Abbisine Vakul says, “Samples would be appreciated. I admit that having Machine-Spirits show themselves is a neat trick. It is an entertaining way to sort the menials from the prospective apprentices. Only those who can determine what is real, and what is not truly have the talents to join the Mechanicus.”

We don’t have menials and they’re real Machine-Spirits. She clearly does not believe, or did not listen to, Thorfinn’s explanation.

Thorfinn freezes for a moment, then relaxes. He doesn’t correct Abbisine. She’ll work it out eventually and hopefully she will appreciate not being corrected in public.

“Ah, you asked about the shipyard,” continues Abbisine, oblivious to Thorfinn’s reaction, “I suppose this requires a little context. Your shipyard is impressive in its own way, but aside from repairs, I see little point in it.

“One of the greatest hold ups in the production of vessels is waiting for parts from other Forge Worlds. We each have our own specialities and the STCs available to us are limited. As such, ship builders like yourselves have to scavenge from wrecks or wait for the delivery of major components. Not only does this limitation slow production, but one is forced to build vessels from substandard, poorly matching parts. There is beauty in a functional void ship, and the careful restoration of the Omnissiah’s great works, but to build a vessel that can reliably defend our great Imperium, one must do everything themselves.”

Well, she’s not wrong, just woefully misinformed. Thorfinn’s lips are tightly pressed and I sense a mix of disbelief, amusement, and outrage from him.

Abbisine continues, “Mars and the Lathes are different. We have the means and knowledge to produce just about everything. We don’t have to wait, our production speed held at the bay by the tides of the Warp. Our reserves of materials are so great, and our production so immense, that any and all potential delays are mitigated with ease. If you ever want to see proper use out of this relic you have acquired, you would be best served by joining the Lathes. Only there could it truly shine beneath the guiding illumination of Arch-Magos Rulware and the Divine Light of Solex.”

“Was it Arch-Magos Rulware, Keeper of the Prime Logis Key who sent you to us?” says Thorfinn.

“Of course! Arch-Magos Castellar, High Fabricator of the Lathes, doesn’t do much these days. His leadership has led to Lathe-Hadd falling silent after foolishly stamping Forge Master Wahh’s plans to move much of Hadd’s production back into orbit. Now Arch-Magos Castellar is tied up in sorting out the mess he created while trying to support the growing Explorator Fleet assembling above Lathe-Het. No doubt Arch-Magos Castellar is hoping that Artisan Chaparral, who leads the Explorator Fleet, will be able to distract us all from his poor leadership.”

“Fascinating,” says Thorfinn with a flat, mechanical tone. “What do you think of Magos Issengrund’s generous gift?”

“The Standard Template Constructor? I doubt they’re anywhere near as good as he suggests. Build anything? Sheer madness. Who would give away such a relic? The barely educated fools forced to work for the Navy, or that dreadful Rogue Trader will be impressed, but I am quite sure that Talliel-Iota-5, despite his rather public disgrace, is sufficiently learned to not be taken in by such claims.

“They likely build those bombs and a few other munitions and trinkets useful to patrolling a fleet, but nothing can match the might of a proper Ark Mechanicus, or even a Goliath, when it comes to mobile, void based construction.”

I gather Abbisine’s comments and send out a fleet-wide order that the Lathes have insulted us all and we are not to divulge any information to them, nor correct their assumptions. I even include her comments. It’s terribly petty of me, but I am beginning to expect that this woman and her entourage were sent to us because she is worthless. She could be a superb actor, but I doubt it. Her thoughts are somewhat shielded by her Logis implants, but her unshakeable belief in her superiority shines brightly from within what little remains of her organic brain.

Thorfinn gets a sly grin on his face.

“Oh, and what do you suppose the grand Keeper of the Logis Key could offer the Stellar Fleet to assist in his great works?”

“I doubt you’d get much for your knowledge and efforts. Perhaps the STC for Nova Cannon shells? I doubt Arch-Magos Rulware would trust you with anything too valuable. You’d just squander his gifts on the unworthy, like those chartist captains. I doubt you have anything that’s worth him opening our most important vaults for.

“Lathe-Het is home to the Nidus Omega, the grand structure from which the Lathe-Covenant rules the Pondus system and all the other systems associated with the Lathes. Lathe-Het is also covered in lesser data-vaults, production has long since moved off world, with far greater success than Forge Master Wahh’s poisoned plans I might add. I’m sure you can find plenty of minor technologies and social climbers there to swindle them from. Most of them have long since forgotten the joy of oiling their own mechadendrites and getting some actual work done.”

“What’s your proudest achievement, Logis Vakul? What sort of data and predictions do you specialise in? For the earnest Tech-Apprentice looking to follow in your, precise, mechanised footsteps, what did you do to earn your vaunted designation? After all, you hold the same rank as Magos Issengrund, just in a different branch, and he owns a whole fleet.”

“I wouldn’t want to get their hopes up, but if your tank spawn are lacking in original thoughts and motivations, I’d suggest setting their optics on becoming artisans. It takes a truly great mind, like that of Arch-Magos Rulware to make the most of a proper prediction.

“Most people dismiss my art, especially those who are seeking to fund some legacy project on their backwards mud pit of a planet, but they’re often the ones with the resources and the willingness to spend them. People like that love shiny guns and fancy armour, but have no desire or wit to understand that such a purchase could uplift them to greater heights if they spent that money elsewhere.

“An artisan can faithfully follow the pattern of their betters. They need not worry about having ideas of their own and what to do with them. Instead, they are better served by taking whatever shit gets thrown their way and polish it to a shine then sell it to the fat apes that threw their gems and nuggets at you in the first place. It is a comfortable way to live, fulfils the tenets of Mechanicus scripture, and one is never lacking in work. Unless they are capable of breathing, eating, and dreaming binary, the path of the Logis is beyond them.”

For all her crude and caustic derision, Abbisine actually gave rather good advice. I really was not expecting that. Becoming an artisan is by far the simplest and most reliable discipline of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

This text was taken from NovelBin. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“As for what earned my promotion, my work on Ætheric Turbulence led me to to predicting the reemergence of the Cauldron of Savagery in 673.M40 in the Drusus Marches Sub-Sector and sold the information to Rogue Trader Esme Chorda.

“She was able to use that information to secure support from Battlefleet Calixis in advance of communications being cut off and they met up and bombarded the Space Hulk, pushing it into the sun where it burned for over three decades before it was finally destroyed.

“I received a massive cache of artefacts, as did the Lathes. I didn’t have to risk my life and I got more out of the destruction of that hulk than anyone else, despite the salvation enjoyed by the multiple worlds of the Pellucidan System.”

Thorfinn says, “That’s a remarkable achievement Logis Vakul. I would be most proud to have managed the same.”

“Of course you would. I am yet to meet my match in my field and Navigator families often contact me for consultations.”

I’m not sure what’s scarier. Abbisine actually being good at her chosen field, or her having absurd luck.

Abbisine, “Well, this has been most diverting. Do send me a link to that little Noosphere show of yours. I’d hate to be misquoted.”

“Your interview will be there in full, Logis Vakul. We won’t cut a single word.”

Abbisine hums, “See that you don’t. The Lathes do not appreciate poor representation. Emperor knows what could happen if the Nidus Omega squatters felt their precious right to shout at each other was halted by a pressing need to yell through the void because they felt misunderstood.”

“I am quite certain that won’t be a problem,” says Thorfinn. “Thank you for your time, Logis Vakul.”

Abbisine waves a mechadendrite in Thorfinn’s direction, “It’s been a pleasure, I suppose, but you’ve held me off long enough. I need to insist that Magos Issengrund lets me view his archeotech vaults before he squanders something of actual worth.”

Thorfinn nods, “Good evening to you, Logis.”

I curse as Abbisine skitters towards me, interrupts the chartist captain I am talking to, and forces us both to listen to her prattle as the party goes on around me.

Next I listen in on Thalk von Styrvold and Chaplain Riordan as they double team Eire with small talk and petty requests. Well, at least it’s more interesting than what Abbisine has to say.

Thalk puts on a genial smile and approaches Eire, “Ah! High Factotum Lobhidain, Chaplain Riordan and I were hoping to have a quick word with you about the state of the Receiving Yards. Is now a good time?”

Eire sips her flute of bubbling beverage and eyes Thalk over her glass, “Vice-Admiral. I am standing here alone with no one to entertain me and you start with work? I’d be happy to talk shop with you in a bit, but this is a party. I want to know more about the men I’ll be working with. These little personal touches will give me far greater confidence to the identity at the other end of an astropathic message once the stars and their cruel void between part us once again.”

“I suppose you do have a point,” says Thalk. “How about you, Chaplain Riordan. Up for a good ole chinwag?”

Riordan smirks, “While my brothers tend to shoot first, my primary role is to ask questions. On a good day, I may even listen to the answers too before I pull the trigger.”

Eire laughs, “Professional conduct greatly appeals to me, but it is always a pleasure when my conversation partners have a hint of humour about them. Aldrich’s is just awful and he never stops talking!”

My eyes narrow ever so slightly. It’s a good job I have an iron jaw as it appears I’ll be taking a few on the chin for this conversation. Really, just because it’s true, doesn’t mean she has to start by insulting her boss, but from the expression of these two elderly men, Eire has seen something in their personality that I completely missed.

“I suspect he just likes it when pretty women listen to him,” says Thalk. “Emperor knows I was guilty of that as a junior officer. I can’t say it ever worked for me though as we were in the same class. They knew what I was going to say before I even opened my mouth! I was such a teacher’s pet, parroting back what I’d heard, rather than discussing what I’d learned.”

Riordan says, “The Emperor engineered us with two ears and one mouth for good reason, but even he can’t stop us from making stupid decisions. Still, hearing your lessons twice has not gone unrewarded. You are a Vice-Admiral, Styrvold.”

“I am indeed. Let us toss aside our titles for the evening. Call me Thalk, both of you, please.”

“Then Eire will do just fine for me.”

“A Space Marine is always on duty, but I’m sure I can put aside my rank for a few hours. Riordan, or Brother Riordan will do.”

“Where are you from, Thalk?” says Eire.

“Scintilla. I used to be a customs officer on my family’s space station. They wanted to keep me there as they like to have family members in positions where corruption is common as it means the money goes to the Von Styrvold’s either way.

“I used the advantages of my position to purchase my own officer commission and have never regretted my choice. I may spend most of my time behind a desk either way, but a desk on a warship is far more exciting than a static void station. At least I can be sure I’m always going places! By the time my family forgave me for the perceived betrayal, no doubt for the honour my position brings, the few I cared about had passed from old age. Hardly the most glamorous of tales, I’m afraid. How about you, Eire?”

“I, and half of the Stellar Fleet are from Marwolv, or born from Marwolv stock. Marwolv is a lost world, cut off from the Imperium by the detonation of a Necron Dolmen Gate, at least until Aldrich, during his Explorator duties, stumbled across us by accident and returned us to the stars. There’s been far too much adventure to get us to this point for my tastes.

“Marwolv is a tidally locked moon of a gas giant that is stuck in perpetual twilight. Most of its flora and fauna are bioluminescent to some degree and contain a multitude of organic alloys.

“It would classify as a Feudal World, but it did possess a lost Mechanicus Enclave that Aldrich discovered. The isolation had driven the two remaining inhabitants quite mad. Apparently they had built an experimental teleporter and they used it to try and escape on Distant Sun. That was just the start of our troubles and we were hassled by warp storms, Tau, Orks, Dark Eldar, and the Ruinous Powers, but Aldrich saw us through it all so we return his feats with our loyalty. I’d be happy to give you more details later, but I should at least give Riordan a chance to speak.”

“You are hoping for my own story,” Riordan hums. “I am unsure where I was born, the only thing I am certain of is that I was rescued from the slave pens by the Barghest Chapter during one of their periodic raids on Iniquity.

“Iniquity is a Mining World and one of the Foundling Worlds within the Koronus Expanse. It has been lost to Chaos and has become a centre of industry for them under the leadership of Karrad Vall. The Barghests occasionally raid Iniquity, stealing the chaos raiders’ resources, disrupting their operations, and blowing up their armouries to slow their expansion. Their defences are far too great to strike a decisive blow, but support for such an endeavour has been suspiciously absent.”

Thalk sighs, “That’s because too many Rogue Traders keep making small moves to keep each other away as they all want to be the one to claim Iniquity. The Navy could concentrate its power to take them out, but so far the consensus is that withdrawing so many patrols would cause more trouble than would be solved by removing the vile bastion. That consensus will only be more firm in the years to come, especially with the crippling of SR-651.”

“Thus we come full circle,” says Eire. “Iniquity is hardly the only corrupt world that the Barghests and Navy must contain and it pains me to say that neither Stellar Fleet Mani nor Sol can contribute either. Is this why you wanted to talk numbers with me, or is it just readiness in general that concerns you both?”