Finally, keyed off the most concentrated and stable thermal spike, the servo-skull Buddy guided the Tech-Priest, Osiris, to a rusted maintenance access point, a heavy, low-slung hatch near the edge of the desolate town square.
The heavy metal cover was a significant impediment, sealed shut by decades of corrosion and grime.
Osiris did not waste kinetic energy on solvents. His primary mechanical limb—a hulking crimson and brass augment, flexed, the electro-motors generating maximum torque.
With a focused application of pure bionic power, he twisted and tore the cover back like thin plasteel. The shriek of separating metal echoed briefly in the dead air.
Below, the pit was a derelict pump station, now the reeking lair of a horde of mutated vermin. The confined space was choked with biological waste and bone, overloading his few remaining olfactory sensors with a noxious stench.
'Input: Biological contamination—Extreme. Prioritize kinetic efficiency. Minimize core energy drain' Osiris calculated internally.
His voice grille emitted a concise, synthesized command: "Physical cleanup. Maximum energy conservation."
The servo-skull dipped into the blackness, broadcasting weak, focused electric discharges and high-frequency sonic pulses, effectively jamming the creatures' sensory organs and forcing them out.
Osiris positioned his bulk at the narrow opening. His four specialized mechadendrites—spooled tightly against his armored back, snapped out like surgical tools, transforming into an efficient net of polished chrome.
They lashed and pierced with calculated precision, instantly neutralizing any creature attempting escape. It was silent, ruthless, and utterly efficient. Within minutes, the nest was inert, a pile of organic detritus.
He allowed one micro-second for systemic calibration before initiating resource assessment.
The servo-skull expanded its scanning protocols, beaming environmental data back to his cranial ports.
"Data-Shard 1: Substation. Location, northwest quadrant. Main structure intact. Primary power source—rooftop solar array—obscured by dust; output lines show signs of degradation.
Assessment: Repairable. Requires physical cleaning and line replacement. A manageable repair operation."
"Data-Shard 2: Deep Well Pump. Location, central square. Well structure stable. Electric pump core components severely rusted. Power supply completely interrupted.
Assessment: Repairable. Requires rust ablation, lubrication, and restoration of electrical flow. Necessary input."
"Data-Shard 3: Garage Structure. Structural stability highest. Entrance suitable for reinforcement. Internal space high-use value.
Recommendation: Establish as main workshop and temporary stronghold."
The energy level of the miniature fusion core within him still hovered near the low warning line. The anomalous energy consumption during the cross-reality Jump was alarming. He strongly suspected the ancient, inert relic at his waist had absorbed the majority of the charge.
Energy conservation mandate: Strict adherence. Every joule is a blessing.
He activated the lowest power setting on his wrist-mounted plasma cutter; the beam was a faint crimson thread.
He meticulously sectioned off the least-damaged metal from the garage's rolling door. Then, using the crushing force of his mechadendrites, he bent, hammered, and riveted them into simple, sturdy metal baffles, sealing the stronghold's sole entrance.
Only then did he permit his taut logical circuits a slight reduction in tension. He had secured a temporary stronghold, identified water and power sources (both requiring immediate repair), and neutralized immediate threats.
The first step in this strange world was secured.
"It is proceeding with greater efficiency than prognosticated," he said to himself, his optical lenses scanning the dilapidated garage. "At least there are no Warp whispers here that require constant Litany of Banishment, nor do I need to calculate ammunition reserves every time I encounter hostiles."
He'd rejected the grander town hall structures due to their compromised integrity.
The garage was suitably sized, structurally sound, and, critically, gave him that reassuring sense of absolute technical control. For a Tech-Priest, this mechanical certainty was often more important than superficial grandeur.
Primary Task: Energy. Protocol Omega.
His fusion core required external energy injection to restart.
Before that, the stronghold required basic power supply capabilities.
He spent the majority of the day meticulously cleaning the substation solar array, almost buried under sand and debris. His mechadendrites moved with tireless, machine-like precision.
Next, using old tools found in the garage, along with salvaged wiring and parts from abandoned vehicles, he began the delicate work of repairing the main feed lines.
The process was tedious, yet it brought mechanical satisfaction. Applying the ancient knowledge of the Adeptus Mechanicus, the profound wisdom of energy flow, material resistance, and circuit logic, to bring a long-dormant system back to operational status was the purest communion.
"Praise the Omnissiah; the underlying logic of the universe is always interconnected," he murmured, carefully connecting the last repaired section of wire. He then solemnly pushed the rusted main power switch closed.
A low, continuous hum gradually began. The indicator lights on the control panel, choked with dust, struggled, flickered, and then stabilized, glowing with a steady amber light.
"Success. Output stable at 17%. Far below design standards, but sufficient to maintain basic lighting, tool operation, and my low-power charging needs." A clear sense of accomplishment surged through his processing core.
He immediately routed power to the garage workshop sockets and to himself,a temporarily connected cable plugged into the auxiliary energy port on his spine. The long-absent (though weak and unstable) sensation of energy injection calmed his neural network. The anxious energy decline was finally arrested.
Next Step: Water. Necessity Protocol.
The corrosion of the deep well pump was an even more demanding physical task.
He lacked ready-made replacement parts. This was not a deterrent.
The plasma cutter, set to its lowest surgical pulse, excised the completely rusted pipe sections. He fabricated replacements from salvaged metal, fixing them with his mechadendrites and performing precise high-temperature welding.
After connecting the repaired circuit, the ancient pump emitted a dull yet powerful thumping sound, as if a mechanism that had slept for many years began operating once more.
Turbid groundwater was forcibly pumped up and, after passing through his self-made multi-layer filtration system, it became acceptably clear.
"See, Buddy. Resource scarcity is never the problem. A lack of wisdom and practical application of the Machine God's logic is," he transmitted to the hovering servo-skull, a subtle hint of professional pride in his tone. The skull's mandible clicked twice, seemingly in agreement.
With stable electricity and basic purified water, the true work, had just begun.