Mechanicum

'But nothing, Dalia,' interrupted Mellicin, taking her hand. 'Adept Zeth is going ahead with this test whether you like it or not. So we'll do all we can to make sure our empath comes through it alive and well, yes?'

'I suppose so,' agreed Dalia, bending to increase the flow of stimms to the empath's brain. 'But promise me that we'll only use the Akashic reader to learn things that will benefit the Imperium.'

'I can't make that promise,' said Mellicin. 'No one can, but I have to believe that one day we will create a machine or force so fearful in its potentialities, so absolutely terrifying in its consequence, that even mankind, a race that was once hell-bent on its own destruction, will be so appalled that it will abandon war forever. What our minds can create, I hope our character can control.'

'I hope you're right,' said Dalia.

'Am… am I… dead?' groaned the empath.

Both women jumped, hands flying to their mouths and hearts as the empath's eyes fluttered open and he looked up from his restraints.

Mellicin recovered her wits first and bent down towards the empath. 'No, you're not dead, you've just come out of a state of drug-induced neural stasis. Stimulants are washing away the last residues of pentobarbital now, so your higher brain functions should be restored soon.'

Dalia gave Mellicin an exasperated look and bent down over the empath.

'She means you'll be fine. You've been asleep, but you're awake now. Do you know where you are?'

The man blinked in the harsh brightness of the forge, and Dalia saw that his pupils were still massively dilated. She shielded his eyes from the light with her hand and he smiled in gratitude.

'Sorry, the light in here's a bit bright,' she said.

'Bright, yes,' said the empath, his eyes flicking from side to side as they lost the glassy texture of the recently woken. 'This is the Akashic reader, isn't it?'

'Yes. You know what it does?'

'I do,' said the man as Mellicin lowered the cranial assembly over his head. 'Adept Zeth explained it to me when she chose me to be the conduit.'

'My name's Dalia, what's yours?'

'Jonas. Jonas Milus,' said the man with a smile, and Dalia saw that Severine was right. He was handsome. 'I'd shake your hand, but…'

Dalia smiled. The humour was forced, but she appreciated the effort, though it struck her as perverse that Jonas was giving her reassurance while strapped into a device that had never been fully tested on a human being.

'Are we about to begin?' asked Jonas. 'I assume you must be, what with me being awake.'

'Adept Zeth is about to begin the first live test of the new device, yes,' said Mellicin, fixing the last of the restraints in place.

'Excellent,' said Jonas, and Dalia was surprised at the relish she heard in his voice.

'You're not worried?' she asked, ignoring the irritated look Mellicin flashed her.

'No, should I be?'

'No, no, of course not,' said Dalia hurriedly. 'I mean, I don't think so. The machine's passed every test and all our simulated results suggest that it should work perfectly.'

'Did you have anything to do with it?' asked Jonas.

'Well, yes, I kind of helped design the throne you're in.'

'Then I'm not worried,' said Jonas.

'You're not?'

'No,' said Jonas, 'because I can feel your compassion and your concern for me. I know you're worried for my life, but I can sense that you've done everything you can to make sure this machine works safely.'

'How do you know all that?'

'He's an empath, Dalia,' said Mellicin. 'It's what they do.'

'Oh, of course,' said Dalia, feeling foolish.

'I'm looking forward to this, really,' said Jonas. 'To use my gift for the betterment of the Imperium? What better way is there for someone blessed with my talent to serve the Emperor? I'll know everything soon, and I'll be part of something that helps humanity achieve its destiny. I know that sounds a bit grand, but it's what we're doing here, isn't it?'

Dalia smiled, relieved beyond words that they were not pressing some unwilling victim into the service of Adept Zeth's grand dream. 'Yes, Jonas,' she said. 'That's exactly what we're doing here.'

'All engines form on Victorix Magna,' ordered Princeps Indias Cavalerio, nodding towards his steersman. 'Keep us level, Lacus.'

'Yes, my princeps,' said Lacus, expertly walking the god-machine through the treacherous straits surrounding the heavily cratered northern reaches of the Ulysses Patera.

'And keep the auspex returns frequent, Palus, the ground here is weak.'

'Yes, my princeps,' came the response from the sensori blister atop the Warlord's crew compartment. The tone of his sensori's voice did not escape Cavalerio, and he knew he was being overcautious, needlessly telling the crew their jobs.

Victorix Magna was an old machine, patched, repaired and refitted a thousand times in her long life of battle.

Her fiery heart was proud, but it was old like his, and Cavalerio wondered how many more marches they would take together.