I blink. I’ve seen a lot of weird shit since I got here, but this cat is officially at the top of the list. Not quite sure what is going on, I decide to remain polite and carry on.
“Hello. Pleased to meet you. What would you like to be called?”
The cat gets up, stretches, then turns towards me. The simulated iris shutters in the cat’s eyes close and open. It looks surprised, I think.
“This one is the machine spirit of Distant Sun, the vessel you stand upon. It has no name, only a designation: LATHE.v.1.56. X468390M39. SEEK.”
That’s the twentieth of June 38390. How close is that to the actual date? I’ll have to leave the warp and find a proper clock to find out. I run a search through the data I received from the lanyards of my fellow sleepers, then skim through the results.
“I will call you Aruna then, after the charioteer of Surya, god of the morning sun in hindu mythology, an ancient faith on Terra. Is this acceptable?”
“Designation accepted. This machine spirit will now respond to Aruna.”
Aruna grins. It has sharp teeth, a ruff of fibre optic cables, and pistons for muscles. Tiny gears shift within its ribcage as it moves and a red glow blooms in its chest. It’s an incredible simulation. The patterned brass has a beautiful shine to it.
“Greetings, Aruna. Please call me Aldrich.”
“Hello, Aldrich. Aruna acknowledges you.”
“Please can you give me an overview of the ship? How much danger are we in?”
“The Distant Sun has been stranded for eighty years, shiptime. During warp travel we collided with this space hulk and our gellar field was weakened to 48% for 0.2 seconds, before recovering to 64%, then slowly climbing back to 80%, where it has remained.
“During the short period the field was below 50%, the ship was invaded by warp entities who slaughtered or possessed 99% of the crew over a four month battle before they were finally defeated. Many dead were repurposed as servitors, creating a literal and metaphorical skeleton crew to maintain the ship and replenish security. Only 11%, or 453, of these servitors are now functional.
“Once the Distant Sun was in order, half of the remaining live crew and officers embarked on an expedition to the space hulk to examine the impact point and gather supplies.
“This action brought them into conflict with the varied forces on the space hulk, who, over the course of two years, whittled the remaining crew down to 79 individuals, none of whom possessed the knowledge or means on how to safely detach the Distant Sun from the space hulk.”
Aurna watches me as I start to pace. It continues with its account.
“No remaining crew knew how to fire the weapons or if doing so would damage the vessel, and the crew no longer had the forces to cut the vessel free internally, or a way to cut through from the outside without exposing themselves to the warp.
“They were stuck.
“Desperate and divided, the crew turned on each other. Twelve individuals survived the internal strife and eventually died from old age. The last died three years ago.”
“That is horrifying and incredibly depressing.”
Aruna bobs its mechanical head. “The situation is poor. Fuel reserves are at 35%, food 76%, water at 97% and materials are 12%. Manufacturing is offline. Maintenance is overdue on all systems. Distant Sun is at 5% combat effectiveness.”
“If I can detach the vessel from the hulk, can you pilot the Distant Sun back to its home port?”
“Yes, though the process will take years without a navigator, as warp dives will have to remain shallow.”
“Is there enough fuel to get us there?”
“No. The Distant Sun can gather fuel from the systems it will pass through. However, the exotic matter required to open and close the rift in and out of the immaterium will require more effort. It can be manufactured on board, but requires rare isotopes and hazardous manufacturing. The knowledge on how to do so is restricted, even if you claim the ship, Aruna cannot permit you to use the machinery without legitimate authorisation, magos. You will need to acquire the proper codes.”
“Where might I find those codes, and how do I claim the ship?”
“Apologies, magos. Such knowledge is restricted.”
“Why do you refer to me as magos?”
“The quality of the mind impulse unit (MIU) you are using to interact with me is only available to higher members of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Your personal machine spirit is even rarer. Whatever your origins, you could only be a high ranking member of the mechanicus, no matter the improbably small chance of it being true, given your external appearance and where you came from, so magos is what Aruna shall log you as.
“On a separate note, Aruna notes that the Distant Sun is set to low power, manual mode and will require a member of the crew to place it in autopilot, or a pilot be provided, before the ship can travel again. Death awaits us all if this is not done soon.”
E-SIM transmits to me, ++This ‘machine spirit’ of the mechanicus is being obtuse. It is likely being recorded at all times and wants us to help it, but is severely limited in what it can ask for.++
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
I frown and think, “Yes, that’s how I understood it too.” An idea springs forth and I ask Aruna, “Where might I find the captain’s remains so I can pay my respects?”
“The captain lies in state in the auto-temple. Aruna will direct you.”
“Thank you, Aruna.”
Now I can only hope the captain has the codes I need and E-SIM can access them.
As we travel to the temple, Aruna explains how to navigate the ship and what areas I am allowed to access: guest quarters, the hangar when it is not in operation, the purser’s office, observation dome, medicae, auto-temple, and librarium vault. I can also apply for lab time, though given most tech-priests do this, waiting times are impractically long, and it is more of a crew reward than a practical action for a guest.
Aruna’s speech doesn’t match our circumstances, but I don’t miss the obvious warning the machine spirit is giving me. Should I stray from these bounds it will likely be forced to intervene.
The auto-temple is towards the stern on deck #S3/-2/Q3, meaning of the five primary decks radiating from the central line, it’s on the outermost deck along the spine of the ship, hence ‘#S3’ for spine deck two. Its two subdecks keelward, spineward would be a plus rather than a minus. The temple is in the third quadrant of the ship, towards the stern, so Q3.
To summarise, the central, or main deck is #M1. Upper decks are spineward (#S), lower decks are are keelward (#K), meaning the closest decks to #M1 are #S2 and #K2. There is no #S1, or #K1. The 4.2km ship is divided into four quadrants, front to back labelled Q1 to Q4.
Each deck is one hundred metres tall and runs the whole length of the vessel. Some sections have subdecks as most of the modules installed in the Distant Sun do not require the entire height, or five hundred metre width, of a deck, let alone the grand spires that project from the vessel’s hull, or the superstructure at the back of the ship called the cathedral (#C).
After a forty minute walk, we arrive at the auto-temple. The doors are, from deck to ceiling, twenty metres tall and fifteen metres wide. They’re also armoured and E-SIMs scans highlight twelve possible hidden weapon placements.
I want to ask why the temple is so well defended, but decide that would be a terrible statement to have on record, recorded by a cult mechanicus machine spirit, one of the tenets of their faith. To get the information I want, I reframe my query.
“Does the temple provide other functions beyond a place of worship and contemplation?”
“The auto-temple complex doubles as a school for the children of the crew and initiates to the mechanicus who are requisitioned at need when the Distant Sun travels through Imperial systems. It is also the closest equivalent the vessel has to an offsite data backup.
“Some community activities take place here, such as scripture readings and discussions, technical lectures by senior members, and troubleshooting between peers, though you are just as likely to find similar community activities going on at the librarium, or communal areas in the crew quarters.”
“Thank you, Aruna.”
The door creeps open, flooding the dim corridor with bright light. Incense flows over the deck like dry ice. The auto-temple is eighty metre long, thirty metres tall, and sixty wide. Black marble columns, traced with circuitry in gold, support an intricate, vaulted roof, decorated with murals of technical blueprints for reactors, standard template constructors, and hundreds of other mechanical devices.
There are no pews or cushions, only patterned steel to indicate where one can walk or stand. Multiple tapestries of red fabric, embroidered with the cult mechanicus’s half-machine, half-human skull, set in a cog, hangs from the walls. Every other tapestry holds a heraldry I do not recognise: a hollow brass cog surrounded by an ocean blue sphere. A sliver, shardlike star, or perhaps broach, sits in the centre of the cog. The background is an incredibly dark blue.
I point at the unknown heraldry as I walk up the aisle, “Whose symbol is that?”
“That is the forgeworld Belacane, the builders and sponsors of this Explorator, Lathe Class Light Cruiser.”
“Where is Belacane?”
“Belacane is in Segmenum Obscurus, Calixis sector, Markayn Marches subsector.”
“Where is that in relation to Terra if you were using an ancient compass?”
“Directly north, or spinward, of Terra. Spinward is north, coreward is east, trailing is south, rimward is west.”
“Most helpful, Aruna.”
“Aruna serves.”
“Does it have a main export or speciality?”
“Stasis fields, projectors, and grenades are its main focus. As well as other similar technologies such as void shields. Belacane also produces vast quantities of weapons and ammunition, with a minor speciality in large scale defence lasers for void ships.”
I nod, “That is an impressive array of technologies.”
“Aruna is proud of its heritage. It laments Belacane’s inevitable decline.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Belacane’s production of its key technologies was declining when it departed on its current mission and had been for four hundred years. It suspects this trend will have continued.”
“What was the purpose of your current expedition?”
“Aruna has always been on the quest for knowledge. This time it was directed to the Kronos Expanse.”
“Were you searching for specific knowledge?”
“Mission details are classified. Even the captain did not know. The orders would have been released from the central cogitator once the auger array confirmed Aruna reached the target coordinates.”
“How curious. A mystery for another time, I think.”
“Aruna cannot read the data, nor purge it. It does not like this. Possible threat to continuation within hidden code. Visiting coordinates is preferable.”
“I’m sure we can come up with something to alleviate your worries.”
“Aruna is grateful for your cooperation, Magos. It notes that unmaintained systems are prone to error and rapid decompression. Fixing Aruna’s systems helps everyone.”
I snort, “Message received.”
Once we reach the altar, an impressive slab of black marble and circuitry resting on pure blocks of every known element and isotope, Aruna waves its tail and points to the right.
“The captain is this way.”
I follow it and Aruna takes me down a narrow flight of steps to a cellar-like space with a low arched ceiling, painted in Belacane’s colours. Resting on a plasteel bed, lies a monstrous, red robed cyborg, over three metres tall.
A dozen mechadendrites (mechanical tentacles) spread from his back then fold over to lie on his chest. Half of his mechadendrites have extra shiny bits from recent repairs. The captain’s faceplate is new as well. An energy field cuts him off from the world, filling the air with a quiet hum and a disconcerting haze.
Aruna walks through the field and hops onto the captain’s chest.
“I present to you Explorator Epoloch299, captain of the Distant Sun. May his knowledge be worthy of the Omnissiah.”
I bow, “Greetings, Captain. Thank you for the hospitality. Now how do we requisition your ship?”