The sensor view of experiment no. 1, like a calm and silent observer, transmitted the thrilling scenes on the Biotechnica Tower rooftop in high definition with extensive data annotations, in real-time, back to Osiris' main terminal in the desert workshop.
He saw how Sasha resolutely shattered the reinforced glass, her petite figure plummeting from the edge of the tall building with an almost tragic determination.
He saw how experiment no. 1 efficiently executed the preset "loss reduction" protocol, swiftly hijacking a security drone patrolling the nearby airspace, precisely adjusting its flight path, and positioning it beneath Sasha at the critical moment.
Thud—
A dull thud came through the audio sensors. The drone's casing instantly fractured and broke apart under the heavy impact, its body severely deformed, but it indeed served as a buffer.
Sasha did not directly hit the hard ground but instead crashed heavily onto the twisted drone wreckage, avoiding an immediate fatal outcome.
However, the impact from falling dozens of stories was still terrifying, and the vital sign readings transmitted through the sensors instantly plummeted: multiple comminuted bone fractures, internal bleeding, severe nervous system shock...
Subsequently, Maine Team's rescue operation was also faithfully recorded: Rebecca, like an enraged leopardess, charged at the forefront, clearing the way with powerful firepower; Maine carefully lifted the dying Sasha from the wreckage; Falco nervously performed temporary hemostasis and stabilization; while Pilar grumbled and guarded the rear.
Throughout the entire process, experiment no. 1 maintained a safe distance, silently hovering in the shadows, like a ghostly war correspondent, recording everything, and occasionally releasing faint electronic interference to disrupt any Biotechnica tracking signals that might be directed at the Maine Team.
Osiris watched all of this calmly, his crimson optical lenses like two bottomless ancient wells, without the slightest ripple.
Sasha's act of self-sacrifice to protect her teammates, in his mind, which had experienced countless more brutal and grander sacrifices in the Warhammer World, failed to stir a single ripple.
It was merely a standard loss prevention procedure after a mission failure, a quantifiable rational choice in a desperate situation.
He could even calmly analyze the impact coefficients of Sasha's fall angle and the buffer material's quality on survival probability.
His thinking patterns had long been profoundly reshaped by the Adeptus Mechanicus' doctrines and the survival laws of the Warhammer Universe.
From an ignorant transmigrator, he had climbed step by step to a position just one step away from an Adeptus Mechanicus Sage, having seen and done too many things far beyond ordinary moral boundaries.
Turning former classmates into servo-skulls to "preserve their knowledge and willingness to serve the Omnissiah"; ordering orbital bombardment of loyalist legions still fighting the enemy for strategic victory or to eliminate contamination risks... He would not have much psychological barrier in making these choices when necessary.
Emotional fluctuations were considered an inefficient system interference, needing to be managed and suppressed by strict logical protocols.
Of course, this did not mean he had completely degenerated into a cold killing machine or a fanatical religious zealot.
Retaining his memories from before transmigration, he deeply understood the simple truth of "being kind to others, being kind to oneself."
Under the premise of controllable costs and not endangering his core objectives, he didn't mind showing a certain "benevolence" or offering "help."
This flexibility and pragmatism were key to his survival and subsequent promotion into the Skitarii Legions after both his mentor and classmates were purged on charges of heresy.
Absolute ruthlessness and occasional "warmth" were his optimized survival strategies in different situations.
Therefore, when the Maine Team, carrying the severely injured and dying Sasha, rushed back to the workshop at full speed, and Maine almost desperately pleaded for Osiris' help, Osiris' reaction was neither enthusiastic promise nor cold refusal.
He first had a servo-skull perform a more detailed scan of Sasha, confirming the severity of her injuries—with this world's medical technology, even if she survived, it would most likely result in full-body paralysis, dependent on life support systems.
Unless she could undergo full-body cybernetic modification, but this would not only be expensive but also require specialized custom solutions and long-term meticulous maintenance.
Otherwise, if they merely cobbled together cheap second-hand prosthetics, the probability of becoming a cyberpsycho would be almost 100%.
"Her biological tissue damage rate exceeds sixty-five percent, multiple nerve ruptures, and a comminuted spinal fracture," Osiris' synthetic voice calmly stated the facts, devoid of emotion, "Conventional medical methods are meaningless. To fully repair her, large-scale bioconstruct replacement and neural reweaving surgery are required. This will consume my reserves of specific active biomaterials, precision nanorepair units, and considerable energy."
Maine's heart sank, but he heard a glimmer of hope, not a complete death sentence, in Osiris' tone, and immediately said excitedly: "Boss, no matter the cost! Whatever we have, just name it!"
Osiris' optical lenses turned to Maine, and the crimson light seemed to flicker slightly.
"I don't need your money, or those scattered 'scraps,'" he paused, seemingly accessing a blueprint, "I need resources, large quantities of systematic building materials.
High-strength concrete, structural steel beams, composite armor plating, large environmental control systems, main power cables... enough to clear, reinforce, and initially transform the main structure of the 'Little Dipper' base beneath our feet."
He pulled up a detailed material list and projected it in front of Maine: "Bring these things. In exchange, I will repair Sasha, making her better than she was before her injury. This is fair."
Maine looked at the long, valuable list and gasped.
This was by no means a small sum, almost equivalent to the construction materials for a small military outpost.
But he looked at the weakly breathing Sasha on the medical bed, then at Osiris' unquestionable demeanor, and nodded heavily: "Deal! We'll find a way to get these things!"
"Very good," Osiris said no more, gesturing for them to place Sasha on the specialized medical bed in the workshop.
Mechanical tentacles began to connect to Sasha's body, injecting life-sustaining nutrient solution and stabilizers, temporarily preserving her life.
For Osiris, this was a profitable transaction.
The resources and time spent on treating Sasha were far less than the value of the building materials on the list.
Moreover, a repaired Sasha, with her hacking abilities, might be more useful to him in the future.
At the same time, this further bound the Maine Team, making them more reliant on his technology.
As for Sasha's personal tragedy and emotional trauma? That was not within his scope of calculation. He provided physical repair; psychological issues were "software glitches" that the user themselves needed to debug.
His attention quickly shifted from this small interlude to a grander plan—to completely transform the underground base, creating a laboratory truly conforming to Tech-Priest standards, where he could safely conduct in-depth research.
This rudimentary garage workshop on the surface could no longer meet his next phase of needs.