Adeptus Mechanicus: Tech-Priest (Warhammer 40,000) by Rob Sanders

Author:Rob Sanders [Sanders, Rob]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2016-08-03T00:00:00+00:00

0110

SELECTED: DENTRICA I OF II

ENGAGE NEURAL CONGRESS – WIRELESS AUTOSHUNT ACQUIRED

UPLOADING… +ENGINEER THE COLLISION+

With priests working on the damage to the delicate phylactic instrumentation of the diagnostiquorum, Omnid Torquora tried to acquire Princeps Datric 31-Thermochron of the 4.7 Sigmus-Sicariax. The archmagos had assigned 31-Thermochron’s killclade the responsibility of escorting the magos aethyricus, his priests and the Geller Device down to the forge world’s surface. 31-Thermochron’s orders were clear: protect the device at all costs and deliver it safely to its detonation site.

It was strange viewing the interior of the Mechanicus gunfreighter Onus through the bug-eyed optics of the Sicarian princeps. Like all of his kind, he was a step removed from other skitarii. Boasting the augmentations of a veritable cybernetic assassin, 31-Thermochron and his clade were cold and calculating even by the standards of the skitarii legions. Standing like a spindly statue in the cargo hold, 31-Thermochron scanned his ruststalkers, his systems running endless diagnostics and auditry in preparation for battle. While the magos aethyricus and his staff were strapped into wall-seats, the skitarii surrounded a tracked ark containing the precious Geller Device.

<Princeps, report to the cockpit,> Torquora ordered, as the gunfreighter rumbled through its descent.

Passing wired servitors who were set in the gunfreighter’s weapons alcoves, 31-Thermochron headed for the cargo bay ladder. As the Onus lurched and trembled, the princeps reached out to steady himself on a hulking battle-automaton. For extra insurance, Torquora had assigned the mission a Kastelan robot maniple. With their carapace-mounted weaponry nearly scraping the ceiling of the compartment, the Kastelans were towering relics. As the princeps’s chordclaw tapped against the plate of the automaton’s fist, the robots’ datasmith, Dynostrii, craned his head around suspiciously. With his helm optics extending, Dynostrii watched 31-Thermochron ascend the bay ladder before polishing the robot’s great fist with the skirts of his robe.

The Sicarian ignored the datasmith and made his way up to the cockpit. As a Mechanicus armoured transport, ordinarily outfitted for ordnance drops and the conveyance of materiel too bulky for a lighter, the gunfreighter boasted a crew of two servitor-pilots and four interfaced gun-servitors. The gunners manned multi-lasers and 31-Thermochron could see that they were going to need them. The descent was going to be a rocky one.

Through the princeps’s optics, Torquora could see the twisted industriascape and cratered devastation of the forge world below. Like a swarm of disturbed flies, Dark Mechanicum craft crowded the skies. Freighters. Sky-claws. Barges. Gunships. Fighters. Atmospheric drones. The craft were black and bristling with spikes, like sea urchins. The cockpits of the vehicles glowed with the dread light of daemonic possession. Dark Mechanicum forces were on the move – as Torquora had suspected. The Iron Warriors had given orders to attack in a coordinated and decimating wave that would have smashed the Adeptus Mechanicus forces on the planet’s surface. There were very few cohorts and contingents left there to attack, however.

As Torquora had commanded, skitarii soldiers had fallen back to extraction sites whence gunships, lighters and fat drop-ships were ferrying them back to their troop carriers stationed in low orbit.

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