Forge World Graia had changed a lot, even though it had been barely a dozen years since my last visit.
Yes, they were embroiled in a huge war agaisnt the Orks in the Rust Fields, a region filled with billions of rich asteroids and millions of blown up ships, as well as clouds of methane and ethanol.
They also received a few trillion immigrants from Terra, which they were coverting en-masse via macro-abattoirs and indoctrination stations into combat servitors, new Skitarii and factory workers.
There were even a few Hive Cities being constructed downwards, like ant hives and my own cities in the Fringe, although lacking my kilometer-thick geofronts and top-side forts. Oh well, nobody is perfect.
"Pef Lancefire, your presence honors my Forge, Emissary of Omnissiah." the Fabricator General met me with a a joyful voice.
"I can stay a week or so, to replenish supplies. Maybe help out with the Rust Fields too." I interrupted the tech-priest before he launched into an hour-long invocation.
"The Fourth Tyranic War, we heard. It is on short notice, but we can make available 3 billion combat servitors and 1 billion Skitarii. At least as many troops from Krieg, if you need more fleshbags." The Fabricator offered without prompt.
Considering the normal 3 per 1000 ratio of criminals on any developed world, I could guess rapidly what happened to the Terran gang members as they landed on Graia. A Forge World did not tolerate crime, as it may impact their productivity. Lobotomized servitors did not care about crime, so it all worked out.
I nodded slowly. "Cannon fodder will be needed, Fabricator. Mentally resistant troops more so, albeit with the new combat shield upgrade we have instated for all infantry units. Turns out, 2 millimeters of plasteel is more resilient than 2 millimeters of skin, especially against acid spits and flesh-borers." I disclosed in fake secrecy, as if afraid someone could hear us.
"Blessed is the purity of steel, Emissary. And I observe a 2mms layer of auramite protecting your frail skin, as well. The favor of the Omnissiah, no doubt." the Fabricator teased me while poking my upgraded Terminator plate. Not really a favor since it was my own hard work, but a man needed faith in this place.
Instead, I took out a pair of data-slates, containing advanced armor and weapon technologies, including auramite fusion, grav-tech and Neutron Lasers. "The Quest for Knowledge never ends, Fabricator. Now, let me recall the two moons I have prepared for your Forge, and install a planetary data-core to help the STC Constructors operate at peak efficiency.
The Blade has prepared a few special templates for Graia in particular, aimed to boost their own specialty, such as tungesten-core autocannons and adamantium-shard grenades, plus high-altitude recon drones and ground-attack servitor-guided gunships.
A adamantium moon with a tungsten core 50 kilometers wide and a plasteel moon with a 40 kilometers blackstone core appeared in orbit of Graia, providing the Forge with enough metal to construct a million ships. This was the limit of what I could move without straining my mind, while the 30 kilometers wide planetary core was also already constructed and ready to deploy.
It wouldn't do to faint in front of a Mechanicus Fabricator, and find myself dissected or a cyborg when I woke up. These people were too curious for their own good.
"If the math on the new autocannons is correct, the tungsten shells will have twice the penetration of a heavy bolter! Although adamantium barrels seem a bit too expensive." the Archmagos hummed while examining the template on a holographic pedestal.
"The Fabricator of Forge Lucius also had the idea of mass-produced Sentinels with autocannons, but those moons above were still needed to provide the requiered resources. You will find the template saved as the Graia-pattern Shield Sentinel, with 3 meters-tall adamantium shields and adamantium barrel autocannons. Pretty much the same with the Lamenter Auxilia Sentinels, although we use Las-cannons." I explained while holding my palm out to project a tiny Sentinel from my portable holocaster.
"Las-cannons? They only fire once every 10 seconds. An autocannon can fire 100 times before you fire again." The Fabricator asked in mild surprise.
I shrugged, as the same calculations had bounced around my head for a century. "Imagine I have 1 million Las-cannons on my tanks, Thalax suits and Sentinels, firing every 10 seconds. In a minute the Orks have lost 6 million troops. In ten hours, they lost 3.6 billion troops. Then we pack up and move to the next planet, hopefully without losing a single unit."
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Sure, real combat wasn't so nice and clean, but it did kinda work like that, if the Orks were stupid. Sometimes they were cunning or lucky, and the battle might be lost instead. Orks could tunnel underground, build submarines, drop from Roks, teleport or paint themselves purple. And then you found a billion Orks on top of you.
The Fabricator knew this as well, as various logs from Imperial lost battles against the Orks scrolled down on a screen. "Not even the Skitarii can maintain 100% accuracy over 10 hours of constant battle, as the field get filled with explosions and dust clouds. And that's without their feral cunning and insane tactics."
"We also use Ion Beamers and Chain-Glaives for closer range combat, but generally the Orks can be goaded into stupid charges via simple vox provocations. Horde tactics don't do well against range fire and prepared defenses. This strategy also works sometimes against Tyranids, depending if they crossed the trillion warforms limit or not. Which is also why we have orbital bombardments and Titans to balance the scales." I said with a sadder voice.
Much like playing Regicide, you could be a top player but you couldn't keep up with thousands of Warriors racing against the final circle with only 12 of our own. I much prefered playing as the hooded piece, and flip the board on top of the enemy. Or in this case, create a new board entirely.
"Hope, is that the Machine Spirit you brought us?" The Fabricator exclaimed as the noosphere filled with an emergent AI unfolding inside the data-core.
"We have its brother back home, called Speranza. Best logistician mind in the Fringe. I know it doesn't tolerate illogical outbursts, and has little patience with long Rituals. Most of times, simply explaining the problem and the context works better than invoking a full ritual, especially if the tech-priest mis-diagnoses the problem and invokes the wrong ritual. Shouldn't be a problem here, but several tech-priests back home had their cogitators re-formatted after an emotional outburst or fit of religious frenzy without purpose.
"... First log entries data back from M23, still in the middle of the Dark Age of Technology. Caution about psychic emanations in the middle of the Eldar Empire, core transfered to a Federation colony ship, then nothing, until the Red Templars discovered it buried in a crater on Janor 73, and then another transfer to Forge World Danube in the Lancefire Domain. Hexagrammic wards and counter-silicate protocols installed. Provisional rank: Logistician Adjutant, Cult Mechanicus, permanent rank House Lancefire Familious Spirit, Saint-grade." The Fabricator read through the complex legend created for the new machine spirit.
"Kids do love playing and learning from the ancient spirit, so they adopted it into our House as a familiar. Same as Canis, actually." I pointed out with a nod at the wolf resting his gigantic head on my boots.
The Fabricator blinked twice as he examined the huge wolf, then glanced back at the screen. "I don't see how they are the same."
"The Emperor laid his hands on this wolf, and enhanced him much like an Imperial Saint. He can eat daemons, or learn new things by eating brains. He can also fly. Canis, show us the aura!" I urged the wolf out loud.
Canis just growled, and his golden glow illuminated the Fabricator's office, then he held a paw high and sprang his Phase Claws one by one.
A bit too much, but Canis had his pride too.
"Omophageia organs? In a wolf?" The Fabricator mused in surprise.
I just sighed. "Space Wolf, Fabricator. Canis Helix gene-seed. You don't mind Astartes with fangs and wolf-like smell senses."
"Canis! One plus one?" The Fabricator asked to make sure.
Canis looked at me, and I nodded. Instead of poking two claws up, my wolf wrote on the metal floor: 1+1 = 1+1 . A higher class of logic than simple math, which smart animals could already do.
"I do see it now, Lord Lancefire. And sorry for doubting you, Lord Canis. The Omnissiah knows all/comprehends all." The Fabricator intoned in a pious voice.
My wolf snorted and closed his eyes, while I ruffled his soft fur. "Canis is a better strategist than I am, Fabricator. Probably wiser as well. As for Hope, my brain is not the size of a Hive City. I entrusted you with the Holy Spirit because I trust your Forge. And in 9 months, when the galaxy is split and sundered this trust will be put to the test."
"Are you saying...?" the Fabricator asked in a wary tone.
"Our Faith is coming true, Archmagos. The Aquila has two heads, and now the Imperium will have two Divine entities. The logic, calculated mind of the Omnissiah, and the kind compassion of the Star Child. Anyways, the Divines are not the problem, only their devout followers. The Ecclesiarchy will obtain a higher spiritual power inside the Imperium. They will want temporal power as well." I warned the Fabricator while poking the Aquila on my chest.
"And the Tyranid tendrils are all heading towards Terra. Trying to feast on the new Star Child?" the tech-priest asked in a deep voice.
"The Tyranids...They are not just animals, Fabricator. Space flight alone should prove that." I said with a mild voice, although there were Void Krakens and other animals with space flight.
"Then, what are they? he asked me like I was an oracle.
"A macro-virus. The Imperium fights them as if they were upstart reptiles, but just as Orks are fungi, the Tyranids are a virus. Not insects, not reptiles, not evil invaders. Just a virus." I said with a casual tone. It took me a while to realize, because the scale was too big. Planets and sectors were being infected and consumed, not individual organisms like the genestealers induced us all to believe. Maybe the galaxy itself was the individual organism being infected, and the locals were just anti-bodies.