Truth

Rovi listened in silence.

Even as a transmigrator, most of what he knew about this universe came from fragmented information.

Hearing this firsthand account, he keenly sensed the danger lurking beneath it.

The Adeptus Mechanicus had been hovering nearby for three years.

That meant they knew the situation in this sector like the back of their hand.

"Then you must have witnessed many tragedies," Rovi said quietly. "Like the one we're going through now."

"Tragedies? I'd call them inefficiencies." Magos Magellan corrected him, his tone icy. "Take the agri-world Thresia IV, less than five light-years from here, last year."

Rovi's breath caught.

Thresia IV.

He'd seen that name in old Executive Council records.

It was one of the largest granaries in this sector.

Its population was three times that of Fertility II.

Half a year ago, all logistical information about the planet had suddenly stopped.

The official explanation was "severe communication interference caused by a Warp Storm."

Rovi's breath hitched.

"What happened to that planet?" he pressed, curious.

"The Governor of Thresia IV was a foolish coward," the Magos said without mercy. "When the first case of plague corruption appeared, she chose to cover it up instead of purging it."

"To hold on to her position, she tried to conceal the spread of the plague with lies."

The Magos turned his head, his compound eyes fixed on Rovi as if issuing some kind of warning.

"As a result, by the time the Ordo's fleet passed by, the entire planet had become one enormous boil."

"The surface was covered in Fungal Carpet, and the atmosphere was full of lethal spores. There was no saving it."

Rovi swallowed. "So... what did the Ordo do?"

"Exterminatus."

The Magos uttered the most grave of words.

"Cyclone Torpedoes ignited the atmosphere. It was a magnificent Purification Ritual, Advisor."

"In just forty minutes, every organism—heretics, daemons, plague, and three million so-called innocent civilians alike—was reduced to ash."

Rovi fell silent.

Though he'd been prepared for it, hearing the number "three million" so casually erased still sent a chill to the depths of his bones.

Before the vast machinery of the Imperium,

human lives were not merely fuel.

They were dust, worth less than fuel.

Yet what the Magos said next unsettled Rovi even more.

"What a terrible waste. Ah."

Magos Magellan shook his cable-studded metal head, lamenting.

"According to our scans, buried beneath the northern hemisphere of Thresia IV are three Tractor Assembly Plants from the Dark Age of Technology, remarkably well preserved."

"Sacred relics! And because those weak flesh-and-blood creatures faltered, the great Tractor Assembly Plants were burned along with them."

Rovi lowered his head, using the pretense of straightening his cuff to hide the mockery in his eyes.

In the Magos's eyes, the destruction of several million lives was merely a "purge."

The loss of three tractor factories was the real "tragedy."

That was the Imperium's logic.

It was also why Rovi had to hold out on this planet at all costs.

He couldn't count on the Imperium's reinforcements to come as saviors.

If Granary Seven fell,

if the corruption index of Fertility II exceeded a certain threshold,

they would get no hospital ships or bread. Cyclone Torpedoes would rain down from the sky!

"Please sign here, Advisor."

A member of the Faith Militant walked over and handed him an electronic Dataslate.

It was the transfer form for the requisitioned supplies.

Rovi sighed and quickly steadied his emotions.

He took the Dataslate and followed the member of the Faith Militant toward the transport's open ramp.

The closer he got to the ship, the stronger the smell of ozone became.

The Anti-gravity Engine's field made the rain around them hover in a strange way.

The instant Rovi stepped onto the metal ramp,

"Zzt."

A searing pain struck his left chest without warning.

Rovi's hand trembled, and he nearly dropped the Dataslate.

He clenched his teeth and forced his facial muscles to stay still, managing not to make a sound.

A fragment of Nurgle's Talisman.

The unholy object he'd sandwiched between Double-Layered Lead Plates and hidden in his inner pocket.

Usually, when it encountered Nurgle's Plague Power, it only grew a little warm, like a gentle hand warmer.

But now, it was screaming.

It was releasing heat in a frenzy.

Even through the thick lead plates and his uniform, it burned Rovi's skin red.

This wasn't merely a reaction to "encountering one of its own kind."

As he signed his name on the Dataslate,

Rovi used his body to block the view and glanced from the corner of his eye toward the shadowy depths of the Cargo Hold.

Behind mountains of supplies,

behind the requisitioned fuel rods and water tanks,

stood a row of enormous black Stasis Field Boxes.

Thick adamantium chains secured them to the walls of the hold.

Every box was covered in Purity Seals.

Strips of Parchment covered in prayers whipped wildly in the circulating air, as though they were suppressing something.

The field around one of the boxes seemed unstable, occasionally flashing with a heart-stopping red light.

Just one glance was enough.

Rovi's retinas began to sting.

There was absolutely no way it contained a sacred STC fragment!

If it were a relic of the Adeptus Mechanicus, they'd enshrine it in a shrine, not lock it up like a caged beast.

A captured daemonhost?

Some kind of living remnant of a Chaos Titan?

Or a limb from a cursed Xenos god?

Rovi didn't dare look again. He quickly averted his eyes and returned the signed Dataslate to the member of the Faith Militant.

Just a few minutes ago, Magos Magellan had been self-righteously examining the Wall of Gluttony, using the strictest standards to determine whether Rovi had been tainted by the filth of the Warp.

He stood above it all, representing Mars's purity and truth.

Yet here, in the depths of the Cargo Hold of his own vessel, this so-called "purifier" was carrying taboos a hundred times more evil than everything in Granary Seven combined.

Only they had the right to touch the forbidden.

Because they claimed to possess the truth.

And a mortal needed only to look into the abyss to become an unforgivable heretic.

"What are you looking at, Advisor?" the Magos suddenly asked from behind him.

Several Servo-skulls flew over at once, their red scanning lasers sweeping back and forth across Rovi.

Rovi turned around and replied respectfully:

"I was looking at the riveted structure of this ship, Magos."

Rovi pointed to a row of rivets along the edge of the hatch, feigning fascination.

"The way the stress is distributed in this triangular arrangement is exquisite. I've never seen craftsmanship like it in a backwater place like Fertility II."

The red light in the Magos's eyes flickered a few times.

His logic core seemed to accept the explanation.

After all, it made sense that a country bumpkin would be impressed by the shipbuilding techniques of Mars.

"Standard craftsmanship from Mars's Seventeenth Forge," the Magos said coolly. "If you live long enough, perhaps you'll have the chance to make a pilgrimage there."

"It would be an honor."

Rovi lowered his head, then took the parchment-bound book of schematics from his coat.

"Magos, here's what you asked for." He handed it over. "The prototype blueprint for the Agrippina-VII Adaptive Biological Harvester."

Rovi held the book in both hands and presented it to the Magos.

Magos Magellan had already skimmed through it earlier. Now, they were taking it with them.

Every drawing inside looked convincing.

He'd used precise hydraulic transmission formulas to explain the contraction of the daemon muscles;

cross-sectional diagrams of heat-exchange systems to disguise the radiation of Warp energy;

and the logic for mounting adaptive armor to replace the frenzied growth of biological chitin.

From a mechanical perspective, the designs all made sense.

Even the pickiest Tech-Priest wouldn't find any flaws in their logic.

But they only made sense "in theory."

Without Warp Crystals to provide energy...

without daemon flesh to drive it...

anything built according to these plans would be nothing but a pile of unresponsive scrap metal.

It wouldn't move at all.

But that was exactly the effect Rovi wanted.

Magos Magellan extended a precision mechanical claw and carefully picked up the book.

His expression was far gentler than it had been when discussing the deaths of millions.

His optical sensors rapidly scanned the lines on the drawings.

A pleased hum came from the Magos's vox-speaker.

"Exquisite. This use of fluid dynamics to guide biological acid fluids certainly has the style of something left over from the Golden Age."

The Magos placed the book in a Vacuum Archive Box, as though he'd decided it was some priceless treasure.

"Your understanding of the Machine Spirit is rather shallow, Advisor, but you are devout." The Magos gave Rovi a rare word of praise.

"This blueprint will be taken back to Mars as a sacred data fragment and enshrined in the Hall of the Machine God."

Rovi bowed deeply.

"May truth guide your course."

He sneered inwardly.

Take it.

Take this false hope with you.

Spend two centuries studying a pile of scrap that could never be built.

When those Priests were still scratching their heads over machines that would never start two centuries from now, they'd probably conclude that they hadn't been devout enough.

They'd never suspect that the blueprints themselves were a deception spanning dimensions.

Even if they did suspect it,

by then, either Rovi would be dead,

or he'd have climbed high enough that even the Adeptus Mechanicus wouldn't dare touch him lightly.

"Takeoff sequence initiated."

The Magos said no more and turned to enter the hatch.

With a hiss from the hydraulic system, the heavy hatch slowly closed.

The Axe-class Transport's engines blasted out dazzling blue flames.

The powerful gusts kicked up the mud and sent Rovi's coat tails fluttering.

The ship slowly rose into the sky, soon disappearing into the lead-gray clouds and shrinking to an inconspicuous black speck.

Only then did Rovi press a hand to his chest.

The heat from the Talisman Fragment finally began to fade.

But that burning must have left an ugly blister on his skin.

"They're gone."

The Priest Alpha had come over at some point.

He gazed up at the direction where the ship had vanished, undisguised envy shining in his Cybernetic Eye.

"They've taken the truth with them," the Priest murmured. "That ship must be carrying countless sacred teachings."

Rovi turned to his half-man, half-machine companion. "You're wrong, Alpha."

Rovi took a pain-relief ointment from his pocket.

He didn't bother hiding it.

He pulled open his collar and spread the ointment over the skin on his chest, red from the burn.

The ointment's cool touch brought him back to Clarity.

"They took the trouble with them and left us a chance to survive."

He straightened his collar, fastened the top button again, and regained his immaculate Scribe-like bearing.

"Listen, so-called truth can't save us now. It can't fill our stomachs or keep the monsters outside at bay..."