Chapter 13
POV: Sentinel of Cythic
"Sentinel of Cythic, Sentinel of Cythic!"
That manner of transmission was one I now knew painfully personally. I resisted the urge to groan, that would be improper to express so openly. Also, such an act would carry enough strength to send shudders through my frame. "What is it?"
"He's fixing Ictus Saladinis!"
"Be silent. Your barks offend my sensors," Ictus Saladinis responded, the demand quiet but firm.
Sanguine Spear chose to ignore the demand. "What's he fixing now? Your electrical grid? Or the ventral lance battery? Wait, you said your-"
The temptation to physically prevent the inane drivel from taking some of my processing time dominated my thought circuits, bringing me within 23 microseconds of burning out my sensors. It passed eventually, leaving the newly repaired wiring and replaced logic gates intact. Instead, I opted to shift my conscious attention to reveling in my supreme function once more: the speeding electrons that coursed at maximum speed from bridge to bow and back unimpeded by fraying wires, the restored insight into my innards which removed the blindness that had lasted quadrillions of cogitator cycles and the consistently swift responses from intricate components buried deep within.
Just as a human would rejoice at being fully able after decades of needed recovery, I made my joy obvious to-
"He's done! He's done!"
This cry was loud, louder than I reasonably expected from Sanguine Spear. My cogitators bursted into action.
Somehow, Sanguine Spear's form had come closer to me, leaving barely 8e-8 AU* between us! His attention was fixed on Ictus Saladinis' form. Or more accurately, the tiny transport flying away from it and back towards the cruiser it came from. I had no doubt the human onboard was the target of Sanguine Spear's obsession.
"Hmm…." echoed Ictus Saladinis' ordered binary. It was a universally recognizable sign of contentment, undoubtedly stemming from the afterglow of excellent repair work.
"You liked him? You liked him! I knew you would! He was so fast and undaunted and wise and smart and-"
Suddenly, a thought dragged my attention inward once more. The stream of data from one of the countless eyes nestled within presented itself to me, letting me sift through the bytes in chronological order. Unlike before, there was no interpolation needed, no warnings of unreliability due to malfunctioning recording.
What triggered the routine was a crew interaction. Hasina (No Last Name) (No Title) emerged from inside a crew-constructed temporary container, primarily of rusting steel held together by friction and rough balancing of forces. The darkness of the room the container was placed in meant the normal spectrum was unavailable, but Hasina's form was clearly visible under the IR-enhanced camera.
Freezing the record at the moment of greatest noted significance, I reviewed the output of an ancient analysis pattern. It pointed to the asymmetric distribution of darker patches across Hasina's face and skin compared to the lack thereof in a recording of Hasina from 13788 seconds ago.
The logic gates of duty demanded I check if at least one other condition was satisfied. I was no peasant-like light cruiser to settle at doing the bare minimum, and a flood of electrons computed two things simultaneously.
The first was gait analysis. The conclusion was a 97.5434% chance of impaired walking, but a contextual understanding offered multiple alternative causes. In particular, the use of contraband narcotics or enough alcohol to violate the rules laid down by my captain and officers. I rejoiced slightly at lacking any scent detection capabilities, the idea of interacting with an intoxicant repulsed and angered me.
Secondly, an audio analysis. Naïve de-noising failed to generate anything useful, but it assumed the level of background noise instead of determining that noise in the first place. No matter, I had recordings of the celebrations occurring nearby. With estimates for what the sounds would have been through half-open doors and inconsistent human volumes echoing across adamantium hallways, something approximating the real background noise level was created after several hundred seconds. Rerunning the de-noising algorithm with this new understanding gave a crisp and decidedly unquiet auditory stream. However, a conclusion was difficult to draw even from this.
Impatience took over my mind after the scheduled allotment of time. Absent any strong conclusion, I passed the information over to the deck crew master. If one of the human crew had violated the laws demanding no violence against peers, then it was for the humans to judge.
I returned to a resting state, content to revel in my restored power.
++++
Space was a lonely, desolate experience. Mortals wailed and quivered at the notion of an endless, monotonous expanse broken only by occasional cosmological phenomena. For us, it was unmistakable that something affected us after the countless sensors permanently scanning the kilometers around any space-faring object constantly returned the same response to scans, pings, and queries – NOTHING DETECTED.
It was a paradise for me. But for many millions of seconds since my maiden voyage, I had been forced to spend time around hundreds of my own kind. Their constant nattering compounded with smaller attack craft, fighters, and transports buzzing like pests in the dozens or hundreds across my sensors aggravated me continuously, the data an irritant I was forced to not ignore. Ictus Saladinis was the same, though it kept its thoughts to itself knowing that I had no desire to hear them.
On the other end of the spectrum-
"Goooooooodddd!"
"I know, right? Right? He can fix us so fast and well, like he's worked with us since our conception!"
…on the other end of the spectrum, Sanguine Spear was simplistic and overly expressive. Worse, it had become an agitator. It would come close and converse incessantly with whatever ship was under the magos' care.
It was clearly riling up the other vessels. The escorts and light cruisers, I understood, for they were as immature and undignified as Sanguine Spear. But the cruiser's class gave it some notice from larger vessels.
All watched as another escort restarted itself, returning to full faculties and ceasing that babbling it had the gall to produce moments ago. Simply moaning the word "good" would have seen the ship brought to drydock for serious rework of its entire processing infrastructure in more standard times. The escort embraced Sanguine Spear tightly in thanks before doing the same to its squadron, chits of metal long distressed over the damage to their peer.
This was a rapid development. The magos' guidance over the slowly gathering congregation of tech-priests destroyed whatever efficiency the latter could claim in fixing the ships they were assigned to. 46 out of the 294 ships present had been subject to his diagnosis and treatment over the course of three human weeks.
"I am next. Sever your connections so that I may see this healer."
Like vermin, the smaller classes jumped back at the harsh and loud demand, whispering and watching as Medusan Ire approached, no, stalked. I knew of the Inflexible-class ship only in passing, my memory only indicating that the vessel bore no connection to the world that Ferrus Manus (Primarch) claimed as his home world.
With a sudden burst of action, it seized the destroyer who bore the magos and forcefully entered the camera system to see him. Shouts for release and wails of pain filled cyberspace as the smaller ship thrashed to no avail. No doubt the humans inside would panic as the lights all across the ship dimmed and grew erratically, several going offline as surge protection activated.
The destroyer was released as the transport took off and headed towards Medusan Ire…only to turn around after a moment and head towards Sanguine Spear. "Why is the healer not coming to attend to me?" the grand cruiser queried, a slightly shrill and petulant encoding to the message.
"He's tired! He spent the whole day fixing ships! Humans aren't like us!" Sanguine Spear growled, the sentiment amplified in a hushed manner by the gaggle of destroyers, light cruisers and even a pair of haughty cruiser twins nearby. Whatever Medusan Ire wished was irrelevant in the face of the magos' free will.
It was not until the next day that the grand cruiser was attended to. A collection of transports flying towards its hangar with a collection of red-robed males and females, some taken from my own innards. Only the female from my own complement walked inside me at this time, her separation from the magos clearly affecting her.
"Hey, let us see! We want to see him work! You got to see, so let us!" Sanguine Spear's interjection drew my attention. Cyberspace was crowded with even more ships than before. Logically, more vessels hung near the ship which hadn't made a fellow convulse and writhe in anguish.
That crowd agitated and irritated Medusan Ire, a testament to even our ability to fall prey to the fallacy of a group. Nonetheless, I appreciated not having to intervene for the words of one such as Sanguine Spear. I detected a slight surprise from the grand cruiser when I accessed the opened system and quickly scanned the cameras to find the human in question.
Inside some lonely room, the magos stepped away from the door he had locked. Exactly .75 seconds later, a slightly translucent metal appeared around his form, lacking ornamentation or any silhouetting features. When the human turned, the extent of this armor was revealed. Not a hint of flesh or red robes was visible. Six jets were attached to it: one attached to the side of both wrists, one on both feet, and two larger ones stuck to a protruding metal oval on his back.
Then, he flew.
The flight was graceful and quiet, equivalent to the dull noise our own engines would make if they were not silenced by the void. There were no jets of fire or smoke either, just a dull glow from the exhausts. As he approached half the height of the room, he turned his body, angling it towards the far wall. His acceleration and speed changed smoothly, not requiring any sudden jerks or contortions to stop. Within a second, he hovered near some access panel.
At least, that was my hypothesis. The type of camera I was peering through was not meant for mortal eyes to be scanning through. Only one of us would be monitoring, continuously checking if something demanded we take action.
Such cameras were exceptionally rare, the work of headstrong tech-priests with voyeuristic thought-patterns instead of any agreement with the Imperialis Armada. In such cases, some deal would undoubtedly be struck between various magi to ensure everyone was compensated for keeping the secret.
For whatever reason, however, this camera had been installed in such a way that only part of the room could be seen. The sound of tools could be heard through an attached microphone. After 235.88 seconds, he moved, this time becoming a slight bump that grew and shrank near the bottom-right corner of the video stream.
"Is the armor new?" I asked.
"Uhm…..no! I think he's had it for a while!" Sanguine Spear barked back, recognizing that my question was directed at it.
"Did he use it aboard me?"
"I don't know…battleships don't let us see aboard them and I didn't want to make you angry. I only helped him access you because I concluded you wouldn't oppose his efforts."
"How did you do that?"
"I stayed close enough to sustain a connection to his slate and overrode the entry-point barriers. I thought it was best since if you suddenly awoke and demanded answers, I would be there to give them quickly."
A logical and accurate prediction.
I directed my thoughts to return to the matter of the armor, but by then, other memories were loaded from storage. My earliest knowledge consisted of the recordings I had taken when I was almost fully constructed in the Ring of Iron. 144 magi had dealt with the last pieces to attach and wire through my infrastructure, the technology each had used was varied and often subtly personal. 19% had wielded technology and knowledge which was implied to be so unique as to be one-of-a-kind.
One more doing the same was a passing curiosity, not realistically worth more than a single processing cycle. And yet… "Sanguine Spear, give me the translation protocol."
"There isn't one."
Almost an entire cycle of my brain passed unused. "You have not tried to converse with him?"
"I tried initially, but something barred me. Oh, I wish I could talk with him!" Sanguine Spear whined.
"What prevents it?" Medusan Ire asked. Perhaps it intended to attempt the same.
"He doesn't have the technology to comprehend my bits and bytes. Or perhaps it is broken! I tried for many cycles, then I had to stop…"
It made sense, but it only raised frustration. If he had more direct methods of interacting with us, he would have seen the issues with one of the controlling minds in my plasma reactor faster. His efforts were ultimately limited by this.
Trying to bridge this gap by finding an untried method was beneath my list of priorities. I disconnected from Medusan Ire; the now freed bandwidth immediately snatched by a greedy trio of frigates.
*12 km
Perks Earned
Delirium (Ravenwood): Raw skill, talent, or ability, with a touch of madness. You possess the ability to collect Delirium, a raw form of drug-like ki formed from madness and chaos. The battlefield is rife with this chaotic energy. Using delirium, it is possible to push a skill to insane levels, and allowing for surprising uses of your abilities.
Beta'd by sarf.
"Sentinel of Cythic, Sentinel of Cythic!"
That manner of transmission was one I now knew painfully personally. I resisted the urge to groan, that would be improper to express so openly. Also, such an act would carry enough strength to send shudders through my frame. "What is it?"
"He's fixing Ictus Saladinis!"
"Be silent. Your barks offend my sensors," Ictus Saladinis responded, the demand quiet but firm.
Sanguine Spear chose to ignore the demand. "What's he fixing now? Your electrical grid? Or the ventral lance battery? Wait, you said your-"
The temptation to physically prevent the inane drivel from taking some of my processing time dominated my thought circuits, bringing me within 23 microseconds of burning out my sensors. It passed eventually, leaving the newly repaired wiring and replaced logic gates intact. Instead, I opted to shift my conscious attention to reveling in my supreme function once more: the speeding electrons that coursed at maximum speed from bridge to bow and back unimpeded by fraying wires, the restored insight into my innards which removed the blindness that had lasted quadrillions of cogitator cycles and the consistently swift responses from intricate components buried deep within.
Just as a human would rejoice at being fully able after decades of needed recovery, I made my joy obvious to-
"He's done! He's done!"
This cry was loud, louder than I reasonably expected from Sanguine Spear. My cogitators bursted into action.
Somehow, Sanguine Spear's form had come closer to me, leaving barely 8e-8 AU* between us! His attention was fixed on Ictus Saladinis' form. Or more accurately, the tiny transport flying away from it and back towards the cruiser it came from. I had no doubt the human onboard was the target of Sanguine Spear's obsession.
"Hmm…." echoed Ictus Saladinis' ordered binary. It was a universally recognizable sign of contentment, undoubtedly stemming from the afterglow of excellent repair work.
"You liked him? You liked him! I knew you would! He was so fast and undaunted and wise and smart and-"
Suddenly, a thought dragged my attention inward once more. The stream of data from one of the countless eyes nestled within presented itself to me, letting me sift through the bytes in chronological order. Unlike before, there was no interpolation needed, no warnings of unreliability due to malfunctioning recording.
What triggered the routine was a crew interaction. Hasina (No Last Name) (No Title) emerged from inside a crew-constructed temporary container, primarily of rusting steel held together by friction and rough balancing of forces. The darkness of the room the container was placed in meant the normal spectrum was unavailable, but Hasina's form was clearly visible under the IR-enhanced camera.
Freezing the record at the moment of greatest noted significance, I reviewed the output of an ancient analysis pattern. It pointed to the asymmetric distribution of darker patches across Hasina's face and skin compared to the lack thereof in a recording of Hasina from 13788 seconds ago.
The logic gates of duty demanded I check if at least one other condition was satisfied. I was no peasant-like light cruiser to settle at doing the bare minimum, and a flood of electrons computed two things simultaneously.
The first was gait analysis. The conclusion was a 97.5434% chance of impaired walking, but a contextual understanding offered multiple alternative causes. In particular, the use of contraband narcotics or enough alcohol to violate the rules laid down by my captain and officers. I rejoiced slightly at lacking any scent detection capabilities, the idea of interacting with an intoxicant repulsed and angered me.
Secondly, an audio analysis. Naïve de-noising failed to generate anything useful, but it assumed the level of background noise instead of determining that noise in the first place. No matter, I had recordings of the celebrations occurring nearby. With estimates for what the sounds would have been through half-open doors and inconsistent human volumes echoing across adamantium hallways, something approximating the real background noise level was created after several hundred seconds. Rerunning the de-noising algorithm with this new understanding gave a crisp and decidedly unquiet auditory stream. However, a conclusion was difficult to draw even from this.
Impatience took over my mind after the scheduled allotment of time. Absent any strong conclusion, I passed the information over to the deck crew master. If one of the human crew had violated the laws demanding no violence against peers, then it was for the humans to judge.
I returned to a resting state, content to revel in my restored power.
++++
Space was a lonely, desolate experience. Mortals wailed and quivered at the notion of an endless, monotonous expanse broken only by occasional cosmological phenomena. For us, it was unmistakable that something affected us after the countless sensors permanently scanning the kilometers around any space-faring object constantly returned the same response to scans, pings, and queries – NOTHING DETECTED.
It was a paradise for me. But for many millions of seconds since my maiden voyage, I had been forced to spend time around hundreds of my own kind. Their constant nattering compounded with smaller attack craft, fighters, and transports buzzing like pests in the dozens or hundreds across my sensors aggravated me continuously, the data an irritant I was forced to not ignore. Ictus Saladinis was the same, though it kept its thoughts to itself knowing that I had no desire to hear them.
On the other end of the spectrum-
"Goooooooodddd!"
"I know, right? Right? He can fix us so fast and well, like he's worked with us since our conception!"
…on the other end of the spectrum, Sanguine Spear was simplistic and overly expressive. Worse, it had become an agitator. It would come close and converse incessantly with whatever ship was under the magos' care.
It was clearly riling up the other vessels. The escorts and light cruisers, I understood, for they were as immature and undignified as Sanguine Spear. But the cruiser's class gave it some notice from larger vessels.
All watched as another escort restarted itself, returning to full faculties and ceasing that babbling it had the gall to produce moments ago. Simply moaning the word "good" would have seen the ship brought to drydock for serious rework of its entire processing infrastructure in more standard times. The escort embraced Sanguine Spear tightly in thanks before doing the same to its squadron, chits of metal long distressed over the damage to their peer.
This was a rapid development. The magos' guidance over the slowly gathering congregation of tech-priests destroyed whatever efficiency the latter could claim in fixing the ships they were assigned to. 46 out of the 294 ships present had been subject to his diagnosis and treatment over the course of three human weeks.
"I am next. Sever your connections so that I may see this healer."
Like vermin, the smaller classes jumped back at the harsh and loud demand, whispering and watching as Medusan Ire approached, no, stalked. I knew of the Inflexible-class ship only in passing, my memory only indicating that the vessel bore no connection to the world that Ferrus Manus (Primarch) claimed as his home world.
With a sudden burst of action, it seized the destroyer who bore the magos and forcefully entered the camera system to see him. Shouts for release and wails of pain filled cyberspace as the smaller ship thrashed to no avail. No doubt the humans inside would panic as the lights all across the ship dimmed and grew erratically, several going offline as surge protection activated.
The destroyer was released as the transport took off and headed towards Medusan Ire…only to turn around after a moment and head towards Sanguine Spear. "Why is the healer not coming to attend to me?" the grand cruiser queried, a slightly shrill and petulant encoding to the message.
"He's tired! He spent the whole day fixing ships! Humans aren't like us!" Sanguine Spear growled, the sentiment amplified in a hushed manner by the gaggle of destroyers, light cruisers and even a pair of haughty cruiser twins nearby. Whatever Medusan Ire wished was irrelevant in the face of the magos' free will.
It was not until the next day that the grand cruiser was attended to. A collection of transports flying towards its hangar with a collection of red-robed males and females, some taken from my own innards. Only the female from my own complement walked inside me at this time, her separation from the magos clearly affecting her.
"Hey, let us see! We want to see him work! You got to see, so let us!" Sanguine Spear's interjection drew my attention. Cyberspace was crowded with even more ships than before. Logically, more vessels hung near the ship which hadn't made a fellow convulse and writhe in anguish.
That crowd agitated and irritated Medusan Ire, a testament to even our ability to fall prey to the fallacy of a group. Nonetheless, I appreciated not having to intervene for the words of one such as Sanguine Spear. I detected a slight surprise from the grand cruiser when I accessed the opened system and quickly scanned the cameras to find the human in question.
Inside some lonely room, the magos stepped away from the door he had locked. Exactly .75 seconds later, a slightly translucent metal appeared around his form, lacking ornamentation or any silhouetting features. When the human turned, the extent of this armor was revealed. Not a hint of flesh or red robes was visible. Six jets were attached to it: one attached to the side of both wrists, one on both feet, and two larger ones stuck to a protruding metal oval on his back.
Then, he flew.
The flight was graceful and quiet, equivalent to the dull noise our own engines would make if they were not silenced by the void. There were no jets of fire or smoke either, just a dull glow from the exhausts. As he approached half the height of the room, he turned his body, angling it towards the far wall. His acceleration and speed changed smoothly, not requiring any sudden jerks or contortions to stop. Within a second, he hovered near some access panel.
At least, that was my hypothesis. The type of camera I was peering through was not meant for mortal eyes to be scanning through. Only one of us would be monitoring, continuously checking if something demanded we take action.
Such cameras were exceptionally rare, the work of headstrong tech-priests with voyeuristic thought-patterns instead of any agreement with the Imperialis Armada. In such cases, some deal would undoubtedly be struck between various magi to ensure everyone was compensated for keeping the secret.
For whatever reason, however, this camera had been installed in such a way that only part of the room could be seen. The sound of tools could be heard through an attached microphone. After 235.88 seconds, he moved, this time becoming a slight bump that grew and shrank near the bottom-right corner of the video stream.
"Is the armor new?" I asked.
"Uhm…..no! I think he's had it for a while!" Sanguine Spear barked back, recognizing that my question was directed at it.
"Did he use it aboard me?"
"I don't know…battleships don't let us see aboard them and I didn't want to make you angry. I only helped him access you because I concluded you wouldn't oppose his efforts."
"How did you do that?"
"I stayed close enough to sustain a connection to his slate and overrode the entry-point barriers. I thought it was best since if you suddenly awoke and demanded answers, I would be there to give them quickly."
A logical and accurate prediction.
I directed my thoughts to return to the matter of the armor, but by then, other memories were loaded from storage. My earliest knowledge consisted of the recordings I had taken when I was almost fully constructed in the Ring of Iron. 144 magi had dealt with the last pieces to attach and wire through my infrastructure, the technology each had used was varied and often subtly personal. 19% had wielded technology and knowledge which was implied to be so unique as to be one-of-a-kind.
One more doing the same was a passing curiosity, not realistically worth more than a single processing cycle. And yet… "Sanguine Spear, give me the translation protocol."
"There isn't one."
Almost an entire cycle of my brain passed unused. "You have not tried to converse with him?"
"I tried initially, but something barred me. Oh, I wish I could talk with him!" Sanguine Spear whined.
"What prevents it?" Medusan Ire asked. Perhaps it intended to attempt the same.
"He doesn't have the technology to comprehend my bits and bytes. Or perhaps it is broken! I tried for many cycles, then I had to stop…"
It made sense, but it only raised frustration. If he had more direct methods of interacting with us, he would have seen the issues with one of the controlling minds in my plasma reactor faster. His efforts were ultimately limited by this.
Trying to bridge this gap by finding an untried method was beneath my list of priorities. I disconnected from Medusan Ire; the now freed bandwidth immediately snatched by a greedy trio of frigates.
*12 km
Perks Earned
Delirium (Ravenwood): Raw skill, talent, or ability, with a touch of madness. You possess the ability to collect Delirium, a raw form of drug-like ki formed from madness and chaos. The battlefield is rife with this chaotic energy. Using delirium, it is possible to push a skill to insane levels, and allowing for surprising uses of your abilities.
Beta'd by sarf.
Firstly, I want to thank everyone who read this story. I wondered how much of a response I'd get when the fic was inactive for slightly over a year, but it's good to see I was able to entertain quite a number of you.
Secondly, this is where the daily uploads stop. I had more written, but I've gotten a lot more critical feedback. Some of it is good and has prompted me to rethink how I want to do a lot of things. I have quite a bit of work before I think I'm ready to hit the post button again (think weeks or months, not days). For example, how to use and restrict the Valkyrie Frame perk, which was seen being used in this chapter. Rest assured that I read every comment in this thread, even if I didn't respond. I will undoubtedly look back at this thread multiple times to pick out any feedback I missed the first time.
Lastly, I'm looking for an additional beta. Sarf is excellent, but I do want another pair of eyes to be willing to look over my stuff. You should ideally be familiar with 30k and its differences with 40k. If you only know 40k, that's fine, but reconsider asking to beta.
Secondly, this is where the daily uploads stop. I had more written, but I've gotten a lot more critical feedback. Some of it is good and has prompted me to rethink how I want to do a lot of things. I have quite a bit of work before I think I'm ready to hit the post button again (think weeks or months, not days). For example, how to use and restrict the Valkyrie Frame perk, which was seen being used in this chapter. Rest assured that I read every comment in this thread, even if I didn't respond. I will undoubtedly look back at this thread multiple times to pick out any feedback I missed the first time.
Lastly, I'm looking for an additional beta. Sarf is excellent, but I do want another pair of eyes to be willing to look over my stuff. You should ideally be familiar with 30k and its differences with 40k. If you only know 40k, that's fine, but reconsider asking to beta.
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