The Beast Arises

‘Well, that was very dramatic,’ said Vangorich. ‘But there is some business to attend to. You will require help, lord Chapter Master. You must go to Mars, and winkle Fabricator General Kubik out from his hiding place. Set his feet on the path to war. The man sits in his palace surrounded by one of the mightiest armies in the galaxy, and he does nothing. We will advise you in what you must say to him.’ Vangorich glanced at Veritus. ‘But first, it is time to tell you exactly what has transpired since the tragedy at Ardamantua. Steady yourself — you will not be pleased by what I have to say.’

Eight

The calculation of suspicion

Kubik addressed Koorland from the heart of the diagnostiad, the clicking mind of Mars. A kilometre-wide sphere excavated from the ground in untold ages past, its sides were a hive of thousands of individual cells, each containing the body of a magos wired directly into the Martian world-core. Their whispering never stopped. Once placed inside a cell, a magos left only when his unnaturally long life was worked out. Dark patches on the wall marked out an expired follower of the Omnissiah, like dead elements on a pict screen. Sometimes they might go for months without notice until servitor teams carefully cleared brown bones, failed cybernetics and ruined robes from the cavity, and prepared it for a new occupant. It was a networked mind, far more powerful than any cogitator in the galaxy. Retaining but a fragment of their individuality, the magi became one in thought and intent; the diagnostiad had known no dissension within itself for hundreds of years.

There were few honours higher in the priesthood than to be elevated to the diagnostiad. To join the world-engine at the heart of the Martian empire was to commune with the Omnissiah himself.

The office of Fabricator General was one of those few higher honours. Surrounded by thousands trapped in the ecstasy of mechanical undeath, it was an honour Kubik preferred.

Kubik’s throne was a mighty affair, replete with data sockets, cogitator interface points, servo-skull docks and other, more esoteric devices that provided Kubik with a direct link to the mind of Mars. Backed by a giant brazen plaque depicting the machina opus, the throne occupied a dais raised on a spine in the heart of the sphere, a tall needle alight with the sparkings of the Motive Force, and set with the polished bones and preserved cybernetica of his predecessors. Like the arcane knowledge of the tech-priests, Kubik’s throne was founded on the bones of the past.

At the Fabricator General’s insistence, Koorland spoke with Kubik from a private lithocast chamber aboard the Abhorrence

. A perfect, life-size image of the Chapter Master was projected by his throne in a manner that meant only Kubik and the diagnostiad could see him. No other sentient was present in the sphere, and yet secrecy reigned even there. The instinct to hoard knowledge was the most powerful a tech-priest possessed. Their mastery of technology was second only to their paranoia.

‘Well met, Chapter Master Koorland. Your return to Sol is timely. Without your arrival, Terra would surely be lost.’ Kubik selected a near-human voice from his editicore recollections, a rich, commanding voice, suggestive of masculinity and confidence. Entirely unlike Kubik’s original voice, now hundreds of years lost.

‘Greetings to you, Lord of Mars,’ said Koorland, and bowed. ‘We, the brothers of the Last Wall, come before you to ask for your aid and your wisdom.’

The Space Marine was being deferential. Kubik wondered who had schooled him.

‘We move immediately upon the attack moon,’ said Koorland. ‘Surprise is our most potent weapon. We will fall on them, and smash them from the skies.’

‘So thought Juskina Tull, and her Proletarian Crusade ended in disaster.’ Kubik’s sub-processors kept his voice neutral, injecting elements of superiority, irony and calm into the vox-output.

‘We are the hammer of the Emperor, not a desperate rabble. We shall destroy the orks.’

‘I can only applaud your confidence, Chapter Master, but I insist on caution.’

‘And I can only query your lack of action,’ said Koorland.

‘It is no mystery,’ said Kubik. ‘Our ground forces are substantial here on Mars, but our fleets are not suitable for actions of this kind. We have few vessels within the system in any case. To throw our lot in with Juskina Tull would have resulted in the loss of valuable military units that might be better used elsewhere.’

‘What of your weapons arrays, your machines of great art? Surely there is something capable of destroying the moon upon Mars.’

‘Indeed,’ said Kubik. ‘And using any of the Greater Weapons would have posed unconscionable risks to Holy Terra. Would you have us destroy the throneworld to save it?’

Koorland gave Kubik a look the Fabricator General found unreadable. He queried the diagnostiad via mind shunt.