Only then did the Tech-Priests realize. "So this is the surprise!"
"I knew my big brother wouldn't lie to me. Come on! Let me see my precious warship." Francis chuckled and returned to Kelbor-Hal's side.
Everyone followed them out of the laboratory. Along the way, they encountered numerous technicians debugging machinery wherever they stood. They adjusted the device parameters with utmost focus, yet they simply could not get them running.
Even ringing bells without pause and praising the Machine God in unison did not work every time.
Until a large green Ork hand appeared before them.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
As Francis patted the mechanical casing, the malfunction that had left them at their wits' end was instantly fixed.
"An ancient secret art from the 2k era. It can solve ninety-nine percent of your problems." Francis's gentle voice, carrying the distinctive timbre of an Ork, sounded beside their ears.
The Tech-Priests turned to look. Though they discovered that he was an Ork, it did nothing to diminish their reverence for his technical skill!
"Great Machine God, an Ork that speaks human language—are you an emissary sent by Him?"
"Great Omnissiah, is this a sage among those crude Orks? Will he bring us new knowledge?"
"..."
The Tech-Priests kept thanking their god. They did not even know who Francis was.
Nor did anyone thank him. Francis: "..."
The Tech-Priests who witnessed the entire scene became even more devoted to Francis, and the seed of a new school of thought was planted at that very moment.
Little did they know that, in the near future, the Adeptus Mechanicus would engage in a fierce dispute over how many times machinery should be slapped during repairs, as well as the rhythm, force, and angle of those slaps.
Kelbor-Hal's eyes, meanwhile, were filled with excitement, and