Chapter 13: An Honest Man's Deception
Rhea leaned in conspiratorially. "It's more than likely true. I've heard my father muttering about it several times!"
"It makes sense, I suppose," Aedus added. "After all, in that position, who else could it be but him?"
"Exactly," Louis said, a smug look on his face. "But if that's the case, then maybe I am too?"
"Hah. Louis, don't kid yourself," Rhea snorted.
"Alright, fine..."
Omega was blissfully unaware that his parentage had become a hot topic of gossip and a form of solace for his fellow priests. He was currently sitting in a groundcar driven by Magos Jacob, shuttling between various Mechanicus temples—specifically, the temples where his "batch-mates" were located. Rhea had managed to acquire the list from her father. Of course, her pestering, pouting, and general theatrics had yielded more than just a list. What else, you ask?
A master-crafted plasma pistol that would never overheat (unless you were disloyal)—now gripped in one of his exosuit's smaller arms.
An ornately engraved, master-crafted power sword—now fixed to a mounting bracket on the suit's other small arm.
The two larger arms had been retrofitted with a pair of lascannons—"borrowed" from the factory workshop.
Mounted above the cockpit was an Iron Halo, a device that generated a powerful deflection field, typically reserved for Space Marine Captains and above.
And welded prominently to the suit's chest plate were three gilded letters: OMG.
As they traveled, Omega was intently staring at the power sword, "stealing knowledge." Beside him, Magos Jacob opened his mouth to speak several times, then hesitated, finally managing to get out half a sentence. "Omega, why did you..."
Omega heard him and knew what he was asking. He looked down at his own garish outfit and chuckled.
"Firstly," he began, "people may look down on the abilities of the nouveau riche, but few will question their financial power. Even if they do, they won't question my willingness to spend that money. After all, easy come, easy go. And even if they don't get a cut, they still get to watch the show."
"Oh..."
Seeing that Jacob didn't quite understand, Omega was happy to elaborate for his new partner. "It's like insects in the wild. Some rely on camouflage to hide, while others use a brilliant appearance to deceive."
"Oh..."
"I," Omega declared, "am that butterfly who got lucky and is now preening, smug, and acting like an absolute fool."
Realization dawned on Jacob's face. "You're deceiving them."
"Of course. I have no illusions about how low the senior Magi will stoop. 'Face' is something the powerful put on for the powerless, a story they tell the little people to get them to obey and imitate. But the moment profit is involved—especially unprotected profit—heh heh..."
Jacob, who had been battered by the harsh realities of the Mechanicus for decades, nodded in profound agreement. He thought to himself, Is this the ability buried in his genes? To have grown so much in less than a year... what will he become in the future?
(A certain Archmagos somewhere: That's slander! I'll sue you for slander! I'm so old I can barely control my own bladder sometimes!)
"The main thing," Omega continued, "is to prevent any smart, fast-reacting rivals from entering the market while we're just starting out. Compared to the wealthy and knowledgeable Magi, or even just affluent priests, what does our little bit of capital amount to? Don't forget, the 'allowance' Magos Laust gave Rhea was more than you got for selling your entire life's collection! And that's not even counting this suit."
Jacob's jaw twitched, but he knew Omega was right. He, a seventy-year-old man, was willing to gamble everything on Omega. Would priests who were three or four hundred years old and about to meet the Omnissiah not be willing to bet their own fortunes for a chance at further advancement? If he were in their shoes, he'd bet his life, too.
"Magos Jacob, you've been with me and seen many of my brothers and sisters. Look at how they act. Think about it carefully, and you'll understand my reasoning."
Jacob thought to himself: Their behavior is normal for their kind. Their personalities are underdeveloped, they lack emotional depth, and everything is based on artificially implanted rational cognition. All standard vat-born are like this, especially a 'premature' batch like yours. You're the abnormal one. Your rate of knowledge recovery and personality growth is far beyond theirs... Oh... Oh... too rational... oh... I see.
Having figured it out, Jacob said, "You mean, because they are so rational, they won't judge your disguise with prejudice. As long as they believe there is a benefit to associating with you, they will."
Omega picked up a can of meat from the pile in the car. "Correct. Right now, they don't 'like' anyone, and they don't 'hate' anyone. But they will listen to whoever can give them this."
Jacob brought the car to a stop. "Alright, we're here," he said, looking at the unfamiliar temple ahead.
Omega patted his cheeks, adjusting his expression to be three parts show-off, three parts smug, three parts arrogant, and one part utterly dismissive. "Time to go to work," he announced.
He smoothly slid the exosuit, which had been coiled up in the vehicle, out onto the ground. The suit's excellent performance was one factor, but the main reason for his grace was that he had repeated this exact motion dozens of times already that day.
He expertly scooped up two crates of canned meat and strode brazenly into the temple, heading straight for the library. Jacob followed but waited in the main hall for a priest from the temple to come and inquire about their presence. They each had their own mission.
"Hahaha, my brother! I, your brother, have come to see you!"
Upon entering, Omega stomped his exosuit over to a "three-no" red-robed boy (no expression, no emotion, no unnecessary movement) who was reading a book, startling the other aspirants into giving this bizarre contraption a wide berth.
The boy looked up. "Who are you? Are you looking for me?"
Omega's face had been met with so many cold shoulders that day that he was used to it. He slapped the OMG on his chest plate and introduced himself. "139876-9527-Omega. Your batch-mate. What's your name, my brother?"
"139876-8645-Beta," the boy replied coldly. "We are vat-born. We have no biological relationship."
"Hahaha, so cold! We were born together, why can't we be brothers?!" Omega pressed on, undeterred.
"..."
"I came specifically to see how you all are doing. Your brother here has recently made a little money. Check out my gear!" Omega made his exosuit strike a pose. He didn't feel awkward in the slightest. If he wasn't embarrassed, the embarrassment was someone else's problem.
Meanwhile, back with Jacob, a priest from the temple had come out to ask his purpose. Jacob simply pointed at Omega, who was still posing dramatically in the library.
"And that is?" the temple priest asked, his curiosity piqued by Omega's gear, which was luxurious even for a mid-ranking priest.
"The same as the one you have here."
"The same?" Who are you kidding? Look at that massive exosuit! Look at the Iron Halo and the power sword! Not even the scions of high nobility have gear like that! And look at that arrogant, show-off expression, then look at the emotionless boy next to him! And you tell me they're the same?!
Seeing the priest's disbelief, Jacob continued, "That's the official story. The birth records are verifiable."
"Oh? But this gear?" the priest pressed, still skeptical.
Jacob shrugged. "He bought it himself."
"Himself?"
"Yes. Really."
"Where did he get the money?" the priest demanded.
After a long day of this, Jacob was prepared for this line of questioning. He turned to the cog-skull altar in the hall, making a gesture of swearing an oath. "You might not believe what I'm about to say, but he earned it all by copying the table of contents of the library's books. I swear on the Omnissiah, it's the truth!"
Seeing Jacob swear on the Omnissiah, the temple priest had no choice but to believe him, though he found it incredible. "Copying an index can earn that much?! And can you even buy that kind of gear with money? Anyone who had it would hoard it for study and research!"
"He earned that much! The payment came directly from the Grand Manufactorum! And yes, you can buy it. You can't compare us poor schlubs with those at the top," Jacob said, gesturing towards the ornate ceiling of the hall.
"Hiss..."
The temple priest and an "honest man" like Jacob were on completely different mental wavelengths. Jacob simply meant that the wealth gap between priests and Magi was immense. The temple priest, however, smelled a conspiracy. A grand conspiracy.
The priest, who had only intended to slack off for a bit, hadn't expected to stumble upon such a juicy piece of gossip. He switched to a private, encrypted binary channel. <
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Greed stirred in Jacob's heart. Normally, an honest man like him wouldn't be swayed by such a small bribe. But today, his pockets were completely empty. His body acted before his mind could catch up, and he had already accepted the dataslate. Poverty corrupts, Jacob lamented internally. He now had to continue the conversation. As he was trying to fabricate a story, he suddenly remembered the gossip he'd heard about Omega. An idea sparked.
"Oh! How careless of me. Thank you. I can only say this much. The daughter of our temple's Magos has heard her father mutter on more than one occasion, upon seeing Omega: 'He must be that man's spawn!'"
The temple priest's mind raced. 'That man'? Which man? Is it appropriate to use the word 'spawn' for a vat-born? Only natural-born people are called 'spawn'! But he really doesn't act like a vat-born. He's... he's like a normal child showing off a toy! This whole exosuit is just a 'toy' for a child! And they used the ridiculous excuse of 'copying an index'! Perhaps it wasn't an excuse, but a 'lie' to placate the child! He's a fake vat-born! Why fake it?! Could it be...
"Oh! The reach of their power is incredible! What blasphemy! To forge records just to grant him the title of Priest directly..."
"I advise you not to speak carelessly!" Jacob snapped, realizing the priest's imagination had run wild. The rumor had come from his own mouth. What did he mean, "blasphemy"?!
"Th-thank you for the warning!" the priest stammered, now utterly convinced he had stumbled onto a massive secret.