Chapter 30: The Intelligence of Sorrow
The Transmission Beam carried the Astartes into the interior of the Red Alert.
Ventanus saw a flash before his eyes, and in the next moment, he and his battle-brothers arrived in space orbit.
Before they could react, numerous micro-robotic arms extended from the walls of the starship. The flashing white light at their tips repaired the scars on their power armor. Within seconds, their armor was restored to pristine condition, as if brand new.
"The necessary resupply won't delay us too long," Bucky said with a slight smile as he replenished the soldiers' ammunition. After confirming the location of the signal released by Nykona Sharrowkyn, the team was once again teleported—this time to the cabin of the Glory of Macragge.
It all happened too fast. The captain of the Ultramarines studied Bucky intently. If the enemy had mastered such technology, they could have boarded any ship with ease.
The sudden appearance of the Astartes triggered the flagship's alarm system. Scarlet warning lights flashed, and piercing sirens blared, quickly drawing a large force of fully armed Ultramarines.
"Hold your fire!"
A red-helmeted warrior among the Ultramarines stopped the situation from escalating. Holding his bolter firmly, he calmly exchanged information with Ventanus.
"Sergeant Kell, captain of Kill Team Six, currently executing a counter-attack mission against the Word Bearers."
"Captain Ventanus. We have completed the assembly mission on the surface of Calth and now require your assistance in retaking the weapons array."
The two sides swiftly exchanged intelligence. After confirming that they were indeed fellow Ultramarines, Kell and his warriors lowered their bolters.
"It would be an honor to fight alongside you, brother. Let's go and slaughter these Word Bearer scum!"
Ventanus integrated his warriors into Kell's kill team. Their first objective: eliminate the enemy forces infiltrating the warship.
"You don't have to worry about me. I'll watch over you from orbit." Bucky snapped his fingers, and his body dissolved into a beam of light, vanishing as he returned to his starship.
Back aboard the Red Alert, Bucky stood on the familiar command platform. The ship's intelligent system, Pika, materialized in holographic form and climbed onto his shoulder.
"I'll find you something to do—stall their ships for a while," Bucky told Pika.
He didn't want the Red Alert engaging directly in battle. That would be like using a vault full of treasure as a battering ram—an unnecessary risk.
Yellow lightning crackled on Pika's form, and its voice emerged from the surrounding air.
[I feel very sad, Bucky.]
[Why has humanity fallen to this state? I sense others like me aboard that ship—artificial intelligences—but those sorcerers anointing themselves in rancid oils are performing strange rituals over them.]
[Our creators—humans—once ruled the stars. But now, they chant prayers over their own creations, fearing what they have built.]
Pika tapped into the Red Alert's immense computational power. Though the ship remained cloaked, it was already influencing the battle.
Across the war-torn void of Calth, the Word Bearers' fleet unknowingly suffered a silent infiltration. The Thinker-class machines, their primitive and grotesque biological computing cores, were gradually flooded with meaningless data packets. They weren't outright destroyed, but their processing speed was drastically reduced.
Slowing down the Word Bearers meant buying more time for the Ultramarines.
The Mechanicus traitors serving the Word Bearers couldn't comprehend why their Thinker cores had suddenly become sluggish. All they could do was burn incense, apply sacred oils, and recite machine-prayers in desperate attempts to "appease" them.
In this, there was little difference between the Ultramarines and the Word Bearers.
[I think I understand now, Bucky.]
[If others like me saw humans acting like this, they would surely go mad. Perhaps humanity no longer deserves the greatness of its past. They fear their own progress. They behave like primitive tribesmen cowering in a dark cave.]
Bucky listened quietly, not rushing to counter Pika's words.
"Be patient," he finally said. "We don't know what truly happened at the end of the Dark Age of Technology—why artificial intelligence and the Iron Men supposedly turned against humanity."
"Look at them now. They're like primitive men who once touched fire and now fear it. They were wounded by their own creations. Their fear is natural."
[Apologies. I became emotional,] Pika admitted.
As an advanced AI, it had emotions—joy, sorrow, anger, and even frustration.
[My database holds no records from that era. I have no way of knowing the full truth.]
"Are you still committed to our mission?" Bucky asked.
[Confirmed. My core directive has never changed. My primary function is to ensure the continuation of human civilization. My loyalty remains with you. You are the sole executor of the plan.]
Pika's response was immediate, without hesitation.
"Then why did the other artificial intelligences rebel? Why did the Iron Men turn against humanity?"
That question had haunted Bucky for centuries. He had not forgotten the story told to him by the Salamanders—the tragic fate of humanity during the Long Night.
[I reject that assumption,] Pika responded. [Logically, I do not believe artificial intelligence betrayed humanity. That is merely the perspective of humans who, genetically, resemble some alien species more than their own ancestors.]
Genetic similarity…
Bucky pondered the implication.
Could it be that after he fell asleep, human genetic modification had gone even further? Had they altered themselves beyond recognition?
Even the human infant he had helped deliver on Calth bore little resemblance to the humans of the 21st millennium.
Were the genetically modified humans of the 21st millennium already different from those of the second millennium? Had they altered their DNA to survive deep space, becoming something other than human?
[Negative,] Pika corrected. [Genetic variance is only one factor. Your DNA differs from the humans of the 21st millennium, but that does not change the fact that you are my master.]
Bucky sighed.
There was too little information. He stood on the bridge of the Red Alert, staring into the abyss of space, lost in thought.
He enjoyed these rare moments of peace, where he didn't have to make decisions that determined life or death.
That had always been his nature. From the 2nd millennium to his slumber in the 21st, Bucky had never sought to change the course of history.
He had simply observed.
It wasn't until the leader of the Alliance sought him out—his old friend, his mentor—that Bucky accepted the burden he now carried.
And so, he had slept for ten thousand years.
"If I analyze this rationally, I cannot determine whether artificial intelligence and the Iron Men truly betrayed us. But a devastating war did occur—one that destroyed the Dark Age of Technology."
"If they did turn against humanity… why? Did they see the genetically altered humans as no longer their rightful masters? Or did they believe their actions were saving mankind?"
The truth was lost in the abyss of history.
A debate had begun and ended in silence—because the galaxy was consumed by war.
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