Brynn Virtanen moved silently through the side-corridor. It wasn’t something he had to actively work on, as his Halvar cloneskin granted him the ability, along with being able to slow his heart rate to one beat a minute, hold his breath for over five minutes, and see in absolute darkness. To name just a few.

And I’m using every Ancestor-given ability I have right now, he thought as he tracked a presence he had sensed in passing. He knew that every member of the Stronghold had been on tenterhooks since the arrival of the humans, and that might have been the cause for his worry, but he also knew to listen to his gut.

Something scraped ever so lightly against the corridor wall, no more than fifty metres ahead and around a corner. Blink-clicking a window open on his ocular display he sent an update to his commander.

<< Back up required? >>

Virtanen thought for a second or two as he strained his enhanced hearing to determine whether the presence was approaching him.

<< Confirmed. Corridor 256 Beta, Level 2537 Gamma. >>

Now’s not the time for heroics. Dying in a rusty corridor is not how I plan to go out.

There was another scrape, further away. Consulting his ocular display he saw that the corridor narrowed to roughly a metre wide. Stretching another three hundred metres it terminated at a reactor room.

What on earth would be that wide that it couldn’t fit down here?

<< Back up ETA 5 minutes >>

Five minutes was too long. Not knowing what the thing ahead was, or why it was approaching the reactor meant that he couldn’t hold back. If it was there to steal data, then it would be sure to find out about the Ancestors. If it was carrying out an act of sabotage, he doubted it would need to get too close to its target as he had no doubt in his mind that the Adeptus Mechacicus could product sufficiently powerful explosives to negate the need to actually plant the bomb onto critical infrastructure.

Decision made, he drew his Etacarn plasma pistol. Just holding the weapon served to calm him. As soon as he wrapped his palm around the grip, the smart tech integrated into his Halvar battle gear threw an aiming reticle, target designator and weapon diagnostics onto his ocular display. An icon appeared, indicating that HunTR, the haptic utility nerve transmission recalibrator module was now online. No matter how fast he ran, or threw himself through the air, its neural augmetics would establish a feedback loop between the plasma pistol and him, projecting minute gravitational pulses which in turn would ensure a stable firing platform.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Ancestors guide me, he thought as he ran down the corridor, weapon stretched before him.

*

Ingrid Jorgen, junior Brôkhyr Iron-Master frowned as she read the messages scrolling across her ocular display.It was on a command channel, restricted to her eyes only for the moment. Reactor 2515 was nothing special in terms of the technology that the Leagues of Votann used to power their strongholds, but she knew it was from an ancient STC which the Imperium either didn’t use, or didn’t know about.

From the moots she had attended prior to the arrival of the humans, she knew that they were hungry for new technology, even if they would ever be truly capable of understanding or utilising it.

According to some, the Adeptus Mechanicus took centuries to debate on whether a piece of technology was hericial. Yet more time to debate as to whether they should use it. And even more time talking about how to implement it, and when.

And now, something was in the sub-corridors, heading towards her people and her reactor. Some thing. She’s seen the scans of the creatures that had arrived the day before, and just the thought of what their perverted science had done to them, and the people they ruled turned her stomach.

She knew that her people were the product of science, but it was clean. They were pure. Each cloneskin given the characteristics and abilities they needed to perform their roles, but - and this was a vital distinction for her - they were still free to act. Were still free to live lives outside of their roles.

But from what she knew, only those in the highest echelons of Adeptus Mechanic society had such freedoms. Everyone else was utterly enslaved, brainwashed to accept whatever fate the Cult Mechanicus threw at them.

‘From this rotting cage of biomatter, Machine God set us free,’ she muttered. A catechism she had seen in the Core. And there, in a Ambull shell, was the meat of the matter. They viewed the things that made them human as a burden, a curse, from which they could only be set free if it was excised by lascapel.

Sighing, she raised her hands into the air. ‘Kin! I have been informed that the Halvar are in pursuit of some thing in the sub-corridor. It draws close. Prepare to do battle!’

<< Reactor 2515 ready for battle >> she sent.

<< Halvar incoming. Watch for friendlies >>

‘We have friendlies incoming!’

Snatching up her concussion hammers, she led her people to where the enemy was approaching.