All schedules and routines within the underground base seemed to have returned to something approaching normal operations, settling into predictable rhythms after the chaos of recent weeks.
Nolan led Jessica through brutal training sessions that lasted almost fourteen hours each day, pushing both her body and mind to their absolute limits. The regimen was relentless, unforgiving, designed to break and rebuild.
In addition to the bare minimum rest time allocated for essential biological functions like eating, sleeping, and using the toilet, Nolan would also drag the thoroughly exhausted Jessica into command training sessions. He forced her to study tactical theory, to learn how to effectively command a combat team or even larger formations of combatants.
Strategy. Logistics. Morale management. Resource allocation. Everything a future commander would need to know.
Perhaps it was the near-death experience she'd suffered during the vampire incident, that brush with mortality that had stripped away illusions of invulnerability. Or perhaps it was simply the right combination of motivation and opportunity at the right moment in her development.
Whatever the cause, the experience had definitely changed some fundamental aspects of Jessica's concepts and underlying ideas about combat, about leadership, about what truly mattered.
Her growth rate and her absorption of both combat training and theoretical war knowledge far exceeded even Nolan's optimistic expectations. She devoured information like a starving person presented with a feast, retaining and applying lessons with remarkable speed.
Nolan observed this transformation carefully, noting each milestone and breakthrough. He saw Jessica becoming something more than she'd been, evolving toward her full potential.
So he decided to take advantage of the approaching Halloween holiday, which was rapidly drawing near, to prepare a special gift for Jessica. Something that would acknowledge her progress and provide the tools she'd need for the next phase.
Not long after making this decision, Nolan rose from his desk and made his way to the foundry workshop that continued its endless roaring even at this late hour. The facility never truly stopped, maintaining constant production across all shifts.
He found Raditus exactly where he'd expected, surrounded by partially assembled machinery. The servo skull was currently rubbing precision metal parts by hand, or rather by mechanical clamp, using fine abrasives to achieve tolerances measured in microns.
However, when Nolan approached the Tech-Priest and proposed his request, when he explained that he wanted to temporarily interrupt current production schedules to cast a specialized set of power armor designed for use by Battle Sisters, Raditus reacted as though it had suffered a tremendous psychological shock.
The servo skull's mechanical eye sockets flashed with bright red light, pulsing rapidly in what could only be interpreted as extreme agitation.
Raditus used one of its short mechanical clamps to strike the casting platform surface vigorously, the metallic clang echoing through the workshop. Simultaneously, it pulled maximum volume from its vocal generating device to shout at Nolan with what sounded like genuine distress.
"Emperor preserve us! Even if you are the Primarch, you cannot simply use me as some kind of wishing machine that grants any request without consequence, surely? My poor foundry, every single production line is already operating at dangerous overload capacity!"
The servo skull's voice rose to a shriek.
"First, there's the intelligent control corps that is actively carrying out your substitute plan! And there's the new flying vehicle design that is still in the modification and testing stage, nowhere near production ready! Primarch, I have even temporarily commandeered the entire production line that was supposed to be manufacturing lasguns! Where exactly am I supposed to find extra productivity to manufacture custom power armor on top of everything else?"
The complaint was delivered with impressive theatrical flair.
"Raditus, why do I distinctly remember that your foundry has never actually stopped production since the round table meeting where we discussed expansion?" Nolan raised his eyebrows slightly in calculated suspicion. He deliberately turned his head to look at the automatic servo robots passing by continuously in the wide corridor beyond the workshop entrance.
Countless materials and component parts were being transported back and forth by the tireless constructs, a constant flow of resources moving through the facility's arteries.
He took a deep breath of the hot, metallic-tasting air that filled the foundry, then turned back to address the servo skull directly.
"You've been running at full capacity for weeks now, Raditus. So tell me, precisely how much have you actually produced during all this time?"
"Didn't you explicitly say you wanted a complete cybernetic corps?" Raditus's protest came immediately, defensive and slightly shrill. "This is an important decision that was passed by the round table meeting! Lord Primarch! Surely you don't want to break your own promises and go back on decisions made in formal council?"
With red light still flashing frantically in its mechanical eye sockets, Raditus drove its anti-gravity engine to bob up and down in the air, creating a distracting visual pattern.
But despite the aggressive defense, the servo skull's mechanical voice seemed to reveal just a trace of guilty consciousness, an awareness that perhaps it had overstepped.
"What I told you I wanted was a cannon fodder-level cybernetic corps, basic units that could surprise enemies and serve as replacements for the 'Guardians of Terra' in low-intensity roles." Nolan's tone sharpened, becoming more precise and dangerous. "Not a 'complete' military-grade cybernetic corps with full capabilities. Those are very different things, Raditus."
He paused, letting that distinction sink in before continuing.
"Tell me exactly how many toys you've manufactured recently. Give me specific numbers."
At this moment, Nolan's eyes narrowed to calculating slits. He gently lifted the hem of his shirt with deliberate slowness, revealing what lay beneath.
The familiar plasma pistol, holstered at his hip, became clearly visible within Raditus's direct field of vision. The weapon's presence was a silent but unmistakable threat.
"Hahaha... Lord Primarch, please don't joke with me in such an alarming manner!" Raditus's mechanical laugh was extremely awkward, forced, carrying none of its usual confidence. "I didn't manufacture that many units, honestly! Certainly not enough to conquer a planet or anything dramatic like that..."
Hearing Nolan's pointed question and seeing the weapon now visible, the servo skull suspended in mid-air suddenly let out that awkward mechanical laugh.
However, despite the attempt at levity, its mechanical voice was absolutely saturated with a sense of deep uneasiness.
"How many exactly?" Nolan pressed, his voice dropping lower but somehow becoming more threatening. "Tell me the precise numbers. You know I won't actually kill you, right? We're partners. So there's no reason to hide information from me."
He slowly reached out and grasped the plasma pistol's grip, his movements unhurried but purposeful. A slight smile appeared on his features, but the expression didn't reach his eyes.
Nolan stared directly at Raditus's position and spoke with deceptive lightness.
"Explain to me what you've been doing."
The next moment, Raditus, with red light still flashing frantically in its mechanical eye sockets, quickly approached Nolan. The servo skull abandoned its previous defensive positioning and moved closer, as though proximity might somehow help its case.
It drove the anti-gravity engine to float up and down nervously while speaking with careful, measured words.
"My Lord Primarch, you are truly joking with me... surely..."
The servo skull paused, then continued in a rush, deciding apparently that full disclosure was the only viable strategy.
"The number of units in the Intelligent Control Corps currently stands at exactly one thousand completed and operational units. However, I must emphasize that these are not those cheaply made automatic servo robots constructed from weak, basic materials meant only for menial labor!"
Raditus's tone took on a note of pride despite the circumstances.
"Every single unit within the Intelligent Control Corps is a proper war machine fully capable of suppressing an entire city district through overwhelming force. These are combat constructs of genuine military value!"
The Tech-Priest began listing specifications with the enthusiasm of a craftsman discussing favored creations.
"Among the thousand units, approximately five hundred are Scyllax-class Guardian-automata that can effectively engage in both long-range and close combat roles. They possess several extremely sturdy mechanical tentacles, each strong enough to crush steel, and can wield chain swords or power swords with devastating efficiency. They become terrifying assault monsters in the eyes of any enemy force."
"Alternatively," Raditus continued, warming to its subject, "they can be reconfigured to serve as Scyllax-class Guardian-automata weapons platforms when equipped with heavy stubbers or arc rifles, providing sustained firepower coverage across wide areas of the battlefield."
"Moreover, and this is actually a beneficial feature rather than a flaw, the power sources are deliberately exposed in the original design. The radiation furnace that powers each unit also causes tremendously dangerous radiation damage to any enemy forces in close proximity. When tactically necessary, I can even remotely command individual Scyllax-class Guardian-automata units to overload their power cores and function as mobile self-destructing dirty bombs! The radioactive contamination alone would deny territory to enemies for extended periods."
The servo skull was gaining confidence now, mistaking Nolan's silence for acceptance or even approval.
"Fifty are Castellax-class battle-automata, didn't you complain to me previously that lascannons cannot be effectively controlled by a single human operator and are very difficult to deploy in dynamic combat situations?" Raditus's voice took on a note of triumph. "Now you don't have to worry about that limitation at all! Because the height and overall size of this unit are comparable to Terminator power armor, making them perfect weapons platforms!"
"Each one carries a hull-mounted lascannon with integrated targeting systems and independent fire control!"
The enthusiasm dimmed slightly.
"It's extremely unfortunate that I haven't yet acquired the proper design schematics for thunder hammers or other powered melee weapons of that caliber. Otherwise, the close combat capability of the automata would be difficult for even ordinary Astartes to resist in direct engagement. But the lascannon production is limited by rare material requirements."
Raditus hurried to cover the remaining forces.
"The remaining four hundred and fifty units are basically Vulture automatic servo-skulls operating as aerial reconnaissance and light attack drones. After all, air supremacy and battlefield awareness are absolutely essential in modern combined arms operations. You've already used them in combat operations, so I won't waste time introducing their capabilities in detail."
The servo skull carefully introduced its numerous unauthorized masterpieces while simultaneously turning its red, flashing mechanical eye to carefully monitor the changes in Nolan's facial expression, searching for any hint of his true reaction.
When Raditus unexpectedly discovered that the squinting Primarch showed absolutely no unusual emotional responses, no anger or shock, the mechanical voice obviously rose several pitches in pitch and volume, becoming somewhat desperate.
"Respected Primarch! If you are still somehow not satisfied with this combat force, I can also create an additional class of powerful mechanical soldier called the Skitarii for your exclusive use!"
The offer came in a rushed tumble of words.
"These are semi-mechanical combat servitors known colloquially as the 'Astartes of the Mechanicus,' elite augmented warriors! Your Gang Dogs with their already enhanced bodies would serve as perfect base material for the transformation process! The conversion would be relatively straightforward given their existing augmentation!"
Raditus's voice carried both pride and uncertainty now.
"However, I must admit that this particular field of expertise was what my former mentor, a distinguished Magos Biologis, was most skilled at during my training years. I have only directly observed the manufacturing process a handful of times. If you want me to perfectly replicate the procedures without his guidance, the difficulty would be considerable and the failure rate initially high..."
At this precise moment, before Raditus could finish delivering its desperate pitch, the plasma pistol gripped tightly in Nolan's palm was suddenly drawn with practiced speed.
The weapon came up smoothly, years of training making the motion automatic. The muzzle aimed directly at Raditus, who hovered close at hand, completely within point-blank range.
Nolan's expression had returned to its most characteristic state: utterly expressionless and coldly detached. Any trace of the earlier smile had vanished completely.
He stared at the servo skull whose red light in the eye sockets began to shrink violently, the illumination dimming as panic set in.
Then he pulled the trigger without any hesitation whatsoever.
Puff, puff, puff!
Several bursts of azure-blue superheated plasma erupted from the pistol's muzzle in rapid succession. The shots came fast, each one carefully aimed despite the speed.
The terrifying scorching heat melted the two short mechanical clamps and the anti-gravity engine hanging beneath the servo skull in the blink of an eye. Metal liquefied instantly, dripping in molten streams. Critical components simply ceased to exist.
Simultaneously, the plasma bolts that missed their primary target collided at high velocity with the metal workshop wall behind Raditus. The superheated matter exploded on impact with devastating effect.
The blast completely submerged several nearby intelligent control robots that had not yet been fully assembled, partially constructed Scyllax-class Guardian-automata units that were reduced to slag and scrap in an instant.
The next moment, just as the servo skull that had released an absolutely terrified electronic scream was about to plummet heavily from mid-air, falling like a broken toy, Nolan moved with inhuman speed.
He stepped forward in a blur and suddenly extended one large hand with sharp fingertips. His fingers closed around the white skull that was all that remained of Raditus, gripping it firmly but not yet crushing.
He slightly widened his cyan wolf eyes, the predatory gaze pinning the Tech-Priest with absolute focus.
Nolan stared directly into the servo skull's mechanical eyeball with an emotionless, utterly cold gaze. When he spoke, each word was delivered slowly, distinctly, with terrible clarity.
"Raditus, this is the second time you have directly disobeyed my explicit orders and overstepped your authority in ways I did not authorize."
His grip tightened fractionally, enough to make his point without causing damage.
"Do not treat my usual patience and tolerance as something that can be casually discarded at will, as though it were infinite or meant nothing. I can tolerate your cleverness and your little secrets, your experiments and innovations, because I sincerely regard you as a genuine member of this team. You are a recognized partner, a valued colleague, not merely a tool that was resurrected by the Emperor for my convenience!"
Nolan's voice remained level but somehow grew more intense.
"Three times is the absolute limit. This is the final time I will warn you about this. Inventing new weapons and equipment? I welcome that very much, encourage it even. Modifying any technological creation you can get your manipulators on? Please, do so freely. Seeking knowledge of alien technology and studying xenotech principles? You can pursue that however you want within reason."
He paused, making sure he had Raditus's complete attention.
"However, any decision made in my name or supposedly for my benefit, especially this terrible attitude of not treating humans as human beings but as expendable resources or raw materials for conversion, you must think very clearly before proceeding. Do you really want to do that? Do you truly understand what you're proposing when you talk about converting my people into servitors? Do you understand?"
The question hung in the air for a long moment.
"Now then, let's discuss immediate priorities." Nolan's tone shifted slightly, becoming more businesslike. "There is approximately one week remaining before Halloween arrives. If you immediately stop all production lines currently manufacturing units for the Cybernetic Corps and mobilize all available productivity to manufacture a single set of custom power armor sized for mortal human proportions, you should have barely enough time. That's a reasonable timeline for you, isn't it, Raditus?"
He allowed a cold smile to appear.
"Of course, you retain the option to resist this directive. You could refuse." The smile widened fractionally, becoming something predatory. "At most, I would simply need to recruit someone else to replace you through one of my 'miracles'. Perhaps super-talented individuals like the legendary Archmagos Belisarius Cawl of the Mechanicus are also waiting somewhere in the Warp for an opportunity to take your position here."
Nolan's eyes bored into the servo skull.
"Don't you think that's possible, Raditus? How easily replaceable do you think you actually are?"
"The Primarch is above! The Emperor is above! The Machine God is above! The Omnissiah is above!" The servo skull, held firmly in Nolan's unyielding grip, suddenly let out a sharp and absolutely terrified cry. "I know I was wrong! I was truly, genuinely wrong! I understand my error completely!"
"I understand your concerns now! I also finally understand your absolute bottom line that must not be crossed!"
The electronic voice was frantic, desperate, words tumbling over each other.
"Loyalty is not absolute, it is absolutely disloyalty! Lord Primarch! I will never make such a mistake again! You have my word, my oath, everything I can give!"
"I am incomparably loyal! Forever loyal! Loyalty beyond question!"
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