The Hunger of Doubt
Uther and his officers were overseeing the 4th Company as they performed marching drills outside their barracks. Their leave was winding down, and he wanted them sharp for their return to the front. The new recruits drawn up from the reserve battalion had to be ready. They needed to trust their NCOs.
The captain spun around when he heard someone call his name. A man clad in the black uniform of the Adeptus Arbites was running towards him. The man was a wiry fellow, with a scrunched up face and a nose broken so many times it lay sideways across his cheekbones. He silently offered his hand, which Uther shook.
"Captain Altis," said the man, introducing himself. "I need to speak with you privately, sir."
"About what?" asked Uther.
Altis quickly glanced at the lieutenants. "I'd rather not say in the open, Captain. It's a sensitive matter."
Uther nodded. "I understand. Jorin, take over until I get back." The lieutenant saluted, and Uther and the arbiter hurried inside. Uther ushered him into his small office and closed the door behind them. Altis brushed the snow off his coat, and straightened up. Uther offered him a seat, which he refused. "So, what is the meaning of this visit, captain?"
"I have urgent news regarding two of your men, Uther."
Uther leaned forward eagerly. "You've word of my sergeants, then? I had signed their release for Captain Talros's interview weeks ago. What the hell happened to them?
"We lost contact with Talros several days ago," said Altis. "We have no trail to follow."
What? Uther shook his head. "How could you have lost him? He is one of your officers, is he not? Surely you have some leads?"
"Unfortunately, no. It seems that officer Talros purged his records before his departure." Altis said. "The Arbites Command only authorized his questioning of your men, but it appears that he has gone rogue, and taken sergeants Merrick and Hurst with him. We received an anonymous tip a few days later, indicating that Talros had actually forged his credentials. He was very thorough, our best code breakers took a long time to break his encryptions. Talros is an imposter."
Uther rose from his chair, fists pressed against the table. "So you're telling me, that I signed the release of two of my best NCOs into the hands of a criminal? Why is this information only reaching me now?"
Altis was unfazed by Uther's growing anger. "The Arbites Precinct has had its hands full policing Golgotha's refugees, captain. A message was sent four days ago, but after you failed to respond, command ordered a runner sent. Vox communications are hell right now."
"Tell me about it," said Uther with a sigh. "These winter storms play havoc with our vox lines. Even the new wires we set are having issues. What I would give for just one clear day."
Altis frowned, "Come to Capitol Spire if you like, it's sunny as ever. It would be nice if it weren't for this bastard of a cold snap."
"But you've still had problems with your vox lines?" asked Uther, curious.
"It's not just here, Uther. It's planet wide. Nothing has been getting through."
Lars was shocked. He silently stared at Altis, the short man's face turning from confusion to realization. They were both thinking the same thing. Someone was intentionally jamming their communications.
This is suicide, thought Merrick. Ahead of him in the chain, Hurst shuffled along, matching the slow gait of the other laborers. The chain moved along the wide platform, awaiting the railcar that would take them to the heart of Angel Forge. So far, everything was going according to Corsis's plan.
A large box shaped device was stuck to the side of Merrick's head, just like the rest of the servitors. However, his and Hurst's devices were only partially active. They were rudimentary mind impulse units, allowing a techpriest to influence and control his workers to a degree via mental orders. The servitors, being little more than a flesh medium for their circuits, only received orders, carrying them out without hesitation.
The Logis had tinkered with Merrick and Hurst's MIUs to allow them to resist a techpriest's demands. They would broadcast a signal indicating the order was received, allowing the pair to move undetected as they searched for the evidence they needed. The MIUs also allowed Merrick and Hurst to communicate mentally, helping to maintain their disguise as 'servitors'. It also gave them a direct line to the Logis, who could guide them from his lair.
Corsis had been thorough in his planning. He could not access the heart of the forge without attracting undue attention, but through his technology, he could use the guardsmen as mobile cameras to see exactly what he needed.
It hadn't been easy for Merrick, at first. True, he had received minor bionic implants in the past, mostly for stamina and eyesight enhancements, but the MIU had been exceptionally difficult to adapt to. Hearing Corsis's cold, piercing voice within his mind had shaken him. The days of planning and studying the forge's layouts had been doubly difficult, as he then had to corroborate the information with Hurst's own mind. But, after a time, he had grown somewhat used to it. He had stopped vomiting, at least.
"When you reach the core station, you must follow the chain to the utmost. Security is extremely high and any irregularity will be purged without question," Corsis explained."This servitor chain is scheduled to operate one of the databanks surrounding the core and the Forgemaster. Normally, this would be a permanent station, but once you have downloaded the data, I will operate via proxy and create an incident that will unlock you."
"What do you mean by 'permanent station'?" asked Hurst. "What do the servitors in these chains do to operate the databank?"
"The Forgemaster is an ancient magos, sergeant," said Corsis. "He needs to be maintained as long as the forge must run, so servitors are hooked up to the databanks to reduce the physical stress taken upon the Forgemaster's biological parts. The process usually dries the servitors into husks in a day or so. Luckily, Meridian has an ample supply of displaced residents who will not be missed."
"Leave it to the Mechanicus to find new ways of recycling," voiced Merrick. He wouldn't have noticed a missing person on a planet of billions, but knowing what their fate was sickened him. After this, he hoped never to deal with the Mechanicus again outside of the Vendoland's engineseer liaison.
The railcar came to a halt, and the servitors were ferried onto the platform. Without moving his head, Merrick took note of the area. This was by far the largest chamber in the forge, stretching hundreds of meters into darkness, supported by gargantuan pillars. A large round structure sat in the center of the room, with small blisters jutting out of the sides. The data core sank another hundred meters into the floor, and long, shallow steps went all the way down to the bottom.
"That is the heart of the forge, sergeant major," said Corsis. "The Forgemaster will be in there. You are very close now."
The servitor chain was taken aboard a hoversled, which flew them towards the top of the Forgemaster's chamber, where it landed on one of the blisters. The blister opened to reveal a cramped room dominated by a cogitator that took up the entire back wall. Out of the room, another techpriest pulled a chain of desiccated bodies; the last servitor crew. The two priests nodded to each other as they passed and the new servitors were moved into place.
Merrick stared blankly at the screen in front of him. Streams of code ran down the display, and he hadn't a clue what any of it meant. In his mind, Corsis sent him instructions, telling him which buttons to press and where to begin mining for data. "You will only have a few minutes, Merrick," the Logis had said. "Once you access the data, our window will begin to close. You must retrieve all you can before I initiate the distraction."
He continued to shift through the files. Merrick found himself searching through a blueprint archive. Several firewalls initially prevented access, but quick alterations on Corsis's part finally left Merrick with full access to the Forge's production schematics. The Meridian Pattern Mark 1, or Rogal Dorn tank, appeared before him.
Corsis was overjoyed. "Ah, the wonders of technology and flesh combined. Through your eyes, I see all I need, and no download to be traced. Your eyes are the perfect copy makers, sergeant major. Continue your search. We are nearly complete."
Merrick followed Corsis's orders, but he had something else on his mind. Hurst knew it as well. The proof of a Magos' treachery was their main goal, but Merrick had to be sure. He typed Elle Connor into the search engine. They needed to know the truth.
The search took several seconds, far longer than the near instantaneous results beforehand. Whoever had hidden this information had hidden it deep, and it was only due to Corsis's intimate knowledge of the Forge's security algorithms that Merrick had made it this far.
A series of audio files came up. Merrick opened the first one.
He heard the Commissar's voice. "Commissar Elle Connor, 85th Vendoland. Who is this, and how did you reach my private terminal?"
"I am Priestess Aros, engineseer of the Adeptus Mechanicus. I have been ordered to contact you on behalf of Magos Dolthem, our leader on Meridian."
"And what does the Magos want with me? Does he plan on firing more missiles and he wishes to ask my permission again?"
"No," said Aros. "He wishes to offer you an opportunity. Your actions surrounding the destruction of Spire Legis have piqued his interest in you."
"In what way?" responded Conner, her voice unusually cautious.
"Dolthem believes that you are a potential ally. Your position requires you to place the good of the Imperium above all else, does it not? The Imperial Guard is a bloated mess of incompetence and poor management. Meridian will fall from human folly if they are allowed to continue on this path of self destruction. But the Mechanicum is different.
"We are not governed by petty emotions, but by cold, rational, logic. It is only through the Mechanicus's efforts to reactivate Angel Forge that the Imperium shall hold Meridian. Only by our strength, and efficiency."
"And how would I factor into this?" asked Connor.
Aros's voice took on a patronizing tone. "Like I said, it is because of your willingness to put the Imperium first that you are of interest to us. The Mechanicus cannot operate freely on this world with the opposition of the Imperial Guard. You could... inform us."
"You want me to spy on the Guard."
"Only as a precaution," insisted Aros. "We tend to avoid outside help when we can, but you represented an opportunity for us."
"And if I refuse?" said Connor. "This talk is treasonous, you realize."
"If you refuse, then nothing will come of this meeting. These records will be expunged at the end of our conversation. You will have no evidence to provide. Think about it, Commssar. I will be in touch." The recording ended.
Evidently not as deleted as they'd like Connor to believe, thought Merrick. Connor almost sounded like she was considering the offer. Hastily, he collected every other recording that made note of the commissar, uploading the information to his MIU.
"I've got the evidence for Corsis," said Hurst. He sounded weary; he'd heard the recording as well. He asked Corsis, "Did you know anything about this, Logis?"
Corsis spoke. "Only that she was working with Dolthem's agents. That alone is enough to incriminate her in this. But what her intent is, I do not know." The priest sighed. "This talk tires me, you have the data we require. If you are ready, I will cause the distraction now."
In an instant, an emergency klaxon started wailing, and the cogitator bank's lights turned red. The priest overseeing Merrick and Hurst worked quickly to unchain the servitors from the cogitator. Corsis had explained that emergency procedure involved removal of all recent installations, in case a virus had been uploaded during hookup. They would be taken for individual screenings. That was when Merrick and Hurst had to make their move.
The hoversled was already waiting for them when the doors opened. Merrick carefully glanced around. The entire core was in motion, techpriests frantically working to isolate whatever Corsis had introduced into their systems through the two guardsmen.
"Won't the priest alert the others?" said Merrick. "If you're all linked on some level, the moment we hit this guy, it will bring the whole priesthood down on us."
"Not if I can isolate the individual, sergeant," said Corsis. "I know every priest and every unit in this facility. Be my eyes and trust me. You haven't much time."
The hoversled lifted off and sped towards the screening station. Merrick tested his chains. They were heavy, but not so heavy as to be a burden. The chains were meant to keep the mindless servitors from wandering off, not for preventing two trained soldiers from moving swiftly or violently. He began coiling a handful of the chain around his arm. He hoped Hurst picked up on what he was doing. Merrick began to move.
Slowly at first, with a line of chain gathered in his hands, he crept up the side of the servitor chain as far as his collar would allow. The techpriest had his back to him. Merrick struck quickly. Swinging the chain like a whip, he threw the line around the priest and pulled hard.
The priest was dragged off his feet, arms and tendrils flailing. Merrick leapt on him before he could recover, wrapping the coil of chain around the priest's neck. He kept punching the priest repeatedly until his knuckles were bloodied and bare, squeezing the chain with his other hand.
At the same time, Hurst had gone around the other side of the servitor chain. He shoved the servitor at the head of the group, knocking him down. This brought down the rest of the chain like dominos, covering Merrick and the priest. Hurst fell on top of the writhing pile, struggling to pull himself free.
Merrick, still wrestling with the techpriest, tried to reach inside his adversary's robe. A mechadendrite tendril twisted Merrick's arm away from the priest's laspistol, and flailed wildly while the sergeant continued to strangle the man. Crawling over top, Hurst threw his weight into the fight, jamming his fingers into the priest's optical cluster and prying out the circuitry.
Blind, the techpriest screamed, and Hurst grabbed a hold of his mouth with both hands, prying his jaw apart with a sickening snap. Merrick gave a mighty pull on the chain around his neck, and the last gasps of air left the man's lungs. The tendrils flopped to the floor, lifeless as their master.
"Grab the gun, quick!" ordered Merrick. Hurst snapped up the priest's pistol and shot off their restraints. Then, he marched towards the cockpit and swiftly put two shots through the servitor pilot's cranium. The sergeant pulled the broken body out of the chair and took the controls.
"Corsis, what's the quickest way out of here?" said Merrick. He was relieved to be able to speak normally again.
"Through the loading bay elevators, sergeants. I would hurry, though. I may have kept the priest from warning his cohorts, but your little escape attempt assuredly did not go unnoticed."
"I'll keep that in mind," said Merrick. He called up to the cockpit, "Did you hear that, Hurst? Go faster."
The door rang. Corsis turned his view to his office's external monitor. A battalion of Skitarii were waiting in the hallway. The Magos was with them. Smiling, Corsis activated the intercom.
"Seven minutes, Dolthem?" he said chidingly. "You are getting slower, Magos. There was a time when you could detect a virus's source in half that time."
"Logis, you realize that what you have done is treason," hissed Dolthem. "You have turned your back on this priesthood and everything it stands for!"
"Do not speak to me of treason, Dolthem," snapped Corsis. "With this information, I will expose your treachery to the Imperium. The Engineseers will see your circuits for such a betrayal. The crime of invention condemns you."
"The crime of invention?" Dolthem raised his arms theatrically. "Why should invention be so heretical in the Imperium's eyes? We have sat stagnant for ten thousand years! What we do not lose, we condemn, and ever more we regress technologically. I intend to change that, and yet still there are those who resist my vision for the future!"
"Do not try to hide your excuses!" shouted Corsis. "This is not some matter of improving the quality of life. It is your cavorting with the Ruinous Powers that mark your treachery! A true servant of the Imperium would never fall so low, but you have taken it upon yourself, and doomed this priesthood because of your folly."
"The only doomed person here is yourself, Logis," said Dolthem. The Magos began to laugh, a harsh, raspy metallic sound. "They follow me willingly. And those that do not shall meet the same fate as yourself.
"No friend is going to come and save you, Logis. Not while the Imperials are embroiled in their pathetic spat with the Orks. Not while they wander blindly through blizzards and broken communications."
On the monitor, Dolthem turned to his Skitarii. "Break this door down!"
Corsis reclined in his seat, tapping his armrest. A faint grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. The Logis dipped his hand below the armrest, and pressed a button, hidden on the underside.
Outside the office, teams of Skitarii were planting shaped charges on the doorframe to Corsis's office. Dolthem watched them impatiently. "Hurry up, hurry up!" he growled.
Corsis had to die, he knew too much. The priesthood had to act quickly, before the Logis could send off the information to the Administratum, bringing the whole fury of the Imperium down upon Angel Forge. There wasn't much time.
The Magos heard a slight noise, just on the edge of his enhanced aural sensors. It was a frequency. Dolthem analyzed the sound. A frequency to a silent alarm. His optics cluster lit up, and he began backing away from the door.
The wall panels to either side of the doorframe retracted, revealing six sets of heavy bolter barrels. The automatic security turrets opened fire, devastating the front row of Skitarii troops. Dolthem fled, explosive tipped rounds nipping at his red robes. He dived inside the nearest open door, throwing himself flat to the deck.
The Skitarii battalion was taken by surprise. Dozens more were cut down in the next few seconds. The rest started to fall back, around corners and away from the machine guns. In retaliation, the tech guard lobbed grenades around the corner, hoping to take out the guns.
Suddenly, a torrent of autogun fire ripped into Dolthem's troops from the adjoining corridors. More Skitarii soldiers appeared to pin down the Magos's men. The traitor's forces were pinned down.
Inside the Logis's chambers, Corsis started to laugh.
Dolthem huddled inside the service closet. Ignoring the battle raging in the hallway between his and the Logis's forces, the Magos silently sent his own commands. Two could play at this game. Corsis had his own forces, but they were nothing compared to the fury that the Magos of Angel Forge could command.
He activated the Praetorians. Corsis would either relent, or they would tear the door from his moorings.