Chapter 9: The Cogboy Doesn't Want to Work

Secretly using various unapproved technologies was fine, as long as you weren't caught. But if you were exposed, and your work happened to "violate" a prohibition, and Mars happened to take an "interest," then the headquarters on the Red Planet would remind you exactly what the "Cult" in Cult Mechanicus meant. They would show you precisely why "the heretek is more abominable than the xenos."

Of course, if you had the strength to arm-wrestle with Mars headquarters—like the Forge World of Stygies VIII, which loves to study xenos technology—then Mars might be willing to turn a blind eye. The same dynamic applied down the chain of command: what Mars was to the Forge Worlds, the Forge Worlds were to their Tech-Priests.

This led to "technology dying with its creator" becoming a common phenomenon within the Mechanicus. "Archeological research" was an enduring field, but the "ruins" weren't always from the Golden Age of Technology; they could just as easily be the "tomb" of a recently deceased Magos.

"You modified it?" Magos Louis asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

Just as Omega was about to show off, with a ready-made audience to appreciate his genius, he proudly disassembled the lasgun with a series of slick, practiced movements. He pointed to his modifications and said, "Magos Louis, look at this!"

"Oh, a very clever design. It seems to borrow from the design philosophy of the hellgun."

"Exactly! Now, look at this!"

"Hmm?! You've added two feedback loops, concentrating the energy for greater power and lower consumption."

"Correct! And look here!"

"Tsk! What's this?"

"Alloy 96. It has superior electrical and thermal conductivity."

"Of course! Why didn't I think of that? Priest Omega, I must say, your talent is truly astounding!" Louis exclaimed, looking at the little figure before him and sighing inwardly.

It's true that the vat-born possess knowledge that others can only dream of, Louis mused, but there are always two sides to every cog. Their artificially constructed personalities can never compare to those developed naturally. I should know; I'm vat-born myself. He knew how many years it had taken him to break free from simply doing what others told him, to understand what "I" meant, to grasp the concepts of "thought," "emotion," and "joy."

This little one, on the other hand, has acted like a 'person'—a 'person' with his own thoughts and feelings—ever since his first month in the temple! (The great leg-hugging incident comes to mind.)

Has our technology advanced so much? Or is there some other reason? I really want to study him!

Omega suddenly shivered. He was still caught up in his moment of pride and didn't pay it much mind.

"Hahaha, you flatter me, Magos Louis. Unfortunately, the price of Alloy 98 is too high. This kind of modification has little practical value."

"..."

"Magos Louis?" Omega looked up at Louis, who was staring intently at him.

Louis snapped back to reality. "The reason there are so many lasgun patterns, despite its simple structure, has a lot to do with the materials available at the place of manufacture. The most important thing is the design philosophy."

"I see. That explains why I couldn't find the same material for the focusing lens on this Lucius-pattern."

"Correct. That particular element is relatively rare on our Forge World. Using it on lasguns would be a waste. Relying on trade would drive up the cost too much, which goes against the weapon's intended role."

Omega nodded in agreement. "You're right. A universe where everyone has a hellgun would be better than one where everyone has a lasgun!"

"Haha, exactly."

After the test-firing, Omega was forced to lie low for a while. He was broke, and even if he wanted to cause trouble, he couldn't afford to. He could try to make money by having Anduin sell his master-crafted lasgun, then buy a few broken ones, fix them up, and sell them for a profit.

But firstly, he was reluctant to part with his masterpiece. And secondly, there was no need to dance on the dotted red line of Imperial law. What if, one day, for some trivial reason, the higher-ups decided to get serious? What's the sentence for an underage individual illegally manufacturing and selling military-grade hardware on a Forge World?

As for money? It would come eventually. He hadn't forgotten that he was a transmigrator living without a "system." Every night before bed, he would violate the traditions of the Mechanicus and recite from a copy of the Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer he'd acquired from the black market. He was the very model of loyalty, but the Emperor still wasn't paying him any attention.

(The Emperor, on his Golden Throne: Where is that little brat who keeps chanting my name?)

Unfortunately for Omega, his peaceful, pragmatic life was about to come to an abrupt end.

One evening, after finishing his lecture, Omega bought dinner from a terrifyingly designed auto-vending servitor.

"Yo, Ven-D," Omega called out. "One can of grox, one packet of dried vegetables, and one energy-starch bar."

"Acknowledged. Preparing your order, honored Priest Omega."

"You know, Ven-D, the first time I came here, I had nightmares that night."