The senior tech-priests who held opposing views chose to remain silent. They knew their objections could not stop these untested mechanical behemoths from heading to the battlefield.
After all, they were only the ones doing the work. The ones truly making the decisions were their superiors—the Adeptus Mechanicus Archmagos.
++When did we degenerate into Ork mekboys? Relying on flashes of inspiration and mountains of materials to carry out the will of the Machine God?++
A priest grumbled gloomily. Behind them, two hundred mechanical behemoths stood in neat ranks as the Archmagos completed their final inspections. Acrid smoke rose as sacred oil evaporated off the scorching engine casings, gathering near the factory ceiling before being vented away.
Inside one of the mechanical behemoths, Dimit, a Dark Angels Techmarine, was wrestling with an excessively stubborn hydraulic rod. He had to extend it by another five millimeters; only then could an upper armor plate fit tightly into place.
Every mechanical behemoth had somewhat different problems. Such crude design and manufacturing techniques could never have come from the Adeptus Mechanicus.
"Archmagos, the endless minor faults are making me uneasy. Can this thing really help us break through that defensive line?"
Dimit's concern traveled far through the comms before he finally received a simple reply.
"Rest assured. This design was extracted from an STC template. It will not disappoint you," Archmagos Tius replied. Dimit could hear his welding tool powering up through the communicator.
"Really?" Dimit continued hammering away at his work. "That is precisely what makes it suspicious. An STC template would store a design riddled with flaws like this? I think the STC template you mentioned does not exist. It is merely an excuse you used to fool the generals at headquarters."
"Watch your words!" Archmagos Tius shouted theatrically. "Of course the STC