Chapter 9
Hand of Justice.
Cameron
4th March, 3023
Behemoth.
Our long trip back to the periphery had not been uneventful or wasted, from the trip to Outreach to the time pirates thought it'd be fun to try and attack us only to see a pair of shiny new Stukas dumped into space. But eventually we had to return to proper work, and on our way the little weasel Darius managed to find something. The MRB had a contract in the FWL to track down some hobknob of some sort and put him in the ground over some petty slight the nobles tended to get into.
The Throne Mechanicum awaited me, for the first time it was inside the Knight Templar itself and my blood pumped with terror and excitement both. The three languages taught to me for the purpose of properly controlling the machine, by thought and willpower alone, feeling hazy. And my teachers said Latin wasn't good for anything. The Sacristans were clustered around me as I climbed into the cockpit of the Knight and they worked quickly to prepare the systems for combat.
Warden had let me choose the loadout for this mission and I confess I couldn't resist. The Thermal Cannon and Reaper Chainsword with the Autocannons was my first choice. I left the machinegun instead of the melta for the carapace weapon in case some crunchies decided to cause problems.
"Ok. Sit down and interface with the Throne Mechanicum." Trotter said, the no-nonsense Sacristan seemed to be a friend of Warden, but was suddenly all business around these machines. Even so I obeyed and felt the mechadendrites seek out their partners and the link was made.
For the first time I heard something else. A whispering at the back of the mind, somewhere deeper. Across from me in the opposite bay I saw Warden sitting on top of the Dominus watching. The missiles for it were not mounted at the moment. I hear you.
In front of my dials flickered and I felt excitement. Trotter climbed in, facing me and looked deep into my eyes. "The first connection is the most intense, the Templars ancillary systems have all been disabled for it. The Throne has instilled a deeper sense of loyalty, heirarchy and connection to Warden, and house Giordino by extension. This is normal, as too has your personality imprinting on the Throne Mechanicum." He took my face in his hands. "But that is almost nothing. Your ambition will soar and you'll seek to ever improve the lot of yourself, and Kane. And that too is nothing. When you connect with the Knight itself..."
He paused as the Throne mechanicum began engaging its locking bolts with the Knight.
"You will meet his nature personally. No other has imprinted on the Knight Templar's machine spirit."
I began incanting the prayer taught to me, this mythology of spirits of the machine and mental effects of the chair were...
My mind screamed as the final connections were made, in pain, in agony, in rapture, in orgasm as I was made one with the machine, and I felt it's spirit rise, it's heart trying to move and activate limbs that were not connected and I began what felt like an eternal battle with the machine spirit. A vast ambition, a lust for destruction, a cold driven focus... I felt his rage at the atrocities committed by the zealots of Mandalas. It rang the purest of all the emotions surging through me. Sweat poured from every pore on my body and it felt like I was about to freeze, and then boil.
Remembering the training Warden and Trotter worked to instill I pushed all that down, deep into the heart of the machine. Calming its spirit. It didn't resent my presence, but it didn't understand it, the almost animalistic intelligence of the machine becoming quiescent when I opened its machine eyes, my eyes, and saw Warden still on the Dominus.
Everyone flinched as the warhorns on the Templar blared in recognition, everyone but him. I felt new connections coming online as Trotter and the Sacristans restored the remaining connections for the Knight. I felt power surge into the Thermal Cannon, then subside as the auspexes found no threat. The teeth of the chainblade rattled marginally, arrested before they could rev up by a stray impulse.
I was Behemoth. The Knight Templar.
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The joining was successful and I watched her machine shake as the first connection took its toll. Dropping down into the cockpit of the Dominus I engaged the Throne Mechanicum, it welcoming me in as an old friend, and yet nervous of connection with the Dominus. I knew not whether it had been tested and run through trials, and yet I suspected my Uncle had done so, possibly even imprinted on it.
It took a minute for Trotter to come over and drop down into the cockpit checking the connections.
The connections began engaging and I closed my eyes, diving deep into myself as they were made and the machine spirit was rising. I felt a moments grief and sadness, for the machines spirit was cold and new, yet to be imprinted deeply, and yet there was a shadow of an imprint. A deep melancholy and a simple message, an emotional data packet that hit right to the heart. I'm proud of you boy. Never let the unworthy take our legacy.
My eyes opened and I felt the mighty machine engage around me. Clamps were released and I watched the timer in my mind going down before it stopped. The landing made uncontested.
The ramp lowered and sunlight flooded the lower bay as I made stride.
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Behemoth.
The enemy had dispatched two lances of mechs to face us long before we reached their compound, the fools. I doubt the idiots actually understood what was coming for them. What death was bringing them. A blare of warhorns sounded as I began to stride, the weight of my steps slamming into the ground. The heat of my heart rising to a burning crescendo. Then the enemy made themselves felt and, for a moment, my courage ceased.
A pair of Atlas and another pair of Stalkers stepped up into view. A blare of the Dominus' warhorn stopped me in my tracks as it braced itself. I stood fast as the enemy, our prey, opened up communications.
"This is Commander Danse, you're intruding on the lands of Hermaes Quentin. Turn back, or be destroyed." The demand was delivered with supreme confidence.
There was silence as the Preceptor of Death took two steps forwards. It's weapons arms levelled out.
"Greetings Commander Danse. I am Warden, the Preceptor of Death." A sound began to build up. Almost too low pitched to hear, and yet, getting worse, even through the mass of my Knight. It took a moment to realise what it was, the glow on the Dominus' right arm becoming more intense. "We have business with your employer, so I'm sure you'll understand when I say. Get the hell out of my way."
The Atlas adopted a more ape-like stature as Danse prepared to fight. It was too late though, the sound had built to a scream and a blinding burst of white light crossed the distance between the two in a matter of seconds, punching the Atlas clean off it's feet and staggering the Stalker standing next to it with the plasma backwash, the detonation of energy was a thunderclap of sound. The tumbling Atlas was struck a moment later by a spear of light as the massive laser weapon on its other arm fired.
The other mechs didn't hesitate, a barrage of LRM fire streaking out for the Dominus. I felt the rage of the Machine spirit as a blooming carpet of explosions lit up around the Dominus, charging forwards. The other Atlas turned as the second lance came over the ridge. An AC/20 shot smashed into the ion shield.
Pain.
Actual pain as the shot grazed the pauldron, my shoulder felt like someone had just sliced it open with a knife. I understood now why Warden looked so drained after battle, while the cockpit was comfortable and not a sweltering furnace like the mechs had been, the fact we felt actual pain was somehow jarring and horrifying.
And enraging.
It took moments to cross the distance between us and ram the chainsword through his centre torso, I felt the fusion bottles crack as the reactor was torn apart by adamantium teeth, my hand felt afire as the fusion reaction continued for a few moments before flickering out. And yet my rage would not quit. The Thermal Cannon was raised to head-height on the Atlas and I willed it to fire.
The cockpit, and shoulders, of the mech simply ceased to exist, explosively vaporised or melting away in moments. Fire wreathed the wreckage as I withdrew the screaming chainblade and kicked over the metallic corpse. The Battle was joined.
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I barked an order and the Dominus came to a halt, transmitting the order to hold to the rest of my people, studying the battlefield, everything about it felt like we were being tested, pushed to see what we were capable of. The turrets sought out targets that were in the middle of withdrawing as the sense of paranoia increased. "This is the Preceptor, Goose what do your elf eyes see?"
"This is Goose. We're... get the hell out of there! There's a goddamn artillery train about twenty klicks north of you and... barrage incoming!" Brucey's voice went from amused to deadly serious in half a second. "They've got a lance of Partisan tanks for AA."
The mechs were already moving when the first Long Tom shell landed. The realization that the Dominus had a single void shield instead of the standard ion shields had come as a surprise. But even then, the shell slammed down with the power of a Battle Cannons shell, and a crater was blasted into the air.
"Fall back. Behemoth. We need to take out that artillery train, the Ion shield and Void Shield can withstand it, and the armour is better equipped to handle it." I began to accelerate to full stride, the Dominus was however slower than the Templar and it was surprising how much the slower pace frustrated me. The machine spirit worked hard to fulfill my expectations as shells continued to rain down.
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Behemoth.
A flutter of fear as we ran blindly into the falling rain of artillery shells was suppressed mostly by the machine spirits ire rising up and coaxing my own anger and rage at the destruction plunging down on us, the ion shield deflected the worst of it as I kept pace with the Dominus, shielding myself in part by its greater size and protection.
The shells stopped as we crested an embankment, our proximity too great for the Long Toms to get plunging fire on. People stopped in their tracks as the Dominus simply stepped off the embankment and down into the recessed road, unheeding of a screaming man. He stopped then. Towering over the artillery train and its AA vehicles as I dropped down a hundred metres away.
The turrets on the top of the Dominus depressed their barrels at the anti-air vehicles, it's other weapons selecting targets. Nobody in the artillery train moved, waiting in terror to see what the monsters standing over them would do. "So boss. What's the plan?"
"Why Behemoth, I do believe we have an artillery train." He said, and the moments realisation hit me like a brick. His speakers opened up. "Ladies, Gentlemen and other assorted types. Dismount from your vehicles and surrender immediately, or we can render your vehicles down to molten slag with you in them."
The need to kill them rose up in me as the machine spirit heard the promise to melt them down, quickly suppressed the people watched in fear, climbing out of their vehicles as rapidly as they could manage. Several kept personal arms with them, as if assessing whether they were going to be murdered out of hand.
"Darius, we need some gruntwork done." He said over the comms.