The Beast Arises

spoke the diagnostiad into Kubik’s mind. It addressed him with a single voice.

‘Let us not point the finger, Chapter Master,’ said Kubik. ‘This war has taken us all by surprise. You have a good chance of success. In aiding you I will not be casting my military away needlessly, so you I shall aid. That was your intention in contacting me, yes? To ask for my help, and not cast aspersion and accusation?’

Koorland nodded curtly. ‘Yes, my lord. That was my intention.’

‘Good. Five regiments of skitarii will accompany you, and attendant support. I will pledge also seven cohorts of the Legio Cybernetica. The Basilikon Astra will transport them, and provide heavy supportive fire. Alone, or in support of the Merchant Fleets, our warships would have stood little chance. With your battlefleet, they can operate within acceptable parameters of survival.’

‘I desire to speak with Phaeton Laurentis and Eldon Urquidex,’ said Koorland. ‘They are known to me, and I would confer with them.’

‘Urquidex, Laurentis? I am not familiar with them. One moment please.’ Kubik made a show of calling up their information. ‘Ah yes, minor biologians. Unfortunately, both magi are occupied with other duties.’

‘Another time, perhaps,’ said Koorland. ‘You have our thanks, Fabricator General. While the Imperium stands together, it shall not fall.’

‘Mars will not allow that to happen. We are united, as always.’

whispered the diagnostiad.

‘When will your forces be ready?’ asked Koorland.

‘Chapter Master, I called the Taghmata of Mars weeks ago in anticipation of reinforcement. Our military is already prepared to sail as soon as I give the word. You insult me and the oaths of fealty and alliance Mars holds in sacred compact with Holy Terra. We have stood ready to sail to Terra’s aid since the very first. We could not act alone, nor would we support the fool’s crusade called by Juskina Tull.’ Kubik stood from his throne, mechadendrites and other, subtler supplementary limbs waving in displeasure.

‘You have my apologies, Fabricator General,’ said Koorland. ‘No implication was meant. Your aid is generous, and will save the lives of many of the sons of Dorn.’

‘Transmit me your marshalling coordinates. I will despatch the Taghmata, and place the Prime under your direct command. I have only one request.’

‘That is, my lord?’

‘Any and all materiel and technology taken in the battle must be collected by my subjects, and delivered here to Mars.’

‘For what purpose?’ asked Koorland.

‘Its study is vital to the defeat of the orks.’

‘I will agree to this, in exchange for all information pertaining to the ork threat you have already gathered.’

‘We have provided what we know to the Senatorum,’ said Kubik smoothly.

‘There are explorator fleets all over the Imperium,’ said Koorland. ‘Many of your forge worlds have been attacked. I have seen some of the intelligence you have gathered. It seems a little… thin.’

‘It is all we have,’ said Kubik. ‘Delivery of materiel will speed our analysis. We shall share what we learn when we have learnt it.’

Koorland stared a long moment at the Fabricator General. ‘Very well, but we shall oversee the transfer.’

‘Agreed,’ said Kubik.

‘We will speak again soon, on the day of our victory.’

Koorland’s image vanished as Kubik cut the link. The whispering of the diagnostiad members rose and fell like the rush of wind in the leaves of a forest. Kubik took to his throne again, and commanded it to descend. Gracefully it sank away, bringing Kubik to rest upon the only flat surface in the sphere, and the only part free of the cavities of the diagnostiad’s cells — a platform a hundred metres across, a raised road of Martian bronze leading across it to a huge pair of doors, guarded by a phalanx of stooped cyber-constructs. Kubik glided out of his throne. The doors opened before him. Outside stood the primary members of the Synod of Mars, waiting on his orders. Bowing profusely, they took his commands.

Eldon Urquidex was marched alongside Magos Laurentis up the Channel of Motivational Energies as Performed by the Flesh, a broad processional way laid out in mimicry of the internal workings of a cogitator’s logic boards. They were deep within the forge temple of Olympus Mons. Passages left at irregular intervals, each one guarded by bio-constructs and barred by heavy grilles known as the Gates of Logic.