Lost and Found (Warhammer 40k SI)

POV: Archmagos, Nocta Seraphex-9 of Mars

Trepidation – that was the emotion his implants flagged that he was experiencing in copious amounts as the day arrived for the first of the examinations for little Magos Cavalerio. He had the distinct honor of going first; proctoring her Divisio Fabricator was little more than a formality.

While his message had been sent and received, he had not received a reply. Tempestus was making use of the storage facility in orbit and the Tithe facility planetside, which boded well, but he had just recently made the mistake of extrapolating without all the data and would restrain himself from repeating that folly.

Unlike some of the other proctors, his exam would be held privately; it was not open to the public or in a grand hall. A secluded amphitheater in one of his personal forge facilities with an archeotech holographic display would suffice. Only a few dozen Tech Priests, Magi, and other peers would be permitted to observe in person. He would brook no outside interference, as was his right as an Archmagos of Sacred Mars.

Lady Cavalerio arrived exactly on time with her guards and retinue in tow. He accelerated his perception and examined her with his senses and his Auspex. The trepidation bled away as he spotted his gift, the pistol, on open display at her hip. When, on top of that obviously intended gesture, she bowed politely, respectfully, and greeted him with his full title, the message could not have been clearer: His transgression had been forgiven, and his apology had been accepted.

His spine straightened, his shoulders relaxed as he stood proudly, and he made the sign of the cog. “Welcome, honored guests and our esteemed applicant. I, Archmagos Nocta Seraphex-9 of Mars, shall hereby commence the examination of Nicole Cavalerio in the Divisio Fabricator, whose current rank is listed as that of an Adept Fabricator, one which I believe is… inaccurate. This examination will take place in the Noosphere at Lingua-Technis, as the candidate's practical engineering prowess and her title as an Artisan Magos are not in doubt. All guests physically present and observing digitally are to remain silent unless called upon,” he hissed as his glowing eyes swept over the assembly; his dendrites writhed in warning. “By the great power of the Machine God, the Omnissiah, and the Motive Force, I call this examination to order. Candidate Cavalerio, please join me here on the dais and in the prepared digital space within Noosphere.”

His towering digital avatar peered down at the perfect digital facsimile that was Nicole’s Noospheric avatar as she joined him. The code within was so dense he couldn’t read it without peering close enough to be rude. Various figures popped up around them; most notable were, of course, his fellow Archmagi, Archmagos Doll and Fabricator Locum Korr, who were observing and keeping their presences politely muted.

“We will start with a hypothetical. You are in charge of a class four orbital forge facility around a class two resource world. You have only just arrived and taken over after your predecessor expired, and production has fallen 17.3% across all main outputs. Describe your priorities, your methodology, and your plans. You are permitted to make inquiries for more data.”

“What are the main exports and primary outputs? Are they STC-derived or using other schematics? What is the division of labor force across Mechanicus staff, servitors, skilled laborers, and menial laborers? As a class-four facility, is this zero, low, or artificial gravity?” She immediately pressed for more data; all her questions were pertinent, and he did his best to provide answers within the bounds of the simulation. It was a fairly popular test question in the Divisio.

Nicole’s responses ended with the listed output well above average. Not the fastest he had seen or the highest-rated output. She had gotten distracted by a few of the tricky red herrings he had slipped into the data and had thoroughly rooted them all out.

In the real world, a few seconds had passed, but when you could converse at the speed of superiorly augmented thought, that was more than enough time for the first of many examination questions.

The exam would last an hour in real time, giving them plenty of time to thoroughly assess her hypothetical capabilities as a Fabricator.

Throughout many of her responses, he caught sight of Archmagos Doll’s digital avatar nodding along. The amount of data they were exchanging steadily increased, and some of the outside observers, particularly the Tech Priests, began to show signs of strain. One of the physically present adepts passed out in his chair as his cortex implant overheated.

As the technical questions grew more esoteric, even some of the Magi started to show confusion.

When he opened up for questions from the observers, there was a single pertinent question. “Respectfully, Archmagos, why are you keeping to technical, command, logistics, and political questions? You have not touched on dogma. Why?”

Nocta scoffed and pulled up Nicole’s profile, highlighting one of her ranks and holding it up: Archimandrite. “This is an ancient Mechanicus rank; you can be forgiven for not knowing it, but unfamiliarity with such ranks is a deficiency I strongly recommend you correct. This is a rank of Cybertheurgy; it was the most prestigious Order of the Higher Tech-Arcana. I can see that many of you do not even comprehend what the field of Cybertheurgy is. Allow me to educate you: Cybertheurgy is a complex art that exists at the intersection of technological machine spirits and human souls, and Archimanderite is its highest rank.” He let the words hang there for a long moment. “Having personally seen Archimanderite Cavalerio summon a data-djinn, I can say for certain that ranking is not for show. But you asked about dogma; how do you question the belief of a living relic? Of someone whose knowledge of the Laws of the Mechanicus eclipses your own? I have skipped the matters of dogma because, regardless of what faction she has aligned herself with, there is nothing to prove. Her deeds and existence are sufficient.”

Nicole was looking at him with an odd expression as he shook his avatar’s head. “I firmly believe that questioning her knowledge of Mechanicus dogma will only result in humiliation for the questioner. Now, back to the topic at hand: her qualifications for Divisio Fabricator! I believe she possesses the knowledge and ability to qualify for the elevation to Magos. While not quite meeting the threshold for High Magos, mostly due to her lack of practical years of experience managing a Forge Temple or Forge City.”

Nicole seemed content and accepted that evaluation with aplomb.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

POV: Nicole

With the precedent set by my first exam, I feel optimistic moving on to the next one. Archmagos Nocta had been nothing but professional and courteous. The exam content had been a little dry, but another Magos rank was within my expectations.

I shake my head in amusement as I get a Noospheric message from Voidwright Superius, Archmagos Fabricator, Vessal Croft, as I settle into my shuttle with Master Doll.

Transmission: Rite of Renewed Accord

Magos Candidate Cavalerio,

From Voidwright Superius Vessal Croft

It has come to our attention via data logged in the Mechanicus archives that your ranking within the Basilikon Astra is due for revision. This was not originally slated for review in your examinations; however, your track record with Voidcraft is impeccable. A full examination would be a gross waste of both of our valuable time. As such, we have abbreviated the final exam to five questions. Answer each within the bounds they are given, and please submit them for perusal within the week. After its evaluation, we will arrange a face-to-face meeting to discuss your wealth of navigational data.

By the grace of the Omnissiah,

Voidwright Superius, Archmagos, Vessal Croft.

Question 1: The following Cobra-class destroyer schematic has three major flaws deviating from the base STC; locate and explain them.

Question 2: This Lunar-class Cruiser has been heavily damaged and tainted. Examine the data provided and determine if it is salvageable or should be scrapped. Justify your reasoning.

Question 3: Here is a schematic for an Overlord-class Battlecruiser. Is there anything wrong with it?

Question 4: Choose the design and loadout for a Dauntless-class Light Cruiser; it is slated to serve as a picket ship by the Imperial Navy. Justify your choices.

Question 5: You are tasked with transporting five hundred thousand troops, their supplies, and war material. Design a craft or several crafts for that explicit purpose within the bounds provided. *The ship may not be an Ark Mechanicus or possess armour above Cruiser-grade. There is no limitation on ship length or total tonnage.

I blink twice and reread the message just to be sure of what I am seeing. Archmagos Croft has just given me the Mechanicus equivalent of homework or a take-home exam.

I look across the cabin at Master Doll. “Did you have something to do with this, Master?” I inquire as I forward him the message.

“Not directly,” he admits as he leans back into his seat. “News of your performance in this first examination is already making the rounds. She likely recognized that the Basilikon Astra was not slated to participate in the examinations and chose to rectify that accordingly. I did mention you were interested in arranging a meeting regarding your data-trove and interested in procuring more hulls for the new forces of Tempestus.”

“I see,” I say, a string of my consciousness and part of my cortex implants already working on processing the questions and data provided. “I’ll endeavor to meet or exceed her expectations then.”

“We are heading back into orbit, which exam is next?” Brother Silverwalker asks.

My smile stiffens slightly as I reply, “Psykana. Apparently my proctor is… reclusive. She lives in a space station isolated from the orbital ring.”

Master Doll visibly winces. “They also stipulated you are to attend alone. Given their reputation, no one is contesting that. Good luck, Nicole,” he says earnestly.

—-----------------------------------------------

POV: Archmagos Akellonon Doll

Suspended in the black void, far from the shipping lanes of Cypra Mundi, the Veil Ripper space station drifted in solitary silence. The station was an immense spindle of black iron and adamantium, its design focused just as keenly on keeping the uninvited out as keeping things in, broadest at its armored central manufactorum and tapering into needle-like spires at either end, its kilometers-long form was wrapped in concentric rings of sensor arrays, gravitic stabilizers, and labyrinthine cooling vanes. Along its length, vast test pylons unfolded like the barbs of a harpoon, while immense electromagnetic cages projected invisible prisons capable of shackling energies that had no rightful place in the Materium. Modules designed to be ejected and purged with prejudice in an emergency dotted the exterior in between vicious-looking Lance arrays and Macro-cannons.

It was with some trepidation that he watched Nicole depart the shuttle.

He had looked into the mistress of the station, Archmagos Vethros Kalligon, who was known for being incredibly reclusive, highly eccentric, and none of the local factions wanted to deal with her. She was politically radioactive on Cypra Mundi, and her self-imposed exile suited her and everyone else.

The massive doors leading into the facility had opened just enough for the Archmagos to scuttle out and lead Nicole inside, the doors closing behind them. Humanoid in her proportions, she was heavily augmented; only the jaw area remained flesh and blood. Her ocular array featured three eyes, each aglow with a different colored crystal lens. One was a deep red that bled into the infrared spectrum, one a scintillating cyan in the middle of the ivory white ceramite of her forehead, and the third was a verdant glowing green. Her form was asymmetrical with five upper limbs and five legs.

The Archmagos had erected a bold display above the entrance where a digital readout listed the time since the last major and minor incident. Major: 136 years. Minor: 2 days.

Recent information on Kalligon was sparse. The notes from the last Magos to transfer from her staff were… concerning.

She refers to warp drives as ‘temperamental darlings.’

It was generally acknowledged and accepted by her staff: If Archmagos Kalligon begins laughing, secure your data. If she begins humming, secure your soul.

She giggles during containment failures – not because she enjoys the danger, but because she's genuinely excited by unexpected data.

She has never once considered requesting additional safety regulations and bucks any attempt to foist them upon her. Instead, she requested thicker blast doors and an atomic contingency for the more high-risk experiments.

Those entries did not paint a pleasant picture; it was in stark contrast to her stellar production numbers on paper when it came to stable, high-performing warp drives. Doll was not quite sure what to make of her. She reminded him of some of the isolated research-obsessed Magi back on the Lathes.

The giant doors opened once more after exactly twenty-four hours. Nicole stumbled out, expression ashen, from behind her, a slab of faintly glowing metal flew out, clattering across the deck where it stopped at his feet. His Auspex identified it as a slab of adamantine that had been stamped.

Nicole Cavalerio:

Divisio Psykana: Pass! Rank: Magos, full marks! Expansive knowledge base, strong candidate for High Magos.

Divisio Telepathica: Fail! Rank: Adept, Chief-Telepathican; the girl needs more exposure to the wonders of psychic weaponry!

Signed: Archmagos Vethros Kalligon

Doll glanced at Nicole, who looked mildly traumatized, and whispered, “That woman… is insane. I would like to leave before this station explodes.”

He was more than happy to usher her back into the shuttle and leave the station well enough behind them, snagging the slab of adamantine as they left.

—------------------------------------------------------------

POV: Nicole

I do my best to put the insanity of Archmagos Kalligon behind me. I go so far as to partition and lock off the more unpleasant and unsettling memories of my recent experiences with her.

I shake my head and sigh in relief as the partition settles into place. My next exam is scheduled with Magos Errant Xeranthe Vhal-Kyber, the Stygies VIII representative. I anticipate this exam will be far more pleasant than the last.

Magos Xeranthe’s choice of venues is downright modest. A solarium in one of the tallest hive spires, above the smog layer with a clear view up into the orbital ring and the stars beyond. A holotable has been prepared with two luxurious chairs. It’s quite a comfortable and cozy atmosphere, and while the usual observers in the Noosphere are present digitally – Master Doll, Korr, and some of the other council members – they are absent physically.

Magos Xeranthe is by the window when I enter, her robes bear the sigils of her home forge, in red, grey, and black. Her optics glow with the distinct azure light. She’s tall, over two and a half meters, her body – my Auspex picks up through the considerable wards hidden in her robes and on her person – is incredibly slender, her legs are reverse-jointed and digitigrade augmetics, specialized ones that utilize gravitic stabilizers rather than pistons. She has a small nest of thin Mechadendrites reminiscent of my own Dendrite Blades, writhing under her cloak. Whatever alloy her body is made from bears a lovely blue tint, likely from residual oxidized mineral cobalt if I had to hazard a guess. I don’t want to appear rude, so I avoid taking an in-depth scan, keeping my Auspex passive.

Arrayed behind my proctor are two Kastelan-class automata and a squad of Skitarii also bearing Stygies VIII heraldry. They are glaring at the trio standing opposite Xeranthe.

I recognize the central figure immediately: Inquisitor Solenne Arc-Ferrum of the Ordo Machinum. Her subtle body language is tense, and her dislike for the two individuals flanking her is palpable. She looks moments away from lashing out at them.

I ping the pair and mentally cringe; Inquisitor Hadrian Voss and Inquisitor Lycinia Draevor, both of the Ordo Machinum, they are the two who had been pestering me for a meeting. One of them sent that Interrogator who almost got deleted by the dreadnoughts I was tending to last week.

I raise an eyebrow and glance towards Xeranthe, who sighs dramatically. “My apologies, Magos Cavalerio, for the unexpected guests; they… insisted, and I am afraid that expunging them without cause as a representative of Stygies VIII would be improper,” she says while making the sign of the cog and bowing politely.

I nod. “Your apology is unneeded, Magos Errant Xeranthe Vhal-Kyber, I have been looking forward to this exam,” I say politely, returning the sign of the cog before I turn my gaze to Inquisitor Solenne.

She has the good grace to wince as we make eye contact; she looks like she would rather be anywhere but here. “Princeps Seniores Cavalerio.” She even bows a little lower than necessary. Getting a read on the Inquisitor is quite difficult, but she might actually be apologetic. “Allow me to introduce my… esteemed colleagues.” Her voice is monotone and cold as she gestures to the pair flanking her. Not friends or allies, then.

I approach placidly. “Inquisitors, this is a surprise. What urgent matter can we help you with?” I ask, the lower haft of my Omnissian Axe tapping clearly on the smooth metal floor tiles with each step.

Inquisitor Hadrian Voss smiles and steps forward; the man feels… slimy… not corrupted slimy, but used-car-salesman slimy. “Magos Cavalerio, it is so good to speak with you finally. We have been struggling to do so for some time now.”

“As you are no doubt aware, Inquisitor, my time is currently at a premium and thusly limited to pressing matters at the moment. For example, this appointment was specifically set aside for one of my many Divisio examinations.” I smile back politely, but my eyes are cold.

He clears his throat. If he is at all put off by my reception, he hides it well. “Given your recent dealings with our sister Ordos, Magos Cavalerio, my colleague and I concluded it would be remiss not to make your acquaintance. Your file has attracted... considerable professional interest, and Inquisitor Arc-Ferrum was kind enough to facilitate an introduction.”

The faint twitch at the corner of Solenne's jaw is the only outward sign of what she thinks of that statement. ‘Kind enough’ is an interesting way to describe being cornered by two of her fellow Inquisitors, neither of whom outranks her. They all carry equivalent authority, yet they have evidently spent at least a week inserting themselves where they need not be, likely citing protocols, precedents, and every ounce of institutional leverage they can muster until refusing them becomes more trouble than acquiescing.

Inquisitor Voss wears the smile of a man who is convinced persistence is indistinguishable from diplomacy. Beside him, Draevor remains silent, her sharp eyes never leaving me as though she is already composing a report on every movement I make.

I let the silence linger just long enough to become uncomfortable before answering. "How fortunate for you that Magos Erant Vhal-Kyber possesses such exemplary patience."

My gaze drifts past the pair to Magos Xeranthe, offering her a small apologetic inclination of my head before returning my attention to the interlopers. "My exchange with the Ordo Xenos concerns matters strictly under their purview. If you are attempting to make inroads into files sealed by Lord Inquisitor Striker, I cannot help you. If you seek copies of the STCs exchanged at the Forum, you will need to petition the Fabricator General or the Fabricator Locum, for that is a Mechanicus matter. If you possess the requisite clearance, then the report submitted to Segmentum High Command should already make my position abundantly clear."

Voss's smile never wavers. "Naturally, Magos Cavalerio, we have no desire to intrude upon classified matters." The bald-faced lie is delivered with practiced ease. "Rather, we wished to establish a cordial relationship. Individuals of your... unique standing... often encounter discoveries, relics, or situations that fall within the Ordo Machinum's purview long before they reach ours. Should you ever recover archaeotech of uncertain provenance, encounter divergent machine cults, or require discreet investigative resources beyond those immediately available to the Mechanicus, I hope you will remember that our Ordo exists to be an ally rather than an obstacle."

Draevor inclines her head ever so slightly. "Likewise, should you find yourself in need of information unavailable within any Forge's archives, or assets that cannot officially exist, we would welcome the opportunity to render assistance. Professional acquaintances are often... mutually beneficial."

I sigh and look first to Voss, then to Draevor. I incline my head slightly, acknowledging their offer without accepting it. "I see." I adjust my grip upon the haft of my Omnissian Axe, allowing a measured silence to settle over the solarium. "Then permit me to offer a piece of professional advice in return. Within the Cult Mechanicus, an examination for advancement is not a mere administrative appointment to be interrupted at one's convenience. It is a sacred rite – a solemn evaluation of one's knowledge, faith, and worth before the Machine God. Magos Erant Vhal-Kyber has devoted her valuable time to proctoring this examination, and I have devoted my own to undertaking it. To insert yourselves into such a proceeding, regardless of your intentions, is... discourteous."

I pause deliberately and sweep my eyes over the trio. "You are members of the Ordo Machinum. You, of all people, should already know this."

My tone never rises above polite conversation, yet neither Inquisitor appears particularly pleased to find themselves on the receiving end of it. "I do not question your authority, Inquisitors, nor your desire to establish cordial relations. However, professional courtesy is a reciprocal obligation. Had you wished to introduce yourselves, a simple request after the conclusion of my examination period would have been entirely appropriate. Instead, you chose to burden both your fellow Inquisitor and my proctor with an unnecessary inconvenience."

"That said, your intentions have been made clear. Should I one day uncover matters that properly fall within the Ordo Machinum's jurisdiction, or find myself requiring assistance uniquely suited to your expertise, I shall remember today's conversation. At present, however, I have neither information nor requests to place before your Ordo. Three points of contact already seem rather excessive when I possess one." My eyes settle pointedly upon Solenne. "Nonetheless, they have been duly noted and archived."

I return my attention to Voss and Draevor. "Now, this is a Divisio Xenologis and Divisio Linguistica examination, both are disciplines that naturally intersect with the Ordo Xenos, and yet they apparently have more pressing matters demanding their attention. I cannot help but question whether the Ordo Machinum is properly prioritizing its own responsibilities given the current situation within the system, if it can spare three Inquisitors merely to introduce themselves."

A pleasant smile returns to my face, just warm and wide enough to satisfy etiquette while carrying no invitation to continue this charade whatsoever. "Unless either of you possesses business that cannot survive the duration of a Magos examination, I would prefer to resume this holy rite. I have no desire to keep Magos Errant Vhal-Kyber waiting any longer than your introduction already has."

For the first time since the conversation began, Voss's smile falters, he inclines his head with practiced courtesy and that slimy smile. "Your point is well taken, Magos Cavalerio. We intended no disrespect to your customs."

"Merely an unfortunate lapse in judgment," Draevor adds evenly, though there is no mistaking the disappointment behind her measured expression. She had come hoping to pry open a door and instead found it politely closed in her face.

Voss recovers quickly, offering a final, almost theatrical bow to both Xeranthe and me. "Then we shall not delay your ascension further. We appreciate your time and look forward to more... accommodating opportunities in the future."

"I shall keep that in mind," I reply evenly.

The pair offer the Sign of the Cog to Magos Xeranthe and I before giving Solenne the briefest nod. Without another word, they turn on their heels and depart, their retinues falling into lockstep behind them.

In the humming silence that follows, Solenne closes her eyes for a heartbeat and releases a slow breath that the emotional identifier tied to my Auspex tags as relief. "My sincere apologies, Princeps Senioris... Magos Cavalerio," she says, inclining her head more deeply than etiquette requires. "I had hoped they would exercise better judgment. Evidently, I overestimated my... peers."

A quiet, melodic chuckle drifts across the room. "They were remarkably restrained, all things considered," Xeranthe observes, amusement dancing behind her softly glowing azure optics.

Solenne snorts. "Only because they realized they had exhausted every political favor available to corner me into arranging that introduction."

That earns her a small smile from me.

"I originally intended to take my leave once they had done so," Solenne continued, "However..." She reaches into her robes and produces a slim data-slate bearing the unmistakable sigil of the Ordo Xenos that she offers to me.

"I do have a formal request from the Ordo Xenos," she says with a small smirk.

I accept the slate, raising an eyebrow as I skim the authorization.

"Should circumstances permit, with the permission of the proctor and candidate. Inquisitor Solenne Arc-Ferrum is asked to remain as an observer during Princeps Senioris Cavalerio's Divisio Xenologis examination. A recording of the full examination is to be encrypted and transmitted directly to the Ordo Xenos under existing information-sharing accords.”

“I am fine with this,” I accept and pass the slate to Xeranthe, who nods in agreement after quickly reading it.

“I concur, though I will warn you, Inquisitor, if the exam progresses as I believe it may, there is a high risk you may require psychic or mechanical censoring,” she warns with a hint of amusement. “Now then, please sit, candidate Cavalerio, we have so much to discuss!” She says excitedly.

I settle into the chair opposite Xeranthe, passing my Axe off to my Mechatendril tail. “Given the setting and lack of a defined list of questions, do I understand correctly that this is going to be more of an open-ended oral exam?”

Xeranthe nods. “Indeed.”

“In that case, I would like to start with Linguistica… Here is the current Magos level archive pertaining to the Necron runic language… and here is the corrected version I have compiled.” I pull up the two files and present them to Xeranthe. “The original files lack some essential syntax, and I am prepared to validate my corrections. When it comes to Xenos, I am most familiar with the Necrons, but I know some of the Eldari, Drukhari, Harlequins, Ynnari, Exodites, Orks, and I have done my best to educate myself on the newer Xenos species such as the T'au, Kroot. Tyranids, and Genestealers. I also have knowledge of numerous lesser Xenos species such as the warp-based Enslavers, Fra'al, Loxatl, Rak'Gol, Hrud, Slaugth, and more, though some of the Xenos I vaguely recall from the Great Crusade era were not mentioned in the archives,” I list off, knowing that I am forgetting a few and intentionally not listing certain other species.

Xeranthe looks absolutely ecstatic as she processes what I’ve just said and leans forward as she studies my treatise on the Necrontyr glyph language with great interest.

Solenne already looks a little lost but continues to politely listen from the side.

The time flies by as I get pulled into the back-and-forth discussion with Xeranthe, she is an absolute font of knowledge on the Eldari and has enough clearance to be passingly familiar and absolutely fascinated by my knowledge of the Necrons. However, there comes a point when, going over the glyphs, I have to intervene.

“What about this glyph? It’s been seen repeatedly on the outside of some of their unusual floating structures on several battlefronts.” She points at the C’tan symbol.

“Magos Errant Xeranthe… I am afraid that information is classified priority Omega, and we are the only individuals present with the requisite clearance. I am sorry. I must ask that you move on or press the matter,” I warn her gravely.

She leans back in her chair and sighs. “My enthusiasm almost got the better of me there… Ahh, yes, the same term from the Forum… I see.” She nods in acknowledgement and moves on.

“I do happen to have a way to prove my corrections are valid. I am in possession of a Necron construct that I have reprogrammed using the index.” I call one of the smaller scarabs from the Tesseract and let it crawl out of my sleeve onto the table. It’s digitally tagged solely to me and marked with the Ordo Xenos permission file.

Solenne visibly stiffens and tenses at the first sign of the construct.

“I can assure you both it’s quite safe, it’s a simple construct… well, simple for Necron technology, so quite advanced in some ways, but I have full control over it. While I can’t explain the exact methods I used to subvert the original control engrams, I doubt it would work for other units outside the Dynasty that used this particular set of engrams,” I say, shaking my head ruefully. “This is a perfect way to validate my data. So if I give it this simple command using my script, it will move forward and then scuttle left, if I did the same with the original Mechanicus key, it moves up, and then pivots left…”

Eventually our chat and the exam comes to an end, much to my chagrin. It seems I went well over the allotted time after we got sidetracked talking about the various minor Xenos species and their different technologies.

“It’s a shame,” Xeranthe says wistfully as she stands. “The limitations of my own ranking inhibit the ranks I can recommend for you.” She makes no attempt to hide it and broadcasts the results in the Noosphere to the few Archmagi who were observing with a small portion of their consciousness.

High Magos in Divisio Xenologis

Techno Magos Prime in Divisio Linguistica

“High praise,” I mutter as I ponder the political implications those two ranks might have. Xenologis is a highly contentious Divisio at the best of times.

She scoffs as she stands with fluid grace. “Hardly. Your expertise deserves recognition, if anything, I feel it may be lacking. Alas, I do not have the proper background to evaluate your data on the Necrons. One of my peers on Stygies VIII with the proper background will no doubt be enraptured by it when it gets to them.”

Inquisitor Solenne is still eyeing the Scarab on the table. “Magos Cavalerio… I do hope you don’t intend to keep that thing?”

I tilt my head. “Hmmm? Yes? The Ordo Xenos already cleared it along with the other war constructs and equipment I… liberated from the vaults of the Xenos in the name of the Machine God.” I recall the scarab before AME can get any ideas about a crunchy necrodermis snack while she somehow manages to use her optics to give the Inquisitors a stink-eye.

I ping her a copy of the digitally signed registry. She relaxes but only slightly. “I see… I wish you well in your remaining examinations, High Magos Cavalerio.” She gives a polite bow and departs with the Ordo Xenos dataslate.

Xeranthe smiles down at me as I prepare to depart. “By the grace of the Omnissiah, I hope we shall speak again, High Magos. Ave Deus Mechanicus.”

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from NovelPhoenix. Please report it.

“Ave Deus Mechanicus, Magos Errant,” I reply with a small smile.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

POV: Lukar Metraen, Exhumed Blood Angel

Lukar’s legs ached, yet the pain was a welcome feeling. Each agonizing step reminded him that for the first time in over a hundred years, he once again had legs.

The regenerated flesh was tender; the muscles would need work to reach full combat effectiveness. He took a deep breath, and even the stale space station air filled him with euphoria after such a long time confined to his sarcophagus.

The implants remained, and if he was ever directly injured and not outright killed, he would return to his living coffin.

The Venerables thought they were funny, sending his empty chassis and sarcophagus ahead of him. Insisting it was polished and sent back in pristine condition. He could already hear the screaming.

“What is the meaning of this? Where is Lukar!?” His good friend Captain Donatos was screaming at the Librarian Dreadnought, who bore the vitriol with the blank stoicism of a wall of ceramite. “What do you mean it’s empty!?”

“Brother, calm yourself,” he called out.

Donatos’s head snapped to him. “Don’t tell me to calm down! Lukar is missing!” Then he did a double-take. “Wait, who in the hell are you?” All his Astartes were accounted for.

Lukar reached up to remove the Mark IV helmet he had been gifted and undid the seals, letting his blonde hair spill out. One of his eyes remained a red, glowing high-end prosthetic, but the majority of his face had been regenerated. “It’s cruel of you to forget me like that, Brother. Especially after I took that Suncannon shot for you,” he said jovially.

Donatos’s face contorted through emotions; confusion, shock, AND surprise. Lukar had a moment to brace before an impact rattled his bones and cracked several ribs as Donatos’s armour nearly buckled his own in a hug. “Lukar!? You were… How?” He sputtered as he looked Lukar up and down repeatedly with an utterly baffled expression.

“I have been Exhumed.” Lukar returned the hug. “I am one of several blessed individuals.” He chuckled wryly as Zaphalon rumbled in amusement behind them.

“This is not your armour,” Donatos said with a small frown as he released Lukar.

“It was a gift to go with my rebirth, as I believe my old plate is currently in use,” Lukar said with a small smirk. “Though I will need my Crux Terminatus back.”

“You still have not answered me… How is this possible, Brother?” Donatos asked him.

“Brother Zaphalon may know more, but most of it was beyond me, I fear,” Lukar admitted with a shake of his head.

“It is better if you do not. This is a result of a conflux of circumstances beyond the norm. It is not a precedent to set, and the resources consumed were considerable, I am told. A gift freely given from the Ancient Venerable Baldos, Magos Nicole Cavalerio, and Lord Arken Drakios through a mix of technological and arcane means,” Zaphalon explained firmly.

“I am not whole,” He gestured down at his new limbs. “My body is somewhat frail. I will need to work it back into proper shape on our way to Baal, Brother,” Lukar admitted, flexing one of his gauntleted hands.

Donatos' face twisted. “Oh by the Blood of Sanguinius! I’m going to have to do so much paperwork! You need your rank back, and there are others who were Exhumed?” He examined the new icon briefly. “... Throne, this is going to be a whole mess.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------

POV: Bladed Cog Magos Biologis Biophagus Zygor Gravox

Gravox studied the data arrayed before him in open confusion; it simply did not make any sense. The probes dotted along the shores of the massive reservoir and along the exterior of his own secret facility, monitoring the biomass lake, had been reset, recalibrated, and thoroughly vetted.

The lake’s depth was three meters shallower than it should be.

“This is not possible,” he muttered to himself, uncaring that his nearby minions could overheat as he tapped a clawed finger against one of the metallic panels. “That is well over one point five billion tonnes of biomass. That does not simply disappear. Is there a leak in the reservoir?”

“Negative, Magos. No leaks reported,” buzzed one of his hybrid minions.

Gravox was thoroughly vexed. His glorious Patriarch was awake and active, and he had greatly encouraged their research. However, according to the hard data, Gravox could see that despite increasing the amount of power fed into the Queen’s corpse by a factor of ten, they had barely doubled their output of hybrid creatures for the Broodmind. The data clearly indicated production should have scaled linearly.

The Patriarch’s soothing presence pulsed in the back of his mind, urging his attention elsewhere. Away from the unsettling data discrepancies, away from the thick anchoring umbilical hanging below the Queen that vanished down into the depths of the lake like the root of a massive tree. The presence urged him to make the necessary preparations for his upcoming Biologis examination proctoring for the girl, and if at all possible, abduct and infect her.

Towards that end, the Patriarch had given him control of two entire broods of Purestrain Genestealers, along with his own hybrids and biologically and mechanically enhanced followers. They were glorious fusions of brood-flesh and engineered metal, each a step closer to the perfection he sought for the ultimate warrior-hybrid.

The date and time of his exam were set, and he had final say on the location and nature of the exam. As the lead proctor, he had been be told exactly what route she would be taking to arrive. Such preparations were hardly difficult to a gloriously augmented mind such as his.

He shook his head and ignored the distant screams through the broodmind. Millions of lesser individuals were nobly sacrificing themselves and drawing their enemies' attention to the other planets in the system to buy the Patriarch time to prepare for the true uprising. Only a scant few of them were truly linked to the deeper intimacies of the glorious Broodmind, but those with a link were being so dramatic that he just wished they would die more quietly; it was distracting him from his holy work!

—------------------------------------------------------------

POV: Explorator-General Luminous Bulbor

He scanned the small assembly with a critical eye. Approximately half of the High Council had gathered at the behest of the Fabricator Locum.

“Is this exaggerated farce necessary? I do not see the need for the live fire tests or why you have invited the wider Imperial forces to participate,” he queried Magos Dominus Ryex-Epsilon curtly, “It is a waste of resources and time.”

Ryex-Epsilon responded with a scoff, “Worry not on my behest, Bulbor. What of your own examination?”

Luminous pulled out a massive stack of documents and let them land on the table with a resounding thud. “These are the physical copies to be entered into the archives, listing the pieces of Archeotech recovered by or in possession of Princeps Cavalerio, listed individually. The girl has found more in the past year than some Explorator fleets find in centuries, and her conduct has been entirely in line with that of the Divisio Explorator. I merely need to determine if she has earned the lauded rank of Explorator Magos Prime or Explorator Magos Secundus alongside the rank of Magos Archaeos. A trivial scouring of her recent records, which she provided when I inquired and are quite meticulous, was sufficient for my predictive calculus to determine a full exam was folly. Is that not so, Archmagos Croft?"

Croft glanced over at the pair placidly. “She has not submitted her entries for my exam yet. I did choose to abbreviate it after considering the available data.”

“And to curry favor, no doubt,” Ryex-Epsilon grumbled, “I believe it is pertinent, especially so since the Princeps has procured an order for a million Skitarii units, and that we demonstrate the capabilities of the Skitarii of Cypra Mundi. That I was able to involve our Imperial allies in the war game despite the current upheaval in the system should be viewed as a boon. It will allow me to include a more interesting Voidship section in the simulation docket."

“I do hope you have reached out to Autokratoris Dravane, Dominus Ryex. If you wish to test her Engine piloting in the simulator portion and allow her to use her own Engine, you will need the best of the local Legios. I have no qualms with testing her individual prowess or the written command exam, but these additional exercises are excessive for a mere Dominus exam. Especially in light of her performance in her other exams. What say you, Fabricator Locum?” He had noted Korr had spoken little; he was oddly withdrawn and distant, which was unusual for the man.

“My own exams are still required; I have them well in hand,” Korr replied after a moment, lacing his fingers together. “As she is the disciple of Archmagos Doll, her skill in Artisan, Fabricator, and Technicus is to be expected. Her mastery of Psykana was also anticipated and covered extensively in her data by her various Psychic tutors.” He paused and gestured up towards the orbital ring with a Mechadendrite, “She has a noted fondness for grand-scale machines; God Engines, Voidships, and the like. Her performing at Magos-grade or better in Croft’s exam is expected. I have the data to believe Cybernetica will be no different. The only outlier so far was in Divisio Telepathica, and that failure… if it can even be called a true failure, just below Magos grade, does make it apparent that her knowledge base does have some weaknesses.” Korr shrugged and settled back in his chair as he stared out the window. “I can also admit the words spoken after her first examination by Archmagos Nocta Seraphex-9 of Mars hold some merit.”

Luminous noted a spike in jealousy and had his implants suppress the emotion. The Martian Archmagos had tested the child more than sufficiently for his grading, and there was no room for questioning the results – they had all observed via the Noosphere, and none were looking to draw the Martian representative’s ire. Such a talented disciple would have been fought for viciously on any true Forge World, let alone one with the additional accolades: a Schism-era Princeps, and a living relic besides, but Archmagos Doll had found her in the void, uncontested and now entrenched.

“Xenologis certainly is not a weakness of hers,” he muttered under his breath, but everyone present had the senses to hear it. They were all still unsure of how those high ranks in the two controversial Divisios would be received by the general Mechanicus.

“I have no issue with Ryex-Epsilon’s planned examination for her Dominus and Militaris ranks, they are thorough, but as long as they avoid crossing into the realm of excessiveness, the Fabricator General should not care,” Korr said with a hint of finality.

“I am quite curious to see how she performs in Biologis and Genetor, given the recent elevation of High Magos Gertrude. When are those exams scheduled? Little Cavalerio was referenced several times in some of the project files as a collaborator and heavily involved with the Exhumed,” Croft incanted wistfully.

“Well, after my exams. Current schedule marks it for eight days from now on the southern continent. In one of the lesser forge-cities. That’s what you get for allowing the Biologis to delegate it.” Ryex-Epsilon waved a hand dismissively.

They all shared a small burst of amusement. “I am surprised Tyba-961.34254 has not tried to reach out to the Princeps. Fel-7 and Jastor Kryll have been quiet as well,” he mused on the missing council members.

Korr paused and let out a tired sigh. “Tyba-961.34254 has been forbidden from serving as a proctor and has been confined to his Forge city to meditate on his mistakes after making some… ill-thought-out attempts to procure data from the Drakios flagship. The agents he assigned the task were caught, and all have been terminated. Fel-7 politely declined the offer to proctor an exam, a decision I believe they are starting to regret. Kryll is unfortunately busy with his duties with the recent unrest.”

“How is the Fabricator General taking that?” He asked tentatively.

“Thankfully, his focus is occupied by his current pet project, optimizing the production of the scanners and the abaci… I do fear that if they continue to escalate any further, the Genestealers may earn his undivided attention. He is reaching his tolerance level for the current amount of interference,” Korr warned the council.

They all winced and Ryex-Epsilon hissed. “I will double the amount of suppression and purgation teams scouring the lower Forge complexes. Damnable Xenos.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------

POV: Nicole

I am not sure what I did, but the individual tasked with evaluating me for Dominus, Magos Dominus Ryex-Epsilon, has allocated a lot of time for the milti-stage exam. A written portion covering theory, individual live combat trials, squad combat, a titanic Noosphere-hosted hive-city siege simulation, and a simulated planetary-scale combined-arms conflict, complete with voidships and Imperial personnel participating. The number of observers present physically for this exam dwarfs the number of observers from all my other exams combined.

I feel comfortable with theory. My combat engrams have grown extensively. The base provided by late Magos 82-Rahane was extensive, mainly focused on Astartes operations. The lifetime spent with the chapter generated a considerable amount of combat data, and when combined with data from Master Doll and the Tempestus archives, the engrams turned into something formidable and flexible, and that was before I had iterated on them extensively after sparring with my protective detail and Arianwyn.

Dominus Ryex-Epsilon himself is fairly tall, even hunched as he is; his form bears many similarities to my Scyllax automata, and looks quite traditional for a heavily augmented Magos Dominus, with his numerous weapon dendrites and vicious-looking pair of an armoured servo-arm and servo-claw snaking around his flanks, with the massive slab of armoured metal plates acting like a shell across his back.

“Perfect marks on the firing range,” he hisses as his glowing red eyes stare down at me. He sounds like he expected that result.

I am not sure what other outcome he expected; I quite literally have an aimbot, two of them in fact if you count AME feeding me targeting data along with my own implants, and more if you count the machine spirits for each weapon willingly helping guide my shots. I just smile politely in response.

“Your theory was acceptable, though there are discrepancies. You assigned too few units to each theoretical objective… consistently.” The apertures of his eyes narrow at me.

“Huh?” I tilt my head, confused. “Based on my experiences, the number of units I assigned to each objective should have been more than sufficient. I even have the data to back my assertions! Those are the base Tempestus standards.” I say defensively.

“The discrepancy has been derived. You regularly operate with elite-level units; this has skewed your perception of the capabilities of more basic troops. The Drakios Dynasty forces are… not a proper example of the average guardsman. As are the Skitarii that regularly support you from Archmagos Doll.” He casts an approving look towards Delta-A3 Raptor. “Your score was not negatively impacted by this discrepancy. It will be corrected in time. We will now move to individual combat spars,” he says with a dismissive wave of his cybernetic arm.

My first opponent is a Skitarii Alpha… I turn and give Dominus Ryex-Epsilon an exasperated look. “Seriously?”

“Please proceed,” he replies flatly, “Begin combat trial one.”

I let out a loud sigh and look back at the Skitarii who is struggling to focus on me. I shake my head and dive into the Noosphere. I find the Skitarii easily enough; his mental and digital defenses are fine and probably more than sufficient for the average mortal. Not for an Archeotech e-war suite backed by the ironclad will of an individual who is also a psyker.

My avatar walks up to the digital representation of his mental fortress… and I gently kick the door in. Across from me, the Skitarii seizes and locks up. His body tilts and falls forward, landing on his face with a loud thud.

There is a loud wheezing from off in the distance as Baldos cackles with delight.

“Victor Nicole Cavalerio…” The Dominus pauses, clearly re-evaluating his lineup. “We will proceed with combat trials.”

The squad of combat servitors and a battle automata do not fare any better than the poor Skitarii. If Ryex-Epsilon is surprised, he does not show it, merely recording the result and moving on to the next trial. “As expected.”

The fourth individual is a surprise. It’s an Astartes, out of his armour, wearing a simple brown tunic. He flashes a fanged grin, and I easily mark him as a Space Wolf. He rolls his shoulders while flexing his grip on a deep blue battleaxe, though the power field remains inactive.

“Haldor?” I say after AME scans him and picks up his biometric tag.

“Aye! We meet again, little lass! Captain Bolaar warned me off wearing my armour. Ha! I see why now. The cogpriest over there put out a request, and Ragnar sent me to put you through your paces properly!” His smile widens as he takes his position on the other side of the ring.

“I’m surprised you aren’t off with the rest of them purging the Genestealers,” I say as I finally heft my Omnissian Axe and take a defensive stance. My Dendrite Blades fan out on either side, and my Mechatendril tail flexes its serrated clamp like a mouth.

He shrugged a shoulder, making it pop as he loosened the joint. “They don’t need my help for that. Besides, the Ancient told me not to hold back on you.” His eyes glinted with the hint of violence to come. “My instincts tell me this is going to be fun.”

“Out of politeness and fairness, I will refrain from shooting you and stick to melee only,” I reply cheekily as I send AME off my shoulder and out of the ring.

I take a deep breath to center myself as I heighten my perception to active combat levels just as Ryex-Epsilon calls out aloud, “Begin!”

Haldor goes on the offensive immediately by darting towards me, it’s no surprise he has the advantage in mass, reach, and momentum. My eyes and senses track his every movement. Even without his armour's aid, he is moving faster than I expected.

I run the calculations, and there is a whipcrack as I send one of my Dendrite Blades to strike the haft just behind the axe head, and deflect his sweeping axe strike upwards five degrees so I can duck under the blow. His eyes widen a fraction in surprise.

After which I immediately make myself weightless for a moment and leap over his seamless follow-up kick, contorting myself in the air to bring my own axe around as I attempt a riposte.

He pivots, using his momentum to do a full turn and parries my blow. His smile widens. “Tricky little spider,” he growls as I hop back and ready myself. “Serves me right for doubting the words of an Ancient, I suppose.”

“That’s one,” I say, patting my Ballistic dendrite. “I’m going to keep count of every time I could have gotten a kill shot with this,” I say with a sassy little smirk of my own.

“Ha! Fair!” His gaze sharpens, and I can feel the intent radiating off of him, the promise of violence, as he launches himself at me for the next exchange. "I'll do the same!"

Our next exchange makes it clear that, going full speed, I am faster and have more limbs, but taking his strikes head-on is a bad idea, even though I am armoured and he isn’t, and I have a nice bruise that my nanites are working on healing to remind me of that. Though I had scored first blood in exchange, the long, thin cut along his cheek has only encouraged Haldor.

He calls for one of the men on the sidelines to throw him a round shield and chokes up to a one-handed grip on his axe.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------

POV: Minor-Saint Lael Zyne

Lael’s eyes were locked on the match as Nicole fought Haldor. She could barely make out most of the movements as the pair darted around the arena, exchanging blows.

“They’re having fun,” she said without turning her head as she loitered on the sidelines with the rest of Nicole’s protective detail, the proctor, and a few of the high-ranking Magi.

“Indeed,” Captain Bolaar replied, “Haldor was a good choice.”

“Isn’t he at a disadvantage without his armour?” asked Lady Arianwyn, who was struggling to follow the flow of the fight.

“Yes, but against Nicole, any augmetic, powered armour, or weapon with an advanced machine spirit is a liability. Even if she can only get control for a moment at these combat speeds, that is more than enough, do you agree, Dominus Ryex?” Archmagos Doll asked in a pleased tone.

“I agree. Her individual combat prowess is indeed… sufficient.” Magos Dominus Ryex-Epsilon admitted after a moment.

There was a low rumble as Ancient Baldos spoke. "The wolf has sharp fangs, yes, but one should never forget even the littlest Dragon… is still a Dragon."

A sharp crack of bone breaking snapped her attention back to the arena; Haldor was soaring through the air after Nicole landed a double-booted kick straight to his sternum, one that had leveraged not just her power armour but also put the considerable strength of her Mechadendrites behind the strike. He landed hard and rolled, coming up to one knee before he took a deep breath and spat out a small mouthful of blood that sizzled against the rockcrete. “Now that was a good strike! Ha ha ha!” He praised, as he rubbed at his bruised chest.

“That is enough,” Ryex-Epsilon called, ending the bout. “This concludes the individual combat trials. We shall proceed to the next stage.”

Nicole dusted herself off, and Lael overheard her speaking with Haldor.

“What was the final count, little one?” Haldor inquired.

“Fourteen,” she replied, looking a little guilty. “Sorry about cracking your sternal plate.”

He waved her off and simply nodded along. “That was my count as well. Bah, this will heal in a few days. I’ve taken worse blows from Ragnar,” he chuckled ruefully.

“Ready for the next part?” Lael asked Nicole as the pair walked over.

“Squad combat? Yeah, I think I overprepared for this part,” she said with a small smile.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

POV: Nicole

It comes as no surprise that I blitzed through the small unit portion of the exam. After the multiple debacles at Ur-Haven and the following Space Hulk, I’ve had numerous reasons to familiarize myself with proper tactics for the next time I go spelunking in a Space Hulk, ruin, or whatever else may come.

The next exercise, however, catches me off guard.

“We have ten thousand Skitarii at our test facility in the southern continent. You will play the role of commander of the Mechanicus forces and assault the ‘Ork’ fortress.” Ryex-Epsilon informs me, gesturing to the command table.

The ‘Orks’ in question were all modified servitors using stun rounds and melee weapons. The Cypra Mundi Skitarii, however, were using live rounds and their standard loadouts. To make the test actually challenging, I've been forbidden from using anything but the forces given to me.

I do not have nearly as much time as I would like to process the tactical data before the exercise starts.

Several things stand out: the Skitarii perform well, but this exercise is obviously designed to be a slog. Having to act only on information as it comes in is more frustrating than I anticipated, and the ‘Ork’ perform several surprise maneuvers, typically in the form of ambushes or leaving the fort to meet the assault forces, that I cannot anticipate, and by the time my orders get back to the front, it’s usually already over, or things have gotten too messy.

I glare at the casualty counter at the end of the event: forty percent losses.

Dominus Ryex-Epsilon is not bothered in the slightest: “An adequate performance given the restrictions on the exercise. Any observations you would like noted, Magos Cavalerio?”

“The Cypra Mundi Skitarii performed above expectations. That eases one of my concerns regarding my recent order of troops. Also… that data transmission delay was most frustrating,” I say as I unplug myself from the console.

Dominus Ryex-Epsilon seems content with that assertion. “Indeed, most Magi find ways to mitigate such things after experiencing them firsthand by instituting advanced engagement protocols, archeotech relay beacons, deploying themselves closer to the front, or even just proper delegation with skilled subcommanders. The Omnissiah has granted us numerous ways around such a problem.”

I nod seriously and wonder if Cobalt might have a better solution tucked away somewhere.

—----------------------------------------------------------------

POV: The Cobalt Coatl

Nestled in her berth alongside the Argent Drake, she watched the workers come and go, scurrying to and fro like busy little ants with her passive sensors.

Cobalt had recognized that part of herself was experiencing an unusual emotion and concluded that she was bored. She had rectified this by getting access to the local Noosphere; the Forge World had an absolutely massive network stretching across the entire planet, and she just had to keep her touch light.

Little Nicole had ordered a massive amount of hardware and troops, and her new secretary had hired a large amount of staff to help manage it all. Cobalt was unable to resist the urge to help, it was just logistics, and she was excellent at logistics. A little correction here and there would easily go unnoticed, she was certain.

It also let her observe the absolutely massive simulated planetary invasion event that was the capstone for little Nicole’s military promotional examination. Nicole’s fleet and Legio, which included herself, had been modeled, but… her model had some glaring inaccuracies that she had to resist the urge to correct. She did, however, skew her shield coherency and firepower slightly closer to their true value.

Aside from Nicole, there were some stand-out individuals; she handily approved of this Lord High Admiral Spire and noted the pending request on file for a tour. She granted it and notified Nicole.

Her own crew was growing slowly; she was allowed to be picky and fully set on only retaining individuals with the proper skill sets and mindsets that would mesh well with Federation values and her own presence should the need arise.

By her calculations, procuring enough crew would be a problem for Nicole’s fleet. They could get enough to fully crew the current fleet Lord Drakios and Nicole had procured, though some of the sailors would be on the green side. The issue was with any additional vessels they sought to procure, such as the ones Nicole would need to transport her new army. Normally it wouldn’t be a problem, but with the navy reactivating as many hulls as they could feasibly manage and crew, manpower was becoming a major limiting factor. She forwarded an encrypted message to Nicole regarding her findings.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------

POV: Nicole

The planetary invasion simulation is far larger than I anticipated. It felt like everyone with the necessary implants to handle the mental strain of the simulation’s accelerated timeline had been invited to participate. Anyone not actively participating on the attacking side with me is encouraged to take and play a defensive role.

I have my full simulated Legio, my Skitarii army, my fleet, the Drakios fleet, and there are additional allied Mechanicus and Imperial forces too. The goal of the simulation is to invade a highly contested Fortress world.

I am permitted to use Kiryu but only once we land planetside.

“I don’t suppose I can just exterminatus the planet?” I ask half in jest, as I study the tactical plot.

“Negative. The planet must be taken intact,” Dominus Ryex-Epsilon answers me.

On paper, our attacking fleet has parity in numbers and tonnage with the defending fleet, but I trust Lord Drakios and my own ships to punch up. The Cobalt Coatl isn’t modeled properly; they’ve given her the traditional loadout and capabilities of a Tiamat-class, and I don’t think correcting them is the right move at this time.

“The main Fortress City… Do we need that intact?” I inquire. The capital hive fortress is awful. It’s shielded, fortified, and has supply tunnels deep underground to feed them from the other planetary bastions. It looks like something the Imperial Fists might have designed… they might have, for all I know.

Dominus Ryex-Epsilon pauses as he considers the question. “Negative. As long as the secondary cities are taken, the central fortress is not required.”

“And you won’t let me delegate the void assault? I have multiple Navy Admirals right there. In an actual invasion, I would be content to give them operational command of that portion.” I gesture to the digital forms of Lord Admiral Spire, Lord Drakios, Explorator-General Luminous Bulbor, and a handful of other Admirals with the right MIU augments to participate.

“While true, this is your test. They may offer suggestions if you ask, but I have instructed several of them to offer less than ideal options,” Dominus Ryex-Epsilon informed me with a hint of amusement.

I sigh and stare at the plot for a long moment. “When in doubt… keep it simple, stupid,” I mutter as I settle on an idea. “Nova Cannon bombardment on the orbital defense plots, arrowhead formation, heavy ships in the front, troop carriers in the center. All ships with torpedoes are permitted to use half their stores during the initial push. We’ll launch a coordinated strike-craft assault with the second wave of torpedoes. Once we break their line, I want a saturated lance bombardment around the entire circumference of the primary fortress just outside the coverage of their shield. Once that is done, we will make planetfall in force and land here and move to take the secondary fortresses.” I point to a fairly open plane a hundred miles away from one of the secondary fortress targets.

Dominus Ryex-Epsilon hums but refrains from saying anything. His eyes flicker as he picks through some unseen menus and makes a few minor adjustments. “If that is what you wish to do. You may proceed.”

A few of the high-ranked observers look curious, some look like they approve, and the rest maintain their stoic looks and the air of professionalism.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

POV: Lord Arken Drakios

Arken was ever so glad he chose to participate in the grand simulated exercise. He had brought along all of his newly elevated captains, and the Naval portion of the battle had allowed him to test them extensively.

“Nicole chose well. When given too many options, one of the best things you can do is forcefully limit the options afforded to your opponent; she chose a head-on attack. That limits the opposing side's options as they can meet her in full while at full strength, or try to avoid the frontal confrontation to run a harassment campaign and still lose their orbital platforms.” He smiled in amusement. “What was it she said? Keep it simple and stupid? I may have to borrow that.”

“I don’t see the point in the orbital bombardments around the main fort if she plans to ignore it," one of the younger Captains said as they studied the tactical plot.

“I can answer that,” Lord Admiral Spire said as his avatar phased in and took a seat around the tactical plot set up in their waiting room. He looked to be in a good mood. “It’s clear she intends to starve out the primary fortress. The lance strikes sever the supply tunnels and leave the lower crust in a molten state, preventing them from tunneling out for some time, which traps a significant portion of the enemy troops within the bubble of the fort’s voidshield.”

The younger captain nodded stiffly. “Thank you, Lord Admiral.”

“You seem to be in high spirits, Lord Admiral,” Arken observed.

"This," he said, sweeping an arm around them, "is an extraordinarily high-fidelity simulation Dominus Ryex-Epsilon is running. I can only imagine the computational load with this many participants. It’s a rare treat…" He grinned. "And I just got to ram a defense platform with a battleship and observe the results. I wholeheartedly do not recommend it." He said with a hearty chuckle.

Arken laughed and nodded. “I’ve also gotten to see a close estimate of how my new vessels perform with their new captains. I can tell you that I am quite pleased.” He gave the captains a nod of approval. “Though, our parts in what is to come will be relatively minor. Now, we get to enjoy the show.”

“You think she’ll do well? I’ve peeked at the mess they have arrayed for her down there.” Spire gestured towards the simulated planet. “It’s considerable.”

“I think she will surprise the proctors, though most of her Legio is fairly green, she adapts swiftly, and this simulation doesn’t fully adapt her… individual particularities… She’s learning a lot, she was already complaining about the numerous smaller Frigate and Light Cruiser-sized troop ships they gave her to ferry her forces.” Arken shook his head ruefully. “A lesson worth learning.”

An alarm went off, and a blinking light appeared in the tactical plot. “It’s starting.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------

POV: Princeps Senioris Venerat Khouri

It was a delightful change of pace to be included in such a broad simulation with a good portion of his Legio, and without his implants aching from the strain of maintaining the connection. He did not mind that the Legio had been split into various roles to serve on both the attacking and defending sides.

He glanced to the side as Cassian appeared, looking frustrated. “Slag! I nearly had her that time! If only that Warlord had a more balanced loadout.” Cassian clicked his tongue.

He felt a pang of amusement. “It would seem you have fallen to Senioris Cavalerio again, Cassian.”

“...Yes, Senioris. She has taken the secondary and tertiary fortresses,” Cassian said aloud, though Khouri was actively monitoring the feeds and knew that well enough already.

His Engine was seated in the primary fortress, and he was by no means upset that he had the privilege to wait things out. Let the younger Princeps with fire in their blood get stuck in the thick of it. It was good for them.

“Experiencing the storm of Tempestus like this, even in a simulation from both sides, is a rare treat. One you should remember well. What are your thoughts on their operations in the field thus far?” He probed Cassian.

“They certainly know how to blitz an objective. The mass drop pod assaults are terrifying; I saw a warhound get crushed outright by one of the Titan pods. The Tempestus pilots are… aggressive,” Cassian said as he took a mental step back and considered his experience objectively.

“They are green, and all of them seek the approval of their Senioris much like you all seek mine. A simulation is a good place to learn to curb that recklessness and boldness.” Khouri nodded approvingly, “The Tempestus support elements are working well with her Legio. Adding Astartes and the older relic superheavy vehicles to the mix has been quite interesting if a little lopsided at times, and I quite enjoyed her clever use of the aerial assault troops on the third fortress.”

“I think there is an open Princeps slot for a Warbringer in the fourth fortress. Of course, Cadler snagged the Warmaster,” Cassian spoke as he scrolled through what was still available on the defending side.

“Good hunting, Cassian,” Khouri said fondly. “We have a few real-world hours left before the exercise concludes at this pace. Go on then, enjoy yourself.”

“Thank you, my Senioris.” Khouri’s avatar gave a slight bow before he was whisked off to the next Engine.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------

POV: Nicole

I slump back into the pod as the exercise finally comes to an end. Nearly a week of accelerated simulation time is enough to strain even me, though most of the exhaustion comes from having to be the one giving orders, coordinating forces, and keeping track of an entire battlefield at once. SimulationKiryu doesn’t have the same presence or personality; it’s just not the same experience, but it’s close enough to be tolerable.

It gives me a newfound appreciation for just how much work goes into a command role. Fighting is easy enough when I only have to worry about myself. Commanding is an entirely different beast.

By the end of the simulation, sim-Kiryu is down for repairs, missing a leg and large chunks of his armour. The casualty figures are enough to make even me wince. We achieve every one of our objectives, but looking back, there are still countless things I could have done better.

Hindsight, as always, is a brutally efficient and unforgiving teacher.

I exit the pod, and when I go to slip back into my robes, Lael is already there helping redress me. “How did it go?” She asks while making sure I’m presentable.

“You were there, so you should know; it was exhausting but fruitful,” I say as I check the Noosphere and update myself on what I missed in the day of real time. I find nothing pressing that requires my immediate attention.

The moment I exit the isolated room, AME perched on my shoulder and Lael trailing behind me, and I enter the atrium outside, Magos Dominus Ryex-Epsilon is there waiting for me.

“Dominus Ryex-Epsilon,” I say politely, and make the sign of the cog.

“Princeps-Magos Cavalerio.” He inclines his head in a polite nod. There are a few other Magi from the High Council in the chamber, along with Master Doll, but he ignores them, focusing on me and getting right to the point. “My exam has concluded.” He turns and begins to meander about the chamber. “The vaunted rank of Dominus is bestowed only on those within the Mechanicus with a true talent for war; for individuals who believe the supremacy of the Machine God is to be proven at every opportunity. After extensive testing and examinations of your background, I have confirmed you are such an individual. It is with great pleasure that I name you Magos Dominus Cavalerio. May the enemies of the Machine God feel your wrath.”

“Ave Deus Mechanicus!” I reply, feeling both relieved and proud.

“Ave Deus Mechanicus. We shall be watching your career with great interest. Dominus Cavalerio,” Ryex-Epsilon says as he turns to leave.

The Fabricator Locum stands, giving Doll a polite nod. “This simulation was a decent networking event. I believe the guests of the Imperium enjoyed themselves. Only a few examinations remain. I believe Biologis and Genetor are next. I have saved my examinations for last. You have two days before the next exam to recover and prepare for them.”

“I shall endeavor to exceed your expectations of me, Fabricator Locum, esteemed Magi,” I speak politely, giving them all a small bow as they get up to depart.

Archmagos Croft pauses. “I believe you may have some amending to question five after your experience in the simulator.”

My left eye twitches as I recall the absolute mess of wrangling the horde of smaller transport voidships with relatively green crews. “Indeed I do. I will submit my entry for your exam within the next twenty-four hours, Archmagos.”

Only once the high council members have gone does Master Doll speak, “Well done, Nicole, congratulations.”

“Thank you, Master, that was certainly an educational experience,” I admit, letting some of the built-up exhaustion creep into my voice.

He merely nods and escorts Lael and I out of the chamber where Victoria, Baldos, and the others are all waiting patiently in the larger space with its higher ceilings.

I smile and look around. “I don’t know about most of you, but I’m hungry. Who wants to head back up into orbit for some waffles?”

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