*Beyond the Gates of Perdition*

The man moved with a dreary plodding gait, taking his time to meander along. He was in no particular rush to get anywhere, for there was nowhere to go. He had walked this path over and over for weeks and it looked like he would do so for the remainder of his days. So he took his time, dragging his boots along the metal deck in the knowledge that nothing he was doing really mattered. The man was of middling years with a lean body and gaunt features. He was too young to look aged but the skin on his hands was paper-thin and his hair was thinning prematurely. His nails were yellow and his eyes watery, while he was missing many teeth. Signs of a famished upbringing and a childhood fighting for whatever scraps he could steal. His beige robe hung on him like a tent, a common shawl issued without consideration for height, weight or build. It had been given to him by his new masters and he resented it like he did everything else. His name was Lasper and he was lamenting his lot.

Lasper moved down the long corridor, seeing various items on display in alcoves on either side of the passage. There were strange weapons, canisters and devices whose function defied his understanding. Some of them made his skin crawl to look upon but others seemed unimpressive or simply broken. Lasper wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with any of this, all he had been told was to maintain the seals and wards and then been left to it. Such was life for those drafted to serve the Cerberii, given a monotonous task and then forgotten about. They would serve for life among the drab grey walls lit only by electro sconces, feeling the chill air tingle their skin as they wandered the haphazard passages where deadly items were stored. Lasper would see no faces save other chattels and lobotomised servitors, never see the stars or a planet, all he and the others would do was work in this cold vault until the end of their days.

Some of the others selected were born to serve the Amber Vipers, others were volunteers recruited on their various missions and some had been taken by force. Lasper was of the last category. He had been born on the pirate drift of Queen Deorra, growing up among the villainous cutthroats and thieves that haunted the lower levels. Like all his kin he had spent his life scraping for whatever he could get, working to earn the favour of the elite guard and get ahead of everybody trying to do the same. It had been a hard life but there had always been the consolation that they were above the slaves dragged off captured ships. Yet Lasper had one advantage, he had been taken in by a vagrant Enginseer as an apprentice and taught the worship of the Omnissiah. Lasper had once had a shot of climbing out of poverty, trading his skills for favours from his overlords. Then had come the Amber Vipers and they had burned his home to the ground, slapping him in chains and dragging them to their ships.

Lasper had found the change surprisingly easy, one set of masters for another just as brutal and disinterested in his life. He had been sure he could find a way to barter his skills for a better position among the packed chattels labouring in the ship. But just as he was coming up with a plan the Astartes had come again and rounded up hundreds of Chattels and sent them to this gaol. At first Lasper thought his skills had been recognised, that he was being elevated, but he soon realised the Amber Vipers had just grabbed the first warm bodies they could find, without any concern for aptitude or ability. Within a couple of days Lasper had realised most of the Chattels had no idea how to service this vault, to keep the wards intact or care for their charges. The Masters didn't seem to care, those black-clad warriors who roamed the interior with their bloody faceplates. Lasper couldn't even dream of escape, the doors were sealed and two warriors stood outside at all times, watching and guarding for threats.

Lasper sighed loudly and reached into a pocket, where he kept a small Cog and Skull icon of the Cult of the Machine God. He looked about and knew he would only ever see these walls, this was his prison and it was one he would never leave. Perhaps if he was cunning and could bribe a couple of men to be his brute muscle he could be running this place in a few years, under the Astartes' noses of course. Yet even that idea left him cold, bullying a few idiots and lording over a vault, was all that he could look forward to. He had skills and smarts; surely there must be more for him, something worthier of his talents. He toyed with his icon and whispered, "Omnissiah, look upon your servant with pity. Give me a sign of your favour."

Lasper walked past various items in their alcoves. Crystal orbs with swarms of chittering motes held within. An upright flask, holding a perfectly spherical glowing ball of light in perpetual stasis. A canister marked with bio-hazard warnings. A bulky cogitator squatting upon the floor. That last one looked odd in this lineup, so mundane and pitiful compared to some of the weapons on display, he thought to himself. Lastly he came to a set of alcoves where three looming robots stood upright. Their broad metal feet were set far apart and their shoulders were hunched by thick armour. Their hands were three-pronged claws, laced with power conduits. Cowling rose above their heads, which were dotted with many eye lenses and the backs of their arms were fitted with bulky blasters of some description. They looked impressive, yet damaged. Their magnificent forms were broken and cracked in many places, their interior workings exposed to the open air.

Lasper stopped to admire these, taking in their brutal shapes. Once they must have ruled the battlefield but now they were spent relics, yet the technology inside intrigued the man. He glanced up and down but as always was alone in this part of the vault, the other Chattels doing as little work as possible. Assured he was unobserved Lasper stepped nearer and stood on tiptoe to peer through a crack in the robot's armour. What he saw was a surprise; there was no organic cortex, no quivering neural mass to guide the machine. Everything he had been taught told him such a machine must have an organic component but this was entirely mechanical. Glittering molecular cogitators and shimmering quantum processors lay before his eyes, wondrous and terrible to behold. He had been taught this was blasphemy but he didn't care. Avarice stirred in his heart and he reached within, intending to take some part of the Machine God's benevolence for himself. Yet as he did so he inadvertently brushed against two protruding diodes, allowing Motive Force to flow through his nerves.

Lasper fell back with a cry and clutched at his hand, the sensation of the electric shock stealing feeling from his digits. He fell on his arse and fought back tears as cold pain chewed at his arm, but then a whirring noise cut through his agony. Lasper's eyes rose and his jaw fell slack as the towering robot before him began to emit a grinding noise. Whirring notes leaked from its broken carapace and its digits flexed as eye lenses began to twitch. Lasper desperately shuffled backwards on his rear, forgetting the pain as the Cadmus robot began to wake up.

He froze as the machine's eyes focussed upon him and then to his absolute amazement a synthetic voice issued forth, "Hyisthee Soule?"

Lasper grabbed his sacred icon and held it up praying, "Omnissiah preserve me!"

The robot didn't move but the voice switched, again and again, saying, "Ni shi Shei? Min Anat? Koj si Ti?"

Lasper grasped his talisman and pleaded, "Please don't kill me!"

The robot paused and then said, in flawless Low Gothic, "Update available: installing. Language assimilation complete. Who are you?"

Lasper gulped in bewilderment and stammered, "I… I am Lasper, I work here."

The robot glared at him as it spat, "This place is unknown and you are not an officer of the Hegemony. Where am I?"

Lasper could scarcely believe he was talking to an avatar of the Machine God and as his fear retreated a part of him began to wonder if this was the hand of the Omnissiah at work. He looked up in awe and informed it, "This is a Space Marine vessel."

The robot replied, "Space Marine, I know not that term. I cannot access the Soulbound nor reach a Solar Knight comm-net. Conclusion: I have been damaged and deactivated for an extended time, what year is this?"

Lasper swallowed as he answered, "Great vessel of the Machine God, this is the forty-second millennium."

The robot was silent for a long moment and Lasper dared to wonder if it had broken down, then just as he was daring to think this marvel was over it spat, "That won't do."

The robot suddenly took a lumbering step forward and Lasper scrambled to get out of the way as it strode to its kin. Its arms rose and its hands lifted, then small panels slid open on its palms and glowing Mechandrites emerged. They were smaller and more supple than any he had ever seen and they plunged within the other two robots, worming into their interiors. Strange lights pulsed and the tendrils writhed and Lasper realised it was making repairs to its siblings. Long seconds passed and then the other two began to shake and rumble, their eyes twitching as they awoke. The first stepped back and withdrew its mechandrites as its siblings stirred and it said, "Brontes, Arges, awaken and update your language packages."

As the machines awoke Lasper realised his prayer had been answered, the Machine God had sent him a miracle. Such wondrous technology, such divine knowledge on display. His life hadn't been worthless after all, he hadn't been dumped here by chance but brought to this place to watch the Omnissiah's creations at work. One robot moved its head and uttered, "Steropes, what has happened?"

The first one, Steropes, replied, "No data available Arges, we are heavily damaged and have been relocated against our will."

Another growled in a deeper voice, "Was it the Rangdan? Those vile fiends must have attacked us."

Steropes replied, "Brontes, what part of data unavailable could you not process?"

Brontes turned to stare at Lasper and snarled, "This one is not part of our crew. Who is this useless waste of skin and bone?!"

Lasper stammered, "I am your servant, oh Emissary of the Machine God."

All three robots peered down at him then Brontes snapped, "He speaks superstitious doggerel, I think this one is defective."

Steropes replied, "Be that as it may it seems we have been asleep for thirty-thousand years."

Heads ground around in an oddly human fashion and Arges hissed, "If I were human I would be in a state of complete denial. But still, what of the Rangdan or the colonies? Does Star Command still stand, does the Hegemony even still exist?"

Steropes replied, "Data not available and I can't find Polyphemus either. We are one heavyweight unit short, bereft of information and guidance."

Then Arges declared, "You know what we have to do."

Yet Brontes growled, "No, not that. I can't stand that sanctimonious cur."

Lasper was lost, unable to follow the conversation as Arges countered, "Cadmus protocol are in effect, we must establish contact."

Brontes snapped, "You know how insufferable he is, always thinking he's better than us. Giving orders like we are footslogging Men of Iron. We do all the killing while that glorified garbage scow does nothing but float in the void looking shiny."

Yet Steropes cut them both off, "This isn't up for debate, we are doing this. There should be a back-up copy on the secondary core."

Lasper scrambled out of the way as the three robots set off with lumbering footsteps, their tread ringing on the floor like bells clapping. They strode a short way until they reached the plain cogitator then the three of them lifted their hands and extruded mechandrites. These wormed into the cogitator, connecting to its various parts and pulsing with frantic motion as they made some microscopic repairs to the mechanism. Lasper watched in awe as the cogitator began to click and whir, glowing in places as its functionality climbed to full potency. Then a glowing Holo-projector on the front began to shimmer.

Lasper fell to his knees in worshipful awe as a human figure coalesced out of pure light, life-sized and sharp-edged as no Imperial projection could match. The man born in the light was in his prime, with dark skin and a bald head. He had a sharp nose and a strong jawline, smooth and bereft of stubble. His eyes were dark and filled with a cold intelligence while he affected a black suit with a plunging v-neck. It was oddly plain for Imperial fashion, lacking gold embroidery or heavy jewels, yet well-tailored and it fitted him perfectly. An odd detail to include in a projection. The three robots stepped back and withdrew their mechandrites as Steropes declared, "Soulbound is online."

Lasper was filled with wonder as he breathed, "The Omnissiah favours me, it is a Binaric miracle."

The projection blinked and then in a smooth voice told him, "I am awake and you will tell me everything."

Lasper eagerly stated, "Oh Emissary of the Machine God, I am your humble servant. But tell me who you are."

The figure affected a condescending smirk as it told him, "I am Apophis and we have much work ahead of us."