Cog and Krieg

++3150921.M41 Segmentum Tempestus, Uhulis Sector, Pallas System, Pallas, 0835 local++

Miria Rorken, Aspirant of the Adeptus Mechanicus, was furious.

All she managed however was a furious stammer. "S-surely you jest High Proctor."

"About this? Surely not." High Proctor Kraellen gestured to the enormous vaulted window at the end of his chambers, encompassing the scene beyond. Outside, past the courtyard illuminated by the morning sunlight, past the gates of the Mechanicum Temple grounds and the city proper, lay the smoke shrouded stacks of the periphery manufactora. Inky clouds churned from the towers, coiling and writhing with the wind.

"You knew months ago when the demand for arms went up across the sector that Pallas was obligated to heed the call of the Administratum. The guilds have been clamoring nonstop to meet the order, and this Temple has been tapped for able adepts fit to minister unto the blessed war machines being forged as we speak."

"B-but I am Genetor! I am Mechanicum Biologis! Master, I-"

"You are Mechanicum, you are nothing in addition until this Temple has granted you such title. You serve the will of the Emperor and the Omnissiah through him." Kraellen leaned back and pinched the tip of his mask with a caliper equipped mechadendrite in apparent frustration, letting out a rasping sigh.

Despair began to creep into Miria's voice. "Why me?! Surely there are initiates more suited to-to this laborer's task. Enginseers contribute nothing to the quest for knowledge! They are hardly better than menials or servitors! Everyone knows this!"

She drew herself up, a full Pallasian cornbean fed two meters, and mustered an indignant huff.

"I am one of the best students in your cadre Master! How-how c-could you do this to me?!"

Kraellen sank deeper into his chair, tenting his hands. "Not one of Miss Rorken. You are the brightest pupil it has been my bane and occasional pleasure to instruct in over a century." He fixed all three of his eyes upon her, letting her wilt slightly under his scrutiny.

She was not having any of it. Not this close to her ascension. A mere year more of study, plus her capstone project and she would have been able to don the green robes of a full Genetor Adept. "Then why? Was it the incident with the acidic razorsnakes? I swear upon the Throne I did not mean for them to melt their hutch and eat the other student's work, no matter what that ignorant sow Amaranthine says-"

"No Miss Rorken. You are being sent because we have already drained the Enginseer cadres and many others besides to fulfill this tithe demand." He jabbed a mechadendrite at her. "Further, you are not entitled to ask 'why' to any superior, but you have always been a willful girl, and I have always been an indulgent old man who deeply regretted that his chosen calling precluded the possibility of children. By this combination of circumstances have you been insulated from the consequences of your...painful penchant for inquisitiveness and insubordination." He dropped the tentacle, the fans on his back whirring with long inhalation.

"So know this. I have chosen you and a few of your colleagues to be sent because you are the best and most promising pupils I have. The situation is more dire than is known at large, and I and the Fabricator Locum fear that if we do not react with swiftness and zeal the conflict could spread to other areas of the sector, even here. This tithe demand comes with such urgency because our forces already engaged against the Orks have suffered crippling losses both on the ground and in space."

A sudden icy chill settled upon Miria's chest. "How...bad?"

"Bad enough that calls for replacement armor and transports have gone out to all the nearby worlds. Of which we here at Pallas have the most advanced factories. We have been tasked with producing the vehicles to equip several freshly trained regiments enroute to the warzone on Saval Secundus, to reinforce our beleaguered forces already there. "

Miria shuddered, her lone mechadendrite hugging her waist reflexively as he eyes found the floor. "I...I understand Master. Thank you for your confidence in me. I did not realize the need was so great. I bring shame to myself in trying to refuse the honor of defending Pallas from the enemies of the Imperium."

Kraellen had no jaws as such any more, and was thus unable manage a pained smile. But his eyes seemed to soften, losing some of their baleful glow. "Thank you Miss Rorken. I have no doubt that the Omnissiah has plans for someone of your talent...and, the situation is not without its gold filigree."

Miria looked up. "Oh?"

Kraellen nodded, the jowls of his air bladders wagging as they did whenever he paced during lectures. Miria had always found it amusing, like watching a partially clockwork puffbeak flap about. "The world of Saval Secundus is only partly charted, and its myriad biota have been given only the most cursory scrutiny. For an aspiring Genetor Adept seeking the capstone project of a lifetime, it is fertile ground indeed for study." His body rattled with the vibrating thrum of laughter momentarily. "Based on what little we know, it is likely it will come to be classified as a death world, considering the size and lethality of many of its apex predators."

At this, Miria's eyes lit up. "Really? A real death world?! Do we know if it is only the fauna that has hyperspecialized or has the plantlife coevolved as well?" Her mind spun with possibilities, death worlds were so rare, for her to get a chance to cut her teeth on one before even earning her robes...

"I thought that might pique your interest. Admittedly, your term of service as an Enginseer will run the duration of the conflict, but I think a few years away from these musty halls and in the field may be just the thing to add some polish to the rather solid core I have created in you, if I do say so myself."

He rattled with mirth again. "And if your time liaised to the Astra Militarum teaches you a bit of humility for the chain of command, so much the better."

Miria's previous anger was almost gone. Now fear, mixed with more than a little shame shared space in her heart with hope, even a bit of anticipation. "Thank you for taking the time to illustrate the design in your decision. I know you did not have to Master."

The rattling grew more intense. "I did not, but you would have been an emotional wreck, drowning in freezcream and recaf for weeks if I had not. And I, the Emperor and Pallas need you focused."

Miria blushed and toed the carpet with a boot. "Yes Master." Then in a moment of momentary embarrassed panic at the freezcream comment, she gave the flesh of her waist a surreptitious pinch. ++Did I gain weight during examination week again?++ Yes apparently.

Which was annoying, since added mass on her tended to go to the most useless of locations. And thus the minor mystery of the tightness of certain garments while dressing this morning was solved. She sighed. ++At least the enginseer's exo harness precludes the possibility of back pain.++

Kraellen continued. "Tomorrow, you will report with your cadre mates to the district Forgemaster, and receive the memory and diagnostic engrams necessary to service your charges, a brief refresher in exo frame use might be called for as well. The Naval transports with the troops arrive within a week, tides of the warp willing, and will depart again for Saval by month's end."

He settled back with a contented whirr. "You are dismissed Aspirant, take the rest of the day to gather your belongings and any equipment you wish to bring. You will need to be creative if you plan to take anything large, like your sequencer analysis machines and cogitators."

Miria nodded, making the symbol of the Aquila on her chest, then paused. "Um, Master? Do we know from where the arriving regiments hail from?"

"Krieg, I believe. They often request postings to harsh environment worlds."

++Oh.++



++3151921.M41, Pallas System, Pallas, 1821 local++

Miria chafed slightly in the barely remembered exo harness, unhelpful stares of her cadre colleagues and the Forgemaster's Second burning into her back as she struggled to calibrate the servo arm to her nervous system. With rising bile, she swore she detected a muffled titter of laughter, probably from her nemesis.

++Why, Emperor, why did you have to shackle me with-++

"Miri! Do remember to activate the magbolts in the boots this time, wouldn't want to fling yourself across the hangar again!"

Aspirant Rorken ground her teeth in fury, mustering the most pleasant voice her embarrassed rage permitted. "Thank you Amaranthine!" ++You simpering harlot.++

The magbolts deployed with an audible clang that reverberated off the walls, and Miria opened the pincer-like claw of the exo frame to wrap around the eight meter long section of brass pipe they were training with. Unfamiliar sensations of cold and pressure filled her mind from the new limb, which still twitched spasmodically as her motor cortex struggled to output commands the armature could understand.

"Now recite." Called out the Forgemaster Secundus. "You must speak to your unaugmented colleagues while you work. Almost none of the Emperor's servants are capable of hearing Lingua Technica."

Disused muscles in Miria's jaw, which normally only opened and closed for breathing and mastication, tried to shape words. "Gareth...guardsman...gets...his...g-grox...fully fresh...from...father...Fel-Felix-"

"Miria, how do you manage to stutter in Machine Cant and in Gothic? God Emperor I would hate to read a program coded by you." Amaranthine put a hand over her mouth to hide a grin, but her eyes crinkled with mirth.

"F-Frakk you Amaranthine! I d-don't need any of-"

"Focus on the task Adept! The wit of your classmates are nothing compared to enemy fire!" The Forgemaster Secundus unclipped his laspistol from his belt and flipped the safety.

Miria's right eye went momentarily blind as the length of pipe on that side was struck by an azure beam of coherent light. Sparks flew from the impact, some striking her robes and setting them smoking, a single fleck of molten brass landed in a glob on her cheek. She cried out, bringing both hands to her face.

"Focus! Lives depend on getting this pipe moved!" More beams flew past Miria, striking the pipe in several places. Miria screamed again, covering her face. Some of the other Aspirants were now looking on with mixtures of fear and dread. Even Amaranthine was silent, wide eyed.

The sick hum of a hotshot overcharge filled the area. Just as Miria was lowering her arms again, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks, a beam so blue it was practically white impacted just above and below the contact points her servo arm was gripping the pipe by. Metal screamed and warped as the sections buckled under the thermal stress.

"Your allies are trapped beneath! The Forgemaster Secundus bellowed. "If you let it fall, they will be crushed! Do something!"

To let go of the breaking section would make the pipe fall, and it was far, far to massive to hold with her arms while her servo sought a new purchase. "I-I need a servitor to help me stabilize it! I can't-can't do it with one p-point of-f contact!" Brass snapped and twisted, listing in her grip. Several of her cadre mates gasped.

"Your Servitors are dead! You must function alone in a combat situation!" The Forgemaster Secundus fired a few more regular shots for emphasis, one even striking the servo arm itself, sending a lance of agony up the nerve channel governing it.

Miria felt the pincer go slack from the impact, uttered a strangled curse, and did the only thing she could think of. The magbolts in her boots detached and she swung her body under the pipe, catching it on her back as it fell. The air in her lungs came out in a hacking gasp as nearly half a ton of metal came down upon it. The pistons in the legs of the frame whined in protest at the sudden overload, and the backplate of the exo harness sagged inward under the weight. But the pipe's fall was arrested. Miria wheezed shallowly, only able to take a tenth of a normal breath.

She could feel that the nervous system uplinks to her servo were down. Clamping down on the panic threatening to bubble to the surface again, she wracked her brains for an idea. ++Manual might still work though!++

With a thought, she slaved the inputs for the limb to the motion of her left thumb, making an impromptu control stick. The kind she had seen the unaugmented menials using to operate vehicles and large machines. Her mouth tasted of iron for some reason. She spat, but the taste remained. Someone she couldn't see gasped in alarm.

Sure enough, the servo came to life, sluggish and moving on only one axis at once, but it was sufficient. She sent it to snap shut around the undamaged section to her left, and slowly, carefully, swung it off her back and into the circle of its designated drop point.

Or she would have, if her boots hadn't slipped out from under her the instant the center of mass of the pipe was more than a little off her own. It came crashing down with an almighty clang and she with it alongside, slamming into the deck with a muffled thud. Cold steel chilled the tears smearing her face, as a pair of boots approached from outside her blurred vision.

"Well improvised Adept. Your harness can indeed bear a great deal of mass independent of the servo." The Forgemaster Secundus reached down with a trio of mechadendrites and hefted Miria to her feet. "You saved the men under that wreckage. But you neglected to activate your magbolts again. Moving anything more massive than yourself, even under combat conditions, requires the deployment of magbolts or anchor struts. Forget and you will endanger yourself and those around you."

Miria nodded mutely, sagging and sniffing quietly in the Forgemaster's grip. "Y-Yes Magos."

After a moment longer, he nodded and his dendrites withdrew back into his robes. "You are damaged. See the chirurgeon one level above us for trauma examination and then return. We will end the day by assessing your new charges and making proper salutation to their machine spirits. Take this time to select a section of the Canticle of the Deus Machina that the spirit shall come to know you by, and by extension come to know itself." His gaze surveyed the crowd as Miria shuddered before him, staggering back to join her fellows in the semicircle around the training area.

The Forgemaster continued. "You are all given an enormous responsibility, and a great honor. The Omnissiah has seen fit to entrust each of you with the rearing of its blessed warrior children." All six of his arms extended to encompass the hangar and the legion of glittering vehicles all around them. "Though you will service many blessed machines during your time in service of the Emperor's armies, these vehicles before you will bear the marks of your tutelage and care long after you have passed into dust. Do not fail these newborn children of the Machine God, if you value your place at the Emperor's table in the hereafter."

Several Adepts gulped. Some nodded with grim determination. Miria was too sore to even think straight, batting away someone's hand as they reached out to her as she passed. The stairs were going to be murder.



++3153921.M41, Pallas System, Pallas, 1205 local++

+Oh Throne, the fuel line injector was scratched.+ Over the hardline uplink she had with 301's core, she felt an indignant sputter of static.

"Don't worry! Don't worry! The important thing is we found it before we got into combat." +Though only after an hour tearing apart the fuel distribution system after the pressurization test, listening constantly to that maddening hiss.+

Miria unceremoniously ripped the injector from its mooring, and the hiss became a low whoosh of escaping air. +Frakking...Throne damned...cornbean soup...+

A questioning blip passed over her senses.

"Oh no, you're getting a new one. I won't have a half assed patch job on something as important as fuel regulation. Not while we have the parts here. I may not remember much from Generators, Engines and Capacitors with Master Gilash, but fuel leaking places it shouldn't would have caused him a stack overflow. Of rage."

Miria pocketed the offending part and made a log notation on her dataslate. Under the Forgemaster's harsh tutoring, she was getting much better at logging her work properly, tedious as it was.

"If you did not log the procedure, you did not do it!" He had growled at her, whimpering in a corner and hugging a spanner. She had thought back to all those times Proctor Kraellen had been forced to decipher the mess of her lab notebooks, ultimately always correct of course, she knew what she was about, but he had said over and over that being unable to demonstrate concepts made even the most brilliant seeker of knowledge as useless as a datacorder with no playback function.

Glancing surreptitiously about the hangar, she saw that the other Adepts were indeed filing out the south door for midday meal. +With the regiments arriving today, it's now or never.+

She left her dataslate sitting on the hull of 301, disconnected her hardlink, and did her best to tiptoe off to the hangar's eastern loading dock. After a few meters she gave up, and clomped down the deck. Outside, amongst the refuse pile and discarded spare parts awaiting the monthly collection by waste management, were several oblong boxes bearing the cog and caduceus.

+Oh thank the Omnissiah.+ She took the two smaller ones in her arms, and grabbed the third with her servo and after another quick glance about, trudged back toward 301.

She was about halfway across when the lift doors to the billets slid open with a positive pressure whoosh.

+Oh shit.+

Silhouetted in the archway, long black hair flapping in the pumping air and grunting with effort behind a cart laden with boxes not much different from Miria's own, was Amaranthine.

Miria stopped dead mid step, and after pushing through the doorway Amaranthine looked up and squeaked to a halt as well.

"Miri."

"Adept Bahal."

Some of her trademark smirk returned. "So formal! Up to no good are we?"

"S-shut up. I see that-that you brought someth-thing from home too." Miria jerked her dendrite at the offending cart.

Amaranthine grinned. "I could not resist after I learned where we were going, did you know Saval is a prospective death world? I obtained the preliminary reports from the survey team a millennium ago. Some of the organisms are the size of small titans."

Miria gasped. "Where d-did you get the reports?!" +Titans...Oh. My. Emperor.+

The raven haired woman's grin became wider. "Oh...dear. Did you forget to consult the temple archives before you left? Perhaps in your mad dash to collect your illicit...things?"

Miria turned bright red, dendrite wrapping around her middle.

"Well I suppose it wouldn't be the first time you hadn't done your due diligence. You can be so absentminded after all." Adept Bahal gave her own tousled hair a swish. "Tell you what, I'll pretend I didn't see you, and you pretend you didn't see me, and we can both get our things smuggled onto the ships with no one the wiser."

Miria clamped down on her ire and nodded curtly. "Fine. J-just stay out my way when we get on plan-planet."

Amaranthine's smile continued. "Now there's no reason to be like that! We could combine our efforts, there are allowances for Aspirants in similar fields combining their capstone projects, you could append your research to mine, I'd put your name in the addendum. 'Head Research Assistant, Miria Rorken.' Has a nice ring no? Kind of like Magos Biologis Amaranthine Bahal?"

"G-Go get sodomized by a s-s..." Miria began shaking. +Damn that giggling tart!+

"By a S...S...S what Miri?" Amaranthine resumed pushing her cart. "A Space Marine? God Emperor I wish, but they're all celibate. What a dirty mind you have."

"S-s-spanner you tavern w-wench!"

Adept Bahal's only response was a airy wave as she walked off toward her Basilisks.

301 had taken some convincing, but allowed Miria to store her equipment in its external ammunition rack. Normally designed to carry spare rounds behind the turret in a position where if they cooked off from enemy fire the resultant explosion would only lightly damage the vehicle, it served little purpose now with 301's twin Stormbringer Patten Lascannons taking the place of the traditional Leman Russ Battle Cannon. Just for good measure, a third hull mounted Lascannon rounded out and cemented 301 as a long range assassin of enemy heavies. Miria had been surprised at first to see that almost none of the Leman Russ's constructed in this production batch were armed in the classic Mars Pattern. She knew from the Forgemaster that Pallas possessed the schematic. 302 and 303, her other charges, were likewise nonstandard.

302, who was shaping up to be much more phlegmatic in disposition than either of its kin, was armed with a Demolisher Cannon and a hull mounted Lascannon. The two weapons had vastly different engagement ranges, but it had been explained to her that the function of this type of tank squadron in Krieg armored doctrine was to have each member possess at least limited anti armor capability, with one dedicated tank hunter in the personage of 301. Despite its peaceable nature, 302 was meant for smashing apart enemy fortifications and dug in squads.

Lastly, and by far the most bilious, was 303. Its turret had a pair of enormous drums bolted to either side, with belts feeding into the massive six barreled cannon in the center. Classed as the Punisher variant, it existed for only one purpose, turning entire platoons of-well, orks in this soon to be case-into meat flavored mist. Like its siblings, it too had a hull mounted Lascannon. To the tank's aft was a small crane winch, whose only purpose was to aid in the attachment and detachment of the ammunition drums astride the turret. Two spares adorned the rear of the tank.

The squadron was classed as a frontline multirole unit, able to engage anything up to a Gargant the orks might field, and still provide siegebreak and infantry support duties, sometimes all three simultaneously. Krieg, according to the dossiers the Adepts had been provided, favored easy to maintain and cheap weapon systems, overcoming any deficiencies that result by specializing to their role.

Miria could certainly admire that, as a student of evolutionary biology, speciation to one's chosen niche was the cornerstone of fitness survival. Whereas a Mars Pattern Leman Russ might have been a more versatile platform, 301 was definitely a better pure tank hunter, and probably had cost almost half as much to build. She hummed an old nursery rhyme from her early childhood in binary cant as she worked to get her lab equipment stowed and the fuel injector properly attached. 301 seemed to enjoy them.

"Girls and boys, come out to play,
The moon doth shine as bright as day;
Leave your supper, and leave your sleep,
And come with your playfellows into the street."

Her still wrenched shoulder muscles protested as she put her back into ratcheting the bulkheads back into place. She did vent a slight cackle at the naiveté of thinking an exo frame would save her from her back pain woes.

"Come with a whoop, come with a call,
Come with a good will or not at all.
Up the ladder and down the wall,
A halfpenny roll will serve us all.
You find milk, and I'll find flour,
And we'll have a pudding in half an hour."

Over the hardlink, she could feel 301's processing cycles slowing down, a burbling titter of contentment emanating from its matrices.

+God Emperor I want some pudding.+


A few more turns, and Miria had the last plate back in its position. "There we go. Sleep well 301. I'm off to get some lun-"

*Inhale*

Miria bristled for a moment, then relaxed. "Honored Forgemaster, you startled me-ack!"

She turned to find not the hulking Magos of the factory complex, but a quartet of glass eyed masks staring straight at her. Clad in black greatcoats and standing rigidly still, with a hose snaking down to connect to a small filter unit buckled to the stomach. Miria wondered for a wild moment how they had gotten within mere meters of her without making the slightest noise.

"Ah-ah-ah..." She fancied her eyes must be as wide as searchlights.

Abruptly, the one in the front jabbed an arm forward, hand outstretched. Miria recoiled at the sudden movement, just in time to see a ratchet land in the open palm. Miria stared for a moment, then looked down at her own empty hands. +Oh Frakk.+

She felt heat rising around her collar and cheeks once more. "S-sorry about that. I'm a-a bit of a klutz sometimes."

+ohgodthatsnotsomethinganyoneeverwantstohearabouttheirenginseerohfrakkohballsohemperorpreserveme+

One of the gasmasks to the rear, shorter than the others, cocked their head to one side, and Miria abruptly realized she'd just burst transmissioned that in Technica. It had probably sounded like a choir of farts to someone with no receiver.

+I think I wish that pipe had crushed me.+

*Inhale*

*Inhale*

...*Inhale*

None of them were moving. All four of them continued to look straight at Miria, including the one holding the ratchet out before her. The 15 kilogram ratchet for securing anything up to and including ship bulkheads. Miria hastily took the tool from the Krieg's grip, bowing thanks. The soldier transitioned smoothly into a sharp salute, followed almost immediately by their peers. The clacking of boots together was almost a single noise.

All four of them were nearly a full head shorter than Miria, with the one in the rear only coming up to her chest.

Miria forced her mouth to move. "Heello. I. Am. Enginseer. M-Miria Rorken."

+Ugh. I knew I should have been practicing that more.+

The lead Krieg nodded and reached into their breast pocket, producing an official looking Munitorum document. It was in high gothic, but the Krieg dialect resulted in a few words being a little hard for Miria to understand.

+Assignment to...what in the warp is a panzerkampfgruppen? So many of these words look like six or seven words smashed together. Is this some kind of Krieg battle cant? Oh! Tank battalion! These are the crew! My crew!+

She spent a frantic moment fishing her quill out of her robes, got it and the inkwell secured without spilling on herself, and signed everywhere there was a blank spot, just in case. She had gotten very good at signing paperwork in the last few days.

"Here. Y-You go." She handed the paper back to the Krieg, who unrolled it and ran a finger down the list of checkboxes. About three quarters of the way down the finger stopped at an area Miria had signed, and the Krieg looked back up at her. One of the others, following along, did the same. They both saluted again. The two in the back leaned forward minutely to read as well, and then saluted in turn.

+What?+

"So...what. Um. Are your. Names?" Miria succeeded in enunciating with her mouth as the silence became pregnant again.

A muffled voice emanated from one of them, probably the one in front. "Guten nachmittag. I am Stabsunteroffizer Three Zero One Alpha, Panzercommandante."

The one adjacent spoke. "Und Ich am Hauptgefreiter Three Zero One Beta, Driver."

"Gefreiter Three Zero One Gamma, Navigator Gunner." Said one of the rear Krieg.

"Gefreiter Three Zero One Delta, Main Gunner." Ended the short one in the corner.

Miria stopped putting away her inkwell. "Your. Names?"

*Inhale*

They all exchanged a look, then started to rattle off alphanumerics again.

+Ah. They don't have names. They're named after their tank. Of course. What?!+

"N-nevermind. Thank you."

The four saluted again and began to strap their equipment to the exterior of 301, who, Miria was certain, was now wide awake and wondering what the cack was going on with all these unfamiliar hands crawling all over it. She bit her lip and schooled her hands and dendrite to remain where they were.

"Stab. Under Officer? Um."

The Krieg seemed to bristle at what Miria was sure was an outright butchery of their title, but no emotion was shown by the blank facade of the mask, nor the voice that drifted from it. "Ja Magos Enginseer?"

"Oh! Um. No. Not Magos. Y-yet. Just. Enginseer please. Or Miria! You. Can call. Me. Miria if you. W-wish." She managed what she hoped was a friendly smile.


*Inhale*

A momentary beat as the Krieg stared at her. "Jawohl Enginseer."

Miria deflated slightly, but pressed on. "Will you not. Store. Your gear. In the b-billets with-?"

"Nein. We will sleep in our machines. Lodgings compromise readiness."

"O-oh."

All four Krieg had stopped their work now, and were looking at her again.

A few more seconds of that eerie staring had Miria making a burbled stammer that approximated a goodbye, and fleeing as fast as her exo harness permitted, whispering silent apologies to 301 and the Omnissiah for abandoning it to the Krieg.

She made it out of the hangar, and leaned against the doorframe, trying to rub the knots in her back.

+Only servitors are named after their functions. Even tech thralls and menials have the name their parents gave them. Names the Emperor is supposed to use to call them unto his side in the hereafter.+

Miria felt a twinge of fear, like she had caught a glimpse of something deep and dark she did not comprehend. The level, even speech, too even. The quiet steps, the fact that each of them had taken exactly fifteen breaths per minute, regardless of what they were doing.

She decided she had better do what she did best when she felt this way. Eat until she felt better or a whole lot worse. +Oh frakk this, I'm getting pudding before it's all gone.+




++3160921.M41, Pallas System, Interplanetary Space++

Outside the window, suspended in a sunbeam, rested the entire cosmos. Stars innumerable filled the sky, yet almost all Miria surveyed belonged to the Emperor of Mankind. It ought to have comforted her more.

Over the preceding week things had only gotten stranger. The rest of the Krieg had arrived, and every one of them insisted on billeting inside their vehicles. Like Miria, most of the Adepts had no idea what to make of them. A few days of field testing had followed, with the Krieg crews putting the vehicles through their paces in the countryside around the city proper. It was the height of planting season, and many civilians stopped their work in the fields to wave or observe the convoys as they passed. Some bolder citizens attempted to hand flowers or gifts to the crews, who never took them. Miria herself received a basket of homemade griddlecakes, a childhood favorite, and munched happily in one of the Atlas support tanks while the din of shellfire and the lingering, teeth rattling notes of lascannons carried in the distance.

At the end of each day of exercises, the commanders of 301, 302, and 303 would each hand her a copy of their operations report, filled out in color coded triplicate, with all matters requiring her attention highlighted or underlined. Miria was proud to say that her prepwork had paid off, and she found herself conducting fewer late night fixes than most of her cohort. Amaranthine, she noted with sly satisfaction, seemed to be mired in gun calibrations for her Basilisks every evening.

After five days of trials, followed by a somewhat ceremonial testing of the vehicles NBC capabilities by a five hour drive through the periphery manufactora waste dumps on the way back, and the Krieg 209th Armoured Regiment was christened with as little fanfare as Miria had ever seen in her life.

The ceremony in the motor pool before the massive maws of the dropships had seen the Regimental Commander, Oberst 209, sign a massive roll of parchment held up by an Administratum scribe and accept the hand off of the regimental colors. The Mechanicus auxiliary units, of which Miria was a part, stood off to the side, but near enough to see much of what little happened. No speech was given. Then it was onto the dropships.

Miria had been to space only once before. An insystem transport had taken her and her cadre mates of the Genetor Aspirant to a Mechanicus facility on the far side of Pallas' moon, to study under Magos Xenologis Heverian for several months when she had been in year seven. Magos Heverian had lost his jaws, eyes, nose, mouth, ears, most of his cranium and 35 percent of his brain to the acidic bite of a Tyranid organism, and deciding the creature owed it to him, had grafted the Tyranid's bleached skull over what remained of his own. He recovered most of the faculties he had lost via the Rite of Pure Thought, replacing the melted cerebral tissues with overclocked logic engines. Miria remembered that the breathing tubules of his transplanted head had steamed constantly. Half her cadre had switched their specialization to botany upon their return. Miria hated space.

Her musings were interrupted by a slightly more audible than normal inhalation, what passed for a polite cough among the Krieg, she had been coming to realize. She turned, and standing behind her in the viewing bay was 301 Alpha, in full rebreather kit as ever, despite the inherent absurdity when everyone was at this moment sucking down recycled air anyway.

No, Miria realized. Alpha was without their greatcoat. And helmet! A square looking hat with a pair of earflaps that folded in the front above the brim sat where the helmet usually rested and-

+Hair!+

Sure enough, beneath the brim of the hat and behind the contact point of the mask Miria could see a sliver of close cropped blonde hair, paler still than her own sandy mane, almost so pale as to be white.

And beneath, as somewhat expected, was a set of sharp black fatigues very practically bedecked with pockets. On Alpha's hip rested a laspistol, and on the other side the 45cm bayonet carried by all Krieg.

Miria blurted the first thing that came to mind. "All your uniforms. Are v-very similar. How do you tell. Rank quickly without those. Great big s-stripes on your coats?"

301 Alpha pointed to a trio of grey cloth bars stitched onto their collar. "Enginseer, am I disturbing you?"

+On many levels, yes.+

"N-not at all! Fine view of the s-solar system isn't it?" She gestured with one arm and her dendrite as a cargo shuttle drifted past.

The Krieg did not turn to look. "I have been informed by the Quartermaster that suitable equipment has been procured for you."

"Eh? F-For me?"

"Ja. I regret being unable to equip you properly during our exercises on planet. All of our nonessential and reserve gear was left on the transports. It was an oversight I did not anticipate and if you desire it I shall submit myself for disciplinary action."

"What? No!" +What?+

"Thank you for your leniency Enginseer, I shall ensure the error does not happen again." Alpha saluted.

"The Quartermaster will see you now for fitting." From one of their numerous pockets appeared a familiar document, the one bearing Miria's signature from the week before, this time stamped by some Munitorum functionary in numerous places.

"Oh. Uh, o-ok." +I guess it makes sense that I would get some kit from the Krieg staff.+

It occurred to Miria that she didn't even know what long range vox frequency her squadron used to operate, nor what their scrambler protocols were. How was she supposed to get in touch with her men and do things like long distance troubleshooting when they were out in the field without stuff like that? If her father's combine was any indication of the norm, vehicles invariably broke at the worst possible times, and she might need to talk someone through a patch job so they could limp back to her in the field depot.

+Doing some tech support drills during those exercises would have been good. Now the first time I need to do this I'll be sweating bullets into the microphone with people dying at the other end every time I stutter.+

Miria took the document and tucked it into a sleeve, bowing. "Thank you, 301 Alpha."

"Enginseer Rorken."

+Hmph. Actually got a name this time. Wonder what I did?+

Imperial Navy Troop Transports were baroque and ancient affairs, generally arranged with cavernous interior spaces big enough to hold the legions of the Collegia Titanica punctuated by a honycomb of smaller chambers more fit for the bodies and machines of mere mortals. In this case, the Providential Deliverance had within its confines no less than three regiments in the form of the 209th, just returned from Pallas, as well as the Krieg 111th Siege Regiment, newly reformed and rechristened after its complete annihilation in the Padua Campaign, along with the freshly reassembled Batavian 86th Infantry, it too having been retired from operability a few years earlier due to high casualties sustained fighting the Tau in the galactic east. The few Batavian officers who remained from the regiment's last incarnation did speak well of the campaign's result, despite its high cost, with several new worlds being successfully colonized in the Emperor's name.

Miria found the office of the quartermaster without managing to get lost, though she did have the benefit of being able to ping the nearest passing servitor with a location query. As she entered, a Krieg looked up from the paperwork he was filling out, surrounded on all sides by all manner of battle rattle, as her father had called it. Helmets, masks, coats, boots, fatigues, belt buckles, socks, everything one might need to dress a soldier adorned the shelved walls or floors in boxes. A few things even hung from the ceiling.

Miria came to a stop in front of him and slipped the paper from her sleeve, smoothing it out so he could read it. Like Alpha before him, his finger slid down the boxes till it arrived at that third one from the bottom. Kampftechniker something or other, it had said. The dialect words had been thick in that entry.

The Krieg nodded once, and pointed through a door from which Miria now realized was emanating a most curious sound. Almost like the whine of a fan...


"Have the atmospheric cyclers on this deck been serviced recently?"

The Krieg nodded.

Miria narrowed her eyes at him, but he almost immediately returned to his work. Her paper had been placed on the stack he was currently processing.

The next room was obviously a medical ward of some kind, with far, far too many servitors lining the walls. Full body servitors, not the usual wheeled medicae assistance ones bedecked with ampoules and monitoring leads one sees in hospitals above a certain budget. The operating tables were wrong too. Thick metal slabs, with the foot draining into a catchbasin. This place looked like a morgue. The high pitched whine was louder on this side, and then came to a strangled halt a moment later. Miria heard a frustrated grunt.

"Hello?" She ventured.

"Guten Tag." A face leaned out around the corner, or rather, another ubiquitous Krieger gasmask.

+Oh God Emperor.+

Almost the entire left half of the mask was coated in bright arterial blood. Even as Miria watched in increasing horror, a few lingering droplets pooled and fell from the bottom of the filter module. As the man stepped out into the overhead lights, she saw that a gore drenched apron was draped over his black fatigues. In his hand was a circular saw, equipped with a rather ineffective seeming splatter shield. In his other hand was a comparatively neatly severed human forearm, a tourniquet tied around the beginnings of the bicep.

"You have arrived. Disrobe and I will be zere momentarily."

+What?!+

"No!" Was all she could think to scream, recoiling against the opposite wall.

The Krieg paused, tilting his head. "Disrobe...please?"


Miria's bulging eyes darted from the bloody man with the severed arm to the impassive cyborgs lining the walls.

"I don't wanna be turned into a servitor!" She frantically slapped the release key on the door behind her, to no avail. "I am Adeptus Mechanicus Biologis, servant of the Deus Machina! We MAKE servitors, we don't become one!" She wailed.

"That is not the purpose of your visit. Unless I am the victim of a most flagrant clerical error."

Miria stared at him, hyperventilating.

"...Also I am not qualified to carry out such a procedure."

A few seconds ticked past on a chronometer stuck to the wall. It was getting close to lunch, ship time.

"Perhaps there has been some misund-"

"WHY ARE YOU COVERED IN BLOOD?"

The man raised his saw slightly, and it gave a quick buzz.

Miria felt her color rising despite herself. "I asked why not how! The mechanism of action is quite clear to me thank you!" The door lock gave an angry electronic blurp as she pounded again.

Was that a sigh? Did she just hear a Krieger sigh in exasperation? "My patient has expired. I am repossessing his materials to treat future patients." He moved off to the side of the room and opened a refrigerated drawer that expelled a hiss of condensation.

Miria watched him place the arm within, and remove his apron. He unhooked the saw blade from its motor and threw it in one of the catchbasins.

During this, she slowly slid off the wall, her dendrite beginning to uncoil.

The man seemed to be electing to give her space, as he went about cleaning himself up. Off came the uniform tunic, revealing a simple cream colored shirt beneath, somehow draped with even more pockets. God Emperor the Krieg loved pockets. The hands beneath the gloves were spotted with age, but not withered. Half of the ring and pinkie were gone from his left hand. Then the mask came off, and Miria got to see her first Krieg face.

Steel grey eyes, large with dark retinas, and the palest skin Miria had ever seen on something other than a servitor. His nose had been broken, set and broken again. It had been narrow once, perhaps even almost regal, a hint of its aristocratic air remained, only adding to the severity of the face. High cheekbones framed a narrow jaw. His left ear was gone. A massive scar began at the corner of his mouth, snaked all the way along the side of his head and formed a twisted knot of gnarled flesh where an ear had once been. The knot went up into the hairline, as if flesh had been peeled or melted away, and a donor flap stitched on from somewhere else. Considering what she had just seen, the possibility was highly likely. His hair was silver grey, shaved close in a burr. Despite his obviously advanced age, his shoulders and neck looked like corded iron, and pulsed when he turned and moved like coiled springs.

Miria decided it was his eyes she was afraid of the most. All the minute muscle twitches and eyelid flutters expected when speaking simply did not occur. There was no difference between them and the glass lenses of his mask. She almost wanted him to put it back on.

"Let us begin again. Hallo Frau Enginseer."

"S-sir, " She found herself saying. If he had intended her harm, she was certain she would have been dead. "I-I-I am sorry for my outburst."

"Noted. You are present to receive your combat kit ja?"

+Combat kit?+ "Um, yes."

"Good. The door has been locked to preserve your modesty, please remove your robes so that I may confirm your comrade's earlier concerns."

"What concerns?" +Which comrade?+

Miria began to undo the complex knots that secured her robes in place, the patterns of fasteners had a ritualistic meaning and she was slightly ashamed to admit that she had not taken the trouble to arrange all the cords and buckles correctly in years, as it took too frakking long.

"301 Alpha was unprepared for the possibility that one of our Mechanicus Auxiliary would actually volunteer for combat engineer duty. It is...not a frequent event that someone from another world requests to be placed under Krieg command." The Quartermaster picked up a spool of measuring tape and laid a clipboard and inkquill on one of the operating, no, dissection tables next to them.

"Oh." +ShitshitshitshitshitfrakkFrakkSHIT.+

The robes pooled at Miria's feet while she was still processing the enormity of what she had accidentally done.

"Ah. I begin to see the problem. Tell me, how many children have you had Frau Enginseer?"


Miria's mind reeled with all the stories she had heard of the Krieg way of war, each one more horrifically implausible than the next. That they fought to the death unless specifically ordered not to, that they used up their men as others used ammunition. Suicidal attacks, and even simple old fashioned suicide attacks. Miria hadn't wanted to believe it, many worlds had reputations for fearsome warriors, but what she had seen of the Krieg disturbed her to the core. The numbers instead of names, their inhuman efficiency and thoroughness. Over the week of exercises she had heard much the same from her Mechanicus colleagues, for they had really been the only ones to speak to, the Krieg had kept to themselves and said little to anyone, even each other. Especially each other. Miria remembered one afternoon heading to the hangar to do some minor repair of 303, and even though there was a thousand soldiers in that building, it had been utterly silent but for the rhythmic intake of air.

+I'm going to die.+

Her carelessness about paperwork had been the death of her after all, proving another of Proctor Kraellen's predictions true.

+Wait what did he just say about children?+

"I h-h-have no ch-children sir." +Yeah, here comes the adrenaline. Is this a panic attack? Am I having a panic attack right now? Are you supposed to be able to ask?+

The Quartermaster nodded. "I see, do you intend to?"

+Um.+

"U-uhm. I know-know my pa-parents would l-love me t-t-to. W-w-why?"

The Quartermaster made a notation on the clipboard. "Your mammary glands are too large to be encased by any standard carapace armor we have available. I was going to recommend surgical excision, but this would deprive you of the opportunity to effectively nurse any children you might birth, as a fertile woman of breeding age, such a procedure would go against everything I believe as a medical practitioner and a loyal son of Krieg."

Miria's dendrite reflexively coiled around her chest. "I s-should h-h-hope so! N-No one's cutting off my g-girls. Not while t-they're making Am-Amaranthine g-green with envy."

+I wonder if they'd shoot me for cowardice if I failed to obey an order? Probably.+

"D-do you have a sink or something I could-oh no." Miria shoved past the Quartermaster to the nearest blood basin and proceeded to retch up her last meal. If she had cared to look, she would have seen him raise a single eyebrow.

"I did not realize the possibility of such a procedure would be this distressing." The quartermaster knelt next to Miria and shined a light on his wrist into her eyes.

"You are not concussed."

"I know that! ogodemp-*hurk!* " Miria began to shake.

The Quartermaster stood again. "The Mechanicus regularly remove limbs and organs from their bodies do they not?"

"To enhance themselves! M-make us c-closer to the Omnissiah. Have you ever seen a bionic teat?!"

He nodded.

Miria could only stare. "Oh. Well I-I've never heard of such a thing."

His eyes became distant for a moment. "The device...would not fit on your body."

After a few more dry heaves, it seemed like no more was coming out, so Miria had a go at standing back up. Her mess had all gone in the basin, which tempered her embarrassment a minute amount.

The Krieg smoothed his shirt out, and made another notation. "If you would permit me?" He brandished the measuring tape.

Miria withdrew her mechadendrite and let him take her measurements. She once more had a grip on her panic, but it was still simmering just beneath the surface. The conversation so far had been very helpfully distracting, in the weirdest way imaginable. "You are d-different from the o-other Krieg I have met sir."

"In that I am old?" The Quartermaster observed.

"Um." +Does that offend him? Am I actually sure I have not met any other old Krieg? How would I even know?+ "Yes?"

"You are correct. I am 67 standard Terran years old." He did not elaborate further.

When he finished he helped her back into her robes. "Let us see if 419 kappa has collected the rest of your equipment."

She followed The quartermaster back out into the armory area and saw that the other soldier had indeed assembled and array of items on a table for them. He saluted as they approached.

The quartermaster dismissed him and begin to explain the functions of the objects before them. "Your robes you may wear over your fatigues in place of the greatcoat but the rebreather system must be in the most exterior layer and accessible to you at all times." He picked up the box shaped module and demonstrated how to operate it. "When utilized properly this system will protect you from all known biological contaminants and agents, along with all inorganic aerosolized and gaseous poisons. It is also impermeable to radioactive particulates." He opened up the side and unscrewed a white canister. "These filtration canisters are good for 72 hours of continuous operation in severely contaminated environments. In most environments they will last for weeks."

He then took a plastic straw from the pile of field kit items and attached it to the air hose port in the canister. "In this configuration it can be immersed in a contaminated water source and provide drinkable water." He placed the canister back inside the module and flipped it over, showing that the belt that would secure it to her waist was insulated with some kind of wiring on the inside. "The system receives power via thermal energy harvested from your body, And will only cease functioning if your core body temperature has dropped by several degrees, at which point you will be about to die anyway."

Miria nodded. The whole array was quite impressive and utilitarian.

"Lastly is the rebreather mask itself. By default it covers the eyes, nose and mouth. In environments with contact agents we deploy a neck collar with flaps that attach to the mask and base of the helmet to form a complete seal. This also permits us to operate in areas of severely reduced atmospheric pressure, though obviously not a pure vacuum. In such an environment the filter also acts as a pump to harvest oxygen from the atmosphere as rapidly as possible. Despite this, breathing must be highly regulated so the system does not become overburdened."

Miria took the gas mask in her hands and ran her fingers over the face of it. It was heavy; the material was rough and had almost no give to it despite being made at least nominally out of fabric. Her electoos detected the presence of circuitry beneath its surface. Staring at it, holding it in her hand was really not doing good things for her anxiety level, which was rapidly rising once more. Her stomach was starting to twist into knots, even though it had no more to give.

She saw that the Quartermaster was staring at her again.

"Y-yes s-sir?"

His eyes narrowed. "There is something...familiar about the architecture of your face." He was silent again for a few moments, then waved a hand dismissively. "It is nothing. Please try the mask on. Your Mechanicus augmentations will permit you to make full use of its capabilities, the contact point is here on the straps, place it over your cerebella access port. All Krieg have one as well."

"Oh?" Miria slid it on, felt the contacts sync up and-

+Oh.+

"As you can see, you can now observe the display from your rebreather status at all times, in the corner of your vision."

+Yes. I can see that. How useful.+

"Further, any audio communications you receive will now register via thought impulse. Regardless of the ambient noise level, you will hear the words of your squad mates and superiors. Transmission still requires vocalization however."

+I can probably build a workaround for that.+

"How efficient." Miria said.

419 Kappa had returned, bearing a stack of clothes to Miria's specifications. They were placed in a rucksack along with the portions of her body armor that would not require modification.

The quartermaster handed the sack to Miria, who took it and slung it over her shoulder.

"There is one additional matter I would like to discuss with you Enginseer."

"Yes sir?"

He pointed at her chest. "The medallion you are wearing, it bears the symbol of the caduceus."

"The cog and the coiled serpent. It is the insignia of my specialization. I am Mechanicum Biologis by training." Miria stated.

The Quartermaster nodded. "Do you possess medical knowledge?"

"I do." She said.

"Very good, do you think you are capable of performing the function you observed me carrying out earlier in the field?"

"In what way sir?" Miria asked.

"Krieg units suffer high rates of attrition in combat, and by extension high rates of crippling, but nonfatal, injury. Normally, if a guardsman is crippled in this way, he is placed on a waitlist for a bionic prosthesis, however, the rates of injury in Krieg units make this solution impractical. The genetic similarity of Krieg soldiers however, presents an alternative."


"I see. Your tissue compatibility is very high for transplants." Miria observed.

The Quartermaster nodded again. "Today I had the luxury of a facility to retrieve material from that soldier, but we must also do so in the field. Limbs are of course an obvious need, but in addition solid organs like the liver and kidneys are invaluable. Losing a soldier to renal failure from an abdominal injury is an unnecessary waste. When time and facilities permit, more delicate operations like removal of the heart and lungs also become possible."

"I am capable of carrying out precision dissections, with the proper equipment."

The Quartermaster made a note. "I had hoped that would be the case. I will see that the proper tools are assembled and brought to you later."

+I can do better than that.+

"Sir, if you would permit me access to the spare part reserves for the servitors you keep, I believe I can integrate the necessary tools into my servo harness." Miria said.

The Quartermaster raised a single eyebrow again. "Really? In that case I shall relinquish not only any spare parts you may need, but you may also take one of the servitors for your use. With access to a servo harness, it is likely the volume of salvage you would be capable of would outstrip even our own trained quartermaster staff."

"With practice, it is likely. The servo harness has proven invaluable to me in the past. Downtime during battle may be significant. I doubt I will be performing mechanical repairs constantly." Miria stated.

"Very good. Be assured that your desire to serve with us has been noted, and that I shall make every effort to procure you suitable body armor before we make planetfall on Saval. Thank you for coming Enginseer." He walked with her to the door.

Miria bowed. "Thank you sir." She shouldered her pack, and walked off in the direction of the motor pool.

As Miria made her way through the mass of vehicles toward where her charges awaited, she saw a familiar figure pass by, shoving a cart once more, this time filled with what appeared to be a partly assembled lascannon. The armature of her servo was gripping a fat wad of power transfer cables, far more than were needed for a single weapon system.

Amaranthine noticed Miria at about the same moment, eyes widening.

"...Miri? Is that you under there?"

Miria bowed. "Hello Amaranthine. Do you need assistance?"

The darker haired woman started. "Uh...no? Why are you wearing that...thing?"

"The Quartermaster asked me to."

A few seconds crawled by.

"Oh...kay. Miria are you trying to play dress up to get the Kriegers to warm up to you? I mean, I know you're an optimist at heart but this is ridiculous." Amaranthine's normal sneer was edged by a bit of unease.

+I wonder what she is building. Her Basilisks have no need for lascannon components.+

"What are you building? The power needs of a single lascannon do not need this much capacitor cabling."

"Wouldn't you like to know! No, this is but the first step in my master plan to crack the secrets of Saval Secundus wide open!" She gestured grandly at the misshapen pile, grinning.

+Ah, she is making something to survey the planet in some way. Master Xenologis Heverian taught both of us, and he always believed that the first step of understanding the evolutionary history of a world was understanding extinction. Planets that experience extinction events regularly never have the chance to develop the massively hyperspecialized life seen on a death world.+

"How will a lascannon help you understand the history of extinction events on Saval?" Miria asked.

Amaranthine reddened. "Wh-you-agh! It just will! Unless...are you willing to collaborate?" The sneer widened.

Miria nodded. "Of course. How can I help?"

Now Amaranthine really was at a loss for a moment. "Er...really? Well, I plan to use it as a long duration laser drill. Several hundred meters into the ground in multiple locations, then run scans of the boreholes with a servo skull."

Miria nodded. "A good plan. Past supervolcanoes and asteroid impacts will have left deposits in the rock record. It would give us a timetable on how many times life on Saval has nearly been wiped out. Most planets experience around five to ten major extinctions in their geologic history, with Terra fitting into that norm."

Amaranthine clapped her hands together eagerly. "Exactly! Most death worlds only have one or two, and as a result, the life on those worlds has had billions of years of unmolested speciation."

Miria produced her dataslate. "Please pass over your schematics and I will construct a second device. We will be able to cover more ground that way, and obtain a larger sample size."

Amaranthine had about reached into her own robes when she paused. "Miria...why are you being so...nice to me all of a sudden?"

+Am I? I suppose so.+

"It is a good idea Amaranthine."

Amaranthine stared at her for a bit longer. "You've also stopped stuttering."

+I had not noticed.+

"Fascinating." Miria said.

After another moment, Amaranthine shrugged and the two dataslates touched, transferring the files. "Just so we're clear, this is a one time deal, I'm still getting MY treatise on this world sent to Mars and entered into the Altar of Knowledge."

Miria simply said, "If yours is better, then it will be." And continued on to the motor pool.

Three hours later, as she was getting ready to go to sleep, Miria decided to take the mask off.

The sensation was a lot like being pulled out of a deep body of water by the scruff of your neck, made all the more disconcerting by the fact that one believed they had been in air moments before. Miria gasped like a choking fish, sharp, ragged intakes of breath as all the metabolic consequences of the last hours began to be felt by her conscious mind. Her panic attack, for she was certain that is what it was now, started right where it had left off, crushing her heart like a vice and making her vision shrink as dark whorls occluded her periphery.

+Ooohhh Throne, what was that?!+

She remembered everything, but could not comprehend herself. In the moment at the armory, all that had occurred to her were how she might improve upon the tasks being asked of her, as if they had been discussing some new cadre project with her colleagues. The effect had been nearly immediate too, she could swear, it happened the moment the mask had synched with the access port at the base of her skull.

Miria sank into the chair next to her cot, clutching the impassive cloth and glass face in shaking fingers.

+Something...something usually reserved for the Mechanicum Skitarii, perhaps even servitors, resides within this mask.+

Miria wiped her forehead with a sleeve, and ran the electoos on her fingers over the contacts in the mask straps. Servitor construction and design had been one of her more enjoyed subjects at the Temple.

+It feels like...Yes, here are some root command codes for implant access, recent ones at that.+

The timestamps on this mask's OS dated to the early days of the 41st millennium, it also bore the digital seals of Forge World Temaxia, the Mechanicus' largest production hub in the sector. Temaxia had been gruadually and laboriously rebuilt since its sacking by the Orks of Da Iron Worm space hulk in late M32, and most of its facilities were comparatively modern.

It had been the reason the Cult Mechanicus had distributed manufacturing as far and wide as it had in this sector, even to nominal agricultural worlds like Pallas. Some of the coding's core functions were even rendered in dual point hexamath instead of binary cant. Miria knew very little about that programming language, except that it was supposed to be resistant to the reality bending powers of the Great Enemy.

She shuddered. The purpose of the mask's simple program was to interrupt the normal connection between the Amygdale and the Hippocampus, divorcing a person from the awareness of fear during fight or flight response, but permitting the brain to initiate the biochemical cascade of hyperalertness and adrenaline fuelled strength and speed.

The reason Miria felt so sick now was because her fear had never been gone, merely drowned out by neurotransmitter static. The neurochemical effects of it however, had been being pumped continuously into her body for hours. The long term consequences of the use of such a system were many and fatal, Miria knew immediately.

Glandular overload, tremula and seizure, stroke and heart attack. Only a highly trained and conditioned mind, deeply inured to pain and loss, like that of a Skitarii or a Space Marine would be able to use such a system without rapidly suffering its ill effects. With such conditioning, a soldier already nearly immune to psychological stress could be made utterly unfazable, at least for limited periods.

+And...based on how I acted in front of Amaranthine, I'd say it had some effect on ego as well.+

Despite her initial horror, she could come to admire the elegance and simplicity of such a system. A very talented Magos Biologis cadre had built this, she was certain. The majority of Mechanicus disdain for the capabilities of biological systems was everywhere, in their slow transformation to more cybernetic forms, and in their use of brute approaches like combat drugs and electric shock to puppet and enrage their biological constructs when needed.

But the Magi responsible here had asked what systems were already in place within the holy human form, and how might they be coaxed to the effect desired. Their thrift had made this device scalable to massive quantities, for the Quartermaster had said every Krieg possessed one.

+The Quartermaster! He told me nothing of this! In fact, he waited till AFTER I had put it on before asking me whether I would be willing to saw up the battlefield dead! He knew it would make me pliable! That...that...oh!+

Miria thought she might have a word with him later, then thought better of it. She had been a complete mess during that encounter, and scant inches from being seen for what she was, a massive coward utterly in over her head.

+In fact, if I am honest with myself, would I have even worn it if he had told me what it would do to me?+

Probably not, and Miria could not deny that it had been useful, her dataslate now contained a copy of Amaranthine's plans for the laser drill, which saved Miria having to design one herself, and all it had taken was swallowing that stuck up whoredaughter's verbal barbs for a minute at most.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but Miria vented a slightly manic giggle.

"Th-the look on her face! Oh that was priceless. She just did not know what to make of me did she? Nice to see her flustered for a change."

Of course, this raised an interesting possibility.

+Despite the danger...this device might make it possible for me to perform my job. I just need to make sure to use it as sparingly as possible.+

Miria was too amped up to sleep now, so she resolved to complete the modifications to her new Servitor. 32 Rho Epsilon had been a young man once, Miria believed. What skin it had left had the natural wear and tear of living outside a recharging station. She wondered absently what his crime against the Mechanicus had been. Whatever it was, he had paid in full, and Miria resolved to treat him well.

He was a technical servitor by default, with the left arm replaced with a pincer not unlike her own servo harness. Miria pursed her lips with distaste. To waste such a dexterous instrument as the hand on a simple load lifter was a colossal mistake. She would have to do better. The other arm was gone entirely, whatever tool had been there was missing outright. On his back rested several refrigerated, hermetically sealed racks for her grisly harvest.

The empty right shoulder socket however was robust indeed, Miria wagered it could accommodate a weapon, if she wished, and she most definitely wished.

+Something to give me support while I work, and cover up some deficiencies 301 might have. There is a massive surplus of parts here, I'm sure I can come up with something.+

She hummed a tune to calm her nerves while she worked, and about an hour later was surprised to note that the servitor was registering the sound in what remained of its auditory processing lobe.

"So you can hear can you?" She pat the servitor on the head. "And n-not just Technica. I-in that case here, I have a few things from home you might like..."

She rummaged around in her things until she found the small, portable music player she had kept in her room at the Temple. "Honestly, some music will probably help me sleep. W-we're supposed to jump sometime tonight...and I-I don't want to be awake for that." She set it to play, and shoved her drawings into a drawer, before climbing into her cot.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OcIMvliWM2I

"Oh. Papa always loved this one." Miria smiled at the memory. She had fallen asleep to this song many times growing up, as father listened to his old vinyl music box in the main room of their farmhouse.

She rolled over and looked at the servitor. "You know. I d-don't think it's right that the Krieg have n-no names for the Emperor to call them to his side." The servitor's remaining eye glanced her way, reacting to her motion probably.

Miria sighed. "I can't fix that, but I'm n-not calling you 32 Rho Epsilon either." She pulled the covers up and scooted deeper into the bed.

"I don't know what you did, but you serve the Emperor, and the Omnissiah through him now. And Imperial servants I command get names. So your name is Gael." She smiled. "It was my cat's name, when I was small." Miria rolled over, facing the heater in the wall. "Get some recharge in Gael, y-you don't want to be awake for the jump either."

Soon, only the sound of her slow breaths and the quiet piano notes filled the room.

Miria did not see that the lachrymal ducts in the servitor's remaining eye were also still intact.


++4163921.M41(MISSION CLOCK, TEMPORAL ANCHOR LOST) Segmentum ERROR, Sector ERROR, System ERROR, ERROR, 1109 local(SHIP TIME)++

Once in the Warp, Gael's arms had occupied her for a two days and change. First it had been scouring the cargo deck for parts and brandishing her talisman to any servitor that queried her about her business there. She had found a three sided, jointed claw that would serve far better than the simple clamp he had currently. Writing the OS for the new hand, and proofreading it after Gael's first attempted usage of it put a fist through some exposed piping, also took many hours.

While she worked, she resolved that she ought to learn some hexamath, as it seemed to be the new hotness in modern Mechanicus programming architecture. Besides, if she learned it well enough she might be able to teach it when she returned to Pallas. If she returned.

She cranked up the music and powered through the creeping dread. Fortunately, the next task was building the weapon Gael would carry, and that made her feel much better about her survival chances.

The Krieg had brought literal boatloads of guns of all types imaginable, but Miria wanted to consult on this one. She could shoot, even well perhaps, thanks to her father; but strategy and the concerns of weapon type and composition as it pertained to tactics were nearly unknown to her. She needed guidance.

She found guidance on top of 301, going through some checklist with their men.  "301 Alpha? Could I h-have a moment of your time?"

The gasmask turned from their list to face her. "Ja. One moment."

The Krieg leaned down into the bowels of the turret. "Panzercommandante, Frau Enginseer ist requesting to speak with you."

+Frakk. I could have sworn Alpha was the tall one. Always check the damn collars for stripes.+

Rather than fumble an apology and multiply her embarrassment, Miria elected to grit her teeth and try to keep the blush to a minimum.

Momentarily another gasmask popped the turret cowling, this one with three stripes on its collar. "Ja?"

+I should make an effort to be nice.+

Miria smiled. "Good d-day uh...how are you?"

*...Inhale*

"301 is fully operational." Alpha stated.

Adept Rorken's smile became slightly tilted. "That's...good? H-How are *you* though?"

Both Krieg exchanged a look.

After a beat, Alpha spoke again. "I am included in that assessment of readiness Frau Enginseer."

+Right. Kay.+

"Can-can I borrow you f-for a little bit? I need your assistance with s-something."

Alpha nodded, and handed the tool they were holding to...probably Beta, Miria wagered. She remembered Beta was also tall. It was the Navigator and Main Gunner who came barely up to her neck.

Miria led the commander to the personnel storage section of the hangar, where the man portable weapon systems were being kept. Waiting for them, silent but for the whirring of fans and immobile save for his single eye, which followed them as they approached, was Miria's servitor.

"Gael, t-this is Panzer Commander 301 Alpha. You will obey h-his orders as though they were my own."

A vox caster bolted to the side of the servitor's head crackled to life. "Affirmative. Servitor Gael updating IFF protocols. Updating Triage protocols. Updating..."

Miria nodded and turned to Alpha while Gael's wetware chugged along. "Give him a minute, your m-medical servitors h-have a lot of programming in them."

Alpha was already looking at Miria. "That is not an appropriate servitor designation."

Miria frowned. "And?"

Alpha put his hands behind his back at parade rest. "All battlefield assets will be given designations such that their tallying, cataloging and allocation can be carried out with the greatest speed and highest precision." He pointed at Gael. "What was its designation?"

+Sounds like I just had the book quoted at me.+

"32 R-Rho Epsilon, but I gave him the name Gael. I've seen it done b-before. Magi and A-Adepts can name servitors w-whatever they wish."

Alpha shook his head. "Unacceptable. 32 Rho Epsilon is Munitorum property, you may not rename him."

+Oh really?+

"Him?" Miria asked.

"It." Said Alpha with the faintest touch of annoyance.

"Fine then." Miria turned back to the cyborg. "Servitor. What is your designation?"

The eye darted between Miria and Alpha. "Updating command control hardlinks...This servitor-"

Alpha interrupted. "Your designation is 32 Rho Epsilon."

The eye held Alpha's gaze for a few moments, then looked at Miria. "Servitor Gael remembers the rain."

Miria grinned and clapped her hands "Well, t-that settles that."

+What rain?+

Alpha turned back to face her. "You have tampered with its core programming."

Miria's grin became wider. "Nope! I told him y-you were my equal in every way. He just likes Gael b-better."

Alpha's grip behind his back tightened. "Servitors do not 'like' anything, they are machines."

Oh no, this was her domain now. Alpha and his Krieg might know war far better than she, but qualified to opine on this matter, he was not. With a momentary gulp of fear, Miria released the haughty academician in her.

"I-Indeed he is 301 Alpha, as all things that move with p-purpose in the cosmos are. I am Mechanicus Biologis, and hear me when I say we too are machines, merely of different construction. Both equally blessed by the motive f-force of the Deus Machina."

Miria drew herself up. "Though even by th-the narrow d-definition you allude to, he is more, for he was once a man."

Alpha crossed his arms over his chest. "A man, I assure you Enginseer, who was unworthy of your respect. I know what he once was."

Miria started. "Really? You know who he was?"

Alpha shook his head. "Not who. What. He was a failure. And unworthy of a name."

The Enginseer glanced over at Gael, who was still muttering to himself, but his eye was fixed on Miria.

"I m-must respectfully disagree commander, I find him an entirely s-satisfactory servant of the Omnissiah." She countered.

The Krieg remained still, hands behind his back.

Adept Rorken swiped the air with a hand. "I did n-not bring you here to get into an argument commander, I truly do need your help. But, i-if you wish me to reset Gael's OS, you will need to o-order me to do it."

"Update complete, ready for new commands." Said Gael.

Alpha spared the servitor one more glance. "I do not have the authority to issue orders to you Enginseer, except in combat." He assumed a marginally less rigid posture. "What do you need?"

+That's good to know.+

"Gael needs a weapon. He will be accompanying us when we go into battle, something that can perform a function 301 lacks.

Alpha seemed to think for a moment. "Your primary threats when dismounted will be enemy infantry. I can provide some cover from the turret mounted heavy stubber, but relying upon that exclusively is unwise."

Miria pulled out some of the drawings she had made the night before. "How about this?" She asked.

Alpha brought the page close to his goggles, tracing words with a finger. Miria felt her face heating as she abruptly remembered how awful her handwriting was.

"Is this...a grenade launcher?"

Miria nodded. "I, uh looked over the manifests and you Krieg really, r-really like melta weapons. And g-grenade launchers. A lot."

He pointed at the drawing. "And this?"

Miria leaned over to see what he meant. "Oh! Yeah the shoulder is r-rated to accept a much larger weapon. L-like a heavy bolter or s-something, but Gael c-can't have the ammo hopper in the back, because that's where the o-organs go."

She rubbed the back of her neck. "S-So I kind of thought, why not just throw a pair of lasguns on top of the launcher? Twin linked, t-they would pack a wallop. The w-weight comes out about the same in the end. He c-can even reload the launcher with the new hand I got for him."

Alpha looked at the drawing again, turning it sideways. "I have never...seen such a weapon configuration before." He handed it back to her. "I see no reason why such a system would be unsound."

Miria took the drawing, stuffing it back into her robes. "G-great!"

At the Krieg commander's continuing scrutiny, Miria found herself blurting platitudes.

"D-don't worry! It's not tech heresy. W-well, it won't be soon anyway. I'm s-sure once I send the design to the High Proctor he and the Fabricator Locum will sanction it." Miria put a thumb to her chest. "I've done this before." She nodded with confidence.

+Well, except for the Razorsnakes. That had been a poor choice on my part. But I'm two for three on getting my tech heresies retroactively approved!+

"I...see." Said Alpha, in a slightly faraway voice.

Miria waved Gael over, and bowed to the Krieg. Gael bowed as well. "Thank y-you for your assistance commander. I believe I-I should have everything ready to go by the time we m-make planetfall on Saval."

Alpha saluted. "The squadron is also prepared. We should have the latest intel reports from our forces when we translate back into realspace at the edge of the Saval system three days from now."


++4166921.M41(MISSION CLOCK, TEMPORAL ANCHOR LOST) Segmentum ERROR, Sector ERROR, System ERROR, ERROR, 1109 local(SHIP TIME)++

Miria popped the hatch to find all four of them within, apparently resting.

"Guten Morgen Frau Enginsee-"

"Yes hello pardon me." Miria clambered in, wriggling between Alpha and Delta in the turret to land in the central bowels of the 301.

The insides of the tank were surprisingly spacious, Miria conceded, being without any major ammunition dependent weapon systems and the fact that the Pallasian manufacturers had opted for a single large heat sink in the back next to the engine rather than two independent systems for the turret Lascannon and the hull Lascannon meant that a person might actually stand, somewhat stooped, within the Leman Russ' central chamber. To Miria's front were the paired seats of the driver and navigator gunner. Beta and Gamma had both turned to look at her.

Alpha spoke first. "Do you need assistance Enginseer?"

Miria pursed her lips. "Yeah. What's a spot in h-here that you guys never touch?"

The masks all did a slow rotation in place. "...The area directly above the heat sink is kept intentionally clear." Gamma said.

Miria saw the spot, it was close to where she would be sitting, behind everyone else and near the engine. "That should work."

Miria pulled a wax candle from her robes, and unrolled a piece of heavy parchment.

Outside the tank, Gael could be heard climbing into his docking cradle that had been bolted to the rear of the vehicle, with a power and comm jack for him to plug into.

Now Alpha spoke. "Frau Enginseer, may we ask what you are doing?"

Miria unscrewed a small section of bulkhead, laid it flat and placed the parchment over it. "S-Same thing I did to 303 and 302."

She lit the candle, and molten wax started to drip onto the parchment face. From the turret above her, Alpha and Delta had a clear view of what was on it. Calligraphic strings of symbols snaked around the parchment in overlapping hexagonal shapes.

"What...are those numbers and letters?" Asked Alpha

"F-formulae describing physical laws of the universe, t-transcribed in hexamath, along with invocations from the Canticle of t-the Deus Machina, set in h-hexagrammic wards." Miria stated blandly. Then she giggled. "Heh. Hexagon is a f-funny word."

Beta spoke after a moment. "Enginseer...are you well?"

Miria looked up at them while the wax continued to drip, smiling beneath baggy eyelids. "Hm? Oh yeah, just h-haven't slept in 60 hours. *Yawn* Had to learn hexamath to make this." Then after a moment. "Thank you for a-asking though."

"What is its purpose?" Asked Delta.

"K-Keeps me from being the tastiest griddlecake in the g-galaxy when we try to translate back to realspace. Did y-you know the Gellar fields on these ships regularly go to over 115% max threshold during a j-jump's termination shock?"

Miria began to babble.

"Got the b-blessed candles from the Eclessiarchy Tabernacle one d-deck above us. Y-You'd be amazed the places a servitor can go unmolested, or the things people just let them pick up and take a-away.

"Gael is helping." Came the monotone declaration over the vehicle intercom.

"Yes you are." Miria put the candle out and pulled out a seal embossed with the Aquila. "I bet the M-Mechanicus uses servitors as spies. You w-would make a great spy Gael."

"Gael is helping."

Gamma examined the parchment once the seal was affixed and the plate it was upon screwed back into place. "What is the animal you have drawn in the center?"


"It is a cat Gamma. I like cats. I am sure the God Emperor likes cats and I am sure the Great Enemy hates cats." Miria sank into her seat.

"Gael is a cat."

"No sweetest, you are named after a cat." Miria sighed. "Wake me up if we all don't get eaten."

"...Gael is helping."

***61 hours ago***

Curiosity got the better of Miria at last, and she decided to tap into the external sensors, just for a little bit. Boredom had set in again after she had slapped together Gael's combat armature and test fired it (at 1% power) in her quarters. Getting the chance to see the warp, even interpreted through the medium of technological instrumentation, was a once in a lifetime chance.

+Well, hopefully at least twice in a lifetime. I do want to go home after this.+

At first the feed was just a riot of electromagnetic noise that hurt to look at and listen to. After a few seconds however, Miria swore she could hear some kind of repeating pattern in the noise. It took about a minute for her to recognize it as Pallasian PDF Morse, which she had learned from her father as a child. Still reeling from the realization that she was actually hearing it in the warp, the contents of the message became increasingly clear.

It was a recipe. For cornbean griddlecakes.

By the sound of it, maybe the best recipe she had ever heard, possibly the best recipe ever. It was brilliant, sublime, the flavors were sure to be exquisite, why had no one thought of this before?

It called for a pint of Miria's blood. As a thickener.


++2167921.M41 Segmentum Tempestus, Uhulis Sector, Saval System, Interplanetary Space, 0051 local++

Commodore Kalia Mahad did not like this.

"How old is this feed?"

"Two hours ma'am, from probe seven, the one they have not located yet." called an officer from somewhere deep in the sensorium pit beneath her.

On her left, her XO examined the hologram. "This brings their total vessels in system to over a dozen, and, despite the difficulty in classifying orkoid ships, at least two are of comparable size to a Grand Cruiser."

Kalia rubbed the scar on her chin as she paced the command plinth. "I am beginning to share General Rathjen's concerns."

Her XO smiled. "Really? I won't tell a soul." When he saw Mahad continue to stare at the hologram, brow furrowed with worry, his expression sobered.

"Truly commodore, I really think Rathjens is merely feeling a little weak in the knees without his air cover. You know how the groundlings are. The minute we have to move off station there are always 'disasters' about to happen." He pointed at the spinning projection of Saval, floating before them, wreathed by a thin halo of red blips. "Rathjens would have us engage a force three times our mass, just to deploy fighters for an attack that should wait a week anyway, since we have fresh troops and ships enroute."

Kalia continued her pacing. "Olivar Rathjens is no grox pup Number One. He has two successful campaigns under his belt and a fighting retreat from Erindi that is still the talk of the town at sector command, two years later." Mahad sighed. "We are lucky to have him on the ground this early in the fight. Usually I would be talking to some tea sipping nobleman's second son, rammed down the throat of some PDF Officer School, with no ability to control anything more complex than his piss hitting the inside of a toilet bowl, and even then only when he is sober, which, once the fighting starts, would be never."

The commodore pointed to the globe. "Rathjens is telling us he needs to make this attack NOW, and my battlegroup-"

"Of two cruisers and three destroyers." Interjected the XO.

"-are loitering off the fifth planet in the system with our hands up each other's asses waiting for troop transports to arrive so that Rathjens can be reinforced to do the very thing he is perfectly willing and ready to attempt with his current forces." She slammed a balled fist against the bulkhead. "That Pallasian Magos he has with him is equally insistent. He says the orks are building something on the planet's surface. Something big."

The XO nodded. "We expected that though. If the orks are to use this system as a staging area for their waaaagh, they will need to build up infrastructure. The site the Magos mentions is likely the beginnings of that. Fuel dumps, refineries, manufactora and such. Easy targets for our bombers, once we have the numbers to contest the sky."

He contemplated his fingernails for a moment. "Maybe that's the problem. Rathjens is worried he won't get a chance to bloody his sword once we bombard the ork bases back to ruin. He wants us to be accessories to HIS victory, not watch while we win his fight for him."

The commodore shook her head.. "Using this star system makes no tactical sense at all. There are no developed resources, no technologies to loot, no facilities already in place for the orks to convert. The planet is a perfect virgin wilderness of giant monsters and little else. They are fools to begin a waaagh here, which means it is likely not their purpose."

"As per usual, the orks do not encode their transmissions, and the ones we have intercepted, while fragmentary, do seem to indicate they are here to 'gets everyfing reddy and waits for da boss' if memory serves." The XO countered.


"Indeed? And where is this mysterious warboss they keep referencing? Not here, apparently, for here they still wait. And orks without a warboss are a disorganized rabble at best, and a fratricidal mob at worst." Mahad sank into her command chair, and chugged the shot of amasec that had been loitering on its arm, unheeded for some time.

"Exactly!" Said the XO, "the orks shot down one of their own ships just two days ago when we broke orbit."

"It was trying to chase us." Said Mahad quietly. "They shot it down for breaking formation." She blew up the globe until the planet covered the whole holopit. Men and servitors passed through the bottom of the projection, making the south pole into a fizzling lightshow.

"The largest concentration of ships is in geostationary orbit over the ork base, with picket vessels, (though the very notion that orks would be capable of picket duty astounds me) spaced evenly around the equator, ready to react to emerging threats." She poured another shot and downed it in a single gulp. "Something is up."

Now the XO started to look worried too. "Perhaps we-"

"Ma'am! A pair of warp translation signatures, five million klicks starboard!" Yelled the astrogator.

Mahad was out of her chair instantly. "Mass and disposition?"

"Looks like...I think it's the troop transports we've been waiting for, IFF reads the Providential Deliverance and the uh...Frigid Bitch. Opening channels Ma'am."

"Frigid Bitch?" Echoed Mahad and her XO nearly in unison.

"Look, Ah didn't pick th' name," came a drawling voice over the vox. "We'n haulin grain by trade mostwise, but men too iffn the need's great. Which ah reckon it must be, elsewise Ah'd be at home makin' my ladyfair forget her own name an' sucking a fine gum leaf cheroot bout now 'stead of...wherever the great googly frakk this is...*audible scratching sounds*...Saval? Sounds like summat ya get off a Hydraphur joygal."

"Uh-" Mahad started.

"That's a lie. Ah definitely picked th' name." Continued the voice. "Mine's Cap'n Barlow Tirgonius Graves by th' by. Barls iffn ya dun feel like 'nunciatin th' whole thing."

A second voice, female and righteously indignant, blared from the vox as well. "...And I am Captain Varda Mckeon. The Providential Deliverance is a transport chartered by the God Emperor's most holy Ecclesiarchy, and we wish to lodge a writ of censure that a vessel such as ours would ever be placed in formation with...with the likes of HIM. A sinful, lecherous free trader abhorrent in the sight of Him on Earth. The sector Cardinal shall hear of this affront, we assure you Commodore."

A vein distended momentarily in Mahad's neck. Her XO seemed about to place a fortifying hand on her shoulder, then thought better of it.

Kalia gnawed on the seat cushions for a moment, rage filled moans muffled by the pillow. Then she took a deep breath. "...Good day captains. We have already delayed far too long at this location, depriving allied forces of vital air cover for days to rendezvous with you here, so I will not be addressing any concerns you may have until we are underway."

She coughed, pulling a bit of chair fluff from her teeth. "Here is the plan. We are going to boost in system at once-" She glanced at her astrogator out of the corner of her eye. He shook his head. "-I am sorry, perhaps I gave the wrong impression. When I said at once, that was an order."

Both transports belatedly ignited their drives.

"...And proceed insystem with full speed until we are past the third planet. Then we will separate outside the maximum postulated sensor range of the ork ships, and your transports will go quiet, ceasing all emissions. My battlegroup will then boost to flank speed to the largest concentration of ork ships and engage. We will loiter, but endeavor to keep the greenskins at arm's length . Your transports will pass on the opposite side of the planet, only reactivating your drives to achieve a parking orbit, and disembark troops with your dropships."

Mahad tented her hands. "With any luck, the ork picket ships will come and engage us soon after they realize we are here to fight and don't plan to immediately run. By the time your transports drift in, they will be long gone."

She rubbed her eyes. Number One handed her a fresh glass of amasec, which she eschewed for swiping the bottle from his other hand and taking a long draw.

"Complete your landings swiftly, my battlegroup cannot occupy them for more than a few hours."

**Elsewhere**

A sweet smelling breeze tickled her nose, the spring wildflowers were in bloom out front in the garden. Planting season had come, winter was over at last.

Her father helped her with her boots.

"What do you want to be when you grow up Button?" He asked.

"Wanna be a farmer like you Papa!"

He finished her laces and smiled. "Oh? Don't want to work in the city like your Ma?"

"Naw. No aminals in the city."

They carried the bags filled with feed to the stalls and refilled the water. He picked her up so she could scratch behind the ears of some of her favorites, and check their teeth and gums.

"You know Button, I wasn't always a farmer." He said.

She nodded in his arms. "I know Papa. You was a soldier."

"Do you know why?" He asked.

"Nuh uh. Soldiers are scary." She said.

He set her down, and they walked to the combine harvester, seed dispensers were rigged to the rear.

"You love the Emperor, don't you Sweetest?"

"Yea papa, he fights the monsters." She said. "And the bad people. Hair tacks."

He boosted her up into the combine, and climbed in after, setting her in his lap. It actually started up on the first try this time.

"The Emperor fights every day for us. Do you think you should help?" He asked.

Her eyes widened. "I can help? But monsters are scary papa. I'm not big like you."

"You might be one day." He gave her a squeeze and chuckled. "Anyone can help. I thought I'd make a good soldier, so that's how I helped."

She thought in silence for a while. "Does helping aminals help the Emperor?"

He laughed again. "It can Button. Not everyone fights. Our family have been soldiers for longer than most remember, but you don't have to." He ruffled the top of her head. "I promised your Ma you could choose."

He turned her to face him. She saw his eyes had lost most of their mirth now. "But we owe the Emperor a lot for all he does, our family more than most. He looked kindly on us when he didn't have to."

He gestured across the field, their farmhouse in the distance, encompassing all the world she had grown up in. "This is what I got after I had given the Emperor everything I had, everything I was." His eyes were very cold now. "Turns out the Emperor only needed a little bit of me. And when the work was done, He sent me home, and I made this place for myself, for your Ma, and for you."

She clutched his jacket flaps.

"For some, he asked more."

The combine sputtered and died. They climbed out and popped the engine hatch.

"But whatever he takes, the Emperor uses to protect us all." Her father said while he pulled hoses and checked oil levels.

"That's the great secret of the Emperor's power Sweetest. His power comes from you. It comes from me. It comes from everyone in the whole galaxy. All his subjects. As long as we love him and serve him he can protect us all. But if we refuse to help him, if we turn our backs on him, he can't."

He nodded to the fields around them. "Before you make this for the family you will have one day, you should find a way to serve the Emperor, pay him back for all he has done for you."

"I wanna help Papa." She said, hugging his leg while he worked.

He nodded. "Even if he asked for a lot?"

She toed the ground with her boot. "Yea."

"Even if he asked for you to come to his side?" He said.

She fidgeted for a moment. "Will I get to see you and Ma again?"

He picked her up and put her around his shoulders. "Never doubt it."

"Gael too?" She asked from her perch.

"I'm sure the Emperor loves cats." He said.

"Ok." She said. "I'd feel bad at first, but-oh Papa not that one."

"What?"

"The other one. It goes there." She pointed.

He switched the hoses and the combine shuddered to life.

"...Sweetest, how did you know that?"

"It looks better that way, it was sad the other way." She said.

He boosted her back into the seat, and they were off again. Her father watched her for a time, kicking her heels and humming to herself

"Button, later today I think we should go into town. There's a man I want you to meet. He works in the big red temple near the city square. He's an old friend from when I was a soldier. You might think he dresses a little funny, and looks very strange, but he is a good man."

"Ok Papa."


++2168921.M41 Segmentum Tempestus, Uhulis Sector, Saval System, Interplanetary Space, 0751 local++

Miria awoke with a start. Something was sitting in her lap. A bulky flak and armaplas clamshell someone had sawed in half, removing the chest area and replacing it with a convex plate of noticeably thicker material that left no ambiguity to the purpose of the modification whatsoever had been dumped on her.

+...I guess I really am that big.+

*Inhale*

She looked up, to find the impassive mask of Alpha standing over her.

"My first combat order for you Frau Enginseer, though we are not yet in combat, is that you comport yourself to a regular sleep rotation. You were unconscious for 16.5 hours, and as a result our readiness has been compromised during that period." He pointed to her lap. "Your armor has been completed."

Miria had the decency to look ashamed. Her back cracked in several places as she tried to sit up. "...Sorry. D-did we finish the jump?"

Alpha was already stepping away and did not respond, he climbed out of the turret, and Miria realized she could hear the sounds of vehicles driving about in the hangar area, and even the occasional conversation in Kriegmanish lilted high gothic.

Beta, from the driver's seat in front of her, eventually chose to answer as he started up the tank. "Ja Frau Enginseer. 12 hours ago. We are making preparation to enter the dropships.

Adept Rorken jumped out of her seat. "My things! T-The protein sequencers, h-hormone synthesizers-ohgodmyspine!"

Gamma put up a restraining hand. "Do not stand while the tank is in motion. All was placed in the turret external rack, as it was in the depot on Pallas."

Miria bit her lip.

+Damn it. I'm just...going to have to trust they got everything.+

"Thank you...I-I'm sorry."

Gamma and Beta shared a look, and went back to their tasks.

**Elsewhere**

"Ya'll are takin' too damn long darlin'. Mah dropships been sittin playing titflick with 'chother for a spell already an' yun just got done puttin' that siege regiment to th' dirt."

"Do NOT call me that. It takes more time to dispatch mechanized units because of the weights involved, most of my transports are redlining their engines to keep their current schedule." Captain Mckeon snapped.

"All th' more reason ta let me help ya!" Said Graves truncated image, hovering before her.

Varda's eyebrow had begun twitching at some point during this exchange. "This is not the first time I have deployed troops Mr. Graves. Though this may be the height of novelty for a clutch of sodomite grain haulers such as yourselves, the Providential Deliverance has served the Eclessiarchy for centuries in this capacity." She rubbed her eyes. "Our approach and exit corridors are full. Any more craft invites collision, and the pointless death of hundreds of the God Emperor's soldiery.

Graves' hologram scowled, but eventually nodded, fishing a lho from a pocket and lighting up. "Belike. Tho that purdy lass of a Commodore's takin a beatin fer us an' it dun sit right."

Mckeon's gaze softened slightly. "I...empathize with your frustration Mr. Graves. But all have our duty, and Commodore Mahad is-"

"Transports! One of the ork Kill Kroozers has chosen to boost past us rather than engage. It is continuing its orbital arc around the planet. I believe our gambit has been discovered." Mahad's voice crackled over the vox.

The Lho fell from Graves' mouth, eye widening and color draining from his already washed out image. It gave him a almost ghostly pallor. He turned to look at something off to his right while Mckeon ran to the navigation station.

"Understood Commodore, we are still offloading the 209th, what is it's time to intercept?" Asked Mckeon.

"We estimate it will complete its ascent to your relative horizon within the hour, and will be in weapons range shortly after." Mahad replied tersly, then the transmission abruptly ceased with an electronic squeal.

The Misintorum captain's stomach turned over. "So soon..."

Graves was looking at her again. "That ain't th' worst've it. Iffn it's 'ready comin' back...neither us got speed ta get away."

Mckeon's bridge cogitators were already crunching numbers. "...You will, Mr. Graves, if you begin your transorbital burn now."

"What 'bout ya'll?!"

Mckeon grimly pursed her lips. "With your dropships carrying the final companies planetside, we can complete our deployment before they are upon us. It will be tight, but we can do it. The dropships will simply stay downside with their last loads." She took a breath. "And...we will scuttle the ship. The Emperor has chosen this to be our time, and I go to his side gladly, but I will not give the foul xenos the Deliverance's hull to become host to their blasphemous habitation."

Graves' grinding teeth could be heard over the transmission. "Nut's ta that. Yer ship got twice the crew ah mine. 'Course, they're ah buncha simperin' louts dun know what hard bits g'un what squishy bits, but ev'n a grain haulin' sodomite can do arithmetic."

Mckeon scowled at him. "It is our only choice Mr. Graves, do not try to belittle our moment of sacrifi-why are you smiling?"

The Frigid Bitch fired its main drive.

A manic glint flashed in Graves' eye, and the smile became a grin. "Got a better idea darlin'. H'bouts you get alla time in th' world to get them men dirtside safe as houses, an' get gone back to yer book clubs an' tea parties to boot?"

Varda stared as the Frigid Bitch's burn vector came to align with the oncoming ork ship.

"...Mr. Graves, what are you doing?"

"Ya can have mah dropships, scarce think Ah'll need em shortly." He said, lighting up two more Lho sticks and passing one to someone off screen.

Varda felt something tightening in her chest. "You're serious. You..."

"We'n all serve Hims on Earth darlin', just in our own way." He took a long draw and blew a ring. "Dun worry, I ain't fixin ta kick buckets t'day. We'll come up sidelong and ol Frigid'll give'm a headbutt worth her name. She's an ornery old whore, an' Ah 'spect her drive'll give up th' ghost soon after." He winked. "We'll try to be in th' savior pods afore then."

Varda felt moisture running down the side of her cheek. "Thank you...Captain Graves. I-I regret my earlier statements. You are not the man I believed you to be."

The grin became somewhat lopsided. "Naw, I am. By th' by, iffn I get out of this hale'n hearty...Ah dun suppose yun might, fancy supper or summat? I know a grand Tallarn joint back'n Hydraphur, best Kebabs ya ever had, prolly her'sy tae eats em."

Varda covered her mouth with a hand, looking away from her bridge staff to hide the fierce heat rising in her cheeks. "U-uhm...if-if my duties permit it..." She turned back to see him scratching the back of his head, his smile almost shy. "...Yes captain, I would like that."


++2168921.M41 Segmentum Tempestus, Uhulis Sector, Saval System, Saval Secundus, 0835 local++

Saval was a verdant world, riots of green and yellow, browns and grays twisted and snaked across its surface. It had only one massive continent, though numerous volcanic island chains dotted the vast sea which encompassed half the globe. In the center of the supercontinent, ringed by jungle on all sides except the north, a vast desert could be seen. As the dropships screamed over it at hypersonic speed, Miria could see with the external cameras that it was filled with volcanoes and rift valleys, indicating that the tectonic forces beneath were preparing to rip the landmass asunder once again. Ork fighter cover near the xenos base necessitated the dropships landing several hundred kilometers outside the area Imperial forces and the enemy were fighting in, deep in the western jungles.

300 company rolled off the ramp into a drizzling rain, droplets boiling off into steam as they ran down the landing thrusters of the enormous transorbital spacecraft. The engines did not turn off, choosing to idle at 5% thrust rather than require a startup sequence again. Disembarking their vehicles proceeded smoothly, with the entire company out and under the canopy of trees in a mere four minutes and 30 seconds. As the last tank rolled off, the pilot confirmed drop complete, and the engines roiled with power again, wreathing everyone in a whirlwind of smoke and jungle debris as the dropship raced to return to space.

Then, only the comparative quiet of Leman Russ and Basilisk engines were heard, as the company formed convoy and rolled west. Their destination: a mountainside staging area where allied forces were currently launching their sorties from.

One of the first things Miria noticed were the plants.

+These fern analogues are surprisingly...normal. Same with the tree forms.+

Death worlds were notorious for finding ways to weaponize almost any life form. The planet Catachan was the most famous in this regard, where over 78% of the species on that world, both motile and sessile, exhibited predatory behavior at some point during their life cycle.

Here every plantform she surveyed seemed to be chiefly concerned with very stereotypical plant activities, harvesting CO2, respiring, and, as she watched a strange snakelike ungulate dart from a bush it had been munching, getting eaten by higher life forms.

"W-where's the ultrasonic bio mines? The neurotoxin cloud v-vacuoles? Vasoconstriction spine launchers? These p-plants have had four billion years to get t-their shit together and you-you're just letting that s-snake deer thing eat your face?"

"Who are you speaking to Enginseer?" Said Beta.

"T-that fern over there." Miria pointed out the viewport. "That f-fern sucks."

"...Oh."

Miria tried for the third time to get her robes on underneath her new chestplate. It was not cooperating at all. Miria supposed she could cut some holes in her Mechanicus robes to make room for the straps, but that would probably look like utter shit. After the buckles failed to latch again, she balled them up and hurled the robes into a corner.

+Screw it, I'm a Krieg now.+

She threw the chestplate on over her pocket bedecked fatigues and put the mask on, careful to leave the contacts in the strap disconnected for now. She caught Alpha looking at her for a moment from the turret, before he stuck his mask back in the rangefinder scanner.

"All vehicles, all vehicles, 300 Actual. Priority transmission from fleet, stand by for traffic." said a voice in Miria's ear.

All four Krieg stiffened slightly in their seats.


A new voice, crackling from atmospheric distortion, came over the vox. "All ground forces, this is Captain Mckeon of the Deliverance. Our allied transport, the Frigid Bitch, has successfully rammed a Greenskin warship inbound to our orbital bracket." The voice made a small sound Miria could not identify over the static before continuing. "...We observed drive detonation shortly thereafter. Savior pod signatures have been detected descending to the planet near your path of travel. I and your comrades still yet to disembark owe whoever is in those pods our lives. You WILL recover them all. Mckeon out."

After a few moments another voice came on the vox. "300 Actual, 321. Enginseer Bahal advocates deployment of servo skulls to scan surrounding jungle for pods."

Miria bristled, instantly suspicious. +Damn, I bet she'll have some of them tasked to scan for material for her thesis too.+

She sat up. "A-Amaranthine's right! T-the Machanicum auxiliary c-can help with that! W-we're literally drowning in servo skulls, a-and they all have basic scanners. We s-should slave the telemetry to as many personnel as possible though. A-Adept Bahal might m-miss something with-with so much data to parse."

Alpha nodded, radioing in the amendment to the plan.

"321, your plan is a go, with 301's alteration, 300 Actual out."

+There you opportunistic whore, try to sneak in some research while the whole staff is watching your feed.+

They drove on for a for a few hours, barely doing better than 25 kph, even with the lead Russes crushing undergrowth and small trees beneath their treads to make passage for the following vehicles smoother. Eventually, they came to the top of a hill, and the countryside before them was visible. Jungle continued all around them as far as the eye could see, with the lush canopy broken only by enormous grey mounds that shot up into the sky like accusing fingers. The tallest of them was easily the size of a large building. Their surface was utterly featureless and smooth. Miria at first thought they might be the dwelling of some colonial organism. Periodically, vehicles would be ordered off the convoy in various directions after pods. Miria even saw the streaking trajectory of one or two pieces of debris from the collision pass overhead.

+A mound that size would imply a hive with creatures far too big for a colony though, as usually the structures visible on the surface encompass less than 10 percent of the hive's internal underground volume. Like an iceberg. With a hive that massive, whatever lived there would literally eat the entire countryside around them.+

She put the hive possibility as a distant second. The mounds might actually be-

"301, 300 Actual, over."

"300 Actual, 301, send traffic." Said Alpha

"301, servo skull auspex detects savior pod 30.3 kilometers, bearing 204. Break convoy and retrieve, how copy?"

"Solid copy 300 Actual, breaking convoy." Alpha stamped his foot twice on the bottom of the turret, and Beta nodded.

Their Leman Russ listed to the left into the undergrowth, permitting the vehicle behind them to pass without slowing, Beta slammed the levers in opposite directions and 301 began to pirouette in place, kicking up streams of mud and torn fern analogues. Miria was still amazed at how primitive the plantforms appeared.

Beta gunned the engine and they headed southeast, quickly leaving the convoy behind. Now alone, Miria saw that Delta was swiveling the turret a lot more than before, and Alpha never took his eyes from the scanner. Between the breaks in the treetops, Miria occasionally got a glimpse of one of the vast gray mounds, vaguely in the direction they were heading. Strange, but definitely biological sounds could be heard from the misty darkness surrounding them. Many were intriguingly high and low pitched, and Miria was certain that they extended into the ultra and subsonic frequencies as a few of them made her teeth rattle and her stomach turn over. All in all she was very glad to be in a heavily armored vehicle bristling with high powered lasers. The rain began falling more heavily.

Time passed. Miria figured she knew better than to attempt conversation right now, the whole crew was practically oozing focus. Sitting in the back, sweaty next to the heat of the engine and feeling somewhat useless with little to do, Miria glumly noted that the beginnings of one of her occasional migraines was coming on. She surreptitiously undid the top two buttons of her uniform fatigues, giving the girls a bit more air circulation, it did not help much. After a few more minutes, she removed her chestpiece entirely, noting with some distaste that it seemed to be much heavier in construction than anything the rest of the crew was having to wear.

"Gael remembers the rain." Came a quiet voice over the headset in her mask.

+Oh God Emperor, he is getting rained on out there. Frakk, I should have built a canopy for his docking station.+

Miria isolated to the channel for her networked devices. "I'm s-sorry Gael. I didn't think to c-cover you up back there."

"This rain warm." Came his usual monotone, but Miria couldn't help but feel that it carried a certain...

"Was...was the rain y-you remember cold?" Miria asked. The minds of servitors were broken, fragmentary things, half ruined by the process of making an organic brain into a piece of rewritable hardware, able to accept direct programming. However, most that had been people once did retain...something. Often the person they had been was a gruesome killer at best, so Miria had always been averse to using servitors that were not clone blanks. But Gael had been given to her, and the Ecclesiarchy taught that even heresy could be redeemed with a death of service to the Throne of Terra. And to be a servitor seemed so, so much worse than simply ceasing to be.

"Cold, dark. Gael remembers. Gael is failure." He said.

Miria was shocked to hear Alpha's words coming out of him. +What did Alpha even mean by that? In fact, he's barely said a word to me since then. I suppose between offending his sensibilities somehow and dozing off in the tank I might have made him mad, but really.+

Trying to take away something, from a being which had been reduced to as close to nothing as Gael had been, seemed callous in the extreme, even cruel.

"No. No y-you are Gael. Only Gael. My servitor, a good servitor who helps me."

"Gael is helping?" He asked.

"Always." Miria said, surprised by the emotion behind her words.

"Signal detected." called Gamma from his seat next to the driver. "Enginseer, can you refine this?"

Miria started. "Uhh-yes! I m-mean probably, hang on..." She whipped out her own dataslate and patched into the vehicle. A electronic blip of greeting pinged her mind as she entered.

"Hello 301, w-what do you see?"

The machine spirit was wary of their surroundings, compared to the proving grounds of the Pallasian countryside, the Saval jungle was claustrophobic, stifled with mist and occluded with trees. Miria could feel that the auspex systems were already receiving extra power from the engines. 301 had detected and was tracking several organisms that were passing beyond their field of view, some nearly as large as the tank itself. It very much wanted to shoot them.

"Now now, y-you're just nervous because 302 and 303 are n-not with us. I can almost guarantee those animals are f-far more afraid of you. R-Remember when you started that stampede of livestock just by driving by them back on Pallas?"

The spirit's ire diminished somewhat, and Miria found the signal Gamma had spoken of. Faint, distant, but repeating with perfect timing, Miria assumed 301 had brought it to Gamma's attention for that last reason. It was a clever spirit indeed, Adept Rorken thought to herself. 301 knew what things to bother the crew with, and what to keep to itself.

+Oh you are wasted on a Russ chassis 301, metadata threat parsing is something most spirits cannot do for decades. Or ever, depending on how bilious their temperament.+

For instance, she feared 303 was going to be one of those machine spirits that simply treated anything not explicitly defined as friendly for a possible target. She had seen the Leman Russ Punisher prime its barrels by spinning up on such things as a passing civilian truck, a blimp, a herd of sheep, and a scarecrow in a field. 303's commander had called it 'commendable vigilance.'

Miria sighed. +At least it has the weapon for it.+

The signal was getting stronger. Weird interference was coming off the trees around them, Miria would swear that had not been there before, causing distortions in the return, but they were definitely going the right way. She saw in bursts of visibility through the jungle canopy that they were getting close to the gray tower now, it was only perhaps a couple kilometers away.

+Wait what?+

The signal was moving.

"Enginseer. What is happening?" Gamma looked up from his scanner and stared at Miria.

"U-uh I-I don't know! S-savior pods can't move once they land. Maybe the o-occupant got out?"

"The beacons are part of the pod's internal structure, is that not why you are instructed to stay near them after landing?" Asked Beta as he slowed the tank to a halt.

301 noted a seismic disturbance in the ground around them, bringing all of its guns to full charge.

"W-wait! 301, the last thing we want is our g-guns charged d-during an earthquake!" Miria hugged the railing as the tank lurched still.

An angry mechanical wail filled her senses, and her mind was dragged to the auspex reading once more.

The signal was coming toward them. At nearly 40 kilometers an hour.

500 meters.

Miria saw some of the organisms on the periphery of the auspex returns were fading from the screen.

+Fleeing.+

400 meters.

"The pod may have been picked up by an ork vehicle."  Said Alpha.  "This could be an ambush, watch external cameras.  Bring all guns to bear, we fire as soon as we are certain it is not an Imperial craft."

"Roger."  Chorused the crew.

300 meters.

The tank completed orienting itself toward the mist shrouded treeline before them.  Miria could see small animals leaping from their burrows and bounding over bushes, disappearing into the foliage behind them.  The vibrations in the ground became stronger, making her teeth chatter until she bit down hard.

200 meters.

Miria could see flyers, bird or insect analogues taking off from some of the trees in front of them.
301's spirit was casting its scanners as far forward as it possibly could.  There should have been some return aside from the approaching beacon's maddening beeping, some metallic signature, some radar displacement.

+Where is it?!+

100 meters.

Delta's hands tightened on the grips of the main gun turret controls, thumb poised over the firing stud.  Miria held her breath, inner eyes frantically searching the sensorium feeds, seeing nothing.  301 was beside itself.  No trees parted, no lumbering ork trukk with the pod lashed to its bed burst through the foliage.  Silhouette recognition algorithms flashed before her mind's eye as the tank desperately searched for a threat in the trees, the way the light fell on a rock, the shape of a bush, nothing.

0 meters.

The vibrations stopped.  The savior pod signal was now directly on top of them.
Everyone held for a strangled moment, watching the scanner reading, with the yellow blip of the pod beacon flash demurely superimposed over the icon of their tank.  Miria heard Alpha inhale.  "Navigator get me-"

Miria saw the gray tower, just a little more than a kilometer away.  She heard the rasping voice of Magos Xenologis Heverian, saw his transplanted tyranid skull wreathed in steam.  "Only ten percent of a hive's internal volume is visible from the surface."

Miria screamed.  "ITS BENEATH US!"

The crew reacted instantly.  Alpha kicked the back of the driver's seat hard with his boot, and Beta slammed both drive levers forward.  301 moved like the Omnissiah himself had struck it, practically lifting off the ground.  No wait, they WERE being lifted off the ground.

The patch of forest they had been resting at a moment before was bowing upward, and the Russ was sliding forward down the face of the newly formed hill.  Miria watched through the rear cameras as the bulging earth erupted like a miniature volcano.  Earth and grass, underbrush and small plants flew everywhere, peppering the hull with light thuds and a few heavier impacts of rocks.

A shape moved behind the cloud of dust, long and tubular, it twisted and undulated, uncoiling from the earth like a giant snake.  It's body was easily six meters wide, length unknown, but getting longer with each moment.

The savior pod beacon was emanating from it.

Beta threw one of the treads into reverse, turning the tank as it slid through the dirt and dust.  The moss and grass covered earth, slick with rain, prolonged their skid by several meters, with the tank coming to rest perpendicular to the eruption, brought to a halt by a thudding impact with one of the tree analogues.

Only then did Miria have the presence of mind to stop screaming.

The impact of the tree sent Delta's first shot high, bass hum of the twin lascannons rattling the turret cowling and making the crew compartment reek of ozone even through the filters of Miria's mask.

Superheated dust glowed white hot as the coherent light cut through the swirling mass, scything the cloud in half.

The creature recoiled as the beam passed over it, the noise it made fell somewhere between the whine of a jet engine and the drone of a cloud of cropkiller bugs. The entire dust cloud oscillated like ripples on a pond, before it lunged from the smoke.  Two of the lenses on the external cameras cracked as the wail continued.

Its maw was an enormous hardened beak, serrated and overlapping a secondary horizontal inner beak.  Four thick eyestalks protruded like an x from the corners of its head.  It had scales, stark white, indicating a primarily subterranean existence.  The air near the surface of its skin rippled like heat was coming off its body, but Miria knew almost immediately it was distortion from its body vibrating.

She slapped the contacts  on the mask strap into place, and felt the eerie sensation of being submerged in water again.

+Liquefaction cavitation as a digging method.  Completely novel, its caloric needs must be enormous.+

"Reverse full."  Miria heard Alpha say, and 301 lunged backward out of the way as the creature slammed into the tree they had been resting against a moment before, presenting the long axis of its body to the Russ' guns.

Gamma and Delta opened up a second after.  The navigator's beam melted a concave trough in the top of its body a half a meter deep.  Scales burst as the superheated silicates within them fractured and cracked, flesh and fat melted and bubbled away, bursting into flame and runneling down its back.  Delta's twin beams neatly punched a hole clean through the cranium behind its upper pair of eyestalks, where the brain would have been on any sensible creature.  It roared again, ripping the tree it had bit onto in lieu of the tank from the earth and snapping it in half.

"Poor effect on target.  Advise."  Delta queried.

"Driver continue reverse.  Gunner continue striking head, it will be blind or crippled eventually."  Said Alpha.

+Radial symmetry suggests centrally located nervous system.  It is a vertebrate, perhaps an ophidian analogue, which suggests its spine is located in the center of its body, rather than on top.  Proximity to inflexible bone tissue would adversely affect its cavitation vibrations on the surface of its skin it uses to dig.+

Miria sat up.  "Aim center mass, you will paralyze it."

Alpha turned to look at her, holding her gaze for a moment.  Miria saw for the first time how brightly blue his eyes were through the lenses of his filter mask.  His pupils had shrunk to pinpricks.

The beast roared again, cracking the Auspex display at the navigation station.

"Do it."  Alpha said.

301 was lifted off the ground and thrown sideways as the creature's 30 ton tail slammed into the tank's side.  NBC klaxons began screaming as the atmospheric seals failed.  Miria was thrown from her chair and struck the heat sink, saved from a cracked skull only by her helmet.  Alpha's mask was smashed against the viewport of the turret, only Delta managed to keep himself in position.  Gamma and Beta became a tangled mass of limbs, squished into the top corner of the driver's compartment as the tank landed on its side.
Delta desperately cranked the turret controls, trying to excavate his gun from the mud it had become submerged in.  The Wurm reared up on the stricken vehicle, beak glistening in the rain, apparently assessing the helplessness of its strange prey.  After a moment it came to a decision, and its maw dislocated, widening to the diameter of its entire body, gullet distending and closing in.

+It intends to eat us.+

Fire exploded before its open mouth, burning shards of white phosphorus stabbing deep into its exposed esophagus, burrowing and sinking deeper as the 4000 degree heat liquefied the flesh around them.  streamers of smoke coiled from its mouthparts as the beast recoiled in agony falling on its back, screeching.

"Gael is helping."

Miria traced the smoking arc of the grenade back to find the servitor, standing and drenched head to toe in mud, already in the midst of a reload.  He appeared to have been thrown clear of his docking port by the impact of the tail.  His heavy body had dug a divot in the earth before him as he had skid to a stop.

Krieg grenade launchers were simple things, a mere tube with a wooden stock that was loaded from the breech by breaking the barrel to insert a new round.  It's rate of fire was poor, its range short, especially compared to some of the automatic launchers favored by the more technically advanced worlds.  But like many things Krieg, it was rugged, easy to use, and too simple to fail.  It also permitted a much larger payload.  Specifically the Krieg standard 70mm multipurpose shell, with just enough propellant in the back to send it about 150 meters, at max range.  Any further than that and one really ought to be calling in a proper mortar strike anyway, or so Krieg tactical doctrine reasoned.  Krieg infantry NEVER operated outside the range of their artillery support, even if they had to bring it themselves.

In this case, a 70mm Phosphorus Starburst signal grenade.  In the mouth.

+That was not luck.  He chose a signal round over a fragmentation, knowing that the incendiary effect would be far worse.+

Miria saw through the remaining cameras that were unshattered or occluded by mud that the Wurm's thrashing was already abating, it was rolling on the ground, making retching noises and taking huge gulps of mud into its beak in an attempt to extinguish the burning shards lining its throat.  That would not work, but it would likely tire of that effort soon, and attempt to strike them again.  It might well have been mortally wounded by this encounter already, with perforated head wound pouring blood into the mud by the liter, and a throat so damaged eating would be impossible.

Alpha was examining the turret cowling while Delta still tried to crank the gun out of the mud, first with the motorized system, which only whirred and squealed in protest, and then by hand crank, which locked just as the barrels were rising from the slop.  "The mud is not the cause, the turret ring itself is deformed."  Alpha said.

Beta and Gamma made an effort to get unattached from each other, with Beta kneeling on all fours on the now downward facing wall of the driver's compartment, and Gamma sitting on his back, just high enough to peer into the navigator's gunsight sideways.  "Ready."

Alpha nodded.  "Fire at will, center mass."

The beam stabbed out, striking the creature about a third of the way down its body.  Its armored scales exploded outward, gobbets of gore stringily attached to the spinning pieces.  Musculature beneath, probably what governed its vibrating motions, snapped and popped wetly as the beam carved through them.  Rib bone was exposed, then exploded as the marrow within superheated to a gas, shards embedding themselves in the surrounding flesh and pinwheeling streamers of blood after the scales a half second before.

The Wurm screeched, abandoning its futile efforts to extinguish the fire and reared over the tank again, head awash with bright blood from the gaping wound behind its upper eyes.

Miria jammed her servo arm against the turret ring, dual clang of the magbolts locking her horizontally to the deck.  With the maximum pressure she could muster, she separated the crumpled side of the cowling.   "Try again.  Both at once."

301 groaned in protest, both in flesh and within Miria's mind, as its neck was rudely prised open a few degrees.

Delta hit the motor, and Alpha heaved on the hand crank, and after a moment of panting effort, the turret snapped free of the obstruction, swinging wildly to the vertical.

The Wurm lunged forward, only to slam into the earth in front of 301 as a second flare grenade went off over the tank, momentarily blinding the monster.

From the ground, the Wurm grabbed hold of the navigator's Lascannon with its beak, and in a single motion ripped it out of its housing, fire control system and all, leaving Gamma squatting through a meter wide hole.  His hands abortively reached out, almost as if he might stop the theft, then fell to his side.  "Navigator's weapon is kaputt Commandante."

"Understood.  Delta, do you have it?"  Alpha asked.

301 was enraged now, Miria could feel its elemental fury, too much for the mask's systems to cope with, rage washed over her like a tidal wave.  Rage at how it had been almost beaten by  wild animal, not even in battle with the enemy, rage at how quickly it had been rendered nearly helpless.  Miria saw that 301 was redirecting power from the engines.  A lot of power.  A dangerous amount of power.  She decided she did not care.

The turret leveled off.  "Ja I have it."  Delta said, a note of fierceness creeping into his voice even through the muffling of the filter.  Miria belatedly wondered if any of them had gotten their helmet contacts dislodged.

The Wurm flung itself toward Gael, who was calmly loading a third shot, walking at a even pace directly toward the monster.

"Fire."

The Lascannons issued a dual gout of white light, bright as a second sun.  The note that rang out in the crew compartment sounded like someone had dropped their entire body on the bottom notes of an Eclessiarchy cathedral organ.  Coolant gas burst from a cracked seam in the heat sink where Miria's head had struck it, wreathing the engine compartment in a green cloud.  The beams hit the Wurm about ten meters behind its head, dead center.  The scales facing the onslaught simply ceased to be, turning to ash before they even had the chance to superheat and explode.  Atomized flesh forced the surrounding tissues to expand in the ever increasing pressure wave.  The effect was somewhat like ingesting a themobaric bomb.  Viscera and fragments of solid organs hurled themselves outward as the beam nearly bisected the creature, finding its spine and continuing out the other side.  A tree at the edge of the forest disappeared in a sheet of white light, then the tree behind it, then the beam was lost in the mist.  Burning fragments and spinning branches drifted down in the gentle wind accompanying the downpour.

The back of its body went utterly limp, the nerve connections severed.  The head and upper body came to rest about 5 meters from Gael, snapping and thrashing, but now anchored by unresponsive musculature to 30 meters of dead weight.

The servitor took one more step toward the gnashing jaws, then fired another signal round.

The beast's roars had become strangled, almost piteous mewls as the flesh in its mouth turned to char and smoke.  Each ragged inhalation stoked the white hot coals slowly melting its head from the inside out.  Its eyestalks began to weep blood, one even rupturing and blanketing him in a fresh coat of gore to match the mud.  Steam and smoke billowed from the twitching hole.

"Gael is helping."

Alpha blinked twice and the coolant cloud wafted through the crew cabin.  "I do not recall giving the order to fire at reactor max charge Delta."

"I did not set that charge Commandante."  The gunner insisted.

Miria put a hand on Delta's shoulder.  "301 trusted you would make the shot.  And was very much finished with that thing being alive and moving."

The spirit was in fact quite pleased with itself.  Miria could feel its deep satisfaction, even through her deadened senses.

+That reminds me.+

"Excuse me."  She said, crawling on her belly out the top of the turret past the pair of blinking Krieg.  popping the hatch, she rolled off the top of the tank and sank shin deep into the mud.  Rain pattered on her helmet.  She unclipped the mask contacts and wrenched the whole array off, just in time.  She was getting better at this.

*Huuuuurrrk.*  "Ohgodemperor...oh Throne we almost died."  Miria sank to her knees, not even caring that she got some of her mess smeared on her pants, her legs were absolutely not functional right now.  Her servo arm embedded itself in the mud, keeping her upper body from falling over entirely, her arms and dendrite clutched her abdomen as she heaved out the rest of what little had been in her stomach.  Admech field rations were highly nutritious protein cultures that were in fact a heavily genetically modified yeast organism.  Cured and pressed into wafers, they would keep for decades, and probably had already.  They tasted like salinated cardboard going down, and mostly just bile coming up.

"Yes."  Came a single syllable from behind her.  Alpha had apparently followed her out.  "A very wasteful death."

She saw him reach down and retrieve the mask she had hurled aside, wiping a smear of mud from the goggles.

"D-d-do you...ever turn t-t-these things off?"  She coughed.

Alpha handed the mask back to her.  "We almost never turn them on.  The Aegis of Focus is a tool of last resort, to bolster a soldier during moments when his resolve would otherwise break."  His gaze was quite piercing indeed, behind those lenses.

Miria stared in shock.  "S-s-so, none of you had..."

He nodded.

An explosion off to their right made her jump.  Gael had fired a krak grenade into the remains of the Wurm, and the shaped charge had blown out the other side of its mouth, sending a few pieces of beak and scales spinning through the air.
Miria staggered to her feet.  "Gael!  Sweetest t-that's e-enough!  *urk* It's q-quite dead."

"Gael...is helping?"  Drifted a questioning voice from the other side of the ruined monster.

"V-very much, b-but I need your help o-over here now please."

The thudding clomp clomp clomp of heavy armored boots was heard as the servitor, still caked with mud and gore, bounced around the beast and came up to her and Alpha.  Gael seemed...almost alive.

Miria smiled despite herself.  Then she giggled.

+Probably the adrenaline.+

"Command?"  The cyborg asked.

"W-when people s-save my life, th-they get one of these."  Still moving somewhat shakily, Miria reached over and engulfed the servitor in a hug.  In her exo frame, she was well over two meters tall, so she was mostly wrapped around his head and shoulders.  She squeezed tight, all the unfelt terror of those moments before flooding out in a torrent of relief.

"Caution, airway obstructed."

"O-oh, sorry."  +I keep forgetting how much I...um, stick out there.+

Miria smoothed out her uniform tunic.  "Gael, could y-you please help the crew get the winch around one of the bigger trees?  We n-need to right the tank."

The servitor bounded off in the direction of the stricken Russ, just as Delta was helping to pull Gamma out of the hatch.
A disgusted sensation passed over her mind.

"N-no, I didn't f-forget about you 301.  H-how about I go over and turn off the i-internal sensors so you're n-not in as much pain?."

A slightly less indignant snort.

Miria looked at the mask in her hand.  It was mostly clean again.  The rain was pooling in the lens cavities, and running down the sides as they filled, almost like teardrops.  She affixed it to her face once more, leaving the contacts unconnected.

Once back inside the tank and deactivating noncritical systems so the machine spirit would not be so painfully aware of its own crippled state, Miria could see that the coolant mechanism and heat sink had just about vented all its former liquid, and would need a refill in addition to a patch job from the impact of her helmet.  This in turn meant the remaining Lascannons were not going to be firing more than about once a minute, even in this pouring rain, unless they were ok with melting as much as their target was probably not ok with melting.

+After we get the tank straightened out, I'm definitely grabbing tissue samples from that worm...snake...bird...thing, and from the surrounding plants.  Something really strange is going on here, that thing was way, way too big.  I'm still not convinced my assumption was correct.  Any hive organisms worth their salt would have sent literally dozens to hundreds of attackers at us, not just one.+

Miria sighed.  Then, 301 pinged her with a notification about the still transmitting pod beacon, somewhere inside the carcass.

"Surely you don't think-"  Miria sat up.

Beta stuck his head inside the turret hatch, peering onto the red dimness of the hazard lights.  "Frau Enginseer, we are ready to attempt-"  He brought up a hand to catch the portable auspex Miria threw at him.

"T-take this, a-a-and locate where that pod is exactly inside t-the creature." She pointed to the scanner with her dendrite.

Beta looked down at it.  "Jawohl Enginseer."

Miria climbed out after him, finding Alpha and Gamma had secured the unditching cable to the side of the tank pointed skyward, while Gael had latched the other end to a sturdy treeform.

Miria bit her lip as the winch chugged along, slowly dragging 301, with several disconcerting metallic groans that probably indicated additional unseen structural damage, back into the upright position.  The Russ looked pretty bad, if Miria was being honest.  The navigator's station was open to the air, rain already starting to pool on the floor of the crew compartment, half the tank was coated in mud, and the other half was ever so slightly concave.  With the pressure she had been exerting with her servo gone, the turret was locked again, and only able move within the few degrees of freedom offered by its weapon housing.

Alpha walked up to her.  "You have sent Beta to scan for the pod."

Miria nodded absently, noting the possible stress fractures on her dataslate.

"If you locate it, how do you intend to remove it?"  The commander asked.

"Thought I'd shoot a-around it with the remaining g-guns.  Carve it o-out."  Miria sniffed.  The rain was making her nose run.

"We have already wasted hours arriving here, done serious damage to our vehicle, and you propose ruining our only remaining weapon system excavating the blinking ruins of a savior pod from the gut of a beast that was very possibly not alone?"  Alpha crossed his arms.  "I question your priorities Frau Enginseer."

+That's the longest sentence you've ever said to me Alpha.+

Miria permitted her bile to rise.  "S-starting t-to regret l-letting me j-join your squad, Commander?"

Now it was Alpha's turn to look away momentarily.  "...I do not understand you, Frau Enginseer."  His hand opened and closed rhythmically a few times.  "And confusion is dangerous."

Miria raised her mask, and blew her nose on a leaf.  "D-Ditto.  You're all weird as hell."

After a few more beats, Miria saw his shoulders sag almost imperceptibly.  "I do not regret your presence.  We live to seek a more worthy end because you guessed the creature's position before it could devour us."

He shook his head.  "But I must demand you not compromise our remaining ability to fight back against threats by attempting to rescue someone who may already be dead.  It is a flagrant waste of resources."

Miria was about to start arguing again, but watching the flooding crew compartment gave her an idea.

"F-fine.  Get me the c-camo tarp and I'll get your guns a new cooling s-system.  R-right here , right frakking now."

"What?  The heat sink has vented, we have no coolant."  Alpha said.

"Y-you know w-what you Krieg lack?  F-frakking imagination."  Miria huffed.  "G-good thing I'm h-here."

She stomped off, then paused for a moment to look back.  "Y-you know, I'm n-not the only one you owe for g-getting through that f-fight."

Miria popped the maintenance compartment and peered inside.  One of the great virtues of working on both Russ and Chimera engines was that they were highly modular.  Both could be lifted entirely out of the vehicle by a crane, and repaired at the depot, while a fresh engine was swapped in, with less than a dozen feed and exhaust connections to be made.  The whole process took less than an hour, and kept downtime to a minimum.  In this case, all it really meant for Adept Rorken was that she had a lot of room to work, as the engine compartment was quite spacious.

Delta had taken watch atop the beast carcass, sporting a long las Miria had never seen him with before.

Miria glanced up to see Gamma approaching.  "Can I assist you Frau Enginseer?"

The Pallasian dabbed her neck with a cloth as she yanked feedlines aside to check for cracks.  "Y-yes.  You found t-the tarp?"

"Ja."

"Good.  T-take this saw and c-cut off a nice two meter length of bone, m-maybe one of its exposed r-rib tips, they seem p-pretty thin."  She proffered the dissection saw that had been attached to her servo arm, and pointed at the wurm corpse.

"Uh..."

Miria sighed.  "I n-need two things, tissue s-samples, and something pretty straight, k-kinda springy and strong.  This solves b-both."

"...Jawohl Enginseer."  Gamma trotted off, revving the saw.

After a few moments of curse filled yanking and wrenching, more footsteps approached.  "Time to complete your assessment?"  Said Alpha.

"A f-few minutes m-more."  Miria stated flatly.

The Krieg commander stood mutely for a few moments, watching Miria get sprayed briefly by a gout of high pressure lubricant.  He inhaled.  "Do you need-"

"Yeah, g-go get me some f-flowers.  Like, a-all the flowers you can get."  She bit out.

+I need samples from the plantlife as well.  That interference in the sensors coming from them was not natural.+

"Er-"

More fluid squirted out and Miria cursed again.  "Now p-please!  The instant I'm done h-here we're making that cooling t-trough and cutting the pod out, so I don't have time to g-get any myself."

Alpha headed off, with one last backward glance just as Beta came jogging up.  "I haff located the pod.  It is seven meters past the area we struck with our guns."

Miria nodded.  "G-great.  Take this d-drill and secure the rib b-bones Gamma is getting to the base of the turret, pointing forward and parallel to e-eachother.  Make sure they are curving upward, we're trying to make a b-basin."

Beta stared at her for a moment, filtered wheezing being the only accompaniment to the light patter of rainfall..  "...You want me to attach...the unclean bones of a Xenos monster to one of the God Emperor's sacred war engines?"

Miria stared right back, her frayed patience at an end.  "Beneath the turret.  P-Parallel."

Beta appeared about to say something more, but Alpha came waddling back, haunched under the load of what seemed to be all of Miria's other toolboxes and kits, strapped around his body.  He dumped them as gracefully as he could at her feet.

*Inhale*  "Absolve me of my negligence Frau Enginseer, advanced maintenance rituals were not part of our training.  Which of these are flowers?"