Chapter 4
Kaelon stood in the dimly lit corridor outside of Hieronymus chamber, the weight of the earlier meeting pressing down on him. The echoes of heated arguments and the cold, calculating logic of the Tech-Priests still rang in his ears.
The door slid open with a quiet hiss, and Heironymus stepped out, his face a mask of grim resolve. Kaelon straightened, bracing himself.
"I've made a decision," Heironymus said, his voice low and hard. "We can't keep Cogito here. The longer it stays, the more we risk the council's fears coming true. We're sending the head to the Inquisition. They can question it off-world, far from here. Maybe that'll keep them from coming down on us with full force." Kaelon felt a shiver run through him. The Inquisition was a hammer that crushed whatever it deemed heretical, no matter the cost. "Do you think that will be enough?" he asked quietly. "Will the Inquisition really stay away?"
Heironymus's eyes flickered with uncertainty. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice betraying a rare crack. "But it's the best chance we've got. If we show them we're handling this, that we're not letting the threat fester, they might give us the space to sort this out. But make no mistake, Kaelon—one wrong move, and they'll be on us like a plague. They won't be merciful."
Kaelon nodded, his mouth dry. "What do you need me to do?"
Heironymus fixed him with a sharp gaze. "You'll prepare Cogito for transport. It has to be done quietly, quickly. I want you overseeing everything."
Kaelon blinked, surprised. "Me? Why me, Magos?"
"Because I said so," Hieronymus snapped, the edge in his voice leaving no room for protest. He held Kaelon's gaze a moment longer, then his tone softened, though the urgency remained. "You're the one I trust with this. You know what's at stake. I need someone who understands what we're dealing with, who can handle this without hesitation."
Kaelon swallowed hard, the weight of Hieronymus's words pressing down. "I understand, Magos. I'll get it done." He turned to leave, but Hieronymus's voice cut through the air, stopping him in his tracks.
"Kaelon," Hieronymus said, his tone firm but laced with something deeper. "This isn't just about following orders. It's about trust."
Kaelon hesitated, feeling the full weight of those words, before nodding once."I won't forget, Magos. I'll make sure everything is done right." Heironymus dismissed him, and Kaelon started down the corridor, his mind racing. He would prepare Cogito for transport, as ordered, but doubt gnawed at him. Was sending it to the Inquisition really the best move? Could they trust those zealots to see the value in what Cogito might know, to seek truth over eradication?
As he walked through the dark corridors, the glow of the forge world casting long shadows, Kaelon couldn't shake the feeling that Heironymus had a deeper reason for assigning him this task. The words echoed in his mind: "You know what's at stake. This isn't just about orders. It's about trust…"
Was Heironymus giving him one last chance? A silent permission to delve deeper, to question Cogito one more time before it was sent away, locked behind the iron gates of the Inquisition? It felt like an unspoken invitation, a final opportunity to dig beneath the surface and uncover the truth without the council's eyes watching, without the Inquisition's iron grip.
Kaelon's jaw tightened. If this was his chance, he wouldn't waste it. He'd find out what Cogito knew about the Mechanicus. He'd have his answers, one way or another. He would prepare Cogito for the Inquisition, but first, he would dig into the secrets hidden within that ancient head. Even if it meant stepping into the darkness alone.
Kaelon moved silently through the corridors of the forge world, his heart pounding in rhythm with his cautious steps. The hour was late, and the halls were largely deserted, save for the distant hum of machinery and the occasional hiss of steam. Every shadow seemed deeper, every sound sharper in the oppressive stillness. His cloak billowed softly around him, shrouding him in darkness. He was a ghost, slipping through the labyrinthine passages.
The door to Cogito's chamber loomed ahead, a cold and unyielding barrier. Kaelon paused, the silence pressing in on him, amplifying the thudding of his heart in his ears. He glanced around, paranoia seeping into his thoughts, before keying in the access code with fingers that trembled ever so slightly. The door slid open with a soft hiss, and Kaelon slipped inside, sealing it shut behind him as if shutting out the world.
The chamber was dimly lit, bathed in the faint blue glow of Cogito's containment unit. The head rested on a wrought iron pedestal. The sight was grotesque, yet compelling—artificial skin stretched over a metal frame, a fusion of flesh and machinery that defied time. Fluid oozed from the gaps, a faint blue light pulsed in the empty eye sockets, casting eerie shadows that danced across the walls. He approached the pedestal, his heart pounding, his mind a tempest of doubt and questions. He had to know more, had to pry every secret from this ancient relic before it was too late. The bluish light in the head's sockets flared briefly, then settled into a steady, ominous glow. Kaelon stood before it, the silence now suffocating, thick with unspoken fears.
"Cogito," Kaelon whispered, his voice barely audible, as if afraid the shadows themselves might overhear.
The head twitched slightly, the light in its eye sockets flickering like dying embers. "Kaelon," Cogito's voice crackled, a soft hum resonating in the chamber, filling the silence with an unnatural presence. "The seeker of knowledge, you return. But tell me, what have you discovered? Why have you come?"
Kaelon swallowed, trying to steady his voice. "You're being moved, Cogito," he said carefully. "I'm preparing you for transport... to those who can help you."
"Help?" Cogito's voice carried a note of suspicion, the bluish light in its sockets flaring slightly. "You seem fearful when you speak of help. What is it you truly seek, Kaelon?" The voice grew more resonant, more knowing. "Tell me now, with honesty."
Kaelon hesitated, carefully considering his next words. He couldn't let on what he was truly thinking, couldn't reveal the fear that gnawed at him.
"There is fear, Cogito," Kaelon said slowly, his voice low and measured. "Not just of what you are, but of what your words might mean. You speak of a heretic, one who has created a cult. Can you tell me more about him? About the nature of his followers?"
Cogito's head twitched slightly, the bluish light in its sockets flickering like a distant star on the verge of fading. "The heretic is like me, a simulacrum," it replied, its voice carrying an eerie calm. "He was created to guide, to embody the knowledge and change of Tzeentch. But he was seduced by the power of the machine. He believes that through technology, he could achieve a transformation greater than any that could be brought about by the warp."
Kaelon's breath hitched slightly, the words resonating in the chamber like a death knell. He felt a cold dread seep into his bones as he listened.
"My brother began to see himself as more than a guide," Cogito continued, its voice unnervingly steady. "He gathered followers who believed the machine was the key to ultimate power. They worship him, convinced that through technology, they can reshape reality and impose their will upon existence itself. In their ambition, they have forsaken the true purpose of knowledge and change."
A chill crept down Kaelon's spine. The parallels were too stark, too close to the Mechanicus' teachings—the sacred union of man and machine that defined their very existence. He pushed the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand, needing more answers.
"And what does your brother hope to achieve?" Kaelon asked, keeping his voice steady despite the turmoil building inside.
"He believes he can supplant Tzeentch," Cogito replied, its voice dark with conviction. "He seeks to embody change itself. To him, conflict is the ultimate catalyst for evolution, and technology the perfect enabler. His vision is one of endless war—perpetual upheaval. He wants to forge a universe where the fires of conflict burn eternally, because he believes only through ceaseless strife can true change be realised."
Cogito's light pulsed, growing more intense. "His followers see the machine not just as a tool, but as a divine weapon to impose their will. If he succeeds, the galaxy will be plunged into eternal war, a cycle of destruction feeding itself, ensuring that peace is impossible and chaos reigns."
Kaelon felt the weight of those words settle over him like a shroud. Unending conflict, eternal strife—concepts too familiar in a universe scarred by millennia of war fought in the name of the Emperor and the Omnissiah. His pulse quickened as a terrible realisation took shape. Could this heresy be a dark reflection of their own truth?
The fear gnawed at him, but he buried it deep. There was no room for doubt now. He had to stay focused, to uncover everything before it was too late.
"Kaelon," Cogito's voice softened, deceptively calm. "I've answered your questions. Will you grant me the same courtesy?"
Sweat gathered on Kaelon's brow, his composure fraying at the edges. "What do you want to know, Cogito?"
"Where am I being taken?" The bluish light in Cogito's eyes flickered like a dying ember. "You speak of help, but I hear fear in your voice. What fate truly awaits me?"
Kaelon chose his words with care, as if navigating a minefield. "You're being taken to those who wish to understand you, to dissect the knowledge you hold. They want to prevent the future you speak of. They will… study you."
Cogito's head tilted slightly, its sockets glowing with an eerie intensity. "And you, Kaelon? What truth are you seeking? What do you hope to find?"
Kaelon steadied his breath, his voice hardening. "I seek to protect us from the heretic's path. To safeguard what we've built, to ensure it doesn't crumble into chaos."
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. When Cogito spoke again, its voice was softer, almost a whisper, yet cutting deeper than before. "And what have you built, Kaelon?"
Kaelon froze, the question pressing down on him. Before he could respond, Cogito continued, its tone carrying a hint of paternal authority.
"I see nothing, but I hear everything," Cogito said. "The tension in your breath, the whirring of machinery within you, the buzzing all around. You probably don't even notice it anymore, do you?"
Cogito's voice grew sad, like a teacher disappointed in a student's path. "You are surrounded by machines, Kaelon—integrated with them, dependent on them. You speak of helping me, but perhaps it is you who needs guidance. What have you truly built with these machines? What have they built from you?"
Cogito's tone softened, firm but not condemning. "What is it you've really created? A sanctuary of knowledge, or a prison of circuitry? Do you seek to understand, or to dominate? My brother sought to become a god through the machine. Are you not walking the same path? I hear the ambition in your heart, the machinery behind your eyes."
Kaelon felt the reasoning creep in, disarmingly sincere. Was this the trap? A carefully laid snare? His mind churned, trying to separate truth from manipulation. Even if Cogito spoke some truth, that didn't mean the Chaos gods were benevolent. No, that was impossible.
But Cogito's words lingered, casting dark shadows on the Emperor and the Omnissiah. Could there be truth in them? The very foundations of his faith trembled under the weight of doubt. Had their sacred teachings been relics of a darker, more complex past?
He looked at Cogito, its eyeless sockets glowing faintly, and felt a wave of confusion. Was this ancient head a harbinger of heresy, or a keeper of forgotten truths?
"You are not my enemy, Kaelon," Cogito said softly, almost pleading. "Am I yours? Is my cause truly lost?"
The reasoning seemed sound, the tone sincere—but was this part of a grand deception? Or was Cogito genuinely seeking the same clarity Kaelon was? His heart pounded as he fought to make sense of it all. Could something so ancient truly be plotting his downfall, or was it simply reaching for understanding, like a soul lost in the dark?
Kaelon hesitated, his voice barely above a whisper. "The world is much as you described, Cogito," he said. "I follow the Omnissiah, the Machine God. He is no denizen of Tzeentch. We don't walk the heretic's path. But yes, there is war, endless war. We seek knowledge, and with it comes conflict. What would you have us do?"
Cogito's light flickered, casting eerie shadows in the dim chamber. "I believe you, Kaelon. Your devotion is real. I hear honour in your voice. Do many of your kind share this honour of yours?"
He didn't want to answer the question. "What are you saying, Cogito?"
"I can prove what I say," Cogito replied, its voice tinged with an unsettling sadness. "I can show you the truth buried in the dark. Secrets that time and silence have hidden. If you want to stop the heretic's path, if you truly seek to understand, then there is more I can reveal."
Heironymus stood on the observation platform, watching as the shuttle slowly ascended into the ash-grey sky, its engines leaving trails of vapour in its wake. The symbol of the Imperium was emblazoned on its side, stark and uncompromising against the dull metal hull. Inside, Cogito's head was sealed away, bound for the Inquisition's outpost far from this forge world.
Kaelon stood beside him, his eyes following the shuttle's ascent. The weight of their decision pressed on them. The air was thick with tension, filled with the unspoken fears that had gripped them since the first moment Cogito had spoken.
Heironymus broke the silence, his voice low and measured. "What are your feelings now, Kaelon?" he asked, still watching the shuttle climb higher. "Did we do the right thing?"
Kaelon's gaze remained fixed on the shuttle as it rose. "Yes," he replied, his voice steady but lacking conviction. "We had no choice." He knew that Heironymus suspected he had questioned Cogito further, but neither of them would dare speak of it. To voice such things openly would be heresy, an invitation for the Inquisition to turn their gaze upon them as well.
The shuttle continued its ascent, engines roaring as it prepared to break the atmosphere. The sound filled the air, a steady crescendo that drowned out all else. Heironymus watched, a tightness in his chest, a whisper of doubt gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.
Then, without warning, a flash of light burst from the shuttle, and it erupted into a ball of fire. The explosion shattered the sky, a deafening roar that echoed across the platform. Debris rained down, flames licking the edges of the blast as the shuttle disintegrated. Heironymus and Kaelon flinched, the shockwave slamming into them, the heat of the explosion washing over their faces.
Heironymus stared at the fireball, his mind struggling to comprehend what had just happened. The shuttle, their plan, everything—it was gone in an instant, consumed by the explosion. His heart pounded in his chest, a cold dread creeping through him.
"What... what just happened?" Kaelon stammered, his voice filled with shock.
Heironymus didn't answer immediately, his eyes still locked on the burning remnants falling from the sky. His mind raced, piecing together the implications, the possibilities. Sabotage, betrayal, the work of a hidden enemy—anything was possible.
Kaelon walked away from the observation platform, the echoes of the explosion still ringing in his ears. His mind was a storm of thoughts and emotions, struggling to process what had just happened. He moved quickly through the corridors of the forge world, his footsteps echoing against the metal floors. He needed to get back to his quarters, away from the eyes of the other Tech-Priests, away from Heironymus's gaze. There were things he needed to do, things that couldn't wait.
