A growing appetite

Olaye was one of the rebel planets. It had been devoted entirely to agricultural production, but after the rebellion, its people had established mining and foundry centres on its moon to develop their military strength.

An Agri-World was important. The food it produced could supply almost an entire surrounding Subsector, and this planet's rebellion had caused quite a few neighbouring worlds to waver in the early years.

Interestingly, however, another Agri-World had just been established a little deeper within the Imperium. With a broad stroke of the pen, the Imperium had reassigned all the loyal planets' supply allocations to that new Agri-World.

Thanks to the Imperium's "efforts" over the years, the old Agri-World of Olaye, long left unattended, had contacted the surrounding rebel planets on its own and begun "trading."

But an Agri-World actually had nothing to do with the planet's natural ecosystem. Once a planet was selected to become an Agri-World, deadly viruses would consume its entire ecosystem. All its land would then be levelled, except on ocean worlds, and ground-based weather controllers installed. Crops would cover endless plains, and enormous, multistorey agricultural processing plants would be built.

Those agricultural production centres, formed from layer upon layer of massive machinery, still required considerable manpower to operate.

As usual, once every sixty years, after the final crop had been processed into starch blocks, an entire production and processing level underwent mechanical maintenance. Once the maintenance was complete, the official responsible for the site joined the workers in a ritual celebrating the harvest.

7,777 mortals knelt on the ground. At the top of the altar lay the finest grain of gene-modified wheat collected during the previous cycle, along with a complete stalk of gene-modified wheat-the last one harvested.

This time, however, something unexpected happened, unnoticed by anyone. A rotting leaf fluttered in the wind and landed on the altar.

A tiny warp rift opened, and a small, round, grey-green creature struggled out of it. Its movements seemed to set something off, and strange fluid dripped from its body. Then the warp rift closed.

Nobody noticed anything wrong. Everyone went back to work as usual, though an employee would occasionally sneeze.

The Dawnlight, the Battle Barge with sixty recruit-conversion stations, headed for the recruitment grounds under the command of the Chief Apothecary and the Techmarine.

Evan and twelve Astartes took another Battle Barge to the rebel Forge Worlds.

They believed in the Imperial Truth, after all. There was room for discussion. Supposedly, when Guilliman had first awakened, he had nearly lost control and beaten the Ecclesiarchy personnel around him into pulp, shouting that they had defiled their sacred future.

These two Forge Worlds were merely in rebellion. Strictly speaking, they did not really count as the Dark Mechanicum.

Oops. That didn't sound very loyal.

The Battle Barge travelled through the Warp, with each of the twelve Astartes occupying his own little cabin. Evan could not help reflecting that he must not let them suffer as he once had.

Unfortunately, his Chapter was rather short on supplies-desperately short. The entire Chapter had only a hundred or so power swords, a few dozen chainswords, and just over a hundred bolters. Power armour was even scarcer: only ninety-eight suits, plus ten suits of Terminator armour. There was not even enough to equip these men.

He would have to find a way to talk the Forge Worlds into handing some over.

The Techmarine had already analysed the smallest STC Template fragment. It contained one and a half technologies: a complete design for a compact power core, possibly intended as a tank power unit, and half a process for forging an ultra-dense alloy.

Since they had already extracted the technology from this fragment, surely they could use it to fleece the Tech-priests? Techmarine Annos agreed and offered a rough valuation. This tiny fragment should fetch around twenty cruisers. It really was rather small, after all.

Who said I was useless? I'll bring you back some good stuff.

Their destination was described as two rebel Forge Worlds, but both were actually in the same system.

The two Mavrek Forge Worlds belonged to the Mavrek System, which contained no fewer than thirteen planets. Rather than calling them the Mavrek Forge Worlds, it would be more accurate to call the whole place the Mavrek Forge System.

The outermost planets-the thirteenth, twelfth, and eleventh-served as system defence bases. The innermost, planet one, was a lava world and a powerful forging centre. Planets two and eight were mining centres. Planet three had little other use, so a Skitarii conversion centre had been built there. Planets four and five were both habitable worlds, serving as "benefit" planets for high-ranking Adeptus Mechanicus members. Planets six and nine were gas giants containing vast quantities of useful gases, making them important alternative energy centres. Planets seven and ten were the true manufacturing centres, with enormous integrated shipyards and space stations in their outer orbital belts, as well as foundries on their surfaces.

This lavish setup had allowed the system to survive in a universe like a dark forest. The defensive belt of three planets forced every visiting fleet to behave.

Today, however, a few guests arrived who were not particularly inclined to follow the rules.

The Battle Barge emerged from the Warp at the Mandeville Point, and the entire system went to full combat readiness. Vast numbers of defensive guns and space-based batteries were brought to bear, while countless ships converged from across the system.

A flood of binary greetings arrived. Evan simply left the warship floating there, ignoring the noise entirely.

Only when the Archmagos appeared did the incoming communications finally switch to normal, archaic High Gothic.

"Why have you come?"

Rather than answer, Evan sent an invitation to a meeting, signed by the Chapter Master of the Crimson Tide Chapter.

No matter how they aimed their weapons or brought their planetary cannons to bear, Evan ignored them.

What a joke. I'm an Astartes Chapter Master. The fact that I haven't come to beat you rebels senseless is already a courtesy. I call a meeting, and you dare not send someone?

Evan even considered giving them a shot from the bombardment cannon.

The other side was considerably more anxious. The mechanical archbishop and the various priests were deep in heated debate.

"Archbishop, according to my calculations, there is a 34% probability that this is a trap. However, there is a 98% probability that they will make demands we cannot accept. Throughout history, every Astartes invitation to meet with a hostile force has demanded surrender and other unacceptable concessions without exception."

"Archbishop, I believe this occasion is different. No hostile force has ever approached us in this manner. They possess a Battle Barge and could attack us directly. Although we would most likely destroy them, they have shown no intention of fighting whatsoever."

"Magos Kenrien, are you joking? You claim the Astartes have no intention of fighting? To hear such words from you is simply-beep-beep-"

The archbishop had a headache too. Although his analysis consistently indicated that the risks far outweighed the prospects, he still wanted to meet them and discover their true purpose.

The mechanical archbishop agreed to the meeting, but requested a change of venue.

Evan refused. They would meet right here.

There was no response for a long time.

He ordered the Battle Barge to conduct reconnaissance manoeuvres around the entire system, keeping the Mandeville Point as its closest approach.

This was a flight pattern often used by the Green Templars' reconnaissance aircraft. Performed by an enormous Battle Barge, however, it looked distinctly like a show of force.

"Chapter Master, a response from their mechanical archbishop. They have agreed to meet."

What a hassle. Why couldn't they have done that from the start? Although Evan had only a handful of warriors with him, he had made it look as though the ship carried hundreds, if not thousands, of Astartes.

A small spacecraft entered the Battle Barge's hangar. Archmagos Andeniel and several of his servitors boarded the Righteous Vigil.

Four Astartes escorted them to the ship's largest conference hall.

Clad in Cataphractii Terminator armour, Evan sat at the head of the conference table.

He studied the mechanical archbishop with interest. Like most Adeptus Mechanicus personnel, the archbishop had replaced almost his entire body with machinery. Even his face was fully mechanical; Evan could not tell whether the small patches of skin were artificial. Countless mechanical devices hid beneath his voluminous red robes. His broad body looked almost like a mechanised Tyranid.

Countless mechanical arms waved behind the mechanical archbishop. An irregular black metal box rested behind him, its contents known to no one.

"Please sit, Archbishop. I am Evan, Chapter Master of the Crimson Tide. What is your name?"

"I am Froes."

"As you can clearly see, our Chapter has come without hostile intent. We would like to discuss certain matters with your worlds."

"Please specify."

"I would advise against continuing to speak in that manner. It might attract the attention of a certain entity in Chaos."

The Archmagos seemed to fall silent for a moment, presumably switching language modes.

"How is this, then, Chapter Master Evan?" Ah, much better.

"Then let us begin. First, I will explain the foundation for our discussion: I too believe in the Imperial Truth."

The archbishop's mechanical eyes scrutinised Evan. The rumbling of his machinery revealed his profound shock, as well as the accelerated calculations assessing the truth and significance of Evan's statement.

Clearly, he had found no answer.

"How astonishing, Chapter Master Evan. Do you understand what that statement means?"

"It means I'm not like those Tech-priests who act like religious charlatans."

According to ancient texts, humanity had once experienced a Dark Age of Technology. The old records stated that the "Men of Gold," possibly humans, had created the Men of Stone to assist them. To perform their tasks better, the Men of Stone had created the Men of Iron, possibly intelligent AI. As the Men of Iron grew more powerful and their minds more developed, they had concluded that humanity's existence was meaningless and launched the Men of Iron Rebellion. The Men of Stone had fought them, lost, and been driven nearly to extinction. Humanity had defeated the Men of Iron with all its strength, but its Dark Age of Technology had inevitably declined.

Deprived of the Men of Iron, humanity had lost its position as ruler of the galaxy. The Aeldari, convinced they were invincible, had taken the throne and begun indulging their desires. Slaanesh had thus begun to gestate, producing violent warp storms.

Humanity, which had been recovering after the Men of Iron Rebellion, had been cut off by the Warp. With contact between its colonies lost, it had collapsed completely, bringing its Dark Age of Technology to a definitive end.

Evan strongly suspected that the methods used to create supposedly machine-spirit-bearing devices were remnants of the ancient methods used to create the "Men of Stone." Or perhaps the "Men of Stone" had been constructs like wetware, combining a small portion of human thought with extensive mechanical modification.

Perhaps they were the first generation of artificial intelligence?

All that oil, all those blessings the Tech-priests use to soothe machine spirits-I suspect it's a form of empirical science.

It was like cooking: everyone knew adding salt made food taste better, but they did not understand why. They did not understand the chemical reactions between salt and food during heating, how taste cells perceived flavour, or what electrical signals those cells generated for the solitary nucleus to relay to the primary cerebral cortex.

So they taught their apprentices that this was how to make food taste good. Do not ask why; hundreds or thousands of attempts had proved it.

For Evan, believing in the Imperial Truth meant exploring those underlying principles anew.

"Archbishop Froes, it means I intend to seek the true nature of things rather than let ignorant rituals bind me."

"Lord Evan, I suspect this does not represent the Imperium's wishes."

"Of course. This meeting is my personal initiative. You may also consider it my Chapter's initiative. I understand your doubts, but I believe in the Emperor, not the ignorant Imperium of Man."

The mechanical archbishop laughed. Even his grating, mechanically synthesised voice could not conceal his delight.

"Then, Lord Evan, we now have a sound foundation for cooperation. What, specifically, would that cooperation involve?"

"Let us each state our terms, then. I want two thousand suits of power armour, one thousand power swords, one thousand chainswords, two hundred suits of Cataphractii Terminator armour, twenty Dreadnoughts, two Battle Barges, four Strike Cruisers, four battleships, ten cruisers, fifty escort ships, two hundred Emperor's Blade Tanks, and a hundred years of supplies for the Imperialis Militia. Any warship models will do."

Never mind anything else. Start with an outrageous demand and make them squirm.

The mechanical archbishop showed no unusual reaction. Instead, he questioned Evan with apparent interest.

"And what can you offer in payment?"

"I will provide proof of your loyalty to the Imperium and guarantee that other Imperial personnel will not attack you..."

The archbishop studied Evan's face. He did not seem to be joking. Then why would you do this? Don't you realise this is outright collusion with traitors? Are you trying to threaten me with your own weakness?

"...At the same time, we will provide an STC Fragment."

Contrary to expectations, Archbishop Froes fell unusually silent. He might have been sending messages, but that was impossible: this conference hall had been designed to allow signals in, but not out.

Every Forge World would pay any price to obtain a fragment of an STC Template. Such a fragment might appear to contain manufacturing instructions for only a few products, but a complete manufacturing process could be broken down into numerous technologies. The manufacturing process for this ultra-compact power core, for example, could yield many subsidiary technologies, including energy compression, energy containment, and stable energy discharge.

After a long silence, the archbishop spoke slowly. Even his voice had changed, sounding more human.

"Given the production capacity of our entire Forge System, manufacturing everything you have listed would take five hundred years. Even then, it would be entirely impossible. The methods for manufacturing Cataphractii Terminator armour are on the verge of being lost. Although we possess them, only one Techno-Sage has mastered them. We must make a specific assessment based on this STC's actual value. Above all, I have not yet seen or analysed the fragment..."

Archbishop Froes rambled on at length. In short, he wanted to see the fragment.

Then Evan would let him see it. Honestly, he thought this fragment was quite valuable. That power core was useful, after all.

Six Astartes carried in a metal box sealed within dozens of layers of various shielding materials. Even the mechanical archbishop rubbed his hands together incessantly in excitement-if those counted as hands.

As the boxes of various materials were opened, the archbishop's mechanical eyes adjusted themselves frantically.

A tiny fragment was revealed. Two of the archbishop's mechanical arms approached it delicately, only to be blocked by the Astartes standing nearby.

"Archbishop, you have not yet stated your terms. We cannot allow you to touch this fragment."

Archbishop Froes whipped his head around and stared at Evan as though he had murdered his father.

His calming protocols swiftly took effect, suppressing the meaningless gibberish constantly bubbling up within Froes.

"Lord Evan, I hope you understand our sincerity. Every member of the Adeptus Mechanicus in our system will do their utmost to meet your requirements. However, these terms of yours are rather demanding..."

They could actually do it. The factories could not stop running anyway, but they needed income to sustain their workforce. While ensuring that their surplus output could still be exchanged for food, minerals, and supplies, the archbishop rapidly calculated their maximum production capacity.

"What can you provide within a hundred years, then? A friendly reminder: you need not concern yourself with threats from those alliances of rebel planets or other powers deeper in space."

"We currently have six partially completed cruisers. An order for ninety-six escort ships has not yet been shipped. Forty-seven Emperor's Blade Tanks are complete, and twenty-nine are under construction..."

Although the Mavrek Forge Worlds formed a rebel system, their rebellion had not lasted long enough for them to lose the technologies used by the Imperium. They merely lacked the latest models.

Indeed, the vast majority of their Techno-Sages had lived through the "Imperial era."

However, restarting production lines for Astartes equipment would take considerable time.

"How long would it take to finish all those partially completed items?"

"A conservative estimate would be around ten years."

"I mean at full production. Put another way, how much of the materiel I just listed could you provide in ten years?"

"Approximately... seven cruisers, ninety-six escort ships, and around one hundred Emperor's Blade Type II Tanks. If all remaining capacity were diverted to manufacturing Astartes equipment, we could probably also produce one hundred suits of power armour, one hundred power swords, one hundred bolters, and ten suits of Cataphractii Terminator armour."

"Then those will serve as the down payment. In ten years, I will come to collect them and give you the STC Fragment. You must also provide me with a guarantee."

"You mean..."

"Lend me a Warmaster-class Titan until you deliver the remaining goods. Don't tell me you don't have one. Your rebellion hasn't lasted that long." Start high, then haggle.

How did Evan know? Consider those late-night storytelling sessions in his dormitory, when everyone joined in cursing Warhammer's official writers for retconning the lore.

Clearly, even at full production, these two Forge Worlds could not meet Evan's demands. The value of this STC Fragment was also still unknown.

Both sides went back and forth in a lengthy battle over the price.

The final agreement was to provide ten cruisers, one hundred and fifty escort ships, five hundred suits of power armour, bolters, and power swords, fifty suits of Cataphractii Terminator armour, and two hundred Emperor's Blade Tanks within a hundred years.

If any member of the Crimson Tide Chapter remained alive after that, they would provide two battleships, one hundred suits of power armour, chainswords, and power swords, and one hundred suits of Terminator armour over the following hundred years.

It was not that the Forge Worlds were unwilling to provide Dreadnoughts; they genuinely lacked the technology. As for Battle Barges, they simply could not gather the materials. Even with both enormous shipyards working flat out, they could not guarantee completion within two hundred years.

Evan was astonished that these worlds could actually build battleships. Among the Imperium's Forge Worlds, even those capable of building cruisers were exceedingly rare, let alone battleships.

The mechanical archbishop explained, however, that these were actually battleship wrecks recovered from a war. They only needed repairs and modifications.

The archbishop had offered almost the full capacity of the Forge Worlds. Of course, Evan would still have to provide rare materials and deal with those alliances of rebel planets.

(Note: According to official figures, the best Forge Worlds can build a Lunar-class Cruiser in eleven months at full production.)

Evan: "One fragment, and the Forge Worlds work for me for two hundred years." (Hands on hips.)