Steel & Oil: Warhammer 32K

Lin took the bolter. With the unerring eye of someone who never missed a detail, he identified it at a glance: a Phobos-pattern bolter.

Legend held that the original bolter design had been completed by the Emperor himself, and the Phobos-pattern was the first bolter to enter hand-crafted mass production after the Mechanicus of Mars reached its compact with the Emperor.

Though the rifle had been purpose-built for the MK II Crusade-pattern power armour and was essentially a work of artisan craftsmanship, its ammunition calibre differed from every bolter that came after it. Despite the MK II armour it was paired with remaining in widespread use, the Phobos-pattern bolter was rapidly phased out to simplify logistics.

It was now well over fifteen hundred years since the Great Crusade's launch in 798.M30. Every surviving Phobos-pattern bolter in existence had long since been enshrined as a sacred relic by one Chapter or another. And yet here, on a world cut off from the wider Imperium for untold years, Lin was looking at one of these weapons in the hands of Space Marines who didn't even have power armour to wear.

Battered as it was from long neglect, the sight set Lin's mind turning over quiet suspicions about who these people really were.

They were definitely not as simple as Reformation-era veterans opposed to the Second Founding, or turncoat Chapters gone renegade. Admir had lied about his identity when they first met, calling his group a Legion rather than a Chapter...

Suspicions noted and filed away. Lin's approach to the repair work itself remained rigorous. He pulled on his custom-fitted gloves first — a precaution against his Blank nature inadvertently disrupting the machine spirit housed in the weapon — and only then accepted the bolter from Admir.

He racked the bolt to begin an inspection. He did not expect that single action to send the entire rifle clattering apart across the floor.

Lin stared at the scattered components, momentarily dumbfounded. Then understanding settled in: the gun had long since been pushed past its limit by overuse and total neglect.

Its machine spirit had been straining to hold the thing together through sheer loyalty alone. But like a gravely ill patient too weakened to survive surgery, the very act of disassembly had been enough to shatter the machine spirit's coherence. Without that animating will to sustain it, the bolter's operational lifespan reached its end on the spot.

A bolter was like an AK-47 — the byword for simplicity, ruggedness, and ease of maintenance. That was exactly why it had become the most ubiquitous weapon in every Space Marine's arsenal.

If a weapon like that could simply crumble apart without its machine spirit to hold it together... just how long had it gone without maintenance? A thousand years?

Setting the cause aside, the fact remained: Lin had come here as a Mechanicus Priest to service weapons, and the first weapon he'd touched had exploded into pieces in his hands. That was, to put it diplomatically, a little embarrassing. Lin rubbed his nose awkwardly and glanced over at Admir — only to find the lieutenant frowning, but not particularly surprised. He'd clearly had a fair idea of the state the weapon was in.

Admir reached along the weapon rack and selected another piece — a chainsword in relatively better condition, though its chainblade was already notched in multiple places. He handed it to Lin with a gesture that said: start with this.

Lin took it and looked it over. Well, well. A MK IV Thunderblade-pattern chainsword. Compared to the Phobos-pattern bolter, this thing was actually standard-issue kit that had been in continuous use since the Unification Wars on Terra.

Lin said nothing. He got to work. Melee weapons were structurally simpler and more durable than bolters to begin with, and this weather-beaten chainsword — which had clearly been through some rough amateur repair jobs by people with no mechanical understanding whatsoever — did not fall apart when Lin disassembled it.

Using the basic maintenance tools from his mechadendrite backpack, Lin re-ground the chainsword's monomolecular edge to its proper sharpness, then directed Admir to bring him several chainswords that had already been rendered unserviceable. He stripped them for parts and used the salvaged material to patch the notches in the blade on the spot. Barely ten minutes later, Lin set the chainsword down, finished.

He pressed the activation stud. The newly restored chainsword buzzed back to life with vigorous, healthy resonance.

Lin handed the chainsword to Admir. The lieutenant gave it a few test swings and seemed equally satisfied with the results — though one question lingered. "Every Mechanicus Priest we've dealt with before, Sergeant Heipa included, would anoint the equipment with sacred oils and recite the liturgies of the Cult Mechanicus during maintenance. Do you not require that?"

"You mean the Canticles of the Omnissiah," Lin said. He knew perfectly well what Admir's layman framing was pointing at, but he didn't particularly care.

In the absurdist reality of the Warhammer 40,000 universe, the canticles, the liturgies, and the blessed incense oils all carried genuine metaphysical efficacy — beyond merely soothing machine spirits, they also guarded equipment against Warp corruption and the incursion of electronic daemons.

But Lin was a Blank. By his very nature, he didn't coexist with any of those supernatural phenomena. Unless he needed to keep up appearances in front of fellow members of the Mechanicus, the rituals were completely meaningless to him.

So he offered Admir a simple explanation: "I tend toward the empirical. Science and pragmatism — that's my approach. None of that is necessary."

That answer seemed to strike a genuine chord with Admir. He gave a firm, approving nod. "Precisely. Scientific method is our greatest asset. Excellent work, Mechanicus Priest."

"Anything else that needs servicing?" Lin's eyes drifted covetously toward the Phobos-pattern bolter — the kind of weapon he'd only ever expected to see behind glass in a Chapter's reliquary. "Your bolters are all heavily worn, but I should be able to restore around four — " He caught himself. "Two of them."

"No need." Admir shook his head. "Keeping our melee weapons in fighting condition is the most valuable thing you can do for us. The beasts outside have an abnormal resistance to ranged firearms. The damage bolters can deal to those creatures is negligible — more often than not, only close-quarters combat inflicts effective wounds." He turned down Lin's offer.

"Exclusively melee?" Lin pressed.

"Not exclusively. Ranged primitive weapons — thrown or launched — can work as well. But ranged thermal weapons are essentially limited to suppression and distraction. The time Sergeant Heipa gave his life, we had assumed the melta bomb would be enough to kill the creature outright. In reality it only severed its tail. The fight still had to be decided in close quarters. In terms of thermal weapons, that shot from your plasma pistol is the single most effective ranged strike I've ever witnessed against these beasts."

"No wonder a fully-charged Ryza-pattern plasma pistol only managed to carve a crater in it, even with the elemental advantage..."

First the question of whether the old man on the Golden Throne had been playing Monster Hunter thirty thousand years ago, and now Lin found himself wondering whether some Ratling brother had been sitting right next to the Emperor in co-op mode at the time. "So going forward, I just need to keep your melee weapons maintained?"

Admir was noncommittal. He had higher hopes for what Lin might be capable of. "Melee weapons are the priority. But if you can do more, we will naturally extend you more trust and candour in return. Before we get to that, though — I need to take you somewhere else."

"Where?"

"Our council chamber."

Admir led Lin into another side chamber deeper in the cave. Three figures were waiting there. Lin recognised one of them — the Astartes who had reported the Brachydios sighting to Admir earlier, who had also commanded one of the squads that held the creature in place. The man gave Lin a small, brief nod as he entered.

"These are the members of our council. Every decision here is discussed and authorised by the four of us."

Admir introduced the familiar face first. "Deputy Aibo — currently serving as the company's Apothecary as well. He's your best source for knowledge about the wildlife on this planet. Sergeant Arlo — he trained every recruit we've ever had. No one here would dare challenge him on swordsmanship. And finally, Lieutenant Vigan — the authority on directing squad-level operations."

"As for me — Admir. I was this company's Champion. I've since been nominated by the others to serve as overall commander for the time being."

With the introductions complete, Admir gestured for Lin to sit, then strode to the front of the chamber himself and called the meeting to order.

"The details have already been relayed to all of you by Aibo. After a long period of waiting, a ship has finally crashed on this isolated world — and its survivor is the Mechanicus Priest now sitting before us: Lin. I have already assessed his professional capabilities. The results are broadly satisfactory, and I have decided to formalise a cooperative arrangement with him. He will take responsibility for the maintenance of our weapons and equipment."

"If that were all, there would be no need to consult us." Lieutenant Vigan cut straight to the issue. "Say it plainly, Admir. Why did you call me back from the hunt?"

"Now that we have a qualified Mechanicus Priest to assist us, I believe this is an opportunity — possibly the only opportunity we will ever have." Admir planted both hands on the table and swept his gaze across the assembled faces, his expression grave. "I have decided: we will have the Mechanicus Priest perform the procedure. We are going to wake the Dreadnought."

——

Author's Note 1: To the reader who suggested Jerry — I can only say I won't be writing that, or at least not anytime soon. That said, the Skaven ratman concept did give me some ideas to work with. So if anyone has thoughts on where the plot should go, feel free to sound off in the comments. I can't promise I'll use any of it, but it absolutely broadens the writer's thinking — and who knows, it might just end up in the story.

Author's Note 2: Regarding the question from the same reader about where the Warp drive went — it's been stashed away for now, but admittedly I hadn't mentioned this previously, so I've added some clarifying lines to the earlier chapters to address it. (The plasma engine was already mentioned earlier as having been patched into Lin's body, so it's still on his person — there's no pocket dimension involved.)