Chapter 2

It had already been remarked on by all of my forebears, but it bore repeating nonetheless. Commanders were pure, concentrated, bullshit. I was not kidding when I said that a Commander, left unchecked, could conquer a solar system within a matter of hours. It took me only a few seconds that begin constructing the economy that would let me do that.

A glowing green stream of nanomachines spewed out of my arm to a spot on the ground my sensors were telling me was most efficient place for the purpose of extracting metal. A sturdy structure that could, simultaneously, dig up deposits of metals, refine them into a useable form by Progenitor standards, transmute all of it into a weightless, massless energy-form, and beam it all into a subspace inventory accessible only by me. Flawless mass to energy conversions. And back again. All in just a few measly seconds.

An energy plant followed that. Then another one. Then a few more extractors. Then some storage structures. Then some turrets…

I paused as I looked back at the number of structures I'd just built. It was surprisingly easy to get carried away with this. All the better for me. Now the armies could be raised.

The Enemy had made a mistake in giving me five minutes of free time. My body went on auto-pilot as I continued setting up my base. My newly upgraded mental processes were busy going over anything (which was everything) I could pull from the radio broadcasts flying everywhere. This world did not have an internet. And that was just plain unforgivable. It also made my attempts at getting a good info-dump futile. All I could pick up were Imperial Guard tactical commands over the radio. And the identity of the attackers.

Khornates. Cultists and daemons in service to the Warp god of bloody murder, Khorne, versus the flashlights and can-do attitude of the Imperial Guard. The IG was losing, badly. Looks like Chaos would be the first to suck on my guns. This group of fuckers in particular were probably going to love fighting me. "The Blood God care not from where the blood flows, only that there is blood!" and all that rot.

Let's see how long that attitude lasted. Probably until I murder all of Chaos's worshippers and cut the Warp off from the Materium with Necron-tech.

The bot factory finished construction. Then the other one. And the Doxes started churning out in the dozens.

See, this is another part of the reason why Planetary Annihilation units outclassed those of so many other settings. The Dox was the single weakest infantry bot producible by Commanders. They had basically no armor to speak of, and tended to explode like so much popcorn in the face of most opposition.

In PA, that is.

Not so much here. Every single Dox was of a height and weight with the venerable Space Marine Dreadnaughts, and leagues more mobile. The guns they toted were nothing to scoff at either. And these blocky little robots came in swarms.

My weakest units were peers to some of the most powerful infantry forces fielded by the Imperium. This made me smile inside.

I immediately directed a detachment of fifty to the city as soon as they were all done. It gave me somewhat of a giddy feeling seeing them form up and start sprinting to the fight, the ground rumbling as they went. ETA: fifteen minutes. Primary directive: Ensuring the safety and well-being of all human forces. Secondary objective: Elimination of all Chaos forces. Collateral damage acceptable in the pursuit of aforementioned objectives.

They'd make a difference in this fight. All I could hope for was that the outrageously xenophobic humans wouldn't start shooting at me at first sight, too.

Oh, would you look at that. The air and vehicle factories had just finished as well. Now the fight was about to get even more lopsided in my favor!

XXXXX

I split my attention between expanding my economy and plunking down more walls and defense turrets, and micro-managing my Doxes. That was another thing I could do; fork myself. Even the best and fastest PA players were limited to whatever their screen could show at one time. I didn't have that problem. From the Commander unit I was installed in, to the growing fleet of fabricator bots scurrying about, to each and every single Dox about to slam into the unprepared forces of Chaos, I controlled all with equal levels of attention paid to each.

Was this what Skitter felt like? Unlimited multitasking really was the most broken power ever.

I could hear the confused radio chatter as my small army thundered in.

-And for the love of the Emperor, will someone tell me why the ground is shaking?!-

Good a time as any to say hello. I cut in through the chatter.

-That would be me.-

-What the- WHO IS THIS?! How did you crack this frequency?!-

That was encrypted? Whoops. My bad. Another point in favor of Progenitor-tech.

This was a good time to raise the question of how I would interact with the Imperium in the days to come. I dialed up the time dilation to buy time to think.

When I said the Imperium was xenophobic, I was not kidding. I was a nonhuman. That was grounds enough to get a bolter round to the face. Even worse, I was also an artificial, sorry, abominable intelligence, in their vernacular. Ever since an early attempt at AI soldiers had gone bad and subsequently pushed in humanity's shit, AIs were banned, feared, and reviled.

And I? I was the most dangerous AI the Imperium would ever know. Even the most progressive and forward thinking members of the Imperium would think me an existential threat. To be fair, I was, but intent mattered a hell of a lot.

But, aside from all of that, I was human. Whether or not my skin was made of metal, I was, first and foremost, human. For all of this fucked up galaxy's many, many, many flaws, I could not stand idly by and let my race die. Not when I had the power and will to help.

Nothing for it, then. I'd just have to do my best to be friendly, and if they still shot at me, well, fine, I'd deal with that then. Wasn't like I couldn't afford the losses. "We have reserves" literally defined my combat doctrine.

-I'm a friend of humanity. Brave soldiers of the Imperium, reinforcements are at hand. Allow us to take it from here.-

Should I add it? Couldn't hurt.

-The Emperor Protects. Now let's kick these sons of bitches off this planet!-

With that, the first wave of Doxes crested the hill obscuring them from the city. And as legions of killbots started pouring fire into the unguarded flank of the undisciplined hordes of murderous traitors, loudspeakers fit enough for the Noise Marines embedded in each Dox boomed, "FOR THE EMPEROR!"

Today was a good day to keep calm and purge the heretic.

XXXXX

AN: Ave Imperator!