40 Thousand Reasons

Chapter 3: Fabricator

The trip through the Warp was relatively safe and quick, three weeks for those on board, and 6 months for the galaxy.

Losses on the lower decks remained under 2 percent, which meant we will not need to restock of Gellar field consumables, whatever they were.

Gyron tells me we only need to worry at 6 percent loses.

For now, I have no choice but to believe him, and hope for the best. The Mechanicus uses the same type of generator as my upgraded cruiser, and they rarely vanish during trips, unlike the local Navy ships which tend to encounter problems on every single patrol.

Forge world Antax is a dead world, since nobody bothers with environmental laws around here. The pollution and radiation alone would kill unarmored humans in minutes.

That's only on the surface though. Deep underground, the Cult Mechanicus lives in enclosed tunnels and caves like ants.

It also has a ring of orbital shipyards and thousands of mining or transport ships to supply the forges with metals or organic components.

The Litany itself carries a million spare parts of organic origin, and could always come round with more. Human resources are plentiful in the galaxy, and we only need to wait a few decades for more such resources to regenerate on their own, then visit a conquered planet to harvest more.

We send codes and passwords, as well as the electronic Warrant ahead, to avoid being atomized by some zealous priest. Our void shields stay up, and the void marines are on full alert anyway.

That was among the first things I did as the new Captain. Three companies of marines are now always posted around the bridge, reactor and the Gellar generator. Another company patrols the lower decks, in fully enclosed suits and backed up by twice as many combat servitors. A couple AFVs are also deployed with them, to provide some armor support in case of need.

I have also begun to slowly increase the serfs food rations in quantity and quality, but I can only do so much, and not annoy the traditionalists among the crew, who would rather dispense burning promethium instead of clean water and decent food.

I had to explain to them how much costly promethium is compared to water. "Don't spend my thrones when is not needed, guys. Water is cheap, so we give the serfs water."

Afraid they might get be penalized from their shares for every munition they spend to quell revolts or mutinies, the officers had temporarily agreed to try the humane option first, if it was cheapest.

After a day of waiting, my cruiser is finally allowed to dock and refuel in an orbital dock, as I am escorted towards the Fabricator General with all the new 'discoveries'

Sadly, the Retribution pattern melta gun is not reproducible by our on-board forge, but I expect the Mechanicus priests will equip a few companies with licensed guns for free. We cannot simply buy stuff from the Cult, but trading favors is not only accepted but the only way to acquire Mechanicus-level weapons or technology.

Sure, technically the Mechanicus is obliged by treaty to provide weapons freely to every ship and regiment, but the waiting list is longer than my cruiser. I rather skip ahead by providing a worthy gift.

"Lord Pef, Captain of the Litany of the Vanquished. The Fabricator General will see you now." a red-robed tech priest says in Gothic, and glares at me with blue lenses cyborg eyes.

"Thank you, Magos." I answer and enter the study, and notice that Gyron has been halted by the other Magos for a friendly chat in binary.

A monstrous construct receives me, not even a hint of organic origin left. Dozens of tentacles and arms, at least thirty weapons I can detect and probably twice as many I do not.

"So you are the famous BlankTrader. What do you want for those patterns?" the Fabricator priest asks me in fluent Gothic.

I blink confused. The protocols are burned already.

"They are gifts. If every forge world also receives them, once they pass your tests, Fabricator." I answer in a level voice.

That is the crux of the problem. Forge worlds tend to be secretive and jealous, guarding tech like religious relics.

The Fabricator holds still for a second, which should mean hours of accelerated thought for someone of his powers.

"Denied. Even if I could accept these gifts, dissemination of holy knowledge is reserved for Mars." the head priest answers in a slow voice. Angry maybe?

"I see. Sector wide, perhaps? Surely nearby forge worlds will be interested in new patterns, and offer some of their own in return." I muse to myself, and turn round to exmine the Fabricator's study.

Weapons and fragments of them, scrolls and codex glowing with arcane symbols reminding me of quantum physics formulas. They probably are exactly that, and more.

"So, it is true. You are trying to spread these advance patterns, even at cost to yourself. Gyron wasn't wrong, after all." the priest mutters while poking a cogitator and running some high speed simulations, possibly for my sake.

I try to store everything on my remembrance implant, but I fail. Too much data, too fast.

But I get the gist of it. Hive fleets Kraken and Behemoth attacking the sector, and logistical needs to supply everyone with new weapons. Not possible of course, going by the plethora of red errors and yellow alerts.

I hum in deep thought, powering up the savant implant for a minute.

There is no miracle solution, of course. The Empire has been slowly dying for 10 thousand years, and every single part of the government is corrupt to hell.

Still. "Hydra tanks, armed with the new multilaser pattern, maybe even new tracks and sensors. Same thing for medium grade skitarii troops. Melta guns, if you manage to reproduce them."

The skitarii are cyborg soldiers for the Mechanicus, and good ones. Their elites can match Space Marines in some scenarios. But if we could upgrade the medium ones, which number in the millions...

"Gambit Sk/2/33. I suppose we could try it with a few regiments and compare their new efficiency for cost. But ground troops are all presumed destroyed once a hive lands." the Fabricator says with a dismissive gesture.

So, he had already considered it. Of course, he has. This guy is basically the closest thing to an A.I., this side of the Galaxy.

"Ships take too long to build." I mutter in defeat. There are never enough ships, and a Hive has millions of ship grade organisms able to overwhelm any defensive fleet the Navy, or the Mechanicus can gather in a short time.

The Fabricator stares at me with glowing eyes. Something more then?

"Cheaper ships, maybe?" I wonder out loud. It's close to heresy, but not really.

"Yes, many radical priests argue the same. Millions of low quality ships to stem the tide. Millions of times weaker too." the Fabricator says with a doubtful voice.

"The Imperial Guard." I argue with a shrug. Humanity throws trillions of poorly armed soldiers to stem the tide. Sometimes it works. Sometimes they need Space Marines or Titans to help them. Sometimes, nothing is enough.

"Gyron speaks well of you, Lord Pef. Very well. We will try it for 101 years, when the Hive fleet Kraken is expected to arrive at Brimlock. Iridium-tungsten armor, mechanical Gellar fields, and cheap plasma engines. You will provide the officers, and we provide tech-priests and servitors for gunnery." the priest says in a not too pleased voice.

I feel I was given a test and a quest here, but I'm not smart enough to figure everything out. I'll need to ask Gyron.

"Great! Meanwhile, I thought of what I might need to go back beyond the Empire. An armored regiment, with a few low level Titans for support. And a few escort ships, if there are any to spare. Training officers works better if they can experience real missions."

I quip in a friendly voice. I wonder if my grandfather had the same experience here.

The Fabricator waves a few mechadendrites to signify something. Perhaps anger?

"I have a Sword-class_Frigate that isn't covered by an adamantium hard contract. Titans are excluded. A dozen transport voidships with servitor crew. Now, for an armored regiment...we can empty a stasis block and extract two Baneblades and a Storm Blade. A thousand lesser vehicles, half of them Hydras and three Stormbird attack landers to deploy the heavies safely. Is that enough, Lord Pef?" the Fabricator asks in pleasant tone.

I'm not certain what it means, but I fear is not something good. Still, it seems the new multilaser was truly valuable.

A brand-new frigate, and armored regiment? Including those Baneblades.

I almost agree, before I catch myself. Gellar Field generators?

"Could you install these mechanical Gellar fields on the Stormbirds? Makes sense to protect such relics, should something happen in transit." I ask in a level voice.

"Yes, yes. It will be done, and make us start the new fabrication line much sooner. Come back in three years or so." the priest says and waves me off with a metal arm.

I walk outside and exhale deeply. The meeting was rather fruitful, but so tense and tiring.

Gyron waves at me in a friendly gesture.

"Steel of body,

Steel of mind."

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Damn it. I thought I have fixed the implant.

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