Callex’s expression hardened beneath his helm, his voice a low growl. “How many of you are there?”

Guide’s cool blue light pulsed as he answered. “There are millions of us.”

Callex’s armored fist clenched, his patience fraying. But before he could press further, Chi glided smoothly between them, casting a glance at Guide.

“I think,” she said with a dry humor to her tone, “you misunderstood the question again, brother.” Turning her violet sensor toward Callex, she continued. “The question you meant to ask was how many of us ‘Protocols’ there are, yes?”

“Yes,” Callex replied, his tone sharp.

Chi’s light pulsed as she answered, her voice calm. “In total, there are six Protocols aboard A.R.K. My brothers: Guide, Ratchet, and Arsenal. And my sisters: Nurse, Cher, and myself, The Archivist, whom you may call Chi.”

Ambrosius took a step closer, his gaze calculating. “And what roles do these others fulfill?”

“Ratchet,” Chi explained, “oversees all things related to engineering and production. Arsenal handles security, weapons, and all military assets onboard. And Cher, our scientist, is…” She paused, almost amused, “our resident ‘nerd,’ as you might say.”

Ambrosius and Callex exchanged a look of wary intrigue, their bolters still lowered but at the ready. The vast, empty halls, the silence, the echo of their own boots—the picture was slowly forming, yet the core remained elusive.

Callex’s voice was edged as he asked, “And where does A.R.K. fit into all this?”

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Chi’s sensor brightened. “A.R.K. is, in a way, our father. But, if you want specifics, he is our source code.”

Both Space Marines tensed, bolters lifting in reflexive distrust. “Are you saying A.R.K. is an A.I.?” Callex demanded, his voice hard and unforgiving.

Chi paused, her core dimming slightly before she replied. “Yes… and no.”

Ambrosius narrowed his gaze, pressing, “What do you mean by that?”

“A.R.K. is what the Confederated Nations of Earth called a Proto-Intelligence, or P.I.,” Chi answered smoothly.

Ambrosius and Callex exchanged a confused glance. The term was foreign, unfamiliar, even to their extensive training. The idea of a sentient machine, much less one governing the sheer size and complexity of this station, stirred an unease in them both.

Callex’s voice was terse. “What does that mean exactly?”

Chi’s response was patient, almost like a tutor explaining a delicate concept to a child. “When A.I. research began advancing, early researchers noticed an issue: pure artificial intelligences lacked the depth of human emotional balance, often leading them to self-destruct, or—” her tone darkened slightly, “go rogue, disregarding all human life in merciless rampages. To counteract this, they developed Proto-Intelligence, a hybridized solution.” She paused, as though giving weight to her words. “They paired the computational power of a machine with the emotional depth of a human. Simply put, they linked a human mind to the machine, merging them.”

The Space Marines stood, absorbing the unsettling revelation. For them, the concept felt uncomfortably akin to the ancient Dreadnoughts—space marines who, even in death, were entombed in massive armor to continue their service, a life suspended between man and machine.

“So,” Ambrosius asked slowly, his gaze piercing, “a human controls A.R.K.?”

“Controls is a broad term,” Chi answered, her tone carefully neutral. “But yes, there is a human element, though calling them merely human is open to interpretation.”

Ambrosius and Callex exchanged another glance, the suspicion in their eyes deepening. This revelation painted A.R.K. as something far stranger and more complex than they’d imagined.

A long silence settled over the group as they processed this information.