Chapter 82: The Delivery Servitor
Deep within the subterranean sanctum, the very air felt heavy, condensed by the highly focused energies at play.
Joric's dark-red, augmetic form stood before the dimensional transporter, which had been iterated upon and upgraded multiple times. His crimson optical lenses, scanning at a frequency far beyond human perception, were locked on the central focal-point. There, an ethereal, blue light twisted and pulsed with a controlled instability as purified energy was precisely injected.
Previous tests had confirmed the viability of transmitting data and low-mass samples, but he was still constrained by power-supply limitations and harmonic-precision. He had not yet succeeded in opening a fissure stable enough and large enough to transport logistically-significant materiel.
The upper limits of his power output, the micro-deviations as the resonant frequency coupled with local physical laws, and the immense energy-cost of maintaining a stable conduit... these were the technical-heresies that had to be purged, one by one.
Through an exhaustive, near-total simulation and analysis of the data gathered from his experiments, Joric had constructed multiple high-fidelity, energy-space models. He understood, with cold certainty, that to achieve the next phase, he must execute a new injection-litany, one calculated with absolute precision, at a massively increased energy-level.
All potential risks—power-conduit overload thresholds, structural-integrity tolerances of the space-time fabric itself, and energy-dissipation routes in a failure-scenario—had been calculated and re-calculated, with corresponding buffers and sanctity-protocols in place.
++[Executing Energy-Infusion Litany.]++
Joric's synthesized voice was flat and certain, holding no trace of hesitation. His massive chassis established a deeper, physical communion with the transporter's command-altar. Several heavy, blessed power-conduits extended from the specialized ports on his back, locking into the console's key nodes, granting him a finer, higher-authority-level of control over the energy-deluge to come.
The instant the directive was given, the sanctum's auxiliary lighting dimmed, shunting all power to the core apparatus. The conduits embedded in the walls and floor began to thrum, the sound rising in pitch and intensity.
A visible, dense, azure-blue flow of divine energy, precisely guided, surged from the reactor-shrine and into the reinforced, expanded core-capacitors of the transporter's base. The multi-layered rings at the relic's center began to spin at a speed far exceeding previous tests, their perfectly calibrated vectors leaving after-images in the air. The geometric runes suspended within the rings, excited by the new, potent energy, flared with a brilliance that was blinding, emitting a high-frequency, piercing shriek—the pure, physical sound of the Omnissiah's power at work.
The air grew thick with the smell of ozone and superheated metal.
On Joric's peripheral holo-displays, the data-cascades showed the energy-readings climbing in a perfect, smooth curve, precisely matching his theoretical model. Key parameters—spatial-curvature tension, localized energy-density, background radiation—all pushed into the red, into high-load operational zones never before reached, but all remained strictly within the safety parameters he had calculated.
++[Core Energy-Field Stability: 73% threshold. Local Curvature Fluctuation: +15% over baseline, within Contingency-Liturgy B parameters.]++ the "Old Friend" servo-skull reported, its monotone voice cutting through the din.
These fluctuations were anticipated. Joric's logic-engine was running at maximum load, not in panic, but in a state of supreme, high-precision focus. He was making millisecond-level adjustments to the energy's frequency and phase, like a master-helmsman steering a void-ship through a known Warp-current, countering and using the innate, predictable rejection-protocols of reality itself.
++[Executing Final-Phase Directive.]++
His voice remained calm. A final, encrypted packet of coordinate-data and authentication-runes, bonded to a high-density, precisely-modulated pulse of pure energy, was injected into the relic's core.
In an instant, the light in the center of the sanctum became blinding.
A shimmering, ethereal, blue fissure, its edges flickering with complex, geometric light-patterns, tore itself into existence. It was not a violent, crude rip in reality, but a "woven" anomaly, its form shifting and self-correcting until it settled. Its interior swirled with light and shadow, hinting at dimensional-properties beyond mortal comprehension.
The fissure's aperture pulsed, as expected, but under Joric's continuous, fine-control, it coalesced, stabilizing into a clear, elliptical shape, large enough for a man to pass through.
The conduit was established.
A temporary, trans-dimensional interface, capable of materiel-transport, had been formed under his absolute control.
And in the same instant the fissure stabilized, a figure stepped through.
The Servitor that emerged from the roiling, energetic light was of a standard, humanoid pattern, but its chassis was grotesquely "bloated," burdened with multiple, externally-affixed equipment-cages and cargo-frames. Most prominent was the large, cylindrical device strapped to its back—a compact plasma-reactor. The added mass made its movements heavy, mechanical.
The moment its metal feet touched the sanctum's deck-plating, its single mono-optic lens locked onto Joric. A burst of static-laced, synthesized-cant erupted from its vocalizer:
++[DIRECTIVE CONFIRMED. TRANSPORT-UNIT ZETA-7. MISSION-SEQUENCE COMPLETE. CARGO STATUS: AWAITING INSPECTION.]++
Its message delivered, the servitor froze, powering down into a standby-state, like a package marked "delivered."
Joric did not spare a single processing-cycle to marvel at the stable, open fissure. His entire attention was immediately, totally focused on the newly-arrived, cargo-laden chassis. To him, the contents of that cargo were infinitely more important than the miracle of its delivery.
"Begin un-lading protocol," he commanded.
Several mechadendrites, tipped with various tools, extended from the sanctum's recesses, moving like autonomous, purpose-driven limbs as they converged on the inert servitor.
(End of Chapter)