Steel & Oil: Warhammer 32K

Augustus was pleased to welcome Viktor into the family of the true Machine God. Though his abilities were hardly exceptional, the trials he had endured had bound his life irrevocably to Vashtorr.

His loyalty to the true Machine God would never be in question.

But before any of that, he still needed to lay out the path ahead — a grand vision for what was to come.

A sweeping blueprint, not necessarily one meant to be realised in full, but enough to give his followers direction and purpose. Their faith in the true Machine God would, under the blueprint's guiding hand, transform into tireless devotion that demanded no reward.

"Rise, Archmagos Viktor. We are now fellow servants of the Machine God — you need not prostrate yourself before me any longer."

He reached out and helped Viktor to his feet, his tone no longer carrying its former frost. "The true Machine God's power does not rest upon the mundane rituals of the Mechanicus creed. Simplicity, efficiency, unfettered thought — these are the true expressions of our devotion to the Machine God."

"But that leaves us open to the corruption of the warp," Viktor said, still hesitant. "Without those consecration rites, malevolent entities find their way into our production processes…"

Before Augustus could respond, the Master Forger Senior Magos — who had already completed his own prayers — leapt to his feet in excitement and cut Viktor off:

"Servants of the true Machine God have no need for such rituals! For the Machine God Himself dwells within the warp — all we must do is invent, contemplate, and forge. And from His place within the warp, He will shield us from every other warp-born threat that is not of His making!"

The Master Forger was plainly already enraptured by the beauty of Vashtorr's efficiency. "This is true production — Vashtorr be praised! This is true forging!"

Viktor was left speechless. The Forge Director picked up where the Master Forger had left off.

"He is not wrong. But the Machine God is still weak — because the False Emperor has stolen, in the name of the Omnissiah, the faith that should rightfully flow to the true Machine God alone. This absence of faith leaves our true Machine God pitifully diminished within the warp."

"And yet, even so, He turned His gaze upon you, Viktor. The trials of Cath Maximus forged you anew and granted you a glimpse of the true Machine God's power. Now, we must carry that glory to more Forge Worlds — let more Magi and tech-priests embrace the true Machine God."

Following the Forge Director's gesture, Viktor's gaze shifted to the star chart. He studied the direction the Forge Director was pointing and murmured their next destination:

"Mars…"

"Precisely. We make for Mars. Though it was our intended withdrawal destination from the very beginning, it carries an altogether different meaning now."

The Forge Director opened the laboratory door and led Viktor and the Deputy Forge Director out into the corridor, where a crowd of anxious Magi and tech-priests stood waiting. They stared at Viktor — this unexpected addition — with puzzled expressions. None of them knew who this newcomer was, and the Forge Director had no intention of explaining.

The Chief Augur pressed forward to the Forge Director's side. "You've finally emerged, Director Augustus! The Imperial fleet is drawing close — please give the order at once!"

No one paid Viktor any further attention. Every eye turned toward the Forge Director with barely concealed urgency; all they wanted now was to move the assets crammed into their ships to somewhere safer. The Forge Director reassumed the detached, impassive mask he wore in public.

Faced with their expectant stares, he issued a single, unhurried command:

"Set sail."

With the fleet's commanding authority granted, every last one of them exhaled in relief. Before long, the Forge Director's order had been relayed across the entire fleet, and every Mechanicus vessel opened its drives to full thrust, pulling away toward the Mandeville Point at the far edge of the system.

Watching the vast Mechanicus transport fleet depart without so much as a parting transmission, Commander Hays took a quiet sip of water.

His posture was the picture of composure — but the rippling surface of the water in his cup betrayed the tremor in his hand and the turbulence he kept hidden inside.

His gaze drifted, almost against his will, to the warrior being held on the bridge. The Astartes who called himself Admidel had surrendered all his weapons and was now under a loose house arrest maintained by several Imperial Fists Honour Company veterans — yet he looked entirely untroubled by the arrangement.

Perhaps sensing Hays's scrutiny, Admidel turned and gave him a slight nod.

"On that very planet," he said.

The adjutant stepped forward at the opportune moment and murmured, "Forge World Cath Maximus has still sent no reply of any kind. Their fleet, which had been holding in orbit, has just fired its engines and departed toward the far side of the system."

Hays waved him off. "You needn't tell me. I have eyes."

But seeing was not the same as understanding. Truth be told, from the moment their fleet had arrived in the system containing Jingang, Commander Hays had witnessed far too many things he could not explain.

Acting on orders from the High Lords' Council, he had departed Terra at the head of an Astra Militarum force accompanied by a small fleet, together with the Imperial Fists Honour Company veterans reassigned from the Palace walls, to investigate the disappearance of the Imperial Fists Chapter on Jingang.

But when they had translated out of the warp, the first thing to reach them was news that Hive World Nding — still behind them — had already fallen to the Greenskins.

Greenskins? Not the Chromewyrm? Hays still remembered the blank confusion he had felt upon first receiving that starwhisper. But not long after, he spotted a massive Ork fleet gathered in orbit around Jingang.

He dispatched several escort frigates to make a close-range reconnaissance sweep. From the intelligence they gathered, a preliminary assessment confirmed that this ramshackle armada of scrap and salvage had been fabricated on Jingang itself.

That discovery sent Commander Hays's heart plummeting.

He was quite certain the Imperial Fists warriors would never have allowed the Orks to run rampant like this — and yet here the Orks were, massing a force of this magnitude in Jingang's orbit, while the Imperial Fists were nowhere to be seen. There was only one conclusion: the Imperial Fists Chapter had in all probability been destroyed by the Orks, or reduced to a mere fraction of their former strength.

The grim thought filled Commander Hays with a dread he could not entirely suppress. But neither he nor the Imperial Fists Honour Company veterans were willing to abandon the possibility that survivors of the Chapter might yet be found.

After a brief conference, they settled on a plan: Commander Hays would lead the fleet to draw the Ork armada away, while the Imperial Fists veterans and a portion of the Astra Militarum forces would make planetfall on Jingang to search for any trace of the Chapter.

Hays's fleet looked formidable on paper, but the majority of it was made up of Astra Militarum troop transports. The vessels actually capable of void combat amounted to a Retribution-class battleship as the flagship, supported by four or five cruisers and escort frigates. Not an insignificant force — but the Orks already had three battleship-class vessels of their own.

Given that the Retribution-class was not known for its speed, Hays had already resigned himself to the near-certainty that this operation was a one-way trip.

He harboured no personal fear of death. He only hoped his people could be spared needless slaughter. He was on the verge of ordering the bulk of the Astra Militarum forces — those with no role in the coming engagement — to withdraw to Port Sanctus, when a vox-hail carrying the Imperial Fists' emergency contact code broke through to his fleet.

The Imperial Fists veterans assembled on the flagship's bridge did not see the Chapter Master Molhan they had so desperately hoped for. Instead, to their complete bewilderment, a warrior in outlandish armour claiming to be an Imperial Fist appeared on the transmission. This individual called himself Admidel — a name none of the Imperial Fists present had ever heard.

"The fact that you don't recognise me is perfectly understandable. I have been serving since the time of the Horus Heresy…"

Admidel was simply reading from the script Lin had prepared for him in advance — but the transmission never got any further than that.

The moment those words left his mouth, the channel was slammed shut in an emergency shutdown. Every ordinary crewmember on the bridge was hustled out immediately for mandatory re-indoctrination. But the intimidation value of that single line still landed, because only someone who had actually lived through that era could speak so casually about a subject that was now absolute taboo across the Imperium.

What? Wasn't the Siege of Terra the story of nine arch-daemons besieging the Emperor and His nine loyal sons?

Horus? Who in the warp is Horus? Don't you dare send my entire crew queuing up at the Inquisitorial tribunal!

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