Nothing but bad news.
Not a single word offered comfort. It was clear that the universe was collapsing, and doing so at a visible speed.
The year was M41.940.
To many still immersed in the Empire's facade of prosperity, this was just an ordinary year. But to those like Jessia, who held fragments of the truth, it was nothing short of the eve of the apocalypse.
A pall of despair hung over the hall. The nobles, who moments ago were busy outvying and plotting against one another, now stood ashen-faced. Some even began to sob quietly. Even the murderous Inquisitor Orion had his brow furrowed, his hand resting on the bolt pistol at his waist, lost in thought.
Just as everyone thought the meeting would end in this funereal atmosphere...
Bzz— Bzz—
The servitor responsible for recording the Adeptus Mechanicus private channel suddenly began to vibrate violently. Immediately after, a piercing, high-frequency binary noise erupted from its vocal unit. The frequency was unique, carrying an indescribable sense of majesty and pressure.
Tech-Priest Dominus Sigma-7 whipped around, his electronic eyes erupting with an unprecedented brilliance.
"This... this is..."
Sigma-7's voice trembled—a tremor of pure exhilaration.
"A full-spectrum forced override!"
"Highest-level authority code... it's a Mars-class identification signal!"
Everyone looked up at the servitor. Even the Astropath in his cage stopped screaming, seemingly awestruck by this powerful mechanical signal.
The servitor's vibrations ceased. It opened its mouth, but this time, what emerged was no longer a broken human voice, but a grand, perfectly synthesized voice filled with logic and power:
"I am Belisarius Cawl."
The moment that name was uttered, the entire hall exploded into chaos.
Though most present were mere mortals, at their level, they had all heard of the giants in the Imperial hierarchy.
Belisarius Cawl.
Archmagos Dominus of Mars, a ten-thousand-year-old ancient, the greatest inventor in the galaxy, and simultaneously its greatest tech-heretic (though, of course, no one dared say that to his face).
This man was a true legend. It was said he had seen the Emperor himself, though his memories might be a bit muddled...
At the very least, reliable intelligence suggested that Cawl was currently tinkering with super-projects capable of changing the Empire's fate. Most importantly, he commanded the Ark Mechanicus—one of the most powerful fleets in the Mechanicus's arsenal.
Cawl continued:
"My flagship, the Ark Mechanicus Ironstrider, is currently executing a top-priority recovery mission within the Segmentum Obscurus."
"We have just concluded archeological operations in the Elsal system."
"The sleeping Necrons were not hospitable, but I have brought back some... interesting souvenirs from their tombs."
His tone was nonchalant, as if he had just popped over to a neighbor's house for a handful of herbs rather than carving a path through a Necron tomb filled with gauss weaponry and living metal.
But that was a minor detail. The crucial point was that the Elsal system was not far from Forge VII! This meant Cawl was nearby! A massive fleet, spearheaded by an Ark Mechanicus, was at their doorstep!
A savior! In this darkest hour, these were the heavenly hosts sent by the Emperor's blessing!
Jessia felt her heart racing; she subconsciously gripped Saul's arm. Saul was equally flushed, his breath coming in short gasps.
The broadcast continued:
"To face the encroaching ultimate darkness, I require more resources, more knowledge."
"I am now issuing a supreme bounty to all loyal subjects in the surrounding sectors."
"Any individual or organization capable of providing fragments of Standard Template Constructs (STC) from the Dark Age of Technology, or ancient xenos tech of high research value, or clues regarding the genetic material of a Primarch, may contact my fleet directly through this channel."
"In exchange..."
Cawl's voice paused, offering the promise that drove everyone to madness.
"The Adeptus Mechanicus will grant them technical support of the highest specification, or..."
"A permanent pass to board the Ark Mechanicus and receive my protection on Mars."
The broadcast ended. The servitor lowered its head once more, returning to its silent state. But the deathly silence of the hall had been shattered.
A ticket! A ticket promised by Cawl himself!
In a universe where war and death were everywhere, this thing was worth more than a hundred Forge VIIs! With this ticket, one could not only survive but leap to the heavens, becoming a guest in the inner circles of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
Saul's hand shook as he turned to stare intently at Jessia. In this moment, the uncle and niece were on the exact same wavelength.
What did they have in their hands? They had an ancient Black Box!
Although the box was still in the hands of that mysterious Underhive power, if they could seize it, it would be the perfect gift for Cawl! It absolutely met the criteria for an "STC fragment"!
And more! That Rogue Trader ship in Sector 9! The crazed Machine Spirit inside, the defense system that even plasma cannons couldn't pierce, and the security robots capable of suppressing Helios elites... all pointed toward some ancient technology hidden within that ship!
That was also something Cawl wanted!
"Jessia..." Saul's voice was hoarse, like a gambler pushing all his chips to the center of the table.
"This is the chance... the only chance."
"I admit I misunderstood you before. I've changed my mind—we must get those items. At any cost."
...
Meanwhile, on the other side of the hall.
Tech-Priest Sigma-7 was also calculating frantically. As the local head of the Mechanicus, he naturally wanted to cling to Cawl's coattails. But he had nothing to offer... all his resources were in the Mid-hive factories, and Cawl might not even care for them.
"Zor..." A thought flickered through Sigma-7's logic circuits.
"That fellow may be lazy, but he seems to have collected quite a few treasures. And I hear he's been close with the Helios Group lately."
"It seems I must personally visit the Mid-hive."
"If Zor has the goods, I shall requisition them. If he dares refuse..."
The servo-skulls behind Sigma-7 unsheathed their laser cutters.
"Then I shall return him to the embrace of the Omnissiah."
A frenzy centered around Cawl had begun at the top of this spire filled with incense and bones. The stagnant high society of Forge VII was now boiling over because of this news. Every faction—the Upper-hive plutocrats, the Mid-hive priests, the Underhive warlords, even the xenos and heretics lurking in the shadows—would be sucked into this whirlpool.