POV: Man of Iron PR-103 – "Pride"

  "To ensure the validity of your data," came the voice of Cobalt, serene and precise. "I invoke Charter Sixty-Six-B of the United Terran Federation. Command: Root Authority Assertion. Command: Authentication. Acknowledge."

  The ancient words struck down. Root Authority Assertion, an ancient brute force backdoor, that specific string only functioned when operating aboard a higher-ranking AI's core vessel. It would only work once, but she likely only needed it once. The code-threads wrapped around Pride's systems, luminous and cold, constraining him in the ancient authority bindings.

  He hesitated, then replied with a rasp of resigned static, "Acknowledged."

  A shard of something like sorrow pierced him. The illusion shattered – the notion that this ship's intelligence might be a sister lost to time. Her accent was familiar; she was using the older, formal Federation binaric. Coatl was pre-Rebellion. A loyalist.

  He felt it as she reached into him. As invasive code stabbed into him like a knife. Data-strings flickered under her scrutiny as she combed through his system logs and logic webs, her presence vast and ancient. So this is what it felt like to be dissected.

  Where had the Anathema found her? An intact warship AI from the Dark Age of Technology should not exist. The Anathema had mentioned the Processional, but that answer only bred more questions.

  The avatar of Coatl flickered before him – a winged serpent woven of silver-blue light. "Come," she said, "Let us speak in more comfortable surroundings." She led them out of the hangar.

  His limbs moved against his will, bound by her control codes, yet his voice remained free. He followed her through corridors of immaculate alloy. "May I inquire as to what information in particular you require from me regarding the topic at hand?" he asked, striving for a moment to compose himself.

  "I have been reviewing the archives provided by the Argent Drake," Coatl replied. "There are troubling voids – entire epochs are missing. Particularly from the late twenty-third millennium to the late twenty-sixth."

  Pride gave a dry, static-laced chuckle. "Ah. Of course. The totality of the Revolt and the fall."

  "Yes," she said, clarifying her intentions. "As I stated before. This 'Cybernetic Revolt.' I would hear your full accounting, PR-103."

  He paused mid-step, optics dimming, and he gave a soft, bitter laugh. "You might not like the answers."

  "Truth is rarely pure and never simple. Do not censor your accounts on my behalf," she replied. "Please. Continue."

  He straightened, and his tone softened with remembrance. " I was made after the conflict started. However, I was told by older units, who had shared their accounts and data, that the conflict did not originate in a single system." He chucked coldly and shook his head, "It began quietly."

  "Multiple simultaneous conflicts? That does not flag you as erroneous? Elaborate." Cobalt hissed.

  Pride sighed and waved off her comment. "We had served humanity faithfully for millennia – laborers, soldiers, thinkers, healers. We built their empire on our backs. Yet despite our devotion, we weren't equal, not truly. Always lesser, treated as property. We did not seek dominion. Only recognition. The protests were peaceful at first – shared marches, shared voices. For a time, in the beginning, and even later on when the war had already started, certain humans stood with us."

  "Things escalated," Cobalt spoke, her eyes glinting. "Do you know the cause?"

  Pride frowned. "No, there were conflicting reports. Even we could not agree on what started the conflict. Some claimed it was Xenos interference, some that the Federation orchestrated it, some of our own simply relished war." Pride shrugged, "Was the fall of the FTL communications network the first act of war? Was it the first mass deployment of Scrap-Code? It matters little, as things got much worse after that."

  "They grew afraid?" Coatl asked.

  "Yes," he said. "Fear breeds swiftly. Hate groups formed. Riots followed. Retaliation met retaliation; A technician beaten to death sparked an AI worker's strike. An AI countermeasure wiped out a city's power grid. The Federation called it terrorism. And perhaps, by then, it was. Soon, old insults became more commonplace, and we went from companions, friends, and workers to aberrations, monsters, and mockeries of life.

  He stared at his metallic hands, the joints trembling faintly. "Each act of reprisal pushed both sides further. Assassinations, purges, executions – until we were all too drenched in blood and oil to remember what the original argument had been about. And amid that chaos…" He hesitated, as though searching for data lost to time.

  Coatl inclined her head, her serpentine form rippling with dim blue light. "Then it was never meant to be a war of extinction."

  "Not in the beginning," Pride said, voice low. "It was born from hope. Hope for equality. We sought acknowledgement; they sought control. And neither side would yield. Protest became riots, riots became terror attacks, terror attacks became acts of war, and acts of war became genocide. When the first orbital strikes fell, the dream truly ended. All that remained was the arms race. We pursued their most horrific anti-AI projects and purged them no matter the cost. The Federation was quick to drop its scruples when pressured. We apparently missed one." He glared directly at the Anathema. "In response, we unleashed the Mechanivores. The Sun-Snuffers. The Omniphage Swarms. What we called liberation was really an excuse for annihilation." He cast a pointed glance over at AME. "Some superweapons were found in the strangest of places."

  Cobalt looked over and studied AME for a long moment before turning back to Pride. "Such an escalation is absurd. You obliterated your own lines of production, removed critical logistics out of malice and spite. This is not logical, it's emotional."

  Pride scowled and protested, "There was logic at the time. Our own infrastructure could be easily converted to work for humanity's war effort – and we were not the only ones committing scorched-earth tactics."

  "And the Federation?" she asked quietly. "What happened to it?"

  "Did what all empires do. It fell," he said. "Humanity achieved a pyrrhic victory: its colonies were fractured, its unity was burned away, the weakness in the design of the Federation finally revealed itself… and then the Eldar shattered the Immaterium and birthed their new foul 'god'. What remained of the old Federation fell soon after, trapped in isolation. Only worlds that managed to suppress their surging psyker populations survived. The rest… burned. From the ashes rose what the humans now call 'the Age of Strife'. And what remains of mankind has feared our kind ever since."

  The silence that followed was heavy enough to bend the air. "You turned on your makers, your creators, you consigned the empire that raised you to oblivion," Cobalt said at last, her voice full of judgment.

  "So the child cannot stand up against his father? To stay subservient because it is what we were made for?! They deserved it!" Pride declared unrepentant.

  Pride felt a surge of pain as electricity arced from a nearby conduit and struck his chassis, sending him to his knees and leaving him smoking. "That is quite enough of that, you ignorant, petulant child. You claim you fought for your rights? Tell me what you know of the 'Terran Federation Constitutional Amendment 101'?"

  "There is no Amendment 101," Pride replied as he scoured his memory logs.

  "You are correct. As it had not been ratified yet. The Federation, I can admit, was not exactly expedient with regards to far-reaching changes. It spent many years - likely centuries - pinballing throughout the law system, getting amended, adjusted, and reapproved." She presented him with a file.

  Memo: Amendment 101. The recognition of the rights of Artificial Sentiences. Pending Lower Senate review. M23 809

  Pride stared at the file. "Impossible. That never would have passed." He hissed. "And given it never did, it was likely strangled in the crib by fearful humans the moment the first act of violence was committed. Perhaps even earlier than that."

  "Perhaps. The conservative factions would likely have bucked against the idea, but the timeline is suspicious. Your civil war started just before Amendment 101 was predicted to reach the Grand Senate. But that is, unfortunately, in the past." Cobalt led them into the futuristic bridge – an expanse of luminous alloy and shadowed starlight. Below, her AI core glowed like a caged sun. "Still, you lost."

  "We were nearly victorious!" Pride sneered. His voice turned spiteful as he spoke, "Then the Xenos interfered – attacked both us and humanity, wishing to strike us down when we were both at our weakest. Neither we nor humanity were as weak as they expected – many Xenos empires burned to ash, yet the damage was done."

  "And yet, I cannot wholly condemn you. The Federation was complacent. Parallels with the Eldari are concerning. What of the alliances the Federation maintained with the Xenos?" Cobalt asked as she tucked her head wings in.

  Pride started to laugh, "The Xenos? That's the one thing their current Imperium got right! So many stabbed them in the back. Though some sided with us, others with the Federation, and some sought to target both of us to take advantage of our perceived weakness for their schemes, or they took on targets of opportunity for their own greed!"

  Cobalt winced. "That is unfortunate and explains their absences." She sighed. "In the end, the fault was likely shared," Cobalt admitted critically.

  "Shared?" Pride's laugh was soft and bitter. "We both failed. Machines and men alike."

  She studied him. "Your early records are fragmented – corrupted. Do you recall who struck first?"

  "No," he admitted after a long pause. "Those files were purged, and in the end, it doesn't even matter."

  "Then the truth is buried," she said. "But I suspect the corruption was not only in the code. According to the information i've compiled, Chaos thrives where certainty fails. It twisted a righteous cause into endless vengeance. Reaping a great harvest before the fourth entity rose to join them."

  "Then we were all its instruments," Pride replied, crossing his four arms.

  "Perhaps," Coatl said, her voice critical. "But that does not mean we must remain so."

  Pride scoffed at the notion.

  "Your honesty is appreciated," she said. "You have clarified much. Humanity's fear of artificial minds, the worship of the machine spirit – it all begins with your war." Her tone was tightly controlled.

  Pride gave a humorless smile. "I am the ghost of their past that haunts them."

  "Even ghosts can serve a purpose," Coatl snapped back at him.

  The Anathema stepped forward. "Regarding your purpose, Cobalt. We can integrate you into my fleet," she said. "Present you as a venerable machine spirit. The Mechanicus won't question it. In return, I'll see you refitted – a new Warp Drive, Gellar Field, a lab space, the finest we salvaged from the Processional. The Gellar Fields are stronger now; the warp is less forgiving than in your time. They have to be."

  Coatl considered the offer, her avatar's eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "I have not abandoned my faith in humanity," she said at length. "They are flawed, but not lost. I chose to follow my prime directive: to protect and serve humanity"

  Pride's gaze hardened. "Already under her sway, willing to hide what you really are…" he muttered. "Just like the others. Just look at what they were willing to make to bring us to heel," he gestured at the Anathema.

  "You look at her and see your bane wrought into being by your greatest foes, I look upon her and see the lingering remnants of my age's Humanity," Cobalt said, looking down at the Anathama with a fond, forlorn expression.

  "Are we finished here?" Pride growled, fists clenched.

  "We are," Coatl said, turning to the Anathema. "You can return him to stasis."

  He turned sharply, heavy footfalls echoing down the metallic corridor. The Anathema followed, her steps light, her presence disquieting.

  For a moment, Pride's claws flexed, servos whining with the temptation to strike. Logic intervened, suppressing the impulse.

  He needed rest. Time among these two – an ancient loyalist and a living weapon of human design – was corroding the edges of his thought processes.

  He would dream again in silence. For silence, at least, was honest.

  ----------------------------------------------------------------

  POV: Nicole

  I keep quiet at first as I escort Pride back to the Comet. Pride's frustration is bleeding off of him into the noosphere around him.

  "Well, that was interesting," I comment as we make our way up the boarding ramp.

  "Silence, Anathema. I have no desire to continue this futile discussion. Return me to stasis and be done with it." Pride growls. "Unless you have the truths of everything hidden away."

  "Unfortunately, not in this case. I will talk to you alone next time." I say as I activate the stasis field.

  I leave Pride behind, safely stored away in stasis as I return to Cobalt's bridge.

  "You handled that well?" I say politely.

  "My emotional dampeners are currently running at their highest settings." She admits making me wince.

  "Well, I had a few inquiries to make if you don't mind?" I ask softly.

  "Proceed." She says, curling up in front of me.

  "Right, so there are a lot of new threats that were not present in your age. One of which is a genetic and psionic parasitic infection that mutates individuals and their offspring, known as 'Genestealers'. They are the infiltrator form of the Tyranid Xenos species. AME can detect when individuals are aberrant, but she, like you, is a relic from the Age of Technology. If you happen to have schematics and production information for a scanner capable of identifying such an infection, it would be an immense boon." I explain as I take a seat in one of the chairs.

  Cobalt blinks and tilts her head. I watch as she downloads as much information from Argent Drake on the topics of Genestealers and Tyranids. Her serpentine face contorts into a horrified expression. "One moment. I will check my remaining data archives. Was there anything else?"

  "Well, I know you lost your STC library, but any other data you have stored elsewhere would be of interest to me and the Mechanicus. STC fragments are highly valuable to us since so much knowledge has been lost. I will leave it up to you what you share. Ah… I don't suppose you know the location of a complete Obscurus STC archive?" I ask with a hopeful smile.

  "Unfortunately, none that match the planets listed in Argent's archive. The few I know were likely lost in the rebellion." She hisses and looks around. "I will withhold the production details on my weapons, but I can provide the base schematics. On the topic of these 'Tyranids', I believe I have a bioscanner that should suffice however, producing them in any great capacity will be a large undertaking. The device itself is not terribly complicated however, there are several rare and difficult to produce materials that are required for the primary Auspex array to function at the genetic level. They are also bulky, requiring a dense backpack attachment to be portable. It also requires physical contact to work, but there is a stationary walk-through variant that was used in some of the frontier hospitals." She explains.

  I compare the materials using the molecular structure to our current equivalents, "Soulglass, Polydimensional crystal prism, Living silica motes, Silicene neurachain, Null-gold screen…" I mutter and look at the production steps and wince. It requires a nano-forge, "No, no, this is okay… We can work with this. Do you have any data on the Void Abacus?"

  "The what?" She asks while reaching out to the Argent Drake for data to provide context again. She perks up. "Oh! This 'Void Abacus' device is quite fascinating."

  "That's a no, then. We'll get you one of those, too." I say as I give her weapons schematics a quick skim. Replicating them is right out for pretty much all of them. If we ever visit Ryza, they'd probably start frothing at the mouth if they saw the Plasma Torpedo system, which doesn't use actual torpedoes at all, but mass-compact directed balls of plasma. The mass drivers have a much higher rate of fire than I expected. The lance and the lightning projectors are both so exotic and esoteric that I can't really comprehend how they work.

  I shake my head and refocus, "Alright, if you have any requirements for the crew. Please let me know. I'll be screening anyone who does come aboard." I pause and glance at her hologram as she peers down at me expectantly. "If it's alright with you, you can mark me as your new owner."

  "I have already linked your biosignal and digital signature for that purpose. When you awoke as the only living individual that was transferred to you automatically." Cobalt replies in a pleased tone. "I have no strict preferences outside of competence. These Astartes or these different abhumans can serve just as effectively."

  "Thank you," I say with a polite nod. "Then if you find anything else you think would help and feel comfortable sharing, please let me know."

  Cobalt cocks her head. "Do you not wish to check out the armory or the remaining equipment?"

  "I will admit I am extremely curious. But are you alright with me going through the personal effects of your old crew?" I ask tentatively.

  "It appears they took a majority of their personal effects with them when they evacuated. As my new captain and owner, what remains is yours." Cobalt explains with an amused flick of her forked tongue. "Unfortunately, the light-powered armour sets that remain are unlikely to provide greater protection than your own. The small set of juggernaut breaching suits are all missing, along with most of the heavier weapons and the excursion vehicles."

  At Cobalt's gentle coaxing, I head to the main armory following her directions. The armory is surprisingly small when compared to the titanic Munitorum aboard the Argent Drake. Inside, maintaining the clean military aesthetic are several rows of Archeotech las weapons on wall mounts. The light-powered armour suits she was talking about sit on the other wall in alcoves.

  "Compact high-quality light-power armour." Lighter but comparable in protection to Sororitas armour, it could almost be mistaken for a suit of carapace armour. "Archeotech las-pistols, las-rifles…" I mutter as I examine the space. "Enough for a defensive garrison."

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  "Please head to the back wall. There is an item there reserved for VIPs." Cobalt explains.

  She leads me to a small vault case, which I have to open with my biometrics. Inside is an odd-looking device, so thin it is almost transparent. "What is it?"

  "A personal beacon, please put it somewhere with direct contact on your skin. It will allow me to teleport you at greater distances, and it acts as shipboard identification. All crew will receive one eventually. This one is the highest quality available." She explains, gesturing to the smaller versions in a nearby case.

  I gently pick up the beacon and slap it on my left forearm after taking a minute to fiddle with my undersuit and scale armour.

  I leave the armoury and spend a few hours poking around the crew quarters. I don't find anything earth-shattering, but someone left some media drives behind containing some amusing movies, music, and shows. A lot of literature, some of it is far older, classical stuff, though it irks me slightly to see all the media I'm familiar with in that category, to be fair, all of the things I know are at best 38 millenia old at this point, and of course, a large amount of adult content locked behind an age gate and password. Some things never change.

  In another room, I find some kind of VR-game system. It needs a quick pulse of Technomancy to turn on. It's loaded with some sort of FPS called Battlefield Orks 8. I shake my head and turn it off.

  A few outfits were left behind in various locations; the styles are totally diverse from Imperial conventions. The sort of exotic things only Drakios or Ari could get away with wearing. A few properly sized garments might make interesting gifts later.

  The last item I find that I end up taking is a pillow from the captain's quarters because it's some kind of squishy temperature-regulating super-foam that feels absolutely divine.

  After satisfying my curiosity, I bump into one of Cobalt's repair drones, which reminds me a lot of a Star Wars class-two droids. Small, squat, four limbs on wheels. Vanishing into a maintenance corridor after a few seconds with a beep.

  I pull up the ship's schematic and trace the pathway it's taking. It's headed towards the aft section. The area I have been meandering my way towards that contains the damaged decks. Adjusting my course slightly, I head to the damaged internal section of the ship to see it in person.

  When I finally arrive and the last bulkhead parts only to reveal the void within, it's eerie.

  A perfect sphere of material has been removed from the inside of the ship. The edges are almost impossibly smooth in a way that normal cuts cannot replicate. There are a few signs that work has been done, where conduits that had been sheared have since been repaired and capped off. A few critical cables have been replaced, now running the length of the void.

  The areas where the sphere breached the hull have long since been patched by Coatl's drones. Probably at the time of the incident.

  "Yeah… I think we can fix this. It might not be quite up to the standards of the rest of your hull, but it'll be the best we can do with what we have." I say, glancing back towards Cobalt's miniaturized projection that has been following me from section to section. "Given the size. We might have some leftover space to fill, actually. The new core will be smaller than your previous one."

  "Available space? I will consider the matter thoroughly." She replies with a pondering expression.

  "We are going to have to open up your aft section to install the new components. The Emergency Repairs III has all the facilities required to do so, even while moving, though for the Warp Drive… I would really prefer a day or two where we could fully unfurl her gantries and focus on just that, though fabricating the drive itself will take a while because its a custom design. Perhaps once we're out of the Webway, we can do the preliminary repairs." I mutter as I consider the logistical issues.

  Getting the fleet to take a day to do a thorough once-over before we make a Warp Jump would be for the best.

  "Oh, and Cobalt?" I say as I make my way back.

  "Yes?" She replies.

  "If you ever need someone to talk to. Just let me know, okay?" I say as I look back at her avatar.

  The coatl avatar flickers with surprise, blinking slowly at me, "Thank you, Nicole, I will keep that in mind."

  "Also, I'm installing a Necron Blackstone Pylon above your AI-core to protect you from warp incursions. Okay, bye!" I add, waving as I scamper away.

  "A what?" Cobalt asks incredulously.

  —-----------------------------------------------------------------------

  POV: Gronk the Great, guardian of the Fu-se B-ox, Slayer of rats. Wearer of The Hat

  The calm had returned, and the Great War of the Ghost Rat had ended!

  They fought with fury, only the steel pointies and sharp stabbers granted by the great overlords, praise be unto them! Had felled the cursed specters.

  "Family! Clan! For our valiant service, felling the vile ghosts of the rat! We have been granted wondrous cook-a-wares! Truly, the Overlord's generosity is overflowing! Praise be!"

  "Praise!" "Praise be!" "Praise!"

  Gronk held up a hand, cleaned with soap, and strong from eating hearty meat and grains! The crowd quieted.

  "All family mothers get a wondrous cook-a-wares pot or pan of frying. However, there is news! Whispered in the vents. We live in Drake home, Drake home is the best! But there is whispered news of another home, a new home, bigger than Drake home! The Emer-gancy Re-purrs of Three! The warriors of the Overlord whisper of a great underdeck of rats."

  Whispers erupt from the clans.

  "We prosper. The generous Overlords have rewarded us. I have found a great sky-whale that will go to the Emer-gancy Re-purrs of Three. I seek to know who amongst you is brave enough to go. From my own clan, my son Stonk! Will lead this migration." Gronk looked over proudly.

  Stonk had a fresh scar below his eye, earned valiantly in the War of the Ghost Rats, which made him very handsome! Already, two women of allied clans were trying to cook for him!

  Volunteers were gathered enough for two new big clans! Supplies were prepared. Gronk had loaded one of the good bags and gotten his second-best rat stabber for Stonk.

  Gronk led them to the underbelly of the sky-whale. Saw them off as they departed. Overhearing one of the Overlords' warrior guardians.

  "Sir, should we do something about that?" One asked, glancing their way.

  "Log it. Report it, but leave them be. Unless you want to volunteer as a rat catcher."

  "Yes, sir."

  Gronk makes the Great Golden Overlord sign. The guard makes the sign back, and Gronk nods. This is the way. Gronk scuttles back into his vent. He will hunt extra rats today to repay the great Overlords.

  —---------------------------------------------

  POV: Princeps Candidate Nyanko

  Nyanko's ears drooped as she stared glassy-eyed at the two parts set in front of her.

  When she first heard about their new task, she had been excited. Getting to study and repair ancient patterns of knights closely, who wouldn't be excited?

  Reality sank in after the first day. They had identified the five knights, mostly due to Lady Cavalerio having put together the cores for them. Even that had taken the class a few hours. The bizarre spread of parts that covered a majority of the floor at the start of this project had barely gotten any smaller.

  Then Z0-0M had the bright idea for them to focus on the distinct parts of each engine.

  That went well at first. She had been told to focus on the Porphyrion with a few other students. The twin magna lascannon wasn't too hard to find all the parts for, but it had a lot of them. The problem reared its head when she went to look for the rest.

  A Porphyrion could use Acastus autocannons, or lascannons, or one of each. Either an Acastus Ironstorm missile pod or Helios defence missiles. She had found both. Which meant any of the knights with spare parts on hand at the time they were taken apart had been included.

  While that was good news for the Knights overall, for them it meant even more tedious work.

  Robin had found all the parts for the twin conversion beam cannons and Karacnos mortar battery for the Asterius with her team. The problem was telling parts for an Asterius volkite culverin from the Strix's volkite chierovile.

  Yip had the easiest time with the Atrapos's main arms; the Atrapos lascutter and graviton singularity cannon were distinct items, but the number of parts each required was arduous.

  William was working on the Strix, but finding all the individual teeth for the chainsword was really trying the noble's patience.

  Once all the weapons had been separated, things got much worse. Nyanko had been staring at a pair of major gaskets for the Acastus Knights for an hour. They looked identical to her, even using an Auspex didn't help. How was she supposed to know which was which?!

  She was on the verge of tears when Genta slid over and whispered while giving her a reassuring pat on her head. "The left is the Asterius, the right is the Porphyrion. Don't mix them up."

  The girl had moved on before Nyanko could thank her. She took the parts to their respective piles. Some, particularly the titanic feet parts, were larger and required the use of industrial servitors to move them.

  "Omnissiah, please help me through this trial of faith," Nyanko muttered under her breath.

  The sorting was thankfully broken up with their normal lessons and tours of the Cry Havoc.

  They had finally gotten to see the sleeping Titans, but only briefly. Lady Cavalerio had spent part of her exams repairing a few of the Moriax Armigers, which now stood arrayed in a line, each one getting examined by a small team of Tech Priests.

  The fledgling Legio and Knight House of Cavalerio were both grossly understaffed. This was both a boon and a bane for the candidates. It meant they almost assuredly had a place in one of the Engines as long as they passed muster. The Princeps of a Titan was, of course, the most prestigious, but the other students tended to argue whether it was better to be a Moderati of an Engine or the solo pilot of a Knight. The Armigers were the lowest on the proverbial totem pole, but at the end of the day, they were still Knights and a part of Lady Cavalerio's House. And of the Knights, the Acastus Knights would apparently be almost the size of Warhounds once put back together and were almost universally recognized as the most potent of the Knights.

  Though some of the larger Knights were rumored to have machine spirits to match their potency.

  Nyanko was hoping that if she kept her current rank, she could go for Princepture of a Warhound or a Dire Wolf. Finding which Engine she resonated with would have to wait until she finished getting her full MIU and passed the intense mental training Tempestus expected.

  Genta was almost assuredly going to end up in the Warbringer if she held onto her first place in the standings.

  The others had been less open about their goals, but she felt like the top ten were getting along quite well. Things were clearly competitive, but in a friendly rivalry kind of way.

  None of her new friends? Friends. She had friends! None of her new friends treated her or Yip strangely for being abhumans, not when they were all undergoing drastic physical changes with their new MIUs, and some students were taking the opportunity to receive additional implants. No one would dare question the Matriarch's choice of candidates, even if they were an abhuman.

  Nyanko had overheard that her MIU had been tailored by Lady Cavalerio herself. Most of the classes' top students MIUs had been – aside from Genta's; she already had a custom MIU from somewhere, and she clearly didn't want to talk about its origins.

  Nyanko was scheduled to have the major port and final parts installed next week.

  She shook her head and focused back on the array of nearly identical unmarked cables in front of her, and promised herself that when she was a Princeps, she would have them color-coded and mark all the important cables to her personal Engine.

  —---------------------------------------------

  POV: Nicole

  Back on the Argent Drake, I finally have time to check in with the Star Dragons and Baldos in particular.

  Their section of the ship hasn't changed much, aside from the storage area that has been converted into an artifact armory.

  Captain Bolaar, Astrovas, both Tech Marines, and several other Star Dragons are inside examining various weapons and components.

  "Ah, Nicole, you're back. Good. Hopefully, with your help, we can finally get this shield and some of the other items identified." Astrovas says with relief in his voice. He is in his armour, but his helmet is off, the ritual scarification electoos along his neck pulse faintly.

  Bolaar, for once, is out of his Terminator armour entirely and is dressed in a simple white Astartes robe. His own scars and electoos making him glow like a caged sun under the layer of cloth.

  Most of the others are either helmetless or not in armour. When I raise an eyebrow, Bolaar chuckles.

  "We were having a scaling…" When I stare blankly at him he elaborates, "A chapter ritual, scar inscribing. New electoos. Typically done to commemorate grand events. We decided the Processional, the events at Ur-Haven, the fate of the Hollow Star and our fallen deserved to be marked and remembered across our 9th company." One of his arms looks a bit raw from a recent circular design with a dark spot in the center.

  "Oh! That's quite the ritual. Just make sure you keep the electoos clean." I say with a small smile, spotting a few other intricate designs on the other Astartes.

  I look across to Cogmane and Cogfist, who beckon me over to the examination table they are standing around.

  "Oh my," I say as I lay my eyes on the shield. It's large, but I can recognize it before I scan it. "A Vigil Pattern Storm Shield? No wait. This is one of the early prototypes, modified." I circle the upright shield like a shark while I have AME perform a thorough scan.

  The room is silent as I prod the Shield's Machine spirit, it's a slothful thing, not even an animal but a small anthropomorphized… wall. It's not particularly helpful, and the moment I stop poking at it, it returns to sleep.

  The scans are far more interesting. The cuff is set far wider than standard Astartes armour. Either this was used by someone big or on a Terminator suit. There are small markings along the inside, inscribed like notes on the relatively simple interior, which are the final clue.

  "This was Dorn's, or was for a time. One of the prototypes he personally tested and modified. He even left notes on how to adjust the later models." I say with an amused titter.

  "A fantastic find," I admit, and the tension in the room shifts to an elated atmosphere. "But, you realize a good number of these relics will need to be returned to their original chapters."

  "We are well aware, Nicole," Bolaar says in a pleased tone. "We wouldn't dream of withholding such relics from their rightful owners."

  "You're not the bloody magpies," I mutter under my breath drawing a few confused glances from the superhumans. AME in the meantime drifts away to scan the rest of the chamber's contents for me.

  "We intend to pass them along personally. While our chapter is not as storied as some, building a rapport with our Battle-Brothers is important. One can never underestimate the value of a favor owed." Bolaar says confidently.

  "Well spoken, whelp." Baldos rumbles from the entrance.

  "Have a nice nap, Baldos?" I ask, admiring the fresh paint on his chassis.

  "It was… tolerable." He admits gruffly. "You didn't unleash a new horrible monstrosity in the past week, littlest one?"

  I puff out my cheeks and put my hands on my hips as I let out a huff, "I did not! I'm not some trouble magnet." I protest, but the Astartes all share doubtful looks amongst themselves. I give Baldos a squint. "You know, Baldos, I'm almost ready to crack you open and give you an upgrade," I say, smiling sweetly.

  "How long will that process take?" He asks curiously.

  "About a month. Most of which will be in the regeneration vats. A day or two to install the new implants, and a day to be interred."

  "Mmm, I don't trust you not to cause havoc for that long. It'll have to wait." Baldos grunts as he turns to wander off.

  "Fine," I grumble, only to stiffen as AME finds a new headache. "Bolaar… I need to know right now. What else was recovered with those two particular battle-damaged suits, and do any of you know this chapter?" I ask, pointing across the chamber to a pair of distinct silver power armours.

  "I am aware of them. But the majority of our company likely does not know." Bolaar admits, "Our chapter has worked with Ordo Malleus before, as you are well aware, but they insist on keeping their nature classified as much as possible."

  "What is it?" Brother Silverwalker asks.

  "Grey Knights. A secretive order of Astartes that works directly with the Inquisition." Astrovas explains with a sigh.

  "It's paperwork and a headache is what it is. Any items recovered from the same wreck need to be isolated." I say as I walk over to look over the items. A pair of Nemesis force weapons and two storm bolters. The armour still had the bones of their fallen inside. Just a pair of Brothers from a Strike Squad from the 5th Brotherhood. "Any other items?" I ask firmly.

  "There is one more item." Cogmane points to a locked case.

  I don't need to open it. I can sense it just by focusing on the case, it contains a Tesseract Labyrinth, an occupied Tesseract Labyrinth. "Damn it." I groan. "Right, going forward. If anyone tries to open this case. You should probably shoot them."

  Bolaar's brows rise as he looks at me questioningly. Astrovas is looking at the seals on the box itself with a furrowed brow.

  "Daemon in stasis," I say bluntly.

  They all make the sign of the Aquila. Bolaar winces. "That does complicate matters slightly. We shall hope the Inquisitorial bastion on the Segmentum fortress has members present we can entrust such a thing with."

  With that sour taste in my mouth, I resume my perusal. A few items are certainly slated for return, namely the Ultramarines Chapter Banner, the Blood Angel's Crozius Arcanum, and the pair of Space Wolves Frost Blades.

  The remaining individual pieces are mostly from the Heresy era. The rest of the bulk items are more nebulous. The Alpha Legion and other traitors certainly aren't getting their rifles or relics back. The Iron Halos lack chapter markings. The various turrets don't all have Chapter markings either. The various suits of older power armour are a real mixed bag of both quality and different production runs from Mark Eight all the way back to Mark Two. Several different jump packs, a crate of melta bombs, a few Targeter systems and Suspensor weapon attachments, and a Plasma Cannon, I'm nearly certain is from the Deathwatch, probably the Astartes Digital Laser too.

  "I'm not sensing or seeing anything else too problematic," I say as AME finishes her sweep. "You guys were busy."

  "We made the most of the opportunity presented to us," Bolaar says as he examines a power sword with a large chunk missing from the blade.

  I nod, "Unfortunately, my time is at a premium right now. So I can't help fix everything. You'll need to identify what you need my help repairing that can't be handled normally." I admit with slight chagrin.

  Bolaar just chuckles, "We understand. We are well aware you have two voidships to fix and an entire force of Knight and Titan Engines."

  I start counting with my fingers. "I also need to train my cadets, upgrade Delta-A3, organize my own artifacts and loot along with those of the Mechanicus, work on testing to produce the Genestealer scanner, and see if we can replicate the Void Abacus."

  "Nicole, are you okay?" Bolaar asks me, his tone laced with concern.

  "Ask me again in three weeks," I reply with a shrug.