>Golden shoals of hexarithmic data swim around the smokey position you occupy
>The world around you shakes and booms rhythmically, and you feel the loping gait of the engine
>The hiss and squeal of boiling hydraulics and tortured steel fills the small space you share
>The constant crashes of impacts and the thunderous discharge of arms filter through the panicked shouts of crew
>You are an adept of the Holy Mechanicus, training under a priest of the Collegia Titanica
>And that priest smacks you upside the head, screeching binaric cant over the noise and fury of the Titan
>[Pay attention to the display, adept! You are allowing the servitors to overheat!]
>The tech priest, your master Audralus is hard-plugged into the god-machine
>But you must rely on crude displays and reading the data in the noosphere, something highly unreliable with all the scrapcode in the air
>Still, you blurt an affirmative and order coolant flushes on the servitors loading the guns
>Their temperature levels even out and you continue to observe the patterns with your augmetic eyes
>The Warhound, Nox Aurea, shudders and bleats in pain at yet another heavy impact
>You had been engaged with Heretek forces for two weeks now, and their vile daemon engines for half that time
>This single operation had you and the crew in the field for two days straight now
>Despite rearming during that time, sleep was a luxury that not a single member could afford in this crisis state
>And so the air, already thick with incense and smoke, was choked as well by the reek of stim-sweat and adrenaline
>But it was all worth it, the enemy was on the run, most of their engines already burning behind your pack
>Ahead loomed a great rift to the Immaterium, and many small daemons scrambled to get back to their little pit of hell
>You hear the Princeps shout to charge, and the rhythm of thudding increases
>Even as he flushes the hydraulics in the legs of the god-machine, your master blurts a warning to the Princeps, a warning you echo in kind
>He dismisses your dual cants with one of his own and the Warhound continues forward
>So instead you focus on the guns, on your duty
>You align the targeting arrays for the third time and order the loading of high explosive shells to suppress the fleeing infantry
>You flush the servitor coolant and it becomes apparent that there is a malfunction with their equipment, possibly the heatsinks
>But under your watchful eye, they maintain optimal operations as you lope ever closer to the gaping gateway to the Warp
>Though you don't have a direct link to the outside, you read bleeding code in the noosphere that weaves the tale of your sorry state
>Your Princeps has taken you forward of the pack, and Nox Aurea lopes alone towards the portal
>The void shields have barely the strength to stand up to lasrifles now, and the armour is pitted from shells that have made it through
>Her livery has been blackened by witchfire, her once proud victory banners reduced to so much smouldering cloth
>Even without the plug, your augmetics ache in sympathy with the wounded code bleeding from the wounded engine
>But she is a proud god, and her fury for the machinations is unmatched among the great machines of Legio Venatrix
>But as the ancient words of Terran scholars had said, pride goeth before the fall
>Out from the portal steps a great, twisted creature
>It opens a mouth resembling that of Saurians of arcane Terran mythos and lets out a shriek that penetrates the hull more easily than a lance of plasma
>Nox howls a binaric challenge to the enemy, even as her circuits overload and switch to redundant pathways
>The Princeps echoes the animalistic howl with his own and the guns fire furious streams of steel and explosive at the vile creature
>Lightning crackles around it, annihilating the projectiles before they can touch its feathery body
>This only drives the engine to greater heights of fury and another stream of shells speeds towards the target
>All the while, you continue to close with the enemy
>Despite your attention, the guns are once more nearing overheat and your reserve coolant is long spent
>You offer benediction to the furious machine spirit, a whispered prayer for it to not fail in the midst of this battle
>Turning your head from the displays, you catch a glimpse of the portal outside the viewports of the cockpit
>The inbuilt distance rule of your augmetics leaps to infinity and zero, touching every number between in a dizzying display of the chaotic nature of the Immaterium
>You blink away lubricating tears and refresh the display, focusing in on the daemon that was threatening your Titan
>Upon its beak shaped lips, you see syllables forming that match nothing your mind can process
>But even without understanding, it instills a sense of dread deep in what is left of your organs
>It raises a crooked finger, heavy with the weight of fate itself, and its nail shines as it points at you
>Not the Titan, not the Princeps nor your master, the finger seems to point straight into your oh so human soul
>You feel your mechanical heart leap in its careful pumping cycle and you only barely cling to consciousness
>Your master forcefully turns you about so you can no longer gaze at the viewport and you feel some of the weight on you lift
>Once more, you dive into your work, now begging the spirit to not seize up for just a little longer
>It complains, and you register the sudden death of three of your servitors, but the guns continue to fire, a loud screech coming from the motors
>A shout from one of Moderati for all hands to brace comes in an overloud blurt of tortured code
>You grasp the rungs of a nearby service ladder with all your augmented might and lock your few mechadendrites down tightly to your body
>There is a loud pop, and you feel gravity flip several times, the display on your eyes fuzzes with static, and your long missing feeling of fleshly limbs returns
>For what seems like an instantaneous eternity, you're falling, flying, crashing, dying, being born, frozen, and engulfed in fire
>But then it's over
>Slowly, your eyes reboot and once more you can see
>You unfold the mechadendrites from your torso and ease off the ladder to the deck
>The machine is totally silent around you, no sound of anything coming through the hull nor from it
>The noosphere is not only dark, but totally devoid of any kinds of data, not even your own natural bleed
>A look around fills you with a deep ache in your soul
>At every console, every station, even in the control throne, a dead member of the crew lays blackened and withered
>Even your master, the ill-tempered Audralus, lay in a collapsed heap, his augmetics melted to his flesh
>Though they don't need cleaning, your eyes shed tears of oil, and you fall to your knees on the deck of the silent god-machine
>Alone, you were utterly alone
--
>You strain your wings to push you faster
>An unexpected headwind pushes back, as though the air itself was trying to slow your desperate flight
>But you push back harder than before, determined to reach your destination before that thing could awaken
>You are Gale Force, newest member of the Ponyville weather team
>And you have seen the newest, perhaps most dangerous, threat Equestria faces
>It had been a pleasant enough day, your day off in fact
>You had been soaring the thermals in the fields well outside Ponyville, enjoying the way you could just spread your wings and float
>Truly, you had never been one for racing, your wings seemed to be perfectly specialized for soaring and gliding, with their long and broad primaries and oversized span
>The very thing working against you now
>That thing, whatever it was, had appeared from nothing and nowhere
>Its appearance had created a huge shockwave of displaced air, blowing a crater into the ground and flattening the few nearby trees
>Even at the distance you had been at, it had sent you spiraling and nearly crashing
>But you had recovered before impact, and fled for your life
>You had to warn the princess, she was the only one who could save Ponyville from that iron fleshed golem
>And so you strain against the wind, against, the air, against your very flesh to push faster and faster until the ground blurs into a streak of colour
>The crystal castle of Princess Twilight looms over the horizon, your goal, the salvation of Ponyville
>It was so close, and so you push down the burning pain stretching from your wingtips all the way across your back and carry on
>Not too much later, but far too late in your eyes, you arrive at the castle gates, totally exhausted and foaming at the mouth
>You slam a hoof rapidly on the crystalline door, praying that the princess of friendship was home today
>The hinges creak as the door swings open, showing a small, purple dragon standing in the portal
>”Can I help you, miss...?”
>You take a deep breath and try to calm yourself enough to not make a scene
“There was-- big golem-- iron skin-- outta nowhere!”
>Smooth
>The dragon, Spike you finally recall, blinks slowly and takes a step back
>”Oooookay, lemme just get Twi-- Princess Twilight, and we'll help ya out. C'mon in.”
>He opens the door wider and gestures for you to come inside
>You follow him inside, your wingtips brushing the floor as they hang
>Too tired you are to even fold them against your side, and you cannot stop panting
>Spike leaves you sitting at a table with a large pitcher of water while he wanders off deeper into the halls of the castle
>You lap the water straight from its container, not even bothering to pour a glass for yourself
>As you finish half the carafe, the princess herself comes along and seats herself across from you silently
>You scramble back into your seat, sitting rigid as though you were at a Canterlot dinner
>The princess simply giggles and waves a hoof in your direction
>”Relax miss, there's no need to be so uptight. Spike told me you found something outside Ponyville, but before that let's just start with your name.”
>Still a bit breathless you blurt out your name rapidly
>Twilight gestures for you to continue when you don't respond immediately
>Having finally regained your breath and composed yourself, you let your posture slacken a bit and begin explaining
“Well I was out riding the thermals in the plains, it's my day off you see, and suddenly a massive, iron golem popped outta nowhere! Its blast wave nearly made me crash, but I managed to recover and sped off right here. I knew you'd be the only pony with enough power to protect us from something like that.”
>Twilight blushes and makes a little circle on the table with her hoof
>”Well I don't know about that, but this does sound serious. A golem you say, can you describe it? Its size, how it moved, how it spoke? Anything could be useful.”
>You think back, tapping a hoof against your chin
“Well, I wasn't right on top of it, but it looked to be larger than a fully grown dragon. It was kinda hunched over, but didn't move after it just appeared. No talking either, didn't really make any noise besides the big pop of it coming in.”
>Twilight scribbles notes down on a piece of parchment grasped with her magic
>”And where was this again?”
>You try your best to recall the exact heading that had taken you here
“Due...northwest I think. No, north-northwest for sure.”
>She rolls up the scroll and hands it to her assistant, who immediately sets it alight with emerald flames
>”Well then, let's go and see. Can you lead me back there?”
>You nod, and lead her out of the castle
>The two of you take flight, this time keeping a more sane, less desperate pace than before
>You can't stop your hooves from trembling on the return trip, and not even soaring the thermals as the fields pass below can stop that
>A heaviness in hangs in your stomach, robbing you of any of the usual contentment flying brings
>When the top of the gargantuan monster looms, Princess Twilight stops and hovers in the air, and you halt beside her
>Her eyes have grown as wide as saucers and her mouth hangs open
>”Th-that's the golem?”
>You nod your head
“Yes princess, I told you it was bigger than a dragon!”
>She seems to ignore you, opening her wings and climbing higher in the sky
>As you climb after her, you see why she has immediately
>It allows the two of you an unrestricted view of the monster that had made itself known
>Since it had appeared, it seems to have adopted a crouching stance, squatting in the middle of a crater of its own making
>It almost looks like a chicken about to lay an egg
>You let out a bark of laughter at the unexpected thought, and Twilight looks up from the paper she's rapidly scribbling on
>”Something the matter?”
>You shake your head, pushing down the bubbling mirth
“No princess, just a weird thought.”
>She cocks her head to the side and moves the parchment scroll aside
>”Do share, a different perspective could be useful in this matter.”
>You blush sheepishly and look down at the grassy hills below you
“I was just kinda thinking about how it looks like a chicken.”
>Twilight looks back at the looming creature, and you see her gaze shift down towards the legs
>She scribbles down something else on her paper and gives you a smile
>”You see? I hadn't even noticed the orientation of the joints.”
>Your blush deepens and you wave the praise away
“Oh c'mon, it wasn't all that.”
>Twilight returns her gaze to the golem below
>”Well it doesn't seem to be awake. Let's see if we can get a closer look.”
>What mirth there had been flees before the wave of fear that comes over you
“D-do we have to princess? I mean, that thing could wake up and kill us both!”
>She scratches her chin with a hoof, considering your words
>”It's a risk that I at least have to take. I need to assess the threat it holds to Ponyville and to Equestria, it's...it's my duty.”
>She gives you a sad looking smile and alights to the ground, moving toward the golem slowly, quietly
>Well it would do to have her go in alone
>Even if she was a mighty princess, you wouldn't abandon her to face the monster by herself!
>You land gently behind her and join her walk towards the beast
>It's a silent affair, neither of you willing to risk awakening what lies ahead
>Not much time passes before you stand at the lip of the crater holding the golem
>You want to bolt and run, but you cannot deny a morbid curiousity of the thing that had nearly torn you from the sky
>All around was a metallic scent, and the metal skin of the beast gives off a warmth you can feel even from here
>You jump at every slight pop and hiss that issues from it, but Twilight seems enraptured with it
>She comes over to you, excitedly whispering
>”I don't think it's a creature, it's a machine! But it's so expertly crafted, I can't begin to imagine who made it!”
>You look at her, totally bewildered, and whisper back
“Wait so someone made this? Do you think they're piloting it like an airship?”
>As Twilight opens her mouth to answer, a loud pop comes from the top of the machine
>The two of you jump and lock your eyes on the source of the noise
>A hatch on the machine swings open, silhouetted against the sun the shone down on the shoulder
>And from that hatch, a monster climbs out
–
>The atmospheric samples show you that the air you stand in now is safe to breathe without filtration
>However, you continue to filter it even when the samples come back cleaner than the air of Holy Mars
>You were not well equipped to detect the taint of Chaos, and it had been a Warp portal that sent you here
>You assume at least
>That section of memory has been...corrupted
>Not by the vile touch of Chaos, thank the Omnissiah, but simply by the violence of the translation to this world
>But it mattered not, you were here, your companions dead, and your Titan afflicted with ghastly wounds
>Its skin was rent in many places, and where it was whole it was charred black, little of its original ruddy glory showed through the carbon coat
>At the very least, she slept so she was not tortured by pain
>As you step from the hatch, you scan the area around you
>Plains, flora covered, sky similar to Terra, no large structures within optical range, it seemed to be similar to a feudal world you had visited once in attendance to a Knight House
>In the far distance, several small columns of smoke rise, a village of whoever or whatever lived here
>Scanning the fields reveals fauna, two, seemingly equine, though both had wings too small, and one had a bony growth on its forehead
>Strange colours too, but your instruments could measure them, not Chaos, not a threat so you disregard them
>Your mechadendrites unfold from your back at your will, helping you to climb to the back of the slumbering god-machine
>If power was the sole issue, besides her weeping wounds, then you knew of a partial solution
>The forge that had birthed this Titan existed under the rays of a violent star, and they had made a slight change to the STC of the Warhound to exploit it
>An array of highly efficient solar panels upon the back of the god-machine, hidden beneath heavy plates of ceramite
>You reach the segmented panels and whisper a prayer to the machine spirit before working to prise them open
>Normally they would be opened automatically when critical power levels were detected
>It must have been the shock of translation
>No matter of course, between your augmented arms and your mechadendrites you're able to slowly open the array to the stellar light
>It takes nearly an hour to force the massive plates to move, and the stray glances you've had around the area tells you the local fauna is still watching
>Still, no aggressive behaviour was seen from them, so it seemed safe enough to ignore
>At one point you swore to the Machine God that one had a quill and paper enveloped in lavender light floating before it
>But when you had looked again, it was simply staring up at you with wide eyes
>All too human, you thought they looked rather cute
>Perhaps the Warp had afflicted you more than you had first thought, an in depth restoration of your mind may be necessary
>Before that, though, you'd need to find a way home
>Home...
>How many years had it been since you'd seen the Orestes, your internal clock said seven thousand six hundred and two
>Definitely would need an in depth restoration
>Finally, the last panel creaks open and reveals the full extent of the solar array to the sun above
>You sit down, feeling the toll the exertion has taken on your body and on your energy reserves
>Well in the moment, you can remedy at least one of those things
>Rations could come later
>You pull back the heavy cloth hood from your head and untie the rope at the top of your deep crimson robes
>The metal of your augmetics gleam in the light of the high noon sun, burnished with synth-sweat of mineral oils
>With a thought, you will parts of your now bare chest to open, revealing their own, much smaller solar panels
>Though they weren't as efficient as the ones on Nox Aurea, no could they replace sustenance as of yet, they would keep you from collapsing and stop your augments from seizing
>They were even linked to your nervous system, providing pleasurable feedback
>And though you knew it was artificially generated, you still retained enough of your flesh to enjoy it
>But not for long!
>Once you found a way to contact the Mechanicus, you could scarce imagine your rewards
>Titans were grossly valuable, even the smallest Warhound could bankrupt entire worlds, and they were incredibly difficult to manufacture
>Nox Aurea herself had seen two millenia of service already, and she was the youngest in the legio
>Being crew to one of these god-machines was the greatest honour, so what praise and bounty they would heap upon the one who had returned a lost god such as this
>Perhaps they would even elevate you to full priesthood for keeping faith and persevering in the eye of such Chaos wickedness
>And surely you could replace your weak flesh with the finest augmentations Mars had to offer
>You shake your head, clearing such thoughts from your mind
>That would all have to come later
>For now, there was still the issue of figuring out exactly where in the galaxy you were
>Then of course, actually sending the message would require a relay of enormous strength
>If you could awaken the reactor of Nox Aurea, it would certainly be possible to tap into its power to send the signal
>But you would need a transmitter as well, something that would have to be constructed in situ
>You let out an all too human sigh and rub the skin surrounding your eyes
>So much work, and all upon the shoulders of a mere adept
>Although, you think as you look out to the tendrils of smoke in the distance, perhaps the locals may be persuaded to help
>Your eyes fix on the two creatures that had been observing you from the ground, now hovering in your line of sight
>A chill runs up your spine, nothing their size should have been able to fly with wings so small
>They move closer to you, and you bristle as they smile at you
>Not fauna, unless these ones had suddenly developed threat display characteristics
>Even as they approach, you begin to record the information you're observing from them
>The quest for knowledge was not stopped just because you were uneasy and suspicious
>One of them, purple in colour with the bony growth you had seen earlier opens its mouth
>For whatever reason, perhaps the damage to your systems, you react with an instantaneous display of aggression
>Your mechadendrites flare out behind you, their maniples opening wide to appear larger
>From your augmented throat, a screech of threat-marker laden binary, accompanied with every rank signifier and warning you could access blasts forth repetitively
>The emerald of your eyes flares into bright red, and you draw a blade magnetically fastened to your side
>It was certainly more than necessary, but you were dealing with possible forces of Chaos, so it was pragmatic to act in such a way
>The effect is immediate, the purple one backs off several meters, while its red coated companion flees into the distance
>As it shies away, you notice an odd star marking on its flank
>Star then, an acceptable designation
>Star opens its mouth, then shuts it and reopens one more time
>But after a moment, it follows the lead of the other and flies away toward the smoke
>As it retreats, your observations lead to the conclusion that 'it' was in fact a she
>She could belong to the livestock of whatever people lived here, it would certainly explain the odd branding
>But with the potential threat resolved, you reduce your threat displays and return to gathering energy
>With thoughts of you future rewards dancing in your mind, you close your eyes and bask in the glow of a xeno sun
–
>Back in Ponyville, Twilight is in a panicked state
>You'd returned to the castle with her after that smaller creature had screeched its warning
>Not that you or Twilight had actually understood what it was saying, but its intent had been more than clear
>The way its metal tentacles had flared out, the glow of red in its eyes, that awful, metallic dissonance that had issued from its throat
>There was no way to see it as anything but a threat
>You shudder as the sound echoes in your thoughts once more
>That's something you'd take to your grave, no doubt
>Twilight is frantically flipping through dozens of books in her personal library, and the few that are in a script you understand let you know exactly what she's looking for
>Constructs Arcane, Devils and Monsters Occult, Bestiary of Lands Exotica
>You peek at the pages left open, seeing many bizarre creatures you had never even heard of
>But not one is like what had appeared
>That must be why she's in such a tizzy
>Well it was her job to protect this place from such things, so it made sense that when something new showed up a slight panic would ensue
>This was anything but slight though
>After a while, her ears flatten against her skull and her faces sinks down and rests against the great stone table
>You trot up beside her, speaking up in a nervous voice
“Um, princess, what's the matter?”
>You had an idea, but you wanted to make sure you weren't just being an airhead
>Twilight looks up at you, real fear apparent on her face
>”What's the matter? Oh not much, we've just had hostile first contact with species that apparently nopony has had contact with in several thousand years of Equestrian history! Never mind the construct that it had, I mean look at that thing. It was at least ten meters tall and it was crouching down!”
>Twilight begins breathing heavily and her pupils shrink to pinpricks
>You sit there stunned, not entirely sure what to do
>But you remember something your mother used to do to calm you down when you were a little filly
>You walk over to her and drape one of your long, deep blue wings over her back and gently, slowly rub it up and down
>It takes a few minutes, but Twilight's breathing slows down and she turns to you with a pained grin
>”Thanks...I guess I freaked out a bit there, huh?”
>You let out a little giggle and give her a warm smile
“Well, you're doing better than I would be. I can't imagine what I'd be doing if I were you.”
>Twilight's ears flatten against her skull
>”I can't even imagine what I should be doing right now. I mean, we have protocols for this kind of thing, but they were written thousands of years ago. We hadn't even met another species at that point, beside the Windigos of course but technically they aren't another species they're just manifestations of elemental energy...”
>You blink as she goes on a tangent about manifest magic or weather or some such
>It's not exactly easy to follow, even if you had understood half the stuff she was going on about
>Eventually though, she slows and lapses into uneasy silence
>You clear your throat and hesitantly offer an idea you'd had when she was rambling
“Well...why don't you ask Princess Celestia? I mean, I'm sure she knows things that aren't in the books right?”
>Twilight looks up at you, her face drawn tight
>”But I'm supposed to be a princess now, I have to know how to handle things on my own!”
>She scuffs a hoof against the ground and looks back down
>You shuffle, uneasy with being the confidant of a pony you barely knew, let alone a princess at that
“I mean, no offense princess, but aren't you kinda new at this? I don't think she'd be mad at you asking for help.”
>Twilight looks at you again, a weak smile touching her lips
>”You pegasi are pretty good at cutting through all the hay of things, aren't you?”
>Whoa, racist
>She was a bit right though, you hadn't met another pegasus who hadn't been blunt and straightforward
>With a sigh, Twilight pulls away from your wings, her eyes showing new determination
>”Alright, first thing I need to do is get Spike down here! And Gale, was it? I want you to gather a team of pegasi, keep tabs on that thing. But if it attacks you, don't fight back just get outta there.”
>You give her a sharp nod and she turns, galloping up the stairs to find her assistant
>You do a little trot in place
>A mission given to you personally from a princess!
>Even the trepidation of going near that thing again doesn't quell your excitement at this
>Though you hadn't really become a weatherpony for excitement, it was almost as if there was something built into you that craved some kind of adventure
>So you followed her orders to the letter
>You managed to gather a team of eight pegasi, two who were part of the weather team
>Of course, you had to explain the situation to Rainbow Dash since she headed up the local weather team
>She had immediately gone to Twilight's castle to confirm it, but had given you the okay to be absent as long as you were telling the truth
>And since you were, you wasted no time establishing observation of the monster
>After a few hours, you're ready to admit it
>It wasn't nearly as exciting as you had thought it would be
>You and your team had rolled in a few clouds for cover and broken into pairs
>One kept watch while the other rested
>But the day rolled on, and nothing happened
>The creature lounged on top of his construct for hours, until the sun was low in the sky and Luna's moon was coming over the horizon
>Then he went inside, shut the hatch, and stayed there so it seemed
>At one point, the machine made a quiet groaning noise that put you on edge, but it remained where it was
>So you had informed the others and flown back to Twilight to make a report
>Sure, there really wasn't anything to actually tell her, but even so you weren't about to screw up your first big assignment in...ever
>When you reach the castle though, your enthusiasm is dulled a great deal
>It's surrounded by royal guards and night guards
>As if that wasn't enough of a sign, there are two chariots parked by the gates, both clearly made for royalty
>The princesses had made a visit
–
>You open your eyes to the twilight hours
>You blink several times, flicking your ocular lenses through several settings before settling on 'natural'
>The solar array in your chest folds in on itself and once more comes flush with your chest
>With a sigh, you tie the top of your robe and once more don your hood
>A look at the sky reveals a number of those strange, equine-like xenos staring down at you from behind clouds
>They must have thought themselves hidden, but machines are not so easily fooled as fleshly eyes
>Still they are merely observing you, strange as their perch was
>Clouds are insubstantial after all, and these creatures clearly are not
>You would need to take a sample, this was certainly something worth researching
>You wait outside a little while longer, until the moon fully rises and the stars shine high above
>A long moment is spent staring at their patterns, trying to match them to any sky you have seen before
>Nothing is the same, nor had you expected it to be
>Still, you'd run them against the databanks of Nox Aurea, she had campaigned for so long that perhaps she had seen this sky before
>And if not, she may have data from Mars itself that could match or at the very least help recognize some of the stellar objects you can see
>Before going inside, you save a few picts of the sky for later research
>The moment you shut the hatch behind you, a low hum comes through the god-machine
>A light breeze tickles the skin of your face, and the familiar scent of recycled air and holy oils sets itself deeply within
>Nox Aurea was alive
>You heave a deep sigh of relief
>It wasn't any grand miracle like her coming to full battle status and laying waste to hereteks, but it was certainly better than the aching silence of the day
>Another scent hits your nose, strong and foul
>Decay
>Your comrades, your mentor, you had nearly forgotten them in the rush of ecstasy from the breath of the machine
>You would need to deal with them, sooner rather than later
>Traditional Mechanicus recycling would be impossible here, but you're certain that somehow you could find a way to lay them to rest
>First though, you needed to interface with the Titan
>Hesitantly, you approach the command throne in the bridge
>The Princeps was still there, his face drawn tightly around his augments, slumped forward as though bowing
>Only the neural plugs kept him from falling over
>With as much care as you can, you hold the body in place and gingerly unplug him from the god-machine
>The plug comes out with no resistance, much to your relief
>You lay the body out on the floor, covering its face with the crew jacket it had been wearing
>As you sit in the throne, you whisper a prayer of benediction to the dead crew, and another to the Titan herself
>Slowly, hesitantly, you nestle the interface plug into your cerebrospinal port and wait
>After a moment, an explosion of data
>You'd had direct congress with machine spirits before, but nothing on the scale of a god-machine
>Princeps went through rigorous selection and decades of training and augmentation before they could become an apprentice aboard even the lowliest of Warhounds
>Their will matched the strength of steel, their minds sharper than even the power swords of the vaunted Astartes
>And even with all that, they struggled to control the vast war engines
>Yet here you were, a lowly adept, in direct congress with Nox Aurea
>Even in her state of hibernation, you could feel the immense weight of her will, the gross strength in her arms, the desire to kill kill killkillkillKILL
>With a gasp you sit upright, rigid, shouting a prayer to the Omnissiah for forgiveness and to Nox Aurea, begging her mercy
>Through the violent storm of data and fury, a thunderous voice echoes inside the comparatively minuscule chambers of your augmented mind
>”You are not my Princeps.”
>You weep tears of joy, tears of blood, as she speaks
>She lived, she was awake, she was angry, she was hurt, she demanded answers
>The weight upon your mind eases slightly as your signifier codes come to the fore, and you take a deep breath to gather yourself
>You had never dreamed that you would bear the brunt of a god-machine such as Nox Aurea
>As though reading your thoughts, a rumble comes through the frame
>”You bear nothing, adept.”
>She was right, no doubt
>Still, you must answer the questions she demanded of you
“Oh great god-machine, the vile machinations of Chaos have sent us to a world unknown. They have drained the power of your blessed core, but I shall work diligently and long to restore you to your former glory.”
>You feel a touch of pride from Nox Aurea as you sing her praises, but it's accompanied by a more demanding question
>”Where is my Princeps?”
>You swallow, your throat suddenly dry
>You can't answer, you have to answer
>With a quick switch to binary to better signify your feelings than your flesh voice could, you blurt it out
“The Princeps is dead.”
>A long, drawn out groan echoes through Nox Aurea, and a great sorrow presses on your mind
>You find yourself crying once again, your regular tears washing the tracks of blood on your face
>You cannot sustain yourself any longer, with a mournful groan you eject the interface plug from its port and collapse on the deck
>Your body curls into a ball on the cold, quiet deck and you sob quietly as the Titan once more goes silent around you
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