Chapter 117: Forge World Nexum
Warp travel is never truly safe.
Even on the most stable, charted lanes, the fabric of reality is thin, permeated by energy-turbulence and psychic whispers that defy the laws of physics.
The Gellar Field of the escort frigate carrying Joric was under constant, immense pressure. The steady drone of the field generators was the ship's only background noise.
Outside the hull was a vista of twisted, unreal madness. Colors and shapes defied logic. Occasionally, vast, indistinct shadows would slide along the very edge of the energy bubble, triggering brief, panicked alarms from the augur-arrays.
Joric remained sequestered in his quarters for the duration of the transit.
His data-jacks were hardlined into the ship's nervous system, monitoring navigation parameters and engine-spirit status. Simultaneously, he allocated a portion of his processing thread to repeatedly parsing the recent data-packets and intelligence updates received from Forge World Nexum.
Ignis stood guard outside his blast-door. Her sensor-array was set to full-spectrum monitoring. Though Mechanicus vessels, with their specific technological wards and bans, were less prone to direct Daemonic incursion than Imperial transports, she maintained maximum vigilance.
The seven-standard-day journey ended with the sustained roar of the translation drives.
With a violent spatial shudder, the frigate tore itself free from the Immaterium, re-anchoring in realspace.
The light of Nexum's star flooded the bridge viewports, illuminating the massive Forge World hanging in orbit ahead.
From orbit, the surface of Nexum was not entirely encased in metal, as Mars or other primary Forge Worlds were.
Vast stretches of barren, rust-red and ash-grey wasteland still dominated the planetary crust, dotted with smaller industrial outposts and mining facilities like stains on a rough canvas.
However, dominating the center of this desolate landscape was a colossal, ring-shaped industrial complex.
This mega-structure, over two thousand kilometers in diameter, was clearly visible from orbit.
It was a labyrinth of interconnected manufactorums, storage tanks, and refinery towers, all gleaming with the dull, dark luster of Mechanicus iron.
A dense network of roads and cargo-rails radiated from the ring, fed by massive energy-arrays and geothermal vents.
At the geometric center of the ring stood the most prominent feature: the Primary Forge Spire.
This abnormally thick, metal tower pierced the planet's low-hanging pollution clouds, reaching for the sky.
Yet, the operational state of this massive industrial zone betrayed a sense of exhaustion.
Orbital augurs showed its internal energy-output levels were unstable, significantly below design-peak.
The air traffic of lighters and cargo-barges above the complex was sparse, maintaining only minimum logistical flow.
Large sections of planned expansion zones outside the ring were abandoned, leaving only skeletal, unfinished metal frames casting lonely shadows on the wasteland.
Only the plume of smoke continuously erupting from the Primary Forge Spire proved that this industrial heart was still beating.
But this sole sign of life only accentuated the stagnation and depression of the wider area.
This ring-factory and its central spire formed the beating, yet weary, heart of Forge World Nexum.
Floating in orbit above the planet was another colossal structure: the Orbital Shipyards.
Like the ring-factory below, it told the story of this world's constraints and challenges.
The framework of the Star-Ring was magnificent, a testament to the ambitions of the Great Crusade, and a tragic symbol of its abrupt halt.
The base of the ring was immense, composed of tens of thousands of massive metal trusses and reinforced modules, large enough to dock multiple capital ships simultaneously.
But currently, less than a third of this majestic base was covered with functioning docking-decks and internal facilities, flickering with sparse lights and welding sparks.
The rest was a naked, metal skeleton exposed to the vacuum, like the carcass of a leviathan drifting silently in the void.
Massive construction equipment—giant gantries, orbital welding platforms—sat frozen on the unfinished structure like abandoned toys, covered in cosmic dust and micro-meteoroid scars.
The entire Star-Ring felt like an epic poem cut off at its climax, filled with unfinished regret and decay.
Guided by navigational beacons, the frigate slowly approached the completed section of the Star-Ring.
A massive docking arm extended like a steel tentacle, guiding the ship into its designated berth.
The docking process was smooth and precise. With the hiss of pressure equalization, the hard-seal between ship and station was complete.
The airlock cycled, and Joric's tall, dark-red form appeared at the entrance of the connecting corridor.
Behind him stood Ignis, towering like an iron pagoda, and a squad of strictly selected, elite Skitarii Vanguard.
Their appearance instantly brought a hush to the busy, orderly environment of the Starport.
The scale of the Starport's interior was vast. Its vaulted ceilings were calculated to allow even the largest War Titans to pass without stooping.
The air was saturated with the signature scents of the Mechanicus: the acrid smell of high-temperature welding, the heavy cloy of specialized lubricants, and the sharp tang of ozone from high-voltage arcs.
Thick power conduits and high-capacity data-cables were neatly constrained in reinforced channels along the walls, extending like static metal veins into the distance.
Heavy conveyor systems rumbled steadily, carrying components of varying sizes and partially assembled weapon platforms.
Servitors were the primary inhabitants here.
Following pre-set litanies, they executed tasks of cargo handling, area sanitation, and basic maintenance.
Their movements were stiff and precise, lacking biological fluidity, accompanied by monotone electronic chirps that reinforced the inhuman atmosphere.
Several red-robed Tech-Priests were waiting by the berth.
Their degrees of augmentation varied, but their ident-codes marked them as mid-to-low-level functionaries within the Forge World's administrative hierarchy, tasked with receiving important arrivals.
The exchange was extremely concise. Both parties used short bursts of binary-cant and filtered synthesized speech to complete the necessary ritual greetings and identity verification.
Given Joric's status as a Magos-aspirant with independent command authority, this reception was largely a formality.
After completing the required docking manifest verification and clearance registration, Joric and his escort boarded the designated surface shuttle.
The shuttle detached smoothly from the docking arm, reoriented, and began its descent toward the industrial-scarred surface of the planet below.
(End of Chapter)