Mechanicum

Lukas Chrom's Mondus Gamma forge complex occupied the southern swathe of this broken, desolate landscape, though even an adept as hungry to expand his domain as Chrom did not dare build in the plain's northern reaches.

There the landscape fell away, appearing to crumble into a series of maze-like canyons, steep-walled grabens and shadowed valleys. Said to have been created by volcanic activity in aeons past, this was the Noctis Labyrinthus, a darkened region of steep valleys whose depths were never warmed by the sun.

For reasons not fully understood - and never articulated - the adepts of Mars had shunned the Noctis Labyrinthus, preferring to build their forges beneath extinct volcanoes or within the bowls of vast impact craters.

Kane's forge, known as Mondus Occulum, lay hundreds of kilometres to the north-east of Ascraeus Mons, a vast network of manufactories and weapon shops spread between the domed mountains of Ceraunius Tholus and Tharsis Tholus. The vast majority of his forge's resources went into the production of war materiel for the Astartes, and they never ceased manufacture.

A sighing whir of data wheels spooling down told Kane that the Fabricator General had finished his deliberations. He turned from the view across the plains of Tharsis and made the sign of the Icon Mechanicum towards his master.

'Kane,' said Kelbor-Hal. 'You are unscheduled.'

'I know, my lord,' replied Kane. 'But a matter has arisen that I felt compelled to bring to your attention.'

'Felt? An irrelevant term,' said Kelbor-Hal. 'Either the matter requires my attention or it does not. Which is it?'

Kane read his master's impatience in the modulation of his cant and pressed on.

'It is a matter of some urgency and does indeed require your attention,' confirmed Kane.

'Then exload the issue swiftly,' ordered Kelbor-Hal. 'I am scheduled to meet with Melgator in eight point three minutes.'

'Ambassador Melgator?' inquired Kane, intrigued despite himself. He disliked Melgator, knowing the man had few pretensions of pursuing the quest for knowledge over his own quest for influence and power. 'What business is the ambassador about these days?'

'The ambassador will be acting as my emissary to ensure the loyalty of the forges of Mars,' said the Fabricator General.

'Surely such a thing is not in question?' said Kane, horrified that a sycophant like Melgator would judge the loyalty of his fellow adepts.

'In such troubled times, nothing can be counted on as certain,' replied Kelbor-Hal. 'But do not concern yourself with affairs beyond your remit, Fabricator Locum. Tell me of the matter you bring before me.'

Kane bit back an angry retort at the undue binary emphasis his master placed on his subordinate title and said, 'It's the Legions, my lord. The Astartes cry out for supplies and we are failing to meet their requirements.'

'Long have we known that the supply situation for many of the Legion fleets would be troublesome,' replied Kelbor-Hal. 'Given the distances the fleets are operating from Mars, supply problems were a mathematical certainty. You should have anticipated this and made contingencies.'

'I have done so,' said Kane, irritated that his master would think he might make such a basic error in his computations. 'The Mechanicum has done its utmost to meet those challenges, but they are impossible to overcome completely. As the fleets operate at ever greater distances, the failings in the system only compound themselves.'

'Failings?' snapped Kelbor-Hal. 'I designed the system myself. It is a logic-based scheme of supply and demand without room for error or misunderstanding.'

Kane knew he was on dangerous ground and hesitated before he spoke again. 'With respect, my lord, it is a scheme that does not factor in every variable. There is a human factor that introduces random elements that cannot be accounted for.'

'A human element,' repeated Kelbor-Hal. The hiss of binary contained a vehement disparagement in its code, as though the Fabricator General would be happier without such elements altogether. 'It is always the human element that skews calculations. Too many elements of chaotic variability alter the outcome in ways too numerous to predict. It is no way to run a galaxy.'

'My lord, if I may?' said Kane, knowing that his master was prone to tangential discourses on the fallibility of human nature.

Kelbor-Hal nodded. 'Continue.'

'As I said, the issue of supplying the Legions has always been problematic, but recently I have identified a pattern within the structure that appears too often to be a coincidence.'

'A pattern? What pattern?'

Kane hesitated, reading a spike of interest register in the Fabricator General's binaric field. 'Where we might reasonably expect those Legions operating closest to Mars to have the fewest supply problems, that's not what I'm seeing.'

'Then what are you seeing?'

'That the Legions without supply problems are those acting in direct support of the Warmaster.'