Chapter 192: Ohhhhhh YES
Kian hauled the full load back to the Sanctum and started thinking seriously about what it would take to modify the exo-frames.
The things were impressive pieces of kit. Five-times strength amplification, and the chassis was built to withstand deep-water pressure — meaning the structural integrity was genuinely excellent.
The problem was that they'd been built for labour, not combat.
No external armour plating. Power cells that weren't up to the job.
Industrial power cells were designed for sustained stationary work — most operators ran a tether cable for anything beyond a few hours. That was fine on a worksite. It was completely useless in the field.
I need a proper war-suit. Open terrain, no infrastructure, definitely no power cables running behind me. This isn't Unit-01.
He thought it over for a few minutes, then loaded one exo-frame into the maintenance runabout and drove to the Alpha Filtration Hub to find Enginseer Antonius.
After some navigation through the Hub's service corridors, he found Antonius in the equipment operations bay.
Kian got straight to it. He pointed at the frame on the ground.
"Enginseer Antonius. Have a look at this. Can it be converted to a combat configuration?"
Antonius's mechadendrite eyes flickered red. His metal fingers tapped against each other in rapid sequence.
"Deep-water high-pressure labour exo-frame. Standard configuration includes pressure-resistance gel-suit for subaquatic operation. No tactical applications."
Kian reached into his bag and produced a sealed flask of machine oil.
"That so. Guess this bottle of 101-grade high-purity sacred lubricant is just going in the waste bin then."
Antonius's optical units locked onto the flask. His iron fingers began tapping against each other like a man playing a very agitated keyboard piece.
"…That said — for low-to-medium intensity engagements, ceramic-steel composite plating could be fitted to the existing chassis. The reinforced frame would provide adequate protection against most small arms fire, and tolerable resistance to limited heavy weapons."
Kian tossed the flask up, caught it. Tossed it up, caught it.
"Go on. I'm listening."
Antonius's optics tracked the flask on its arc.
"High-density ballistic fibre inner lining. Fully sealed filtration helm — blast-resistant, with basic NBC capability as a secondary function. Promethium-cell backpack mounted at the rear — extended operational endurance to approximately fifteen days. Full field deployment capability."
Kian was satisfied. He took the consecrated flask — which had been briefly placed before the Imperial Shrine for good measure — and tossed it across.
"There you go. Sixteen frames in my possession. You convert one to full combat configuration, you get one flask of holy machine-joy. Deal."
Antonius's brow furrowed — or the mechadendrite equivalent of it.
"Transaction terms are insufficient. High-output Promethium cell backpacks represent significant material cost. Your offered value does not match."
Kian held up one finger and wagged it back and forth.
"Nononono. That flask is pure. Ninety-nine percent concentration. Rare stock. Considerably more legitimate than the batches I've been giving you previously."
Antonius's expression — as much as a sixty-percent-cybernetic face could have an expression — shifted.
His vocaliser emitted something that translated from binary as a string of extremely impolite words.
"You have been supplying me diluted product this entire time?!"
Kian grinned.
"We weren't close yet. Obviously I wasn't going to show my full hand. For all I knew, you'd clap me in irons, torture my flesh, interrogate my soul, and demand the formula for the 101-grade compound. Naturally I gave you the watered-down version~"
Antonius's toothed axe hit the deck with a resonant clang.
"I can still clap you in irons, torture your flesh, interrogate your soul, and demand the formula for the 101-grade compound! The option remains available to me!"
He took a step toward Kian with what was unmistakably intent.
Kian didn't flinch. He simply tilted his chin up and presented his neck.
"See this? Have a good look. Then go ahead. And then enjoy the war between the Ecclesiarchy and the Adeptus Mechanicus. Always loved that episode when I was younger."
Antonius's optical units swept across the mark on Kian's neck and stopped.
The Pious Crusader brand looked, to the naked eye, like an ordinary black devotional tattoo. Under magnification, it was something else entirely — millions of microscopic Holy Scripture characters forming the visible lines, each passage interlocking with authentication code in the spacing and layout. Run an auspex over it and it resolved into a complete identity record: Kian's name, the circumstances of his commendation, which deeds had been recognised, who had authorised the brand, and somewhere north of ten megabytes of sacred scripture in plain text.
Antonius ran his optical scanner across the mark.
His external memory unit immediately received what amounted to a complete heretical e-book.
The Adeptus Mechanicus worshipped the Omnissiah — and while certain theological positions held that the Omnissiah and the God-Emperor were aspects of the same being, a substantial faction within the Mechanicus maintained they were not.
In any case, Antonius found that his cranial storage had just been populated with an Ecclesiarchy scripture compilation. He deleted it to the recycle bin immediately. Emptied the recycle bin. Confirmed permanent deletion.
He looked at Kian. There was something new in his optical expression — calculation, and a degree of caution.
A Pious Crusader was a high-ranking Ecclesiarchy operative. Killing one was equivalent to a declaration of war against the Ministorum.
The Mechanicus presence on this agri-world was minimal — a small forge temple, primarily providing maintenance services. That was not a force equipped to fight a war.
The Ecclesiarchy, on the other hand, had the devotion of the entire Hive.
The iron claws withdrew, reluctantly.
"Hmph. So you only revealed the high-purity stock once you had sufficient protection."
Kian smiled cheerfully. "Obviously, gear-head. And going forward — my lord is the appropriate form of address. A Spire noble is a Spire noble, and you will comport yourself accordingly. Are we clear?
Right. Enough messing around. One five-hundred-millilitre flask of 101-grade high-purity sacred lubricant. You convert one exo-frame to full combat configuration. Fair exchange. The pure grade is genuinely exceptional — no comparison to the diluted stock.
Decline, and I go find another Enginseer. Your monopoly on my business disappears. Your call."
Antonius had no viable alternatives. Since clapping Kian in irons and interrogating his soul was no longer on the table, cooperation was the logical outcome.
They formalised the arrangement. Kian would provide sixteen exo-frames and sixteen flasks of 101-grade high-purity lubricant. Antonius would deliver sixteen fully-converted combat exo-suits, armoured and field-ready.
Kian drove back to collect the remaining materials, returned, and unloaded everything.
"One month. That's the delivery window. Don't forget — I want large pauldrons. Make them look like budget Astartes. Cheers."
He gunned the runabout and was gone.
Antonius had his assistants carry the exo-frames and lubricant flasks into his private operations bay. Then he dismissed everyone, sealed the door, and stood alone in the silence.
"The true potency of ninety-nine percent 101-grade material — today, I shall determine this empirically."
He removed his outer robes, exposing a body that was sixty percent machine.
He opened one flask of the high-purity sacred lubricant and applied it directly to his mechadendrite limbs.
From behind the sealed door of Enginseer Antonius's operations bay, there came a sound.
"1111111-0000000!!!!!!"
☆☆☆
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