The automaton slowly turned its chassis. The distinct hum of mechanical servos began to filter through the suits, accompanied by the loud, rhythmic hiss of gas venting from the tops of the metal canisters.
The environmental monitors on their vacuum suits suddenly flashed green. The ambient air pressure and chemical composition now met the requirements for human respiration.
A voice, identical to the one on the vox, emanated clearly from the machine's external speakers.
"Given the mission parameters, the tithe audit will require significant time. The emergency survival gear currently equipped is insufficient for the journey ahead. To ensure mission completion, this unit, following pre-programmed instructions from the Sapient Factory, will provide you with suitable equipment. All gear will be presented to you as a gift upon the conclusion of your task."
As it spoke, the machine manipulated a wall panel, revealing a metallic door. Inside a small, pressurized compartment stood ten suits of mechanical armor with open rear-entry hatches.
"Remove your current environmental suits. This unit has stabilized the atmospheric pressure and composition; egress will pose no risk. These Hazard Environment Suits are your gifts."
Beholding the massive mechanical suits, nearly the size of Adeptus Astartes Terminator Plate, Inquisitor Wayne and his four Stormtroopers stood frozen in shock.
Though they did not recognize the patterns, the sharp, aggressive angles and the visible muzzles of integrated weapon systems gave the armor a striking resemblance to the Tactical Dreadnought Armour of the Space Marines.
Wayne looked up at the suits, which stood a full head taller than him even while in their powered-down stance. He holstered his chainsword and looked at the automaton.
"You call these 'Hazard Environment Suits'?"
"Correct. Standard-pattern Hazard Environment Suit, civilian grade. Equipped with standard-class life support, providing a maximum survival duration of 33 days without resupply. Features an independent biomass recycling unit and is powered by an internal micro-plasma reactor core. Equipped with independent energy shielding, alloyed armor plating, and a high-density reinforced internal frame. Self-adjusting to accommodate heights from 1.7 to 2.1 meters."
"The unit possesses minor defensive combat capabilities. The mechanical manipulators are bionic in design; in addition to five-digit articulation, they feature integrated particle oscillators and medium-class plasma incinerators. Two small, recessed autocannons are mounted on the pauldrons. The suit utilizes electronic muscle bundles with a maximum output of 25 tons, controlled via a neural-impulse induction system for zero-latency operation."
"The internal HUD provides an optimized UI, featuring vision enhancement, multi-spectral scanning, and intelligent crisis-response assistance. These suits offer superior protection in any environmental condition."
"Records indicate that explorers of the Creator-race once criticized the suit for being 'bulky' and 'excessively large,' noting its 7.92-ton weight hindered portability. However, it is otherwise without flaw. Its versatility allows for various attachments; it was primarily marketed to landowners on Federal agri-worlds. Many preferred to equip oversized chainsaws for clearing forests to build timber vacation homes, or for hunting mega-fauna as a pastime."
Wayne and his men stood in stunned silence.
This did not sound like civilian equipment, nor did it sound like something a mortal man was meant to wield.
Twenty-five tons of force from electronic muscles? Is this not essentially a miniature Dreadnought?
Under the automaton's urging, Wayne cautiously unsealed his helmet. A faint hiss of pressure escaped, and he took a tentative breath.
The air was dry, lacking moisture, but otherwise perfectly breathable.
After shedding his void suit, Wayne was guided by the machine to the rear of the massive armor. Stepping onto a small pedestal raised twenty centimeters off the floor, he faced a glowing, humanoid-shaped cavity.
As his feet touched the base, the armor reacted instantly. The hunched chassis straightened. A specialized internal helm lowered over Wayne's head; he winced, instinctively closing his eyes.
The rear entry sealed automatically. The heavy armor plates and interlocking locking mechanisms hissed shut, encasing the vulnerable entry point in layers of reinforced plating.
With a low, mounting hum, the systems came online.
Wayne opened his eyes.
The world looked entirely different.
The Stormtroopers watched nervously as the oversized "tin can" swallowed their Inquisitor. They saw him cover his face with his hands and make a series of bizarre, jerky movements.
They began to whisper.
"Can he even use that thing? Did the Inquisitor go mad?"
Those whispers, however, were amplified with crystalline clarity in Wayne's ears by the suit's sensors.
A booming, filtered voice erupted from the massive machine.
"Insulting me to my face is a bit much, don't you think? I feel... incredible."
As an Inquisitor, Wayne had met many people, including the pilots of Questoris Knights. He had often asked what it felt like to pilot those god-machines, but he had never truly understood their descriptions of raw power.
Now, he felt he finally did.
The neural-link system didn't just read Wayne's thoughts; it fed the machine's sensory data directly back into his brain via bio-pulses. Unlike the invasive neural sockets of the Astartes, this Hazard Suit only required neural contact points within the helm.
Human thought was far faster than physical reflex.
Wayne familiarized himself with the sensation, following the guided calibration mode. He began to run, jump, and cycle through various functions within the chamber. If there had been a target in sight, he would have likely tested the weapons.
The automaton, RS-39285, stepped beside Wayne. After reading the adaptive control data, it uploaded a synchronized update to the remaining suits. It then turned to the four Stormtroopers.
"Please change equipment immediately. The atmosphere of Vorchad III contains no oxygen. To operate on the surface, this change is mandatory. There is no public transportation on the planet, only crude logistical conveyors. These suits will provide the necessary protection."
The Stormtroopers' eyes burned with fervor. They had seen the Inquisition issue power armor to high-ranking officials, but they had never dreamed of an opportunity to pilot such massive suits of powered plate.
Before Wayne could even give the order, the four men cast aside their gear and stepped into the open suits, mimicking Wayne's earlier movements.
When a man gains power far beyond his natural limits, a sense of invincibility floods the consciousness, often followed by the urge to destroy and release.
Axion had foreseen this. The Creators themselves had reacted the same way during their first trials.
The automaton pulled a crate over, tossed the discarded Imperial gear inside, and casually welded the lid shut. The chamber door slid open once more, and the temporary atmosphere vanished instantly into the hallway.
"Follow me. We proceed to the surface."