Steel & Oil: Warhammer 32K

"When will these armies be ready?" Kurande wanted confirmation.

"I issued the summons to the Omnissiah Praetorian Guard weeks ago, and the Knight houses answered. They are already mustered at the Twelfth Elevator on Mars. One word from me and they depart."

It was only a projection, yet the Fabricator General's image surged suddenly closer. "You have insulted me. You have insulted the oath of alliance sworn between Mars and holy Terra. We have been preparing to aid Terra from the very beginning, but we cannot act alone, and we will not lend our strength to those foolish High Lords."

That last phrase sat very well with Kurande. He inclined his head. "I apologise, Fabricator General."

"I will not permit your offence to interfere with my logic, so I accept your apology. You may proceed to the Hand of God Spaceport. I will have the Magos Dominus responsible for these Skitarii, and the High King of the Knight houses, make contact with you there."

"The fleets of the Mechanicus will transport these forces and provide the necessary orbital fire support — though I have one condition. My Priests must collect the materiel and technology aboard the Battle Moon and deliver it to Mars."

Kurande glanced uneasily at Lin, but Lin gave no sign at all. He was left to press the question himself. "To what purpose?"

"For our common goal, Chapter Master. Study of it is critical to defeating the orks."

Kurande had never spoken with Urquidex, so he did not understand Mars's aims the way Lin did — but he could still smell the conspiracy in it. Fortunately, Lin's voice finally came through the encrypted channel inside his helm.

"Agree. But demand command authority over those armies in exchange."

Kurande shifted his answer at once. "I can agree to that, but I must have assured control of those troops. Your Priests cannot be allowed to wreck our strategic deployment for the sake of salvage."

Kubik seemed to have anticipated this. "In the name of the Omnissiah, I cannot place the servants of the Machine God under an outsider's command. The direct leadership of the Knight houses, however, is negotiable. Accept my proposal and I will place them under your direct command."

Lin gave a slight nod, and Kurande accepted the terms.

"Thank you for your aid, Fabricator General. Your generosity will save the lives of many sons of Dorn."

"Naturally. Mars will not permit the Imperium to perish. We shall stand united, as we always have."

Kubik's logic centres read the doubt on Kurande's face without difficulty, but it did not concern him. He rose, declaring the discussion at an end.

"I believe you have accomplished what you came to Mars to accomplish, Brother Kurande."

Five hundred thousand Skitarii and seven Knight houses, properly supplied, were worth five times their number in Astra Militarum. That force would be the single most valuable asset in a combat drop onto the Battle Moon from orbit.

On the whole the meeting had gone smoothly and swiftly — which was precisely what the Inquisition's demand to stall for time did not want.

Knowing he no longer had any reason to remain on Mars, Kurande weighed whether to abandon his cooperation with those Inquisitorial agents altogether. He withdrew alongside Lin, but Kubik called Lin back.

"Magos Lin. I would have you remain behind. Alone."

Kurande stepped forward on instinct. "Lin is the current technical advisor of the Imperial Fists. He stays with me."

"But he is first and foremost a Magos. Mars has certain… internal matters of Adeptus Mechanicus doctrine to discuss with him."

A shadow fell across what had been a reasonably smooth negotiation.

Kurande looked at Lin with open worry. He was already prepared to bring in the honour company and refuse the Fabricator General outright.

Lin shook his head and settled him.

"I have some scholarly matters of my own to discuss with my colleagues on Mars. There's nothing to worry about. Go on to the Hand of God Spaceport and organise the army. When I'm finished, I'll make my way to the Shanzheng."

Kurande left, glancing back every few strides. Then the chamber held only Lin and Kubik.

The Fabricator General spoke first. "Your manipulations are remarkable, Magos Lin. These warriors of the Seventh Legion would walk through fire and water for you. I have begun to suspect that you are the true master of the Seventh Legion."

"There's no need to mock me, Lord Fabricator General. They are Astartes, first and last," Lin answered calmly.

"Just so. Astartes. Gelded gene-warriors who place the survival of the Imperium above all else and have room in their skulls for nothing but honour. Magos Lin, whatever you intend to accomplish through these Astartes, remember this: it was the Omnissiah who granted you the identity you now hold. The colours of the Adeptus Mechanicus are woven into you by nature. Whatever you wish to do, in the end you will have to return to the system of the Forge Worlds to do it."

The warning could hardly have been plainer. Lin drew out a chair and sat down without ceremony, meeting the distant projection eye to eye.

"Is this about Cath Maximus?"

"Cath Maximus? No—"

Kubik drew the syllables out, his subprocessors layering superiority, irony and calm into the vocal output. "That is merely a low-grade Forge World. There is nothing about that world worth discussing."

"If I were the former Forge Director of Cath Maximus, I imagine I'd be furious at Mars's indifference."

"But you are not. In fact, it was you who conspired to seize Cath Maximus."

Kubik rose. For him, only now did this meeting truly enter its proper course.

"We spent a considerable time examining your connections. We found your ties to Forge World Huangquan VIII to be remarkably weak — you even managed to offend a fair number of its Magi. To the Adeptus Mechanicus, your record is admirably clean. And not only Forge World Huangquan VIII. I believe a great many Forge Worlds would be pleased to conduct a status assessment for a Magos such as yourself."

Lin understood him. "Mars wants to recruit me."

"Why not?"

Status assessment within the Mechanicus was a complicated business. A Priest seeking elevation had to present a subject of genuine value with demonstrable practical results and submit it to a Forge World.

The Forge Council then judged the worth of the work. At least three Priests of higher rank had to approve it before the candidate could claim a rank recognised by that Forge World.

Such a rank was generally honoured across all Forge Worlds, though in practice much depended on the grade and relationships of the world in question.

A Magos from a third-grade Forge World was plainly less exalted than a Magos from a second-grade one. By the same token, an Archmagos certified by Forge World Huangquan VIII — Archmagos though he might be — would find little welcome among the Forge Worlds of the Martian faction.

Set beside Forge World Huangquan VIII, the standing of a Martian Magos was worth a great deal more.

"We do not concern ourselves with the gains and losses of a low-grade Forge World, because such worlds are of no importance to Mars. They are as countless as the stars in the void. If a Magos of your value wants one of them, I would raise no objection whatsoever."

"As for Cath Maximus — your methods were crude, but I am still prepared to regard it as a reward. Only agree to join us, Magos Lin, and every reckoning Mars has prepared for you dissolves. You will be integrated here. You will contribute your value to the Omnissiah upon the birthplace of the Machine God, as though nothing had ever happened."

The Fabricator General's terms were tempting. Even knowing that Mars had likely pieced together some measure of his methods from Cath Maximus and Port Sanctus, Lin was not about to assume such generous stakes came free.

"What does Mars want?" he asked bluntly.

"Your electromagnetic technologies. The penetrating shockwave cannons above all. The energy draw is high, but it remains a precious technology. In the name of the Omnissiah, Mars must see it properly preserved. And you, Magos Lin — you will pass the Martian assessment on the strength of that technology and become a high-ranking Magos recognised by Mars."

"One technology buys a high-ranking Magos's status? I doubt it's that simple."

"Of course not. What is more valuable is your current position," Kubik admitted.

A Magos who held the deep trust of the Ultimate Wall. If that Magos changed his colours and became an asset of Mars, then Mars could bleed its influence into the Ultimate Wall itself and ensure its own ends were achieved.

But what was the price of playing the double agent?

The reason Kubik had laboured earlier to stress that Lin belonged to the Adeptus Mechanicus was now plainly obvious. It was not, however, reason enough to persuade him. Faced with the Fabricator General's invitation, Lin shook his head without hesitation. "I must decline."

Kubik was unwilling to let the opportunity slip. "You may name your own price. So long as it is logical, Mars will hold any condition under consideration."

"Abandon the idea, Fabricator General. My goal has never been to become one cog in some vast machine. However tempting Mars's price, it cannot provide the ultimate end I pursue."

Lin stood, meaning to end the conversation. But the chamber doors slammed and locked. He turned back to the Fabricator General's projection and found a dangerous red glow already flickering in those eyes.

"Magos Lin. What is it you require? Power? Technology? Resources? Synchronise your logic circuits with the doctrine of Mars and all of it is attainable."

"And if I refuse?"

"The patience of Mars is finite. Your choice may result in your logic circuits being… reformatted."

Kubik gestured, and the data beneath his throne unfolded in front of Lin. Those records of his data-throne made the true nature of the Fabricator General's seat clear at last.

It was a colossal integrated cogitation system. Any Priest who dared defy the will of the Fabricator General was plugged into it as wetware, becoming another node of that gridded brain.

Stripped of their humanity, these wetware components formed the most powerful cogitator array in the galaxy, their processing power funnelled into the data-throne beneath Kubik. Through the throne he drew upon that power, achieving unity of both computation and thought.

In the century since he had risen to Fabricator General, not one dissenting voice had surfaced within the Mechanicus of Mars.

"This is why I am Fabricator General, Magos Lin."

He displayed his power with open arrogance. Backed by such machinery, Kubik was, within the bounds of certain logic and probability, a god in every sense.

"No one defies my will on Mars. As those Magi of Cath Maximus discovered, who dared to defy me openly the moment they arrived. Willing or not, every dissenter serves holy logic and order in the end."

In other words: persist, and he would be turned into wetware like the Magi of Cath Maximus.

Lin managed the shift in his manner carefully, so that it would not look staged. "I will not make a choice that betrays the Ultimate Wall."

"Do you imagine the Ultimate Wall is your shield? They are not even the only Astartes force available. Three companies of the Iron Hands are garrisoned on Mars."

"But they are a Legion."

"And what of it? Warp storms rage everywhere beyond the Throneworld. Reliable Warp travel is impossible more than two nodes out from Terra. How long do you suppose their subsidiary Chapters will take to muster?"

"You have allied yourself with an entity that carries the name of a Legion and none of its substance. Know your worth, Magos Lin. That Mars is willing to offer you this chance does not mean you are entitled to defy Mars."

"And if I persist?"

"Mars does not return empty-handed."

On Kubik's final warning, three hundred Ruststalkers emerged from concealment around the audience chamber, long since positioned there. Their crimson mechanical eyes swept over Lin, waiting only for one more refusal before they surged forward to mince him into pulp.

Lin knew it was time to bend. "I am willing to provide the production line for the penetrating shockwave cannons."

The Ruststalkers halted, as expected.

It was standard practice. When a Magos lost an "academic exchange" within the Mechanicus but had no wish to hand over his proprietary technology outright, he could surrender the production line instead.

The approach delivered immediate value to the winner while leaving the loser to hope that a production line alone would not let them reverse-engineer the underlying principles. A compromise born of necessity.

"Where is the production line?"

"In my head. You can't expect me to haul a production line around with me. Give me the materials and I'll build it."

With the data-throne behind him, Kubik parsed Lin's reasoning easily.

Building a production line took time; even erecting the frame would take months. As he saw it, Lin was weighing the threat of the Seventh Legion against the threat of Mars and had settled on the answer that kept him out of the fire entirely.

So he was a man who cared about appearances after all.

Did he truly believe that, as things stood, there was still room to sit on the fence?

The Fabricator General was not satisfied. But with the Ultimate Wall's one true expert removed from the equation, the probability of Mars achieving its aims had risen to an acceptable level.

And since the proprietary technology in Lin's hands was genuinely something Mars required, he nodded at last and consented to the bargain.

"Leave the production line, and Mars will overlook your past conduct."

Lin did not believe him for a moment. Still, he ought to be safe until the line was finished.

"When do I begin? After the assault on the Battle Moon is complete?" he pressed.

"No. Now. Mars will assign you a forge."

"Then at the very least give me a channel to communicate with the Ultimate Wall, so I can put their doubts about my withdrawal to rest."

Kubik was silent a moment, calculating. "Your request is judged reasonable. You will be granted a communication channel under Martian monitoring. Be careful with your words, Magos Lin."

"I always am."

The Fabricator General nodded without a sound and cut the projection. The room fell instantly quiet; the Ruststalkers that had ringed Lin had withdrawn at some point he had not marked, leaving only a single Servitor to guide him.

"Magos Lin. Follow me," it said in a flat, inorganic voice, and marked out the destination he was bound for.

Magma City.

____

Gift for Everyone: Once we hit 50 Powerstones, I'll release +1 bonus chapter

________________________________________

If you want more chapters, please consider supporting my page on (P). with 50 advanced chapters available on (P)

👻 Join the crew by searching Leanzin on (P). You know the spot! 😉