Chapter 52: March Forward, and Carry Hope

Chapter 52: March Forward, and Carry Hope

"According to strategic projections, the probability of victory in this engagement is less than 0.7%."

The central processing unit of the Ark Mechanicus Spirit of Steel hummed with vibration as Archmagos Cawl's new proxy-body awakened from its vitae-womb. As the mechanical form, nearly two-thirds smaller than the standard model, stretched its joints, an electronic hymn from its servo-systems echoed through the chamber. On the exposed sections of its chassis, any identifying markers had been scrubbed clean.

Before the observation screen, a robed Magos stood, data-streams flowing within the folds of his cloak. His own identification codes were covered by triple-layer encryption.

"Dedicated data-link has been physically severed, but public channels remain synchronized," the Magos reported as Cawl calibrated the signal interface with the Dawnlight.

"It is an observation window they have deliberately left open, Archmagos."

As the dust motes in the light twisted, a tall figure gradually materialized. It was a Space Marine, but far more massive than an ordinary one. The armor he wore was of no known Imperial pattern, yet it was clearly superior to any currently issued power armor. It was Mark X Tacticus Armour, the gift Archmagos Cawl would one day bestow upon a new generation of Space Marines.

"Target vessel has completed a Level Three purification protocol. Of the seventy-two observation nodes we deployed, 67% have had their logic-routines overwritten. The remaining units have initiated self-destruct procedures," the Primaris Alpha reported, his voice carrying the distinct distortion of an encrypted comms channel.

"Furthermore, analysis of personnel data-streams indicates an 82% increase in the crew's quality-of-life index. Production efficiency curves show exponential growth. The elders are moving quickly." He showed no surprise at the Archmagos's change of body, clearly long accustomed to it.

"As expected of the elite of that era. It seems my concern was unnecessary," Cawl said, a sigh carrying a whiff of vaporized lubricant. He quietly admired their professionalism and felt no covetousness for their technology. "However, the Dawnlight is not crewed by workers from a civilized world. The low education level of those tech-thralls will likely make the implementation of new policies difficult."

A projection of the cruiser's interior appeared from a skull-servo, showing the faces of countless laborers.

Blank, dull, stupefied.

"Even the most brilliant blueprint for reform is difficult to sow in an uncultivated wasteland of cognition." His surveillance was not born of malice. The appearance of these ancient warriors in this age was, without a doubt, a gift from the Omnissiah. Cawl had to be exceedingly cautious regarding their safety.

"Lord Romulus emphasized in his orders to the ship's senior officers that they must, at the very least, try. The results are another matter," the Primaris Alpha said, continuing as he saw Cawl assume a listening posture.

"Lord Karna, who is responsible for the direct management of the civilians, has strictly supervised every process. He has personally watched every medicae-tablet enter the mouths of the workers."

"Lord Arthur has publicly executed several senior fleet officers to establish the authority of the new laws, while also secretly purging heretical cults within the ship."

"Lord Ramesses is presiding over the modification of the vessel, recording the technical knowledge of the ship's Tech-Priests, while also testing the influence and interference of Warp phenomena upon it."

"Regarding the installation of unknown production lines within the vessel, our preliminary assessment is that they may possess STC (Standard Template Construct) fragments and some form of pocket-dimension technology. They also possess an extremely high level of understanding of the Warp."

Here, the Primaris Alpha paused. "The above is all that our lords wished for us to see."

"A clear division of labor," Cawl mused as countless images flashed through his processors. He then asked, "And?"

"What?" the Primaris Alpha asked, confused.

"What did you see?"

The Primaris Alpha fell silent for a moment, then finally pulled the most impressive image from his memory.

"I saw reason. And their hope for humanity."

"They have sufficient knowledge of the Warp, yet they do not reject things with extremism. Instead, they combine it with past experience and try to effect change."

"They believe that even for mortals, their character, abilities, and quality of life will improve with their own desire to become better."

"Compared to other humans I have seen, they are far more confident. In their eyes, there seem to be only problems that have been solved, and problems that are about to be solved. They are completely different from the current Imperium."

"March forward, and carry hope," the Primaris Alpha whispered, repeating the words he had heard the elders speak as they watched the ship's laborers. "This is what they want to tell humanity."

"Do you think they are right?"

The Primaris Alpha was silent, then said, "I do not know—but they are confident."

"For now, they are only trying to change a single ship. In the future, I cannot guess the limits of what they will attempt to achieve."

It was a confidence reminiscent of ten thousand years ago, when countless people, led by the Emperor, looked up at the stars. Though they did not know the vastness of the cosmos or its challenges, they still charged forward without fear. Because they believed that the moment they touched the stars, the future of humanity would be bright and full of hope.

They believed so strongly that humanity could live a different way. A better way.

Because they had seen it before.

"Heh heh..." Cawl laughed, his entire mechanical body trembling. The Primaris Alpha was certain that, before today, the Archmagos had not used this basic human physiological function for a very, very long time.

"How long has it been, Primus?" Cawl asked the Primaris Alpha beside him. In truth, he knew. The atomic clock within his mechanical body always allowed him to accurately track the passage of time. But asking the question, like a normal conversation, allowed him to reclaim a sliver of his humanity.

"Thirteen hours remain until departure," the Primarus Alpha replied.

"It has been ten thousand years," Cawl said, stroking the ancient shard embedded in his staff. The binary code flickering in his electronic eyes suddenly wove itself into the temperature gradients of human warmth.

In that moment, he no longer seemed like an executive terminal blindly carrying out a protocol. He was the young tech-adept who had fine-tuned a Primarch's power armor after a great battle—a living, breathing person who would etch jokes in lubricant on the inside of the armor plating.

He then strode forward and boarded a transport.

"In my absence, you are responsible for guarding the Ark."

"I will be taking the Titan Legion with me. I authorize you to deploy the Primaris Space Marines, should the Ark's safety be compromised," he commanded.

"Yes, Archmagos."

There could be no mistakes in this operation. Cawl wanted to achieve his objective, but he also needed to preserve his existing work. Whether it was the Armor of Fate currently under development, or the already completed Primaris Space Marines, there could be absolutely no errors before that man awakened.

He was also a bit greedy. He wanted to preserve the miracle of the Omnissiah as well.

"I hope those sons of Dorn understood my hint," Cawl thought silently as the ramp slowly closed.

(End of Chapter)