The silence stretched between them like a taut wire.
Then at last, with a long breath and a voice heavy with something between resignation and resolve, Nusa spoke.
The storm in his gaze calmed, though the weight of countless years lingered there.
"Very well," he said quietly, his voice carrying both resignation and resolve. "I will see for myself. Inform the elders. We will have a war council tomorrow."
His gaze lingered on the distant shimmer of the Milky Way, a fragile spark in the void.
The words struck like a tolling bell.
Both men knew what it meant. Not merely the summoning of personnel or the activation of long-idle systems — it was a return to a burden long abandoned.
"By your will," Robert bowed deeply, the ritual performed for the final time.
Neither spoke further. The moment was not one for words. Fleeting memories flickered in their minds — the first meeting between master and servant, the long centuries of loyalty, the secrets shared in a forgotten station by the wider galaxy.
As Robert turned and left the chamber for the last time, a heaviness settled in Nusa's chest. He had bid farewell to too many over the millennia — yet Robert's absence would leave a sharper ache than most.
'I always hate goodbyes.' Nusa exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. He took a moment to calm himself.
"I suppose it's time," he murmured, a weary, sardonic smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"To reclaim my old mantle."
A soft hum pulsed through the chamber as ancient failsafe protocols responded to his will. A cerulean ring ignited within his iris, cascading through long-dormant neural pathways.
"Machinist Code: Blue-Blue-Echo-Live-Five-Foxtrot," Nusa spoke aloud.
A familiar soothing female voice spoke in his mind.
A construct of his own making — bound only to him.
With voice, tone, and even how it addressed him resembling his long-deceased wife, Sakie.
It was a voice that struck somewhere deeper than memory, bypassing logic and protocol. For a heartbeat, the weight of centuries lifted from his shoulders. A ghost of a past life to remind him that he was still human.
[Your strength awakens once more, beloved.]
[The archives hum with life, as in ages past.]
[Technomancy systems stand ready at your command.]
[The shackles upon your mind… gone.]
[The surveillance grid stirs, eager to serve you.]
....
....
One after another, dormant power roared back to life. Nusa felt the weight of rapidly rising power flood through his veins — power he had long chosen to deny himself, coalescing around him in crackling arcs of light.
At the same moment, the station also reignited its dormant functions. A cascading chorus of awakening systems echoed across the void. Alarms shimmered to life, ancient data-cores awakening. Long-slumbering AI stirred. Systems that had lain idle for millennia hummed with purpose once more.
'Robert moves quickly,' Nusa mused as his crimson and black robes shimmered before dissolving into liquid metal.
Moments later, he stood clad in battle regalia — gleaming black armor trimmed in crimson, a heavy cloak bearing his personal sigil: a human skull set within a cog, the mark of the Machinist.
[Sakie, give me updates,] Nusa commanded telepathically, speaking with his system.
[All systems stir to life, my dearest. The galaxy's scattered void stations awaken at your call. The archives of Moon Tear hum with memory, their keys once more in your hands. What is your will, beloved?]
[Good. Patch into Imperial vox-channels, intercept psychic transmissions, retrieve data-vault contents. Cross-reference with our archives. I want to know everything about the Imperium — its history, structure, economy, society. Give me everything.]
[As you will it, love.] Sakie answered, as it immediately connected to the wider system of Moon Tear, Shizuka. A stern-voiced sister system.
Shizuka too bore the name of a long-lost wife, though unlike Sakie, this voice held none of the warmth — only command and discipline.
As the station's core systems processed his request, Nusa strode from the chamber, heavy adamantium bootfalls echoing through the gleaming corridors. His passage drew the attention of those stationed within — soldiers in relic armor from mankind's long-lost Golden Age, engineers bearing holoslates and wrist-fabricators, even cleaning personnel in archaic livery.
Non-combatants bowed deeply, reverence in their every movement. Combat division personnel snapped crisp salutes as he passed, their faces hidden behind visors of advanced, peerless wargear.
For once, all broke discipline as murmurs followed in his wake.
They had only seen Nusa wearing his battle gear on pict-vids during their education cycles.
And now… the Master of Moon Tear strode among them once more.
Nusa frowned as he walked. This would take time. The reports, the archives… and he hated waiting.
'Too slow,' he thought.
Without breaking stride, he issued a silent command to the station AI.
[Teleport me to the simulation chamber. Now.]
[Coordinates locked. Transfer in progress, Lord Machinist.] Shizuka replied.
Within moments, his form shimmered, breaking apart into cascading fragments of light, scattering like stardust.
-Void Station Simulation Complex
In a restricted zone hundreds of kilometers away, accessible only to the highest-ranking military units and their master, a burst of light heralded Nusa's arrival.
Elite guards stood at attention — soldiers clad in armor equipped with the highest technologies humanity had ever crafted. Each bore weapons that would make the Imperium's tech-priests weep in envy.
As one, they saluted.
"Hail, Lord Nusa!"
"At ease," Nusa replied, returning the salute with a curt nod before striding into the simulation chamber.
[Simulation chamber operational, Lord Machinist. Specify combat parameters.] Shizuka's stern voice filled the room.
Sakie's voice was a tether to the man he once was, a reminder of warmth and loss. Shizuka's, by contrast, was the cold steel of duty — precise, deferential, unyielding.
"I need to stretch my limbs. Something simple. Begin with a Tyrannosaurus rex," Nusa said as he stretched his body.
[Acknowledged.]
The chamber shimmered. Holograms of a dense, prehistoric jungle rose around him. The scent of wet foliage filled the air, and the ground trembled beneath heavy, approaching footsteps.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
The jungle parted as a massive Tyrannosaurus Rex burst into view, eyes filled with animalistic hunger.
Nusa remained utterly still, the faintest smirk curving his lips.
"Let's see how you do."
The beast roared and charged.
In one swift, fluid motion, Nusa sidestepped the lunging giant predator, grabbed its lower jaw, and with a surge of impossible strength, used its own momentum to hurl it over his shoulder.
The ground shuddered as it crashed down.
He watched it crash down, a flicker of boredom crossing his face. Even the titans of old Terra felt… small now.
Dust and leaves billowed into the air as the beast struggled back to its feet.
It roared again, charging a second time, but Nusa was already moving — a spinning roundhouse kick connecting with its jaw, the crack of bone echoing through the simulation.
The creature collapsed, writhing in pain.
Nusa walked toward it, raising a hand. His fingers pierced the creature's chest, crushing its heart in a single, swift motion.
The beast gave a final, shuddering gasp and the simulation ended.
The jungle vanished, replaced by the sterile glow of the chamber. Blood and grime disappeared from Nusa's armor, restored to pristine condition in an instant.
[Combat trial concluded, Lord Machinist. Would you like to initiate a higher-threat engagement profile?]
Nusa exhaled, rolling his shoulders.
"This isn't enough," he muttered, frustrated.
A list of potential opponents appeared in a glowing holoscreen before him.
"I need something that can actually challenge me… but who?"
[Recommendation: deploy hardened-light construct based on your combat profile. Full lethality parameters available.] Shizuka offered.
Nusa raised an eyebrow. "Not a bad idea…wait…"
He froze, an idea surfaced. Memories of old entertainment he'd just read.
"There's a manga I read, not long ago," he murmured, half to himself. "About a boy with a monster sealed inside him. One of his techniques was a clone. I wonder…"
His mind raced, calculations forming at speeds no computer could match.
Could he replicate such a thing? A psychic duplicate formed from will and processed warp-energy?
Worth testing.
"Alright," he grinned. "Let's try something new."
He focused, channeling his psychic abilities, shaping a precise image of himself in the air before him. Power surged. The figure began to take shape — a perfect replica — before dispersing into nothingness.
"Tch. Not stable enough."
His mind whirred through a thousand variables.
For hours, Nusa tested. Failures scattered like dust on the wind. But with each attempt, he grew closer.
And deep down, even as he worked, he knew.
This was who he was. Not a warrior. Not a conqueror.
A thinker. An inventor. The mind behind mankind's technological ascent.
The Custodian of Humanity's lost legacy.
And perhaps, at last… its savior.