Phosphor luminators hung from grav-buoyed cherubs that circled the high ceiling of the kataphron reliquary. The tang of the chemical biproducts that draped downwards in curtains of thin smoke from the lamps made Claudian wish for the Metalican forge-district he was apprenticed to. His prayers over the Servitor’s track links that resisted reconnection drew to a fervoured crescendo, Claudian’s squat fingers working with orchestrated ease with his servo harness. He applied suitable torsion to bend the pin casing back into shape, and bathed it in the blessed oils he had collected from the engine rooms of the Vult.
Omnissiah Vult was his home now, the bulkheads and deck plating all made thousands of years ago, this gargantuan crusade vessel, had a somnolent machine spirit. She had grown torpid after many years of voyage through the void, behemoth that she was, she had survived many enemy encounters and dangers. She regarded herself as untouchable, and instead of inflating her sense of ego and power-lust it made her apathetic and nonchalant. The luminator cherubs aboard the Vult had contracted her insouciant nature and Claudian found himself waiting for them to catch him up as he travelled the nave of the reliquary to the pointed archway of the next Kataphron bay. The 5 lenses that had replaced his eyes rotated and dilated as the light grew from the approach of the cherub above him.
This next battle servitor was of special interest to him, it’s enormous slack visage drooled forth lubricants down the once ivory and red battle plate. Kataphron Destroyer Beta-788 could now know nothing of the life it once had. It’s genebulked form nothing more than a frame to hang the weaponry it bore, its lobotomised mind now would be free from independent thought ticking through the rest psalms of cogitation dormancy functions, eyes, lenses, ears, vox-thieves all waiting for non-standby stimuli.
Claudian poured the nutrient soup into the servitor’s stoma, the liquid had come from reclamation of the kataphron maniple leader Beta-709’s flesh components. Beta-788 was once Topher Meridias, Sumministrator Apexus of the Metalican fleet, he still bore the sockets and manipulators of mechadendrites he used in life. Such a high ranking member of the Cult Mechanicus, serving now in the armies of Vespasius. Claudian reached up to touch the ‘Hammer clenched" medallion that still adorned his neck, the sigil of Metalica. The servitor had no need of it now. He tugged at it to see if it would come loose, no luck, he engaged his servo arm to pluck it from the torso of the machine.
Beta-788’s dormancy protocols flipped to protection status, the phosphor blaster on it’s chassis disgorged a volley through Claudian’s robed middle and into the bulkhead behind him. Claudian fell backwards, his servo arm burdening him suddenly, power stabilisers failed as the salvo from the servitor severed his spine.
The cherub overhead bathed him with it’s smoky incense as it sailed in lazy circles, the whirr of the ammo belt cycling came to a halt. The safeties were engaged! How could this happen? Claudian was jolting uncontrollably on the floor, incredulous as to what could have gone wrong with the Kataphron’s programming. How? How? His life blood pooled about him as he helplessly watched Beta-788 reach out with it’s hydraulic claw and pinch the chain of the the medallion, lifting it from the dying enginseer.
Two months later - Beta-791’s 5 eye lenses rotated and dilated. ++ Optimum range, flamer discharging ++ the renegades and cultists in front of the enemy astartes still came on another 8ft before collapsing in screams of agony. Beta-788 forced the Iron Warriors to retreat for cover around the corner from it’s phosphor tirade.This boarding torpedo had scattered from a point defense ricochet and punched through the hull 4 decks in. Beta-788 and it’s maniple were forcing these remaining trespassers to the waiting skitarii as directed by the Venator Primus’ datafeed. A rumble of explosions. A great yawning groan reverberated through the vessel, Omnissiah Vult was stirring….
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