this world to accomplish such a feat."
The servo skull descended slightly, positioning itself more at Nolan's chest level, as if the conversation had become more personal.
"Respected Primarch, if you're willing to hear my counsel, then I must speak plainly: the best choice available to you is to abandon any notion of playing savior to people you don't know. Even with your nature as the noble gene-son of the Emperor himself, you remain fundamentally human. And humans have limits."
Raditus' voice carried a weight of experience, of hard lessons learned. "From everything you've told me, I can infer that this cult represents a significant, perhaps existential, threat. Otherwise, you wouldn't have come to me seeking solutions to this problem. Therefore, from a purely practical standpoint, weapons of mass destruction are not merely one option among many. They are the only reliable option for resolving this situation."
"Do you think me cold? Ruthless?" The servo skull's question was rhetorical, but Raditus answered it anyway. "Perhaps I am. But consider this: such measures are ultimately for the greater good of those very people you're trying to protect. When I still walked in the flesh, I witnessed countless tragedies where hesitation and unwillingness to make the hard choice led to opportunities lost, containment failures, and ultimately the destruction of entire planetary populations. Sometimes mercy in the moment becomes the cruelest decision in hindsight."
The skull bobbed slightly in the air, rising and falling like a slow nod. "Of course, you are the Primarch, and I am merely a loyal Tech-Priest in your service. My role is not to make your decisions for you. I will prepare every viable option within my capabilities, present them for your consideration, and you will make the final judgment."
Throughout this entire exchange, Nolan's expression had remained carefully neutral, giving nothing away. He stood perfectly still, processing every word, weighing every possibility Raditus had laid before him.
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