Chapter 16: The Tone Can Change in an Instant
Two years. It had been two years since he'd transmigrated. The year was M42.200. This past year, the first half had been busy and happy for Omega; the second half had been busy and a pain in the ass.
In the 2k-era, you learned in order to earn money.
In the 42k-era, you earned money in order to learn.
He now profoundly understood that the Warhammer universe was indeed a cesspool. This world could give you fleeting moments of joy, but only in exchange for eternal torment.
The key problem was that Omega wasn't a person with a particularly strong thirst for knowledge. But he had to act like he was, to pursue knowledge with the same single-minded devotion as the other priests. It was the "politically correct" thing to do within the Adeptus Mechanicus. To be "incorrect" was to be a heretek, and Omega did not want to be branded a heretek. The entire culture was built around this; he had no choice.
Then there was Magos Laust, who had become far too accommodating. If Omega didn't know for a fact that he came from a vitae-womb, he'd suspect Rhea was the adopted one and he was the true son.
With money on hand, he had naturally started asking Magos Laust about purchasing the exosuit. He didn't want to spend the money, but he had to! How could he modify and upgrade something that wasn't his? And who could refuse the chance to pilot their own personal mech?!
Omega had been prepared to beg, plead, and wear Laust down until he agreed. But to his utter shock, Laust simply gifted it to him. Not just the exosuit, but the Iron Halo as well. This frightened Omega badly. He thought Laust was genuinely preparing him for some kind of suicide mission.
Omega had cried out, "No! This doesn't belong to me..."
But the fact was, nothing happened. It was all in Omega's head. No arrangements. No missions.
After that period of anxiety, Omega was just left confused. What kind of universe have I ended up in? Is this even the Warhammer I know? Shouldn't it be... DIE, TRAITOR! DIE, HERETIC! DIE, XENOS! DIE, CORPSE-EMPEROR! DIE, LAPDOGS! DIE, LITTLE BRAT! ... Shouldn't everyone just be trying to kill each other with big guns and small guns, big choppas and small choppas? And after you die, the daemons in the warp get to use you for all sorts of 'play.' You can even get 'played with' before you die.
Even now, with his system active, the best ending Omega could imagine for himself was "a peaceful death." His grand plan was to climb the ranks of the Mechanicus, become powerful and wealthy, and then hire a few Blanks to keep around. When he was about to die, he'd lie down in their midst. That way, no "god" could get their claws on his soul. He'd "fight" until his very soul dissipated.
Omega was becoming paranoid. Magos Laust was acting strangely. Jacob, Rhea, and the others were acting strangely. All the other priests were acting strangely. It made him feel like he was living in "The Truman Show."
Whether it was a delusion or not, he couldn't just keep going on like this. He needed knowledge. He needed strength. He needed the power to resist when something finally happened.
Omega made up his mind. He pulled his focus from the "Blue Ocean Project" and let Jacob and the others handle it. He wanted to see if they were truly hiding something from him.
For the next half-year, Omega used his funds as capital and began acquiring damaged technological artifacts from the black market, from other priests, and from every channel he could find. He discovered that as long as it was technology-related, regardless of its condition, as long as the overall structure was intact, his system could extract all the knowledge from its design to its production and even its modifications. It was incredibly powerful. He could even extract knowledge from individual components, though it was less precise, like a search engine with missing keywords. But hey, at least it didn't have ads. (≧ω≦)/
Acquire -> Extract -> Learn -> Organize -> Repair -> Sell to recoup funds -> Acquire again.
Of course, the things Omega dared to sell were all low-end tech with little real technical value. The original sellers had failed to repair them because they were trapped by the "theological science" of the cog-heads. Without the proper "kowtowing manual," their attempts at repair, based on their own experience, were often diametrically opposed to the artifact's original design philosophy.
But Omega was different. He had his system.
However, the system wasn't omnipotent. Omega realized that the difficulties from design to production were immense. Knowing the design philosophy and production process was of little use to him now. What was truly important was the equipment used for production and the synthesis of materials.
The product isn't important! The production line is! The manufacturing equipment is even more important! And knowing how to make the manufacturing equipment is the most important thing of all! I want the entire 42k industrial chain!
For example, if Omega wanted to eat a popsicle, what would he need? First, he'd have to dig a well. To dig a well, he'd need to learn how. To learn how, he'd need tools. So he'd have to learn blacksmithing. To do that, he'd need charcoal. To get charcoal, he'd need to find coal mines. He'd need to find iron ore. He'd need to make stone tools. Finally, with the well dug and clean water available, he'd still need a refrigerator to make it cold. So he'd have to build a refrigerator. And to build a refrigerator, he would need...
In short, until he could build a refrigerator, he couldn't eat a popsicle. And if he couldn't build one, nobody could eat one.
Omega finally understood why the cog-heads spent their time digging through ruins all over the galaxy. They all had a "refrigerator" they wanted, a "popsicle" they wanted to eat. A complete STC was the best, most amazing, fully automatic "refrigerator" that didn't require any "well-digging."
He wanted one so badly.
He could freely and openly "steal" from the production lines Magos Laust was in charge of, but they weren't very advanced. He couldn't get into the high-end factories; those were the private workshops of the senior Magi. And without becoming a "42k Tomb Raider," there was no way for Magos Omega to advance. Otherwise, he couldn't explain the source of his technology, like the design schematics for the disruption field generator of a power weapon he now possessed.
Speaking of power weapons—power swords, power axes, power fists, and so on—they were all composed of a simple, primitive melee weapon frame combined with a disruption field generator hidden in the hilt or handle. When activated, a shimmering, blue disruption field would envelop the weapon's primary striking surface, capable of severing the molecular bonds of matter upon impact.
Only a few Forge Worlds in the entire Adeptus Mechanicus could produce these deadly weapons, and most existing power weapons were hundreds or even thousands of years old. Among mortals, only the most powerful and influential individuals in the Imperium possessed them: Inquisitors, high-ranking Commissars, Imperial Guard officers, and members of powerful and wealthy noble families. Even among the Space Marines, the Emperor's Angels of Death, power weapons were "relic-grade" wargear. Most battle-brothers could only look at them with envy.
How could Omega dare to reveal this? He was only two years old, living under the constant scrutiny of others. How could he explain the source of his knowledge? With the technology he now possessed, even without the means for mass production, he could hand-craft a "basic" power weapon if given the materials. If any Space Marine Chapter or Chaos Warband found out he could hand-craft power swords and Iron Halos, they would drop-pod right on top of him and "invite" him to be their "lifelong" Magos.
A child carrying gold through a crowded market will inevitably attract thieves.
Omega realized he had been thinking about it all wrong from the beginning. Technical knowledge was the key to opening doors, the foundation upon which to build. But knowledge without corresponding status and strength meant he would forever be a "child."
Having understood the cause and effect, knowing what he needed to do next, Omega's mood improved greatly. The past half-year might have been a waste of time, but it wasn't too late.
I'm a religious cog-head, Omega plotted. If I want to 'advance,' I have to start with the 'Cult' in Cult Mechanicus. From now on, call me—Tech Guru, Pious Believer, Omega.
He immediately went to Magos Laust to request leave, his reason being the pursuit of faith. Laust agreed, but from the incredulous look in his eyes, Omega concluded that he was an impious priest, a hidden heretek. A truly pious believer sees heretics everywhere, and right now, Omega was very pious.
Speaking of the faith of the Adeptus Mechanicus, one cannot avoid the triune relationship of the "Motive Force," the "Machine God," and the "Omnissiah." This meant you could believe in all three at once, or just one. No one could call you a heretic for it. Or rather, they couldn't say it out loud. What they thought... well, you know.
Omega's first stop was to be the temple of one of the three major faiths of the Mechanicus: the Cult of the Motive Force. They believe that all life and motion are attributable to the ineffable divinity of the Motive Force.
The moment he stepped inside, Omega knew this was not the place for him. The scene before him was so jarring, so abnormal, that it seared his eyes.
"Sorry, wrong place!" Omega bowed, apologized, turned, and strode away in one smooth motion.
BANG!
His escape route was blocked.
Two shirtless, bald, muscular "blue men" stood before and behind him, trapping him.
"Hahaha, brother in faith," the blue man in front of him said. "Since you have come, you are destined to be with the 'Motive Force.' Come, sit."
"Oh, well, I still have to..."
CRACKLE...
He can shoot lightning from his hands! Σ(ŎдŎ|||)ﾉﾉ
"Brother in faith, what were you saying? You still have to what?"
"I still have to make a donation!"
"Hahaha, truly, you are destined."
[INQUISITORIAL NOTE: FULGURITE ELECTRO-PRIESTS]
A type of Tech-Priest within the Adeptus Mechanicus, fanatical warriors who support other combat-oriented Tech-Priests in battle. Their skin is etched with metallic electro-circuits that snake across their bodies and connect directly to their brains. This direct link allows them to channel or generate impossibly high-energy electrical currents. Fulgurite Electro-Priests can conduct electricity through anything they touch. When they enter a state of extreme hyperexcitement, the current in their bodies builds rapidly, unleashing it upon their enemies in a storm of lightning—the true Thunder Kings of Warhammer.