"Madmen do not survive what I have survived, madmen do not achieve all that I have achieved. Madmen stare at the face of human evolution, our very salvation from the terrors that swarm our galaxy, and damn the bringer of such evolution to certain death. But I know they will do so, I know they will order my execution. I have no intention of allowing it, I will be in a hidden location. Working on my divine charge, the Omnissiah demands I be the first to use everything he has provided us."

From, De rebus machinis et xenaritis. Written by Archmagos Battista Albrecht Ghetaldi, 348.M36

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Throughout galactic history, all great powers have sought ways to destroy or subjugate their enemies. The dream of a perfect weapon has driven mighty empires since before the dawn of the Imperium. Yet, the definition of the greatest weapon varies greatly depending on who you ask. The nephilimech scourge would likely point to some lost relic of antiquity that once lent them the power to snuff out a star system with a mere gesture. The Eldar hold to traditional powers and invocations of long dead gods, their greatest weapons being the flickering embers of their once strong hold on the galaxy's throat.

Humanity would point to the emperor and claim his power was mightier than any possible threat they could face. A faith that, while sometimes proven true, usually failed them as a simple chainsword vivisected their torso from their legs. A chainsword in the hands of a frothing maniac bearing the eight-pointed star of chaos carved into their flesh. That maniac would likely say the greatest weapon in the galaxy was some boon of the Dark Gods or a daemon weapon of great renown.

Archmagos Battista Ghetaldi disagreed with all of them, and he'd met quite a few of them. No, Battista believed the greatest weapon and most dangerous power was an intelligent mind unshackled by doctrine. Whenever he gazed upon the roaring foundries and the warriors he had forged from the frigid ashes of the past, he felt a new surge of vindication. Those fools, clinging to their obsolete doctrines, could never understand the true potential of humanity. For years he'd wandered, harried and pursued by enforcers of the Adeptus Mechanicus, unable to stop for the longest time. That was, until he found this place. A world frozen in its final moment. A red giant stood nearby, burning away any trace of biological life over endless time. Battista didn't know what had happened here, not until he saw the abandoned Manufactorum.

There, he began to plan. Tirelessly, he researched the system's history and rebuilt the planet's functions. Power surged through ancient circuits, and foundries roared back to life under his command. His small cohort transformed from outcast survivors into warriors of a bygone era. Here he would resurrect the ways of the Cult Mechanicum, establish a new sect of disciples who didn't cower away from true advancement.

His Skitarii were taken to the surgical bays and remade into the ancient warriors of the Titan Guard, given storm shields and arc lances. He began cloning new acolytes and soldiers, many of whom were implanted into automata, but his attackers would suffer a far worse fate. Those that pursued him, eager to execute the heretek, arrived on the dead world with a small force. They expected a weakened, near-death Battista, easy prey for their wrath. Instead, they were met with an army of Mechanicum warriors. Battista had given strict orders: capture, don't kill. He had sinister plans for those who dared raise guns against him.

He stood in a cavernous chamber, overlooking a room where captured malcontents were being transformed into Tech-thralls. Their minds were erased, neural locks implanted, and their faces forever welded into expressionless masks. The air was thick with the hum of machinery and the faint scent of burning metal. His gaze lingered on his servo automata, the final remains of the four tech-priests who had once pursued him. To him, they were nothing more than tools repurposed for efficiency. Without a hint of sentiment, he turned and entered the great hall. A procession had gathered. Warpsmiths, xenobiologists, and Mechanicus disciples all poised for his command.

All at once, the chatter died, replaced by the binharic hum of an ancient heresy-era benediction of the Machine God. At the back of the chamber, a giant door with an ornate locking mechanism loomed. Battista had studied it for over a century, yet he had come no closer to unlocking it. He knew what lay within, ancient technology and forbidden knowledge essential to the final phase of his grand plan. One day, he thought, this vault will open, and the secrets within will be mine. For now, he had to wait for all the pieces to fall into place.

He turned on his metal heels towards one of the gathered mechanicum priests, "Where is our agent? He should have dealt with Anaxagoras and returned by now."

The black-robed tech-priest scrambled forward with a dataslate. "We. Do not. Know. Archmagos. Last. Report is. He. Has the. Cipher." The tech-priest's archaic replacement lungs wheezed with each word. Battista shook his head. "Every moment we delay is another moment the Basilisks or Explorators could regroup. Accelerate our infiltrators' efforts to apprehend Magos Tahr'kull. We cannot afford any more interruptions."

Battista spoke with a tone devoid of emotion, his voice raspy and worn threadbare by the erosion of time. Always at the brink of death, yet it never took him. He sent an invisible command to the Secutarii waiting in the flanks. They marched forward and formed up with the Archmagos. "If you do not have Magos Tahr'kull and the psykers before me within one standard cycle, I will find someone more competent to fulfill your role. Those who cannot handle a simple task I set for them are fit only for mindlocking. Are you fit for anything above servitorization, magos?"

Battista stared deep into the sunken face of the priest, his eyes glowing softly with a hint of cruelty that unsettled the acolyte. The Archmagos was an unreadable chimeric monster of machines and age. The tech-priest sputtered, his machine lungs spasming slightly, before scrambling away to coordinate their soldiers' efforts. Battista turned back to his gathered procession.

"All of you know! We have come too far to tolerate mistakes now, our time approaches! We are the true Children of the Omnissiah, and we shall soon prove that beyond all uncertainty. For the machine is immortal, and the tired backwards ways of Mars are decayed and corrupted! Succeed in your tasks, not for me and not for your own safety. But for the true will of the Machine God!"

The procession sent acknowledgement codes, and slowly filtered out of the room. Leaving Battista and his Secutarii alone, he stared at the vault door. So close to his end goal, yet without the Hexonic Cipher he would never reach it. There was, of course, also the complication of the Ynnari's involvement. He expected the exodites to seek revenge, but he didn't expect them to receive help from the new power of the Aeldari's forgotten god. He would adapt, he always did. That's what separated him from the Martians, that's what made him dangerous to them. He couldn't be controlled.

To say they'd found what they were looking for, would be an understatement. As the Shrouded Basilisks forced their way into the ship's datavaults through boltshell, chainsword, and psychic spell they came to realize the Dark Mechanicum hadn't yet purged any of their data. Tomes, dataslates, and reports were here in abundance. It was easy enough for Telemateus to pour over them and learn much about their betrayal.

These cog-worshippers had never been theirs to command, the whole time they'd been worming their way into the warband's good graces. Making themselves a part of daily life, so their machinations would go unnoticed. Elatus couldn't help but appreciate the skill with which they conducted their subterfuge. Now, however, the Alpha Legion was equipped with their greatest weapon. They weren't the best at direct combat, they boasted no favor from any of the Gods of Chaos, and they couldn't claim to be the best duelists in the galaxy. However, when the sons of Alpharius had knowledge, they were unstoppable.

Knowledge in the hands of the Alpha Legion could be turned into leverage, leverage could be used to force plans to turn away from the enemy's favor and towards their own. Now, they had to exfiltrate this data, everything they knew, back to Deception's Venom. Elatus realized at that moment the Dark Mechanicum were making a strategically brilliant choice. The data was potentially lethal in their hands, but it was useless if they had no way of getting it off world.

"Telemateus," Elatus said, "Get your beast ready. We will break those defenders and reestablish communications with the ship."

"It sounds like you have a plan, brother." Telemateus said as he finished uploading all they had found onto a single dataslate. "I trust it's better than running headlong into those abominant servitors that guard the entryway."

Elatus headed for the hallway they first entered, stepping over battered and bleeding Mechanicum bodies. "Remind me, brother, what has prevented you from ordering your monster to attack their backline?" Elatus paused by a corpse, a priest of higher rank than the cybernetic soldiers they'd been fighting. He held the priest up, examining the bolt wound that had left a charred crater where the face once was.

Telemateus joined him and looked at the body, "They have enough guns that Vaelith cannot effectively break them from within for us. Sending them in would do nothing but leave their body riddled with holes. Hardly productive."

"Have it possess this body," Elatus said, "I have an idea." Telemateus couldn't help but doubt that such a plan would work. Though he wasn't a member of the Cult Mechanicus he knew they had specific ways of identifying each other and communicating internally. Methods he doubted Vaelith could imitate, but, Elatus seemed sure of his idea. So Telemeateus sent a psychic signal, and a purple haze began to coalesce around the body. It spasmed, and Elatus dropped it. Soon, it stood, twitching limbs and snapping joints bent unnaturally until finally everything seemed normal.

There stood a faceless tech priest, faceless until tendrils of pink flesh shot from under its hood. Grabbing a Skitarii, tearing off their faceplate, and pulling it under the hood to complete the disguise. Vaelith's voice was unmistakable, even through the raspy mechanical filters in place for the cyborgs.

"What in the warp is this? What have you done?"

"You will do as Elatus demands, Vaelith." Telemateus said, "Once done you can return to your normal form and return to me."

"You never leave any room for interpretation, do you?" Vaelith said with poorly hidden rage.

"Do not insult my intelligence, daemon. I know better. Elatus? What are your orders?"

Elatus marched forwards, signaling subvocally for the rest of the warband and the disguised daemon to follow him.

"First, Vaelith will gather as much knowledge as they can from the carcass. Then they will approach and disable the front line of defense. That should make it easier to infiltrate and eliminate their backline."

"It won't work," Scylia said quickly. The warband stopped and turned to look at her, "The Cog-worshippers will know, I doubt they'll let Vaelith get that far my lords." The warband slowly turned to look at Elatus. They knew she was right, but they were also curious to see if Elatus had a way around that.

"You let me worry about that. Vaelith, you have your orders. We are coming up on the defensive line now. All of you, stay hidden and wait for my signal. Daemon, you're up."

Vaelith sighed exasperatedly, but contrary to what their reluctance would suggest their played the part of a twisted heretek priest remarkably well. Provided they didn't speak. The Secutor at the front line held up a fist, signalling the Skitarii and Servitors to lower their weapons. A shriek of binharic vocalizations echoed in the hallways, which no one there understood. Even Vaelith, despite draining as much knowledge as they could from the dead priest's mind.

It would have been much more effective with a living priest, but them being dead meant the mechanisms that translated binharic into comprehensible speech were non functional. So Vaelith was left to simply walk forward. They did try to imitate a limp, as if damaged. It didn't help, the Mechanicum all raised their weapons in unison and were about to leave the body ruined scrap, Vaelith was about to burst from their disguise and cut as many of them down as possible. Until they felt an impact from behind. The mechanicum fired, sending galvanic shots plinking off Elatus' armor, who had ducked out of cover long enough to throw something at the possessed body. Vaelith felt the back of their head where they felt something hit them, they felt the metal casing of a Krak grenade.

The Daemon Prince cursed in an ancient tongue, and leapt forwards at the Servitors. It wasn't by their own will, it was entirely due to Telemateus commanding them psychically. Oh how Vaelith hated these humans. The explosive detonated, sending one of the servitors crashing to the ground with a pained groan. The other two were left little more than piles of sparking metal and red gore. A few of the Skitarii were killed immediately, and the Secutor was left alone with four defenders.

The warband leapt from their cover, cultists and astartes laid down withering fire from all their weapons. They'd been held at bay for too long, especially for Medon's tastes. The Master of Executions charged ahead, stopping right before the Secutor who was recovering from a shot landing on their armor. Medon's axe swung up and into their gut, carrying them up and slamming them into the ceiling.

Elatus and Telemateus led their legionnaires into the next room where the defenders were approaching cautiously to investigate the sudden sounds of battle. That caution would prove lethal, as they were caught completely flat-footed by the charging legionnaires. Telemateus quickly threw up a hand, sending a bolt of warp energy at the Servitors before they had a moment to calculate their shot. The bloated bodies were wracked with ruinous psychic power, and were quickly killed by the sorcerer's attack. The Skitarii defenders desperately tried falling back, trying to follow their protocols but without their secutor they were left without any source of new commands or doctrinas.

The brief fight was over in a moment, Vaelith reformed at the entrance of the room. They stretched their wings and snarled at Elatus. "Wonderful plan, mortal."

Elatus didn't bother looking back at the daemon, "It worked, didn't it? The comms center is ours. Scylia, start transmitting the data to the ship and request reinforcements on our position."

"At once, my lord. We'll have a tempest ready to wash these traitors away soon."

The warband settled into a defensive position, and for the time it seemed they had established complete control of the ship. They may even be able to recover it for their own usage, they would need more cruisers following the sabotage they'd suffered previously. Some time later, a plan had been laid to bring the entirety of Deception's Venom's forces to the planet's surface. Soon the Basilisks would find a way to hail their wayward brothers left behind, and conquer the manufactorum for their own.

Magos Ceth was aghast at what he was seeing within the strategium pit. Through the eyes of Epsilon's ground team, he saw the lost Archmagos. He saw heretical perversions of the Machine God's will, he saw a great many things that he couldn't explain. He needed more information, he needed an expert to analyze all they'd discovered.

"High Marshal, commit the visual and audio data to permanent memory storage and hurry to your next objective. As soon as you're done we will extract you, using the teleportarium if we must. I must try to get Magos Van'thauss upright and safe; he will be invaluable in figuring out the best way to destroy these hereteks."

"Acknowledged, Magos. Mission completion status approaches seventy-five percent. We will send you a notice when we are approaching the final node."

Arkhite left the strategium and made for the Magos Biologis' chamber. His mind raced with scripture and doctrines, the holy writings and words of venerable saints of ancient times. In tense situations like this, surrounded by enemies and questions, it was the light of the Omnissiah that would guide them through. As he traveled, he sang a hymn of machine language to the Machine God and the ship's great spirit.

Then, he stopped. A moment of panic entered his mind, a brief hint of danger. Praeco Voltaic was warning him, the life of a Magos was in danger. Not his, but in his mind's eye the great spirit gave him a vision of figures moving in the dark towards Enginseer Van'thauss. Panicked commands were sent to his cohort of Battle Servitors, and they sped off ahead of him towards the Biologis.

Within the chamber of the Biologis, Van'thauss laid on a table. He'd been fading in and out of consciousness, but the Omnissiah had seen fit to make him stable once more. The Biologis had told him he'd be fine once the poison worked its way through his system. But blessed Mars it was a miserable experience. Outside of his vision, Skitarii in tattered black robes approached him. They stalked the Magos, it was unlikely he'd be able to fight back especially since they killed the Magos Biologis before their approach.

Van'thauss was defenseless, for now. This was the perfect moment to fulfill their assassination protocols. One of the Skitarii raised a power sword, preparing to strike. Suddenly, a Kataphron rounded the corner and unleashed a line of electricity from its arc rifle. The Skitarii with the blade spasmed and died in an instant. Two more servitors entered the room and began locking onto targets, the counterattack was immediate. Galvanic rifles cut down the rightmost servitor in moments, leaving two battle servitors against nine heretek Skitarii.

Momentarily, the assassins prioritized the Kataphrons as a higher priority than their target. A flawed calculation, evidence that they were well outside of the range of any higher priests. They moved between points of cover, their protocols and base routines of battle were far more flexible than the rigid mindwiped gun platforms. That maneuverability lent itself well to the fight, the Kataphrons struggled to hit these mobile combatants. Meanwhile the Skitarii took every opportunity to level another gunshot at the servitors, soon the battle had turned in favor of the Dark Mechanicum. Magos Ceth rounded the corner, and immediately threw out his hands. A burst of machine language filled the room, accompanied by a growing field of electricity. Arcing power covered every piece of metal in the room, the traitors were harried by bolts of energy while the Servitors' arc rifles glowed brighter as the Motive Force flowed through them. The enemy Skitarii were still a threat, but the servitors' protocols were refined in an instant.

Their shots were more accurate, their aim adjustments were faster, their guns were more potent. One by one they eliminated the enemy, cutting them down to half strength within a single volley of fire. Then, one of the servitors was cut off by a depleted uranium round ripping through their skull. Leaving viscera on the ground behind them. Magos Ceth backed up slightly, and sent a guided retreat order to his last Servitor. The Skitarii hastily pressed their attack, but their overzealous enthusiasm for the kill made them sloppy.

Two more Skitarii were destroyed by electric weaponry, and a rod of solid uranium slammed into a third Skitarii from Arkhite's magnarail lance. Pinning them to the wall in a grisly display. Two Skitarii remained, who immediately took the opportunity to gun down the last Servitor, leaving Magos Ceth alone with a recharging weapon. They approached slowly, with weapons raised and prepared to end the Manipulus' life. Arkhite tried striking out with his stave but it was knocked aside by the butt of a Galvanic Rifle.

Right before they fired, a glass bottle smashed into the back of the head of one of the assassins. They turned around just in time to see Van'thauss swinging his axe down at them. It connected with a sickening crunch of bone and brain matter. The Enginseer's servo arm shot out, and grabbed the final Skitarii's neck. Fractions of a second later metal crunching told the priests their attackers were dead and the danger was passed. Van'thauss let both bodies slump to the ground in a heap. Then, he almost collapsed. Needing to use the heft of his axe for support.

"Magos Ceth," Van'thauss said between exhausted breaths, "I'm going back to sleep… But when I wake up, I'll need you to explain what in the name of the Machine God is going on here."

Arkhite Ceth motioned for Van'thauss to follow him, "Not here, return to the Strategium with me. It will be safer there, I will call for more guards to join us."

"Fine, I was getting bored here anyways. I need a change of scenery."

"Archmagos Ghetaldi?" Vetra asked, "High Marshal, Alpha Unit is not familiar with that name. Request for relevant information pertaining to this new variable." Epsilon didn't slow his pace, they needed to stay mobile, especially with more enemies populating the halls now.

"Archmagos Battista Ghetaldi, Magos Tahr'kull's former mentor. Presumed dead following a confrontation between him and the Explorator Majoris. The Magos Dominus has been searching for any information pertaining to his final work, no one knows fully what caused the falling out between the two Archmagi."

Vetra pulled her dataspike free of the third terminal, the codes were uploaded and the flow of information between the facility and Praeco Voltaic grew stronger. Invisible due to Quill's expertise in creating hostile code that was near impossible to track.

Vetra's posture relaxed, as her mind was freed of the machine overrides that took over when interfacing with dataports. It was as if her humanity was pushed aside while communing with the facility's machines. "It would appear that he has gone mad with heretical thoughts during his disappearance." A machine command locked Vetra in place, Epsilon stared at her.

"Careful, Alpha Unit, disparaging speech against the Archmagos is not advisable until we have undeniable proof the situation is as it appears at the surface. It is in our best interests to keep judgement to ourselves. We are here to conduct the mission, that is all."

The mental lock released and Vetra sent an acknowledgement code. She understood why Epsilon was cautious about speaking negatively about the priesthood. As abnormal as his methodology was, he was still very aware of how Skitarii were expected to conduct themselves. Being so close to Magos Tahr'kull meant he needed to be very careful when he spoke about Quill's old master. No matter how it appeared, it was safer for them to say nothing about it.

"The final terminal is close, the sooner we get out of here the better." Epsilon said as he began moving again, their exfiltration point was close. But it would likely be watched now, the assassin and Castellax Automata attacking them would surely have drawn attention to their mission.

Epsilon led the team through the shadowed corridors of the forge temple, the hum of machinery growing louder with each step. The air was thick with tension, every corner served as a potential ambush point. They moved with precision, their training and programming both ensuring silent and efficient progress. On approach, Epsilon sent sentinel protocols to most of the team and a directive to Vetra.

"Establish uplink and finish this, before we are detected." Vetra knelt behind cover and linked to the port. Her posture for a final time stiffened and the hostile code began to force its way into the manufactorum's datastream. The Skitarii saw the code warp and change direction skyward, before fading away and becoming invisible. The silent codes were imperceivable to all but the best data specialists. It would take a moment, but so far they were uninterrupted. However, something was approaching, heavy footsteps of metal accompanied by the sound of a furious powerblade arrays spinning up.

A wall nearby was torn apart by energized sawblades, and pounding fire from a mauler boltcannon. In a spray of rubble and dust, a Castellax Battle-automata smashed through towards them. Blinking lights and mechanized chatter signified it was scanning for hostiles and unfortunately had found them. Epsilon recognized the danger immediately, one of the two pursuers had found them. He thanked the Machine God that the Infocyte didn't seem to be accompanying it, but this was bad enough on its own.

"Skitarii team, defend the Alpha Unit!" Battle protocols hit their minds immediately, but without data about the target their efforts would be much less effective.

"Magos Ceth, request for battle data immediately! We have a hostile heresy era automata attacking us!"

Boltshells tore through cover, one of the Skitarii raised their head and exploded in a hail of metal fragments, blood, and oil. A massive boltshell tearing through them and exploding mere inches behind the body. Their flamer clattered to the ground, going unused in the fight. Epsilon sent commands to lock their augmetics down, making them more durable at the cost of mobility. Until they had workable data, they could do nothing but hold fast behind cover.

"Loading battle data now, High Marshal. Hold fast, and trust in the Machine God's guidance."

Information flooded Epsilon's mind, technical readouts, battle records, and diagrams all related to these machines. Every strength and weapon, noteworthy battles they had been deployed in, and more importantly known weaknesses.

"The joints of Castellax are not armored, direct your Plasma and Arc units to fire there."

Code flowed between them across the Noosphere, perfect coordination and plans made in an instant. On an unseen non verbal signal, they all emerged from cover. The sudden increase in target data made the Castellax pause to calculate who to kill first, it was enough time to searing plasma to slam into a knee joint. Followed up by an Arc Rifle shot tearing through the damaged machine. Energy flooded its circuits and made it falter. Epsilon grabbed Vetra's taser goad from her grip, and rushed in while he had the chance.

The prongs slammed into the machine, adding more electricity to the attack and worsening the damage the machine sustained. Epsilon clamored up the stunned automata's frame, and once atop it he pulled his power sword out.

He stabbed down into a glowing optic lens and forced the blade in as much as he could manage. He felt the Castellax buckle and begin to fall. Giving him just enough time to pull his sword free and leap back to the ground. It collapsed onto its side and sent emergency codes into the noosphere, codes that would inevitably summon its partner to their position.

Vetra ripped the dataspike free, and ran to return to Epsilon's position as did the other Skitarii. "It's still alive, High Marshal."

"It is, and it would take us longer than we have to finish it off. They will likely have repair servitors on approach, those alone would be enough of a distraction for the other Castellax to reach us. Or worse, the Infocyte."

Acknowledgement codes came in immediately, and they returned to their positions. They'd be gone soon, but they had to ensure the connection was strong.

"Magos Ceth, hostile automata is disabled momentarily. Present firepower insufficient to destroy it completely. Requesting confirmation of the datastream's strength."

"We are receiving diagnostics, data, and visual feed. Exceptional work, High Marshal. Move to a safer position for exfiltration, it is preferable that you return in the shuttle but if needed we will use other methods."

Epsilon nodded and turned to his squad, "We're receiving extraction orders. Stay in formation, we're not out of danger yet." For the final time, they made their way out of the room. Leaving the damaged machine sparking on the ground, struggling to stand and calling for help.

Elsewhere in the Manufactorum, someone heard that call for help. Battista looked up into the datastream, and though he didn't see the results of Quill's sabotage, he did see emergency codes and battle data. He knew something was wrong, he knew there were forward teams and infiltrators amongst them. He had to focus on the real objective. Still, if they were capable of bringing down his automata, causing the destruction they had in the repair bay, and disrupting their datanet then they were worth bringing to heel.

With a motion of his hand, the machines restraining the newly made tech-thralls released their grip on the creatures. They sluggishly stood, sixty in total, and marched mindlessly forward. Battista uploaded targeting parameters and a single directive. Do not let the intruders escape.