The Beast Arises

‘The problem isn’t power,’ Urquidex assured the artisan-primus. ‘The weapon has suffered a malfunction, which isn’t surprising given the poor quality of its construction and maintenance. I fear that this field — swiftly depleting and dissipating after death — in some way aids the crude workings of such creations.’

‘But what of technologies not in direct contact with the xenos?’

‘Unknown. The weapon was a simple demonstration with a cadaver-specimen,’ Urquidex said. ‘I have not observed the field’s properties in a living organism. I don’t know for sure that the field is responsible.’

‘If it was, could the field be replicated?’

‘Unknown. Not my specialisation.’

Artisan Van Auken took a moment to process this new data.

‘These are important findings,’ Van Auken said. ‘They must reach Mars without delay.’

Urquidex watched the artisan process more than just the findings. Van Auken, who scorned the display of emotions in his colleagues, had difficulty keeping pride in his expedition’s work from his gaunt face. Greed followed as an afterthought. Greed for power, recognition and influence. It was his name and designation as artisan-primus that would accompany the data packet to Mars. He who would be recalled to serve in the sacred ranks of the Fabricator General’s diagnostiad.

‘There is something else,’ Urquidex said, shaking Van Auken from his machinations.

‘Proceed,’ the artisan trajectorae encouraged, eager for more revelations.

‘I have gene-typed the creature and a sample of its kind,’ the Magos Biologis said, ‘and cross-referenced our findings with the data-vaults aboard the Subservius.’

‘And what did you discover?’ Van Auken urged.

‘They all have the same origin, genetically speaking,’ Urquidex said. ‘With some more work, we should be able to narrow it down to a particular area of the galaxy. Perhaps even a single world.’

A burst of binary cant from Alpha Primus Orozko interrupted the pair of priests. An alpha of the Epsil-XVIII Collatorax had reported to the primus. Urquidex and Van Auken turned, and Orozko prompted the subordinate to report.

‘Artisan-primus,’ the tribunus said. ‘The augurmats have discovered life signs and designation signatures in quadrant four. They’re weak but verified and coming from beneath the ground.’

‘Survivors?’ Eldon Urquidex dared to hope.

‘Witnesses,’ Van Auken corrected him, ‘to the end of a world. Take us to them.’

The alpha led his commander and the two priests through the floating carnage about the magos’ field of electrostatic rods. Beyond the static, the sampling crews and the skitarii standing sentinel, the alpha took them to a small excavation. A cordon of gathered Collatorax, augurmats and a servitor dig-team parted to admit the artisan-primus, and a medicae servitor looked up from its work at the tech-priests’ arrival.

A pair of stretcher-bearing servitors carried the remains of an ashen priest from the excavation site. He was clad in the robes of the Mechanicus, besmirched with Ardamantuan earth, but had suffered the horrific injuries of battle. His legs were missing, hacked away by some brute weapon of war. Lengths of intestine and the tech-priest’s inner workings spilled from the mess of his abdomen-stump.

‘Halt,’ the magos said, bringing the servitors to a stop. ‘Status?’

‘Compromised,’ the medicae servitor told him in monotone. ‘Critical. Demonstrated no life signs or data-feeds. Invasive interventions stabilised core and cogitae. Organic systems either dead or dying. Survival unlikely.’

What blood and oil remained in the priest’s body was leaking out onto the stretcher. His augmented biology was still partially functioning, although he was technically not alive and in machine system shock. His hands reached out for things that were not there and nonsense fell from his lips like a stream of dribble.

‘You know this priest?’ Van Auken asked.

‘Yes,’ Urquidex informed him. ‘The Omnissiah favoured him with my specialism: his name is Laurentis, Phaeton Laurentis. He was assigned to the original expedition.’

‘Laurentis…’

‘He did some good work in isolation, while attached to the Imperial Fists. He gathered some valuable data, made some useful observations.’

‘His observations were not so useful to the Fabricator General,’ Van Auken said, ‘when he transmitted them to Terra.’

‘Like many of our calling,’ Urquidex said, ‘Phaeton Laurentis was not taken into the Fabricator General’s confidence regarding the alien invader. He knew no more than the Guard officers and Adeptus Astartes besieged with him. We can hardly blame him for serving the cohort to which he had been assigned. And like I said, some of his work was very good, bearing in mind what little he had to work with.’

Van Auken was unconvinced. ‘Take him to my shuttle,’ the artisan commanded the servitors. ‘He will repair to the ship for censure and redesignation of service.’