Two months later

The cogitator screen of Hephaestos' personal workstation lit up his quarters with a faint green light, reflected in the six lenses of Hephaestos' visor. The clicking sound of Hephaestos' fingers tapping the round and shiny, steel buttons was the only thing to be heard in the cell, bouncing of the thick rockcrete walls covered with paper schematics, synthparch tables who themselves were littered with a multitude of small paper notes, often in crude low gothic translations of the more pure techno-lingua of Hephaestos' own making. The tech priest sat behind his desk, bent forwards, his face closer to the screen than necessary. His whole body was tensed and the servo's of his bionic legs were softly whining from the stress Hephaestos was unconsciously putting them under. This all betrayed utter concentration and perhaps a shade of anxiousness.

The screen showed a complex map 99.85% of the Imperial population wouldn't be able to read, let alone use it to navigate by. This was because of the fact that one needed to know both the schematics of complex Mechanicus circuitry and the perhaps even more complex biological neural pathways of the human brain to understand what one was looking at. The left part of the screen was filled with a command box, filled with long lines of transfused code that only grew longer as Hephaestos continued to punch the worn cogitator buttons with breathtaking speed. A small red, blipping dot on the map showed him on which node or chip circuit he was working on, but Hephaestos' attention was frequently drawn to the timer that was counting down way too fast to his liking. The time was only an indication and not really a precise one, but it was the best he had been able to construct. When the timer would hit zero, the likeliness that adept Venatoria would abandon her sleep cycle - and so disconnect her electro capacitator charging port from the net - would approach ninety percent, which was already more than he would normally risk as a sudden loss of connection could cause quite the backlash. But Hephaestos felt he had no choice. His research into chronoton particles had led him down a road that had been dark and twisty and what he had found along the way was way too explosive to store in his own personal datalooms. He needed a place to store his research so that it couldn't be traced back to him. Planting the majority of his research in the datalooms of his rival pupil seemed like a convenient and elegant solution. But he had grossly underestimated the firewalls and security measures Venom had put in place to stop exactly this kind of operation.

The red numbers of the timer flashed white once, alerting him he had now only 256 seconds left before the threshold would be passed. Hephaestos let a curse slip in techno-lingua, bending even further fowards, registering a 5.3% increase in the speed and 10.7% increase in the force of his fingers ramming on the keyboard. This was the fifth time he was trying to break through Venatoria's safety barriers and it wasn't looking good. The bitch had somehow managed to procure a progressive pathway scrambler which meant that every time Hephaestos broke off the operation, he would have to start from scratch. Time slipped by as Hephaestos got closer and closer to securing a free data inload channel to send his datapackage to her core memory spools. As soon as he would manage to put it in, retrieving it would be much easier, as the package also included something mech-deacon Tremendus referred to as a 'fishing line'. The title for the little piece of programming meant nothing to Hephaestos, but the function of the little machine spirit was clear enough. The timer flashed white twice now, passing 128 seconds in the blink of an eye, which meant that he was already incurring a 2 in 3 risk of Venom waking up too early.

Hephaestos fired up a little machine spirit he had created and nursed following the schematics and the related instructions of a relatively newly recovered STC - it had only been found approximately 1.203 terran years ago during an expedition into the Tisiphoné cluster – so he could use it for this particular task. The machine spirit was housed in what looked like a standard data crystal, but as Hephaestos stuck it into his own cogitator station, the little critter burst out and made his way along the copper fiber network to its target, frying a few choice systems that were even now resisting Hephaestos' attempts of breaking into adept Venatoria's core systems. But even as the timer now indicated only 64 seconds left, it seemed it wouldn't be enough and even though he tried, Hephaestos couldn't stop himself from starting to run the chances of Venom waking up, causing even more of his raw processing power to be drained from his actual objective. With 32 seconds on the clock, he started to incant the abortion sequence albeit with gritted teeth which provoked some nasty scratching noises from his vox grill.

Hephaestos pushed away his chair backwards violently, trying and failing to contain his fury and frustration and limit it to futile agitation. He nearly punched in the screen of his cogitator station, flailing his arms around wildly instead. He ignored the signals of his brain that this behaviour was far beneath any adept of the Mechanicus and instead initiated a long techno-lingua rant cursing Venatoria-81TCH's firewalls, the infernal sluggishness of his personal cogitator station and finally, in a short moment of self-reflection, his own sense of curiosity which had brought him in this position in the first place. This insight infuriated Hephaestos even further and he stormed back to the cogitator station, having changed his mind on sparing the piece of equipment, when suddenly he heard three short knocks on the thick steel door of his cell. Hephaestos quickly ran some equations to calculate whether the breaking of his cogitator screen would be heard outside and, based on the results, had to change his course of action yet again.

Opening the door revealed, as expected, the form of adept Garant, properly dressed in his red silk Mechanicus robe, with two slits in the back to allow an unimpeded use of his mechadendrites. The adept hadn't had any improvements to his face, so Hephaestos' inspection showed him two almond-shaped, auburn coloured eyes under thin black eyebrows, a short and delicate nose and a broad smile with two rows of sparkling white teeth. This was somewhat of a contradiction. The quality of his robes, but more importantly, that of the two fine silver mechadendrites made sure everybody understood that, despite a formal rank, Garant was of good breed and had some powerful benefactors within the Mechanicus. The lack of facial implants - even Hephaestos had managed to score a visor and a rebreather unit with vox box - was at odds with his presumed status. The explanation of this incongruety was something Hephaestos had struggled with for a few months, until Garant had revealed the reason himself. His ambition was to become an Executor Fetial for one of the titan legions - a job which would require him to frequently deal with unaugmented humans - and only these legions provided augmentics that resembled the unmodified human face. A feature that would be of great importance if one would communicate with ordinary humans.

Garant didn't wait until Hephaestos invited him in and Hephaestos could hardly blame him for it, as experience had taught both men that chances were Hephaestos would simply never think to do so. Although this time, not inviting Garant in, wouldn't have been by accident.

"Garant... Ehrm... Good... How good of you to... dist... How good of you to come by." Hephaestos stuttered. "That's alright Heph. Seems like you could use someone to get you out of your... own personal librarium, or whatever you've done to this cell." the other techpriest replied, amazement in his eyes. Immediately the problem became clear to Hephaestos. Not his flushed face or other signs in his body language that he was experiencing a considerable frustration were the problem. But the fact that Garant was looking at some of the logaritmic tables, used to bypass Venom's firewalls, that hung above Hephaestos' cogitator station, was far more unsettling and Hephaestos wanted nothing more to draw away attention from the drawings and notes on his cell walls. Which resulted in yet another awkward social occasion as Hephaestos blurted out the other tech-priest's name: "GARANT!"

The outburst did help, but only for a short while as Garant immediately turned his attention away from the tables, but straight onto Hephaestos himself, his face bearing a curious expression and his stance betraying far too much surprise. Hephaestos decided to make the best of it. "You are right... Right, right, right... that I've spent too much time here. You... ehrm... are most gracious to come and find me, adept Garant. I... I thank you for... your attention... Let us... ehrm... get going." Hephaestos uttered, trying to salvage the situation. His cranial cogitators almost automatically calculated the chance that Garant would be sufficiently distracted. The result was far from reassuring. "You're sure you're alright, my friend? Looks like you've just experienced a short-circuit." Garant answered, his voice trailing, "Not that that would surprise me." as he looked back at the jumble of papers and synthparch against the walls.

"My systems are all running within safety parametres, Garant. Nothing here... to look at." Hephaestos replied hurriedly. The sooner he would get the other techpriest out of his cell, the better. His mind raced to find a good way to accomplish this, without reverting to physical violence. "You sure, Heph?" Garant said, stepping closer to the cogitator station. "You sound even more fazed than normal, if you'll allow me." With one mechadendrite he reached for the little datacrystal that contained Hephaestos' little circuit fryer. "Sure, sure, sure... Really sure." Hephaestos replied, feeling anything but sure. He wanted to step in and snatch the datacrystal from under the other techpriest's nose, but realized two milliseconds later that such a move would only heighten suspicion. So he changed his mind and instead stepped backwards. Nothing he could have said could have been as helpful, because him stepping out of the room was cue for Garant to follow him out. Hephaestos would have smiled for such a little stroke of luck, if his mind wasn't still racing about the implications of Garant having seen the material.

"So, you want to hit the Obs? Or are you actually considering going to The Holo? I'm banning you from the Librarium. You have been studying quite enough, if that mess in your cell is anything to go by." Garant said, stepping in again as he knew that waiting on Hephaestos to come up with a plan, might take a while. Hephaestos remained silent for a moment, running through his options. Garant was suggesting to go to the Observatorium, one of the highest places on Mount Pertubo where you could actually see some stars and which was a great place to quietly converse in private as not a lot of techpriests here placed a lot of interest in the firmament. Or to go to The Holo. One of the more seedier places in the Librarium's spires where a few enterprising menials had set up shop, selling all kinds of legal and illegal means for the ordinary techpriest to relax.

"The Obs." Hephaestos decided. Although it would have been easier to arrange for Garant to OD on some sort of digi drug, Hephaestos had calculated a 78.53% chance that he would be able to redirect Garant's interest in any other direction than Hephaestos' plans for hostility and a 32.2% chance that he would be able to succesfully deceive Garant into thinking the plans were something else entirely, but only if he would be able to completely concentrate on his efforts. Something he wouldn't be able to do at The Holo where he would at least have to enjoy a few 330cc alcoholic beverages to keep up appearances. And besides, he didn't really like the idea of killing his only friend, but as they walked to one of the dozens of transport hubs of the Librarium, Hephaestos couldn't help but taking a close up pict with the fifth zoom lens of his visor of the serial number of Garant's electro capacitator charging port.

15.23 minutes later, both techpriests stood under the massive armourcrys dome that worked as a magnifier, without a single machine spirit intervening. Hephaestos always had mixed feelings when he thought about that little fact. On the one hand, the cupola was quite an achievement, but on the other, it felt like the presence of the Omnissiah was missing in the construction devoid of all electronics. Both students sat down and looked up through the glass towards the skies. Hephaestos' audio receivers noticed a slight raise in the pinch of Garant's portable power system and logical deduction revealed that the other techpriest had started heating his system. Hephaestos could only agree with Garant's environmental analysis and followed suit. At the same time, he tried to come up with a plausible explanation for what his peer had seen in his cell. But once more, he lost the initiative in a social interaction: Adept Garant just started talking to him in techno-lingua.

"So, Heph. What do you want to talk about? I'm assuming that you have something to tell me seeing as you chose this venue." the adept said, looking with his inefficient biological eyes into Hephaestos' visual sensors. "Ehrm... Yes." Hephaestos replied, rather unprepared at the question. His mind was racing and tapping into his language cores to check whether he needed to worry about Garant's suggestion of coming clean. The results were inconclusive and an uncomfortable silence started to grow. Of course without Hephaestos noticing. "Soooo, what about?" Garant probed carefully, perhaps mistaking the long silence for hesitance instead of processing time. Hephaestos realized he needed to start talking and with a stroke of luck, his memory spools provided him with a solution. "Ehrm... Tomorrow is the annual remembrance of my initiation within the ranks of the Mechanicus. I was..." Hephaestos turned one of his lenses 43° towards the other student, gauging whether this subject might attract his attention. Garant didn't seem exactly captivated, but was still looking expectantly at him. "You never did tell me how you got accepted as a student of Tremendus. And seeing as I joined conclave after you... Why? Did something... irregular happen when you were initiated?" Now Hephaestos made a strange giggling sound. Irregular was quite the understatement. Seeing as the subject would provide him ample content to fill the time with during this impromptu excursion, Hephaestos started talking. And with his memory spools providing all the material, his rate of speech increased drastically.

"It's mostly blind luck that I managed to get this position. In fact, Rhodin IV or Mount Pertubo weren't even my destination. My parents, designations Bao and Fai Ra, conceived me aboard a pilgrim ship, the Scorpio Tauris. I was born there as well, named Wei Ra. The ship was travelling from shrine world to shrine world until it would reach Ossuar. Both its crew and its passengers were obsessed with the worship of the Emperor. I... I didn't really fit in." Garant sniggered softly. "I can only imagine." Hephaestos took it as a sign that he had Garant's full attention. "Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Well... I found refuge with the ship's Mechanicus crew. Although that might be an overstatement. I was tolerated. I was allowed to watch them work. And I learned. Not only about the ship and its machine spirit, but also of the rites of the Omnissiah. After a few years they allowed me to join in. It didn't sit well with my biological ancestors. They... Suffice to say that when my own biological transition to adulthood set in, our rate of conflicts spiked. When we made port at Rhodin IV, I fled the Scorpio. One of the adepts of the ship made sure I got a job at the forges of Mount Pertubo as a slag worker. It was then that I changed my name to Hephaestos. I needed... a fresh start. Although I admit that it was a rather irrational thing to do."

Garant mumbled something vaguely assenting. "But that doesn't put you here in the Librarium." Although Hephaestos was anything but an expert in picking up the subtle signs of human body language, he could tell that Garant was captivated by the story. "No. And I have to say that working as a common worker isn't exactly the best way to get accepted within the ranks of the servants of the Omnissiah. I worked for 20,523 terran years in the forges before I caught the attention of the Mechanicus. And it still was by chance. On my last working day as a serve I slipped from a walkway and fell down on one of the melting pots of the forge. Both my legs landed in the boiling metal and were burned away in an instant. The rest of my body was mostly protected from the heat by the environmental suit. My fellow workers got me to the local medicae facility. I was unconscious most of the time. Luckily. I fear that my body would have shut down permanently if it would have had to face the unsensored sensation of pain. When I regained conscience, I noticed that I was in an operating chamber with two low grade prostetics laying ready to replace my biological limbs. As I wasn't a particularly valuable labourer the legs were of F-grade quality." Hephaestos could see how Garant checked out his current limbs and noted that since then his situation had improved considerably. "In the time it took the surgeon to arrive at the room and desinfect his instruments, I had managed to improve the linking mechanism to increase the quality of the synaps-connections." Now Garant laughed out loud, approving of Hephaestos little stunt. "The story of the man that improved his own bionics even as he was being prepared to get them fitted, became a juicy bit of gossip that even got through to the circle of the senior techpriests on site. It earned me an invitation of mech-deacon Tremendus who set me on my path to become an engineseer and later, a techpriest." Garant whisled softly. "That is quite the story Heph. But you keep saying that you got lucky, but it seems to me that for the largest part, you forged your own fate. Don't write it all off on coincedence."

Hephaestos wasn't particularly interested in the praise of his peer. Instead, his thoughts were already back at his research into the chronotron particles. But leaving now all of a sudden, would reignite Garant's curiosity. So Hephaestos dug deep in his social routines and asked a question about Garant's current research instead. A sure way of keeping the man occupied. He would be able to return to his research soon enough, he thought.