Day 150, Year 988, 41st Millennium
Hive Kathion
Upper Hive
Eric opened the door and stepped into Lyra's workshop. The scent of metal, chemicals, ritual oils, incense, and engine grease immediately assaulted his nose. The room was dimly lit, as if she hadn't bothered to turn on the lights, and he wouldn't even know where to find the switch if there was one. However, as his eyes adjusted to the low light, he furrowed his brow slightly.
Seeing the state of Lyra's workshop made him a little irritated. The room was currently quite cluttered. All four walls were lined with various machine parts and tool racks. The table was covered in gears and machinery in various stages of repair. The floor was dusty and stained with engine oil, with bits of machinery and scrap metal scattered about. In the corner, something resembling an unfinished robot stood silent.
It didn't look like a maintenance workshop right now; it looked more like an old, improperly cleaned garage.
"What a mess," Eric muttered, carefully stepping inside to grab a chair. He navigated through the machine parts and wires with caution, knowing that one wrong step could mean spending ages trying to scrub oil and grease stains out of his pants and shoes.
"Intruder detected... Processing... Identity confirmed: Erica de la Cruz, Warehouse Accounting Clerk. Access granted," a monotone voice announced from a dark corner, startling Eric. He turned quickly to look. What he had thought was an unfinished robot had activated. Its red artificial eyes glowed as it moved out from the corner. As it came into view, he realized it was a Servitor equipped with a vacuum cleaner and what looked like industrial grippers.
The Servitor began to clean the floor slowly, though the vacuuming seemed rather inefficient.
Eric sighed in relief. He had expected something worse, but it was just a Servitor, which posed no threat to him. However, upon closer inspection, he saw that it was a Servitor created from an unfortunate man—one of Lyra's projects. That realization sparked a flicker of pity for the man.
Even if he had been a criminal or just a vat-grown clone, the moans and the look of pain and suffering during the conversion process made Eric feel uneasy and sorry for him. He tried not to look at it as he walked over to grab a chair, wiping it down with a nearby cloth before sitting.
While waiting, he tried to calm himself, attempting to ignore the Servitor cleaning the room. He listened to the vacuum cleaner humming throughout the space, trying to tune it out or even enjoy the sound. Maybe it was just him, but it sounded a lot like ASMR, even if it was a bit strange to think of a vacuum cleaner as relaxing.
Today had gone well so far. His morning had started normally, just like any other day. He had finally gotten back to work after being absent for over two weeks, and it felt great to receive his pay for the previous month. Plus, he hadn't been fired, just as Colonel Draco had promised.
Even though Vann was awful, at least he had handled these matters. And today, Eric actually enjoyed his work. Handling documents and managing the workshop accounts felt like heaven compared to what he had endured outside the Hive City. It seemed the machine spirit inhabiting his typewriter was in a good mood today, too, as it hadn't jammed once and he typed more fluently than ever.
He also wanted to apologize to her for missing their appointment. About 15 days ago, they had planned to go to a bakery together, but he couldn't make it because he had been kidnapped and dumped outside the Hive. He was worried she might think he was rude or unreliable without hearing his explanation first.
Bang!
Suddenly, the door flew open, and Lyra walked in, carrying a large box with a slightly labored gait. Her hair and face were drenched in sweat. Parts of her clothes were singed from heat, and a burnt smell wafted from her as if she had been through something intense.
Eric shifted slightly toward her as his friend entered the room, greeting her as usual.
"Good afternoon, Lyra," Eric said softly and brightly, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice.
"Good afternoon to you too, Erica," Lyra replied. She walked further into the room and set the heavy box down on the table with a loud thud before wiping the sweat from her forehead.
"It's so hot... I should just replace this weak flesh with steel and augmetics. Then I wouldn't have to worry about heat or radiation leaking from the machines and dangerous environments... But that won't happen anytime soon; my rank and funds aren't enough," she muttered, walking over to turn on a square desk fan and pointing it at her face.
"So, Erica, where have you been for almost two weeks? I thought you'd disappeared freely or been fired. If it weren't for your leave record in the factory database, you're lucky. Anyone else absent that long would have been fired and replaced by someone more ready to work," she said with disbelief. It was rare for anyone to take so much leave and still have a job and salary waiting for them. It was practically a miracle.
"Yes... I was very lucky. I just needed treatment for an industrial chemical accident. It happened so suddenly, I couldn't prepare. Maybe I was just a bit unlucky," Eric replied, avoiding Lyra's eyes and trying not to look suspicious. He didn't know if she could tell he was lying. He extended his hand and tilted his neck to show the areas exposed to the air outside the Hive City. Although red and irritated, they had been treated, and the symptoms matched those of an industrial chemical accident.
"Ah... I see," Lyra said, glancing at Eric's hand and neck with a small nod. She didn't ask further questions, as the reason and evidence aligned perfectly. Eric sighed inwardly with relief before trying to address the lingering issue that had brought him here today.
"Um... I'm sorry about the appointment two weeks ago. I really couldn't make it," Eric said, stumbling a bit over his words and fidgeting nervously. He braced himself for a scolding, anger, or at least some sulking from her.
"That's not a big deal. I understand. Missing the appointment was wrong, but you have a valid and acceptable reason. There's no reason for me to be angry. Besides, I didn't need to go to that appointment anyway; it didn't affect my work efficiency. So why do you need to apologize?" Lyra replied in an emotionless tone, waving her hand dismissively. Eric paused for a moment before sighing in relief and smiling happily. He didn't have to explain or coax her out of a bad mood.
"Thank you for not being angry," Eric murmured softly. He gathered his courage again for the next sentence.
"Um... in that case, would you like to go to that bakery with me tomorrow? I promise I won't miss it this time," he said, looking at her with pleading eyes. Lyra thought for a moment before rolling her eyes slightly in weary resignation and replying in a flat tone.
"Fine. I'll go with you tomorrow, but don't miss it... And pass me the towel in that red box, will you?" Lyra pointed to a red box near where Eric was sitting.
"Sure," he replied, eagerly bending down to pick up the red box. He opened it to find a white towel, then sat back up and handed it to her.
"Thanks. You know, the Tech-Priest in charge of machinery section 15 wasn't in the factory today, and I was the only one knowledgeable enough to go in and fix it temporarily. It was scorching in there, Erica. Luckily, the machine spirit didn't get any angrier, or I would have died inside," she complained, lowering her robe slightly around her shoulders to wipe the sweat from her soaked skin.
Eric watched the scene in front of him with appreciation. He saw her sweat-drenched neck and shoulders. He also noticed the junction between her cybernetic arm and her flesh, which was a little scary but not as terrifying as the Servitor. He felt that her tan skin, glistening under the light, made her look incredibly good.
Stop it right now... Eric, you're not a pervert, Eric tried to avert his gaze from his friend, scolding himself.
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Day 150, Year 988, 41st Millennium
Wastelands near Hive Kathion
"Why do we have to work with these bastards?" Sergeant Kaminsky asked the four subordinates seated in his heavy stubber-mounted buggy. They were driving through a sandstorm, following a patrol route planned to cull the Ork numbers before they reached critical mass and caused significant damage.
He scanned the area around the buggy through thermal optics—equipment that gave them a significant advantage over these xenos. He could spot them from hundreds of meters away, even in the blinding sandstorm, while the Orks could barely see a thing.
Although the mission was dangerous, that wasn't what bothered him. What truly unsettled him was that he had to patrol alongside a House Korvax Guard buggy as part of their agreement and a show of cooperation.
And he didn't like these lackeys.
He despised these sycophants who followed every one of Valen Korvax's orders without question. Mindless, ruthless scum ready to kill anything on their master's command, not even sparing children.
"What can we do, Sergeant? We received our orders, and we should follow them without complaint... or at least curse quietly," Corporal Jimmy, the driver, said in a relaxed tone, as if he didn't care much about the situation.
"Don't say that. You'll stress the Sergeant out; he already hates them," Corporal Rimer told his friend, making a mocking face. Sergeant Kaminsky gripped the buggy's roll bar a little tighter.
"You two, shut up, or I'll deal with you myself," Sergeant Kaminsky shouted, slapping both of his subordinates hard on the head, rocking them forward. They both fell silent immediately.
Sergeant Kaminsky returned to his thoughts now that there were no distractions. They were about 30 kilometers away from House Korvax territory. Along the way, they had only encountered sporadic mutants and Orks. He thought House Guard Commander Omega's claims were a bit exaggerated. In his opinion, the Orks didn't seem that dangerous; they only had crude weapons and guns, and they died relatively easily. Given the stormy environment and surprisingly cold temperatures, contrary to the usual climate, they could use thermal optics to detect them from 300 meters away and kill them all before they even knew what was happening.
Perhaps the Orks could be much more dangerous if they had greater numbers and could build the weapons mentioned in the intelligence reports.
He sighed slightly. The appearance of the Orks had caused panic across Opel III. Rulers, nobles, and many high-ranking officials were terrified and were planning their response in detail... or so he hoped.
However, the general populace and commoners still didn't know this information. If the news leaked, it could cause mass panic, making crowd control difficult and leading to widespread chaos.
"Stop the vehicle," Sergeant Kaminsky ordered decisively when he saw something ahead in the distance—about 800 meters away, if the rangefinder wasn't mistaken and the machine spirit within it was content and not malfunctioning.
Screech!!!!
The sound of brakes squealed as the buggy came to a sudden halt. Everyone in the vehicle was thrown forward by the inertia, but they managed to steady themselves.
"You stopped suddenly. Did you see something?" a voice crackled over the radio, speaking in formal, clipped tones. It was the radio from the House Korvax Guard buggy, which had stopped tens of meters away from them.
Kaminsky smiled with disdain. He picked up the radio before replying.
"Just spotted about 4-5 Orks ahead," he answered in a neutral tone, despite his internal contempt. The other party was silent for a moment before responding.
"Understood... Next time, warn us if you're going to brake suddenly." Then the connection cut off.
"Dimitri, do you see the targets?" He turned to ask another subordinate, who was deploying an MK.III Colossus heavy sniper rifle chambered in .50 caliber from the back of the vehicle. The rifle was nearly 2 meters long and weighed almost 20 kilograms. It featured a special scope modified by the Mechanicus, which included a rangefinder and thermal imaging mode. Normally, they wouldn't have the chance to touch such expensive weaponry, but after General Vann made a deal with a local Mechanicus faction, they had acquired these weapons for use.
"I see them," Dimitri replied, resting the barrel on the roll bar to use as a makeshift bipod. He took a large magazine and loaded it into the side of the rifle before pulling the bolt back and aiming at the Orks. He sighted them calmly through the scope, deciding to pull the trigger only when he was sure the target would be eliminated.
Bang!!!!
The gunshot echoed through the area as Dimitri pulled the trigger. Everyone in the buggy except Sergeant Kaminsky cursed loudly; being this close, their ears were ringing slightly.
Through their thermal optics, they saw an Ork about 800 meters away get hit. The .50 BMG round punched through its shoulder, creating a gaping wound, and the creature collapsed.
"Looks like you missed, Dimitri. Hahaha," Rimer laughed a little when he saw the bullet didn't hit the center of the chest or the head.
Dimitri ignored him. He calmly pulled the bolt back, chambering the next round, found a new target, aimed, and pulled the trigger again.
Bang!!!!
The gun fired again. This time, an Ork's head was blown clean off its body.
"Awesome, Dimitri..." Corporal Jimmy cheered for his squadmate. Dimitri smiled slightly under his gas mask before aiming for the next target until they were all eliminated. If they couldn't take them out from a distance, they would have to drive closer to engage them at close range, which was much riskier. Dealing with them from afar was the best option.
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"Maknik! Wot's happenin'? Why are da boyz gettin' hit from nowhere? And da marks look like shoota hits!!" One of the Boyz started shouting after seeing the others dropping dead one by one. As soon as the sound of a shoota rang out from the distance, the Orks who ran in the direction of the gunfire, shouting "WAAAGGHHHH" in hopes of a good krump, also dropped dead one by one.
The Boyz didn't understand the situation. There was no way a normal shoota could do this, and no way anyone or anything could see this far in a sandstorm.
Nearby stood an Ork wearing a heavy apron, his body covered in tools for building and crafting.
"Maybe it's da humies. Maybe they got some shiny gubbinz dat let 'em see us from far away," the Mekboy named Maknik pondered what was happening. It had just started, and his masterpiece—mass-producing shootas to sell to Boyz who wanted loud weapons and had enough teef—was interrupted. Just a moment ago, he was moving to find a suitable spot to build a factory for giant robots to worship Gork and Mork, but he had run into an ambush.
"So wot do we do? Da humies or gitz got shootas dat can shoot far and loud! How do we fight 'em if they can see us? If we didn't hide behind dis rock, we'd be krumped already! Cowards won't come fight close up!" the same Ork yelled. Suddenly, those words gave Maknik an idea.
If an Ork in the open gets seen and krumped, that means if he's behind cover, he won't be seen. And if he builds something that blocks him from being seen, he can walk anywhere!
(Writer's Note: Ork logic at its finest)
I am da chosen of Mork! Da genius title belongs to me! Maknik thought proudly, having solved the problem so quickly. Suddenly, he spotted a metal plate nearby. Although he didn't know exactly what to do next, he had an idea.
He picked up the metal plate and used his crude cutting tools to cut a viewing slit, then bent the cut piece to form a handle. Now Maknik had invented something that would help them survive this situation. (To a normal person, it was just a scrap metal shield). However, it needed testing.
"Oi... you! Take dis! Dis invention will stop da humies from seein' ya, and ya won't get killed by their shootas. You can WAAAGGHHHH right up to 'em and krump 'em!" Maknik shoved his freshly made invention into the hands of the nearest Ork, persuading him to test it out.
"Wow... Humies won't see... Walk up and krump 'em close! Haha! WAAAGGHHHH!!!!!" The Ork spoke slowly with curiosity and awe at what he had just received, before running out from cover holding Maknik's invention. Even though he had never used this device before, he knew he had to hold it up to protect himself.
Maknik watched excitedly to see if his invention would work. But a few seconds later, the sound of a shoota rang out again.
Bang
And the "WAAAGGHHHH" of that Ork was silenced.
"Must be a mistake... but Mork never makes mistakes," Maknik muttered to himself. But then he realized: why waste time hiding behind this rock when he could run in a straight line? And if he ran in a straight line while keeping the rock behind him, he wouldn't get hit!
With that thought, Maknik immediately fled the area.
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"Sergeant Kaminsky, be careful. I just saw the Orks using shields to hide from the thermal optics. They're smarter than we thought," Dimitri reported to his superior after killing the shield-bearing Ork by shooting through the viewing slit. At first, he hadn't even seen it until he spotted the heat venting from its body through the slit in the shield it was using.