Chapter 19 Part 7

Chapter 19: Kronus: Consequences

=ATBS=

Part 7

=ATBS=​

field hospital

Victory Bay

Kronus

Detailed sensor sweeps confirmed that there was no human treachery, nor Thief-related shenanigans. Instead, there were thousands upon thousands of meat-bags fallen all over the place, sick and dying.

If he felt anything at all, Cryptek Traval should have experienced only sneering contempt at the weak forms of the primitives. The full hospitals, the organic meatbags laying sick at their homes, or even occasionally on the streets brought back memories that should have been left buried in the past.

They hankered back to days best forgotten.

The Cryptek couldn't forget. If he was a betting being, he would have wagered a lot that any one of his kind who retained a shred of their personality, and memories, wouldn't be able to forget either. The events unfolding outside hit too close to home. They were too personal. And while they didn't cause more than a brief spark of pity aimed at the primitives, all the sick and dying enraged Traval. They reminded him that once before he ascended through Biotransference, before that atrocity, he was made of weak flesh and blood as well.

There was a more personal reason for his fury as well. His test subjects were sick as well, infested by those squishy irritating parasites, and that might just disrupt his work. That simply wouldn't do. Not at all.

Traval focused his sensors on the single meat-bag strapped to a bed within the primitive laboratory. Data flowed through his mind, and he focused on the parasites, feeling little more than spite. He meticulously examined them, then looked at fresh scans of the Thief's Mind-Shackle scarabs. The strain of removing those machines was almost certain to be fatal for a fragile meat-bag, especially when it suffered from infestation. The Cryptek looked between the tiny scarabs and the parasites, and an idea formed in his mind. Traval pulled his consciousness deep within his systems and examined the batch of Mind-Shackle scarabs always carried with him. A self-respecting Cryptek never knew when they might run into a valuable test subject in need of careful handling. In that regard, the Mind-Shackle scarabs were the next best thing to proper stasis devices.

Reprogramming the tiny devices took some time. Too much time in fact, which irritated Traval's sensibilities. However, he was done and, in one smooth motion, unleashed them upon the bound meat-bag. All that was left was to observe their effect and see if they would deal with the infestation as required. Once he achieved that tedious task, the Cryptek could concentrate his undivided attention on the reason why he was stuck among the primitives. And when he completed his task, could be finally rid of them at last!

Especially of all those sick and dying!

=ATBS=​

Eventually, they came for Katarinya like she knew they would. After spending what felt like eternity bound within twilight, only with muffled screams and shouts for company, it felt almost like relief.

Of course, it wasn't. One of those metal monsters materialized within Greyfax's cell, lighting it up. It leered at her bound form with a malevolent green gaze. Katarinya didn't see what the metal monster did, however, she felt it. Something odd and cold flowed over and through her skin, sunk into it, and invaded her veins. She thrashed, gripped by burning agony which soon spread throughout her whole body.

Greyfax would have bitten her cheeks or tongue if she could, so she wouldn't scream and give the monster the satisfaction of hearing her. Instead, the rubber pad keeping her from suiciding that way did the trick.

After an eternity of fire, whatever that thing put into Katarinya flowed out through her skin, making her feel clammy and dirty, violated.

Next, the monster put a clawed paw on her forehead. Green light blinded her, stabbing into her very mind like a burning sword. Then, Katarinya knew pain, and soon, her whole world dissolved in brilliant, unending agony.

Greyfax could feel her mind crack. Her brain did its best to crawl away from her skull, and as if all that wasn't enough, odd images flashed through her pounding head. They were both familiar and foreign, like memories, yet not. Katarinya could briefly glimpse places and faces that were painfully familiar, yet she could swear she had never seen them before. She could hear the familiar and almost soothing sounds of combat, of ancient weapons that the galaxy hadn't seen or heard of for thousands of years.

It was like a waking dream, a hallucination caused by the torture or one adding to it.

After an eternity of agony, the torture ceased as abruptly as it began. All Katarinya could do was plunge into oblivion feeling a sliver of treacherous relief.

=ATBS=​

captured Tau manufactorum

Kronus

It was sterile, clean. Like a brand-new operating theater waiting to be baptized by a Magos Biologis. The various alien machines moved smoothly and quietly, without showing even a hint of sacred oil to lubricate and cleanse them. Scipio-Ro-11's sensors couldn't detect even a whiff of incense. There was only the sharp scent of hot metal in the air.

Servo Skulls buzzed and chattered throughout the facility, scanning for unpleasant surprises and mapping the building for the Mechanicus exploration party. While their aid was invaluable, it grated Scipio that he had to be here, dealing with this, instead of taking care of a God-Machine's weapon.

A weapon that was not only profaned and corrupted by the arch-enemy but now lost forever to the servants of the Omnissiah. The captured Tau factories and manufactorums could never be a worthy consolation prize. The very idea was a cruel mockery that made the Magos experience murderous impulses.

Nevertheless, those damned Xeno facilities could be of some use, especially as far as rebuilding Kronus and supplying its PDF forces went. With the Necrons determined to keep a portion of the planet for themselves, every little bit might help. After all, sooner or later this alliance would fall apart. At that point, every single destroyed alien machine would be a boon to the Imperium at large.

Meanwhile, Scipio-Ro-11 had to focus on the tasks at hand and try his best to keep his thoughts from straying in undesirable directions.

Like the loss of the Hellstorm Cannon.

Or the fact that no matter how enticing, studying Necron technology was at best borderline heresy, no matter how vital it was going to be. Naturally, planning how to incorporate it within the Omnissiah's blessed knowledge available to the Mechanicus was much worse.

The Magos glumly shuffled into the empty control center of the manufactorum. He scanned the brand new, mere years old, cogitator, no computer, terminals. There was no flesh spliced with these machines, which to a layperson might have been a good thing. There was no protection against corruption or tech heresy here. Yet, the facility continued to operate on instructions left to it by its departed Tau masters untouched by Chaos.

The whole thing was heretical, and Scipio knew that many of his brothers and sisters serving the Omnissiah would have dismantled this place in pious rage. Instead, he felt the slick tendrils of curiosity spread through his mind.

First things first! Bless and sanctify the facility in the name of the Omnissiah. Bring in enough holy oil and blessed incense to mitigate the odds of corruption, then try to contact the alien Machine Spirit. If there was one.

With a plan in mind, Scipio began issuing orders in Binary, while multiple cameras observed his every action, feeding the images to a very confused rudimentary Artificial Intelligence.