Chapter 44: Another Transaction
The sensor-feed from Test Subject 1, like a cold, silent observer, transmitted every harrowing detail from the Biologis Complex Sigma rooftop back to Joric's main console in the desert manufactorum, annotated with streams of objective data.
He watched Sasha's desperate act, shattering the ferrocrete window, her small form plummeting from the edge with an almost tragic finality.
He watched Test Subject 1 efficiently execute its pre-programmed 'loss mitigation' protocol, hijacking a nearby patrolling security drone, precisely altering its flight path to intercept Sasha's fall at the last possible microsecond.
THUD-CRUNCH—
The sickening impact resonated through the audio sensors. The drone's chassis crumpled instantly, its structure catastrophically failing, but it served its purpose as a crude ablative buffer. Sasha slammed onto the wreckage instead of the unyielding pavement below, spared an instant, messy death.
However, the kinetic force of the fall was still immense. The vital signs transmitted by the hovering skull plummeted instantly: multiple comminuted fractures, severe internal hemorrhaging, catastrophic neurological shock...
The feed then documented the crew's frantic rescue: Rebecca charging forward like an enraged predator, laying down suppressive fire; Maine carefully extracting Sasha's broken form from the debris; Falco applying desperate, battlefield first aid; Pilar cursing wildly while covering their retreat.
Throughout the chaos, Test Subject 1 maintained a discreet distance, hovering silently in the shadows like a ghostly scribe, logging everything, occasionally emitting subtle jamming frequencies to disrupt any Biologis tracking signals aimed at Maine's crew.
Joric observed it all with perfect calm. His crimson optical lenses were like two deep, unrippled pools. Sasha's choice – self-termination to protect her comrades – registered in his logic-engine, hardened by the far grander, far more brutal sacrifices of the 41st Millennium, as nothing more than a standard post-failure damage-control procedure. A quantifiable, rational decision made under duress. He could even calculate the influence coefficients of her fall trajectory and the drone's mass on her probability of survival.
His thought processes had been profoundly reshaped by the doctrines of the Cult Mechanicus and the unforgiving calculus of survival in the Warhammer universe. From a naive transmigrant, he had climbed the ranks, becoming a seasoned Tech-Priest, bordering on Magos-level knowledge. He had witnessed, and ordered, actions far beyond the comprehension of this world's primitive morality. Converting former colleagues into servo-skulls to "preserve their knowledge and willingness to serve the Omnissiah"; ordering orbital obliteration of loyal regiments still engaged with the enemy to contain tech-heresy... Such decisions, when logically necessary, caused him minimal system conflict. Emotional fluctuation was inefficient bio-static, to be managed and suppressed by rigorous logic-protocols.
This did not mean he was merely a cold killing machine or a religious fanatic. The memories of his pre-transmigration life remained, providing a baseline understanding of... less optimal, but sometimes useful, social interaction models. Within acceptable cost parameters, and provided it did not compromise his core objectives, he was not averse to displaying calculated "benevolence" or offering "assistance." This flexibility, this pragmatism, was key to his survival and advancement, especially after his own mentors had been purged for deviancy. Absolute ruthlessness and occasional "generosity" were merely different tools, optimized survival strategies for different contexts.
Therefore, when Maine's crew, frantic and desperate, arrived back at the desert manufactorum carrying the near-dead Sasha, and Maine pleaded for Joric's intervention, Joric's response was neither warm nor dismissive.
First, he had his Old Friend perform a detailed scan, confirming the severity: by this world's medical standards, survival likely meant total paralysis, permanent life-support. Only a full-body cybernetic conversion offered a chance, an option fraught with immense cost, complexity, and the high risk of cyberpsychosis if done with anything less than master-crafted components.
"Bio-tissue damage exceeds sixty-five percent. Multiple neural pathway severances. Spinal column exhibits comminuted fractures," Joric's synthesized voice stated the facts flatly. "Conventional medical intervention is futile. Full restoration would require large-scale bio-construct replacement and neural re-weaving. This will consume specific, reserved bio-active matter, precision nano-repair units, and significant energy reserves."
Maine's heart sank, but he detected no finality in Joric's tone, only assessment. "Boss, whatever the cost! Anything we have, just name it!"
Joric's optical lenses turned to Maine, the red light seeming to pulse faintly. "I do not require your currency, nor your piecemeal 'scrap'." He paused, seemingly accessing a specific blueprint. "I require resources. Substantial, systemic construction materials. High-tensile ferrocrete, structural adamantium girders, composite armor plating, large-scale environmental control systems, primary power conduits... Sufficient material to cleanse, reinforce, and begin the primary retrofitting of the 'Ursa Minor' facility beneath our feet."
He projected a detailed materials manifest before Maine. "Deliver these items. In exchange, I will repair Sasha. Restore her to a state superior to her previous condition. The exchange is equitable."
Maine stared at the long, incredibly expensive list, sucking in a sharp breath. This wasn't just a parts list; it was enough material to build a small orbital defense platform. But he looked at Sasha's barely breathing form on the makeshift stretcher, then back at Joric's unwavering stance. He gave a heavy, determined nod. "Deal! We'll find a way to get it!"
"Good." Joric said no more, gesturing for them to place Sasha on the specialized medical slab within the manufactorum. Mechadendrites immediately began interfacing with her, administering life-sustaining nutrient fluids and stabilizers.
For Joric, it was a logical transaction. The resources and time required to save Sasha were significantly less valuable than the construction materials he demanded. Furthermore, a restored Sasha, indebted and potentially enhanced, would be a more useful asset. It also served to further bind Maine's crew to his service through dependence on his superior technology.
As for Sasha's personal trauma? Irrelevant. That was a user-side 'software error,' requiring debugging by the user, not the Tech-Priest. He provided physical restoration; the bio-unit's emotional state was its own concern.
His attention quickly shifted from this minor interruption back to the grander plan – the full re-consecration and conversion of the subterranean base into a true Mechanicus laboratory, a sanctum worthy of deep, holy research. This crude surface workshop had served its purpose, but it could no longer contain his ambitions.