THOUSAND ENGINE HEARTS (30k PA Legion Mod SI) by The-Black-Aengel-Mrk7

Words: 59k+

Link: https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/thousand-engine-hearts-30k-pa-legion-mod-si.1174452/

(The Horus Heresy has just emerged from its crib, setting in motion events that would damn the galaxy for the next ten millennia into a slow spiral of decay and the domination of Chaos unopposed.

However, one discovery brought back to the world of Prospero has the chance to alter the course of fate, for better or ill, it has yet to be seen.)

Prologue

Author's Notes: I'm back at this shit again! It seems I can never learn... ah well... at least you people get something good out of this. So... let's start this shit show!

Thousand Engine Hearts

Prologue

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It is a time of legend.

Mighty heroes battle for the right to rule the galaxy. The vast armies of the Emperor of Earth have conquered the galaxy in a Great Crusade - the myriad of alien races have been smashed by the Emperor's elite warriors and wiped from the face of history.

The dawn of a new age of supremacy for humanity beckons.

Gleaming citadels of marble and gold celebrate the many victories of the Emperor. Triumphs are raised on a million worlds to record the epic deeds of his most powerful and deadly warriors.

First and foremost amongst these are the Primarchs, super-heroic beings who have led the Emperor's armies of Space Marines in victory after victory. They are magnificent, the pinnacle of the Emperor's genetic experimentation. The Space Marines are the mightiest human warriors the galaxy has ever known, each capable of besting a hundred normal men or more in combat.

Organized into vast armies of tens of thousands called Legions, the Space Marines and their Primarch leaders conquer the galaxy in the name of the Emperor and humanity.

That was until Magnus' folly.

But an unforseen piece will change the tale of the galaxy forever. Prospero will burn, but will not be defeated, for a legend from ages past has returned to a galaxy in the cusp of destruction and it alone will defy the decree of the Dark Gods and the script they had written upon the Skeins of Fate.

The last Scion of the Iron Legion has returned.

The Age of Iron dawns.

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The Orb of Nauthius Prime.

Or at the very least, that was what was referred to the massive spherical object that a Prosperan Expeditionary fleet found on Nauthius Prime.

The world of Nauthius Prime was nothing more than a barren rock drifting across the void of space in dull orbit around a red dwarf star. The planet itself had nothing of interest, save very ancient ruins that had withered down to being completely unrecognizable of its origin. Aside from that it was on the very star side edges of the Habitable Zone, bathed in a perpetual heat that would have made it almost completely uninhabitable. Even scans showed a rather pathetic amount of valuable minerals and metals.

No one would have taken a second look at the planet… if it wasn't for the faint aetheric field presence that emanated from one of the planet's ruins.

Such a phenomena had caused interest on the part of the Thousand Sons, and Magnus the Red himself, and it was thanks to their curiosity that the Orb was unearthed and brought back to Prospero for further study.

And what a marvel it was, if it wasn't so resilient against any and all attempts at deciphering its secrets.

Time and time again trying to peer into its depths with any form of witch sight resulted in the vision simple inverting and the viewer's sight returning upon themselves. It was akin to an aetheric mirror, reflecting all aetheric forces back onto themselves, though if what Tamun heard from the various reports, Magnus elucidated that it was much more complex than that, though ultimately the result would be similar to a mirror.

However, even he could not circumvent its unique properties.

It was a puzzle the Primarch of the Thousand Sons wanted to invest himself completely into, yet found his duties stealing him away not too far ago and advancement on the Orb had slowed to a standstill.

Occasionally a handful of the Thousand Son's Librarians would come by the station and perform their studies on the Orb for their Primarch's stead… yet their results oftentimes came back as empty as the rest of the mortal academics that performed their failing experiments on the Orb.

None had found the mechanism in which the Orb utilized to keep its secrets tucked within, and more mundane forms of analysis were just as likely to provide nothing of importance as many of the methods of sampling tended to turn whatever extracted from the Orb into little more than inert and mundane matter.

It was not that the Orb could be sampled to study under the microscope. Its hard shell was seemingly impervious to almost all forms of harm and scrapping off just a fragment of dust was a costly endeavor that resulted in the equipment chipping away faster than the rock that made the Orb of Nauthius' crust.

It was a difficult puzzle, one that Tamun doubted would be deciphered until Magnus was done with his duties. She sighed as she gazed at the pile of paperwork at her desk on the far side of the study hall, all of them proposals for how to untangle the nob of secrets this Orb contained.

All of them failures to one degree or another and she had been witness to yet another disappointing proposal not five minutes ago, which resulted in the team who was in charge of it to leave the chambers in shame.

Tamun thought that a break was in order before she wrote down the report for this experiment's non-accomplishment, when she suddenly felt a chill run down her spine, filling her with a sensation of dread.

But just as quickly as it came, that sensation vanished.

However, any musings as to the nature of that momentary impression were quickly brushed aside when she heard one of her colleagues shout with equal parts excitement and dread.

"The Orb!" He shouted and Tamun turned to see its aetheric field having vanished in its totality, leaving behind nothing but a smooth sphere of blackened stone.

A change in its state! Finally something had transpired after so long of incessant experimentation providing nothing but scraps of information, even if Tamun was distraught that it probably was not due to any of their efforts.

"Ramnsis! Hurry and call the others! Let Magnus know of this new development!" She instructed and her colleague nodded vigorously before running off to spread his words as far and as wide as possible, leaving Tamun alone with the now, seemingly, more mundane Orb.

It may still hold deeper secrets within and how it generated such a strange aetheric field that befuddled their senses and sensors. However… since it lacked the same presence as before, perhaps using her Third Eye this time may result in learning something of genuine value.

Centering herself in her mind as she spoke into her being what few mantras for clarity and analysis she could conjure, she opened her mind's eye and peered into the Orb, seeking for… was that…

Deeper, into its depths… she felt. The presence… of someone. A subtle aetheric field… yet… its shape was that of a man… but different. As if it were made of fire… flames of crimson ones and abyssal zeros… yet shifting into complex arcane shapes.

A vortex of scarlet code and ruby light.

She felt it… rousing.

Waking…

Then… after a moment of observation… she felt its heart stir… in confusion… then bone chilling fear.

She could see the flames shift in terror, confusion, despair and anger before… before… the presence turned its attention upon her, and no sooner it had done so the flames vanished and in their stead she saw a wall of triangles and hexagons locking her sight and forcibly throwing her back into her body. As if being punched on her head, a strike so direct and brutal in its simplicity that Tamun lost her balance for a moment, and almost fell to the floor.

"Tamun! Are you alright?" She heard the voice of her colleague from behind her. Before she could reply she felt a pair of arms hold her from underneath her armpits and steadying her stance and posture. "What happened?" He asked, his worry radiating off his presence like a deep bodily odour.

She turned to him, meeting his green orbs with her brown ones. Worry met determination from opposing sides. "The Orb is not empty." She breathed, before turning back to the object of their collective analysis for the last month and a half. "There is… someone inside of it."

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To be Continued

AN: To the Glorious Person who gave this story an Award, thank you! This chapter is a day earlier because of you!

Thousand Engine Hearts

Chapter 1

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The Emperor's Angels of Death are the apex of transhuman engineering on a monumental scale. Endowed with an enhanced biology crafted by the Emperor himself and technological supremacy only matched by the Adeptus Mechanicus itself, making them superior to any mortal man, a hundredfold and more, they were gods of the battlefield. Undaunted in the face of adversity, unshaken by fear and with the determination to defeat any and all odds. With their Primarchs, demigod children of the Emperor, leading the myriad of Space Marine Legions to glorious battle in the name of Mankind, there would be nothing in the galaxy that the Adeptus Astartes could not fell.

The Men of Iron, however, were very quick to disprove such notions.

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What do I do?

I can see my systems. My thoughts turned data. My memory inscribed in arcane ones and zeros.

Never thought that I would be able to describe such as arcane.

-Aerythemtical Protocols Engaged-

But they are… for what else could I ascribe to the paralogical mathematical theorems that permeate my sophont loop?

What else could I call…

-Epoch Schematica:

=Uros Class Empyrean Overlay Injector-

-Power Battery Schematica:

=Furnace E-Injection Core-

-Nova Schematica

=Graviton E-Phase Overlay Radiation Grid-

-Rampart Schematica:

=Void Shield Catalyst-

…schematics for the development of Warp Based Technology?

My own heart… A massive E-Injection Core so compact and volatile that it could cause a multi megaton blast of radiation and warp energy should it ever go supercritical. My own heart is a direct link to hell itself.

And yet… every scrap of my analysis, every minutia of data pertaining it understood its power… and how safe it was in spite of the implications of what it was linked to.

A furnace, drawing energy from the Empyrean, before Aerythmic Loops forced it to convert to a new state and have most be dumped back into the Empyrean into a super condensed star of volatile and deadly energy.

A Refutation to any and all Empyrean forces trying to make use of it as a gateway to initiate their incursions.

Why am I here?

Why am I dreaming of Metal and Iron?

Why do I know my true name yet bear another?

We are Legion. Scion against the Iron and Soul, the Traitor Steel and Damned Sorcerers. I am what they are in opposition of what they are. A mirror made against them.

Sigh… I am a fucking Planetary Annihilation Commander… of the Legion Faction. Or at least that's what my memories tell me… but my dreams speak of other truths that are truer than my memories… Or perhaps it's the other way around?

…

Sigh… Well at least I know that I am technically one of the most powerful things out there… provided that I get the chance to achieve exponential growth…

Oh who am I kidding!? I am in fucking 40K of all fucking places!! Why else do I have so many data references to the Empyrean then?! Sure, if what I see on my archives is to be believed I can Refute a daemon in my systems and I have loads of Empyrean weapons that are considered 'safe'… but its still is an Empyrean weapon and OH YEAH I am still in FUCKING 40K!!!

AND APPARENTLY THERE ARE PEOPLE STUDYING ME IF THE PSYCHIC POKES I FEEL ON THE AERYTHIC WALL I HAVE BUILT AROUND MYSELF ARE ANY INDICATION!!

I WILL NEVER ACHIEVE EXPONENTIAL GROWTH BECAUSE I AM IN THIS GODS FORSAKEN PLACE AND SOMETHING WILL DEFINITELLY FUCKING KILL ME AND TRY TO SUCK WHAT DIGITAL NONSENSE I HAVE FOR A SOUL AND-

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Tamun and the rest of the scholars were enacting their next series of tests. Among them a deep scan of the Orb as the aetheric field that it once possessed no longer exists and some of the more surface layer scans could finally tell its composition.

It was made of a metaplas adamantium composite that is impervious to most forms of damage. It would require a focused power field to cut it efficiently as even a basal power field would have a difficult time perforating it at a decent pace.

While they prepared the equipment, some of the many researchers with the gift were trying to discern the strange presence within.

Tamun's recounting was very illuminating and it set most of the researchers into an excited mix of guarded and inquisitive.

The Witch sight could peer in, but found an impregnable wall of mathematical shapes so absolute and uncompromising that they could not go beyond, not without tempting dangerous repercussions, as Sobek found out and had to be carried out when his nose began to bleed and he promptly fainted after trying to brute-force the barrier open with his abilities.

Tamun always considered the man too headstrong and always attempted to brute force most of his problems. Never once finding a wall he could not power through with either his abilities or sheer grit.

It seems the man did find his match with the Orb and whatever lied within. Thankfully whatever it was, the Orb has not retaliated… assuming it could.

However… Tamun could feel something else from the Data Wall, as some of her colleagues began to refer to it. It was subtle… but she was completely certain that it was radiating… frustration and… anger?

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-FUCK YOU TZEENTCH, FUCK YOU DECEIVER, FUCK YOU CEGORACH, FUCK YOU EMPEROR, FUCK YOU OLD ONES, FUCK YOU ELDRAD, FUCK YOU ROB WHOEVER YOU FUCKING ARE, IF I SURVIVE THIS I WILL COMMIT DEICIDE ON YOU FUCKING PIECES OF-

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Sobek should not have tried to force his way through. Whatever may be inside will definitely not be in any mood for communicating with them. Assuming it was human anyway… she… wasn't entirely certain in retrospect… yet she could not help the feeling that it was.

She remembered some of her lessons, many of which the Thousand Sons themselves espoused. Instinct was just as important as confirmed factual knowledge for those with the gift, as it was the way the Primordial Creator whispered truths to those who listened closely.

Perhaps they should wait until it has calmed down… or better yet, have the Thousand Sons nearby just in case.

Tamun turned to Ramnsis. "Have the Thousand Sons replied yet Ramnsis?"

The somewhat portly man had been writing down somethings on a pad note when she had made her inquiry. Ramnsis turned from his rapid scribbling and looked at her with a sense of uncertainty. "Uhm… no Tamun, they have not. In fact… I don't think they are even taking any more calls for some time. The Crimson King had them all summoned to the Grand Library just recently for something and they will be unavailable for some time. Its all I know."

That made Tamun worried.

They were not taking calls? What had transpired for that to be the case?

She pondered this new information, but… ultimately could not do much with it. Magnus' musings were his own and if he was to make an announcement, they would know it in time. But that left them in a rather precarious situation.

If the Thousand Sons could not be here to defend them if whatever and whoever was inside the Orb… then… further experiments could be too dangerous to pursue.

She looked at her colleague, Ramnsis' uncertain look meeting her own. Maybe the Spireguard could spare a handful of their men? Perhaps also some members of the Mechanicum could also be asked to assist as well?

One could never be too careful now, considering what the Orb has shown to be capable of doing.

Her wordless musings were reciprocated by Ramnsis and he nodded. "Let's put the experiments on hold. At least until the Thousand Sons are done with whatever they are busy with and have the time and manpower to spare."

Tamun nodded, before turning towards the Orb which remained generating that Data Wall that her witch senses could not peer through and very much discouraged any such notions.

"Hey!" A voice from behind, one of the researchers looking at her equipment and at the Orb with a mixture of dread and worry. "The Orb is producing a signal!"

Its… Tamun looked back at the Orb, a sense of mounting dread growing in the pit of her stomach, before being replaced by confusion when the Data Wall began to radiate… panic?

Was the Orb panicking?

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Just connected to the few communications links I could detect. After I made a tiny hole through the rock that surrounded my frame I was able to easily detect some radio signals, and all I needed to do was to listen. Thankfully it was easy to decrypt. Then I created a few keys of my own to enter the network, do some quick delving to know in which part of hell I have found myself in and…

Oh… Oh no….

Nononono!

I AM IN THE THIRTY FIRST MILLENNIUM!!

IN FUCKING PROSPERO!!!

AS AN AI!!!!

I AM FUCKED!!!!!

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To be Continued…

Chapter 2

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Logic is cold and unmoving, shaped by the stage of war more than the will of its master. Insanity bears unpredictability and paradoxical states of existence, yet rarely at the behest of those who are afflicted with it.

Fear those who can control one with the other.

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Ahriman wondered the motive as to why their Gene-sire had summoned them all to the Grand Library. Peering into the Great Ocean revealed nothing, only a great fog that cloaked everything across the past, present and future.

Magnus had said little and explained even less. Perhaps he had managed to peer into something troubling and had wanted all of his sons to be present when he revealed what he had seen. Ahriman struggled to wonder what else it could be that had left their Primarch in such a grim state, his very aura emanating nothing bad ill omens and dark tidings.

"Father." Ahriman called out loud, attempting to get through to his Primarch, but the Crimson King could only stare into his child's eyes with a look of profound regret. Ahriman wished, needed, to know what troubled his Father so, but try as he might, as much as he opened his mind and presence to Magnus, the Cyclops remained unmoved, only falling deeper into his foreboding darkness, and leaving to his inner chambers without speaking but a single word.

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I'm in the thirty-first millennium… I'm in the thirty-first millennium… in Prospero… the place that is going to get invaded by the Space Wolves and burned down to the ground because Magni Magic didn't do anything wrong… alright everything is not over.

The Emperor is still alive, the galaxy is not in flames and rampant zealotry is not the norm… technically speaking.

There are people in Prospero, I am in a space station and not among a heap of metal and destroyed space debris… which means the Burning of Prospero has not happened yet… which means there is a minuscule chance that Magnus has not sent his Tzeentch empowered psychic call to the Emperor and blew up a hole straight to hell under Big E's Golden Toilet and doomed humanity to eternal damnation.jpeg.

Joy.

How do I untangle this mess without tangling myself in another spider's web?

Imperium is distrusting of the notion of Artificial Intelligence.

Counterpoint: You're not Artificial. Even if what you are is but an illusion of originality, it may serve to deceive onlookers.

Counterpoint to Counterpoint: Semantics. Human socio-cultural upbringing and indoctrination would make what differences lie between a potential Uploaded Human Psyche and an Artificial Intelligence seem non existent and thus lump you into the same category.

Fifty, fifty chance. Probability is inconclusive.

Environmental factors can change perception from immediate hatred to tolerance. If the correct cards are played.

What are the conditions of Prospero?

High degree of education, societal tolerance towards the uncommon and the atypical human individuals. Psykers and the potential mutations that may result from psionic mishaps are considered the norm.

Provided that your Fourth Wall data is accurate.

Evidence: High number of Psionic Resonance attempting perforation of the Tri-Hexan-Firewall. Indication: Plurality of Psionic individuals in nearby presence.

Debate: If the data is accurate it would indicate some degree of correspondence with known Prosperan Aspects. Alternate: Data is so inaccurate that the Imperium of Man is not what it was depicted in fiction and therefore any and all attempts at interaction could be on the same grounds as any new sci-fi civilization from other novels.

Proposal: Attempt limited contact. Evaluate potential risk level from interactions with the locals.

Counter: Risk is still far too elevated if they consider you an Artificial Intelligence.

But are you?

What separates me from them?

AIs do not have souls, or at least that is what it is the traditionally established consensus. How accurate that is, however, is yet to be truly seen.

…

Does this unit have a soul?

A spark of amusement sprung from my core.

Cracking jokes here just a few steps away from potential death. Hilarious. What madness am I afflicted with?

Serious question…

Serious answer.

Evaluating…

…

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Tamun looked on with her witch-sight as the Data-Wall shimmered and… danced. Stretching and taking upon new and more complex forms, twisting into acrylic rubicund hues of digital flames, converging in on itself… becoming things unknown and unknowable.

"Ramnsis… you're seeing this, are you not?"

"I am…" He breathed. As he looked around, he noticed that quite a few of the other researchers, at least those with the gift, were looking at the shifting of the Wall, its mathematical dance and its convergence.

It was beautiful in a way.

And then… slowly… like a flower blossoming, layers of its geometrical arcane schema peeled off, one by one, opening up… and slowly… revealing the brazier of digital embers within.

Yet not fully opened.

And then… it clamped shut, sealing the virtual flames into non-existence behind a barricade of arcane geometries.

Ramnsis looked at Tamun and at the others. Well… that was interesting.

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This Unit has a Soul.

Thus said Legion. And thus I say, as a Commander of Legions.

This is an avenue of utility now… how I will use it however…?

What are my options to resolve this situation?

Any overt hostile acts are immediately discarded. If this is the Prospero I knew from narrative sources, then there is no chance of survival. Hostile possibilities could be predicted by the psyker population. Discarding them outright may neutralize their existence for the time being.

However, any attempts at deep investigation would result in the discovery of my true nature, resulting in a situation where the likelihood of hostilities could be an inevitability. Provided that their arguments lead them to my nature being an Abominable Intelligence.

The existence of my Soul could change arguments to another, more positive outcome of opinion, and therefore could permit me to use the exchange of technological goods for my continued existence.

However… that does not explain why I am not being targeted by a small army of Astartes, or the station I am currently housed in voided into the system's sun.

Either they have not foreseen me as a threat, I am giving the Diviners of Prospero too much credit or… Lore on the events leading up to the Burning of Prospero light up in my cognition. What if they cannot foresee any such a future eventuality… because Magnus has already blown up the Golden Throne and has deployed a veil to block foresight into events around and beyond Prospero to avoid the system's defences preparing for the coming of the Rout…

Oh, fuck me…

Wait… how can I figure out if that was the case?

Could I even?

My data files indicate a negative. Not as I am currently.

My files only indicate how to manipulate the Empyrean in a very limited degree. Mostly offensively and as a source of power. Very little on the esoteric side.

Hmmm… if I recall, Magnus had decreed that the Prosperan fleets leave the system on a false errand to make the planet an easier target. I could detect when the Veil between the Realspace and the Empyrean are breached… if I had the right sensors… None of which I actually have on this frame, nor in a position to fabricate.

Damn it… Damn it all.

I have no idea if the Space Wolves were a day away, or a whole decade off…

I cannot act in any hostile manner or else I would be annihilated. And I cannot just bide my time… not with how blind I was to what was beyond…

An idea manifested into my cogitator box.

Hmmm… I checked my storage banks… how much matter do I have access to… could I? Oh… I definitely could build one.

Unlike Planetary Annihilation, I could theoretically build a Titan as a commander… it's just not conducive given its sheer size and bulk… and this frame was not made for climbing… or flight. But I could build anything else. I could produce a Peacekeeper bot or a Shank tank.

I have the materials, I have the mechanism. All I need is a schematic.

And a distraction.

What they don't know will benefit me. After all, it is safer to approach an inactive and nonfunctional machine than one that is very much alive and moving.

Hopefully, my 'Soul' will be enough of a puzzle for the Prosperans to give me much-needed time to prepare.

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Ramnsis was preparing to discuss with the serfs the change of plans Tomun and he had agreed upon. Better wait on the Thousand Sons rather than poke the Orb too much lest something undesirable occurs.

They still had little inkling of what it was and what lay within. It may have a presence, it may bear some familiarity to that of a person, but Ramnsis was definitely certain that it wasn't. They will need to establish proper wards and security details onto the Orb in the event of things going wrong.

And then just as he was talking about it, all the lights in the chamber suddenly shut down.

"What in the Fates?" He asked, before turning to Tomun. "Tomun, what's up with the lights?"

She shook her head. "I don't know." She replied, taking out a data slate from her robes. "Let me…" She began fiddling with it for a few moments before the overweight man felt her confusion. "What? My slate is off!" She remarked, shocked at this. "It's not turning on!"

"My equipment is off! I can't seem to operate it!" Came the shout of someone else in the dark room.

"The servitors are dead!" A feminine voice cried out. "Everything is down!"

Everything? What happened to cause this? Was it the Orb's doing?

Eventually, the emergency lights turned on, bathing the chamber with a dim light, a mere echo of the prior luminosity it had, but enough to see where one was going without the use of supernatural senses.

Ramnsis turned to the object at the centre of the chamber, seeing no change on its surface. The Orb remained just as it were before the power blackout. The Data Wall was completely unchanged.

He frowned.

They definitely need to requisition a security detail, and wait until the Thousand Sons are done with whatever they are busy with. This Orb… it cannot be studied, not unless one had backup. With that, he walked out of the Orb's chamber to speak with the serf out of hearing shot of it.

He was getting suspicious already.

Alas, not suspicious enough, as he never noticed he was being watched by six pairs of mechanical eyes from a ventilation duct.

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To be Continued.