The Iron Hands warrior, his mobility restored, cautiously tested his frame, acclimating to the augmented cybernetic components. Beside him, the Apothecary stared with wide-eyed fascination at the case carried by the automaton.
When the Sapient Machine Automaton had opened the container to retrieve that golden cube, the contents had been clearly visible: the interior was partitioned into a precise 2x4 grid. Based on the dimensions of the cube they had just witnessed in action, it was evident that this elongated case held at least forty such modules. With four automata each carrying a case, there were likely over a hundred and sixty units in total.
Driven by an insatiable curiosity, the Apothecary approached the stationary automaton to voice his query.
"That cube... what was it? I saw it repair machinery. Why do you not utilize them yourselves?"
The automaton opened its metallic supply crate and extracted another cube, which pulsed with a faint, golden luminescence.
"Disposable STC Repair Device. Field Repair Module. Composed of nanite assemblies and simplified data-readout repair apparatus. Includes foundational alloy restoration suites. Capable of repairing most mechanical structures and restoring them to functional parameters. Operational principle: Read material data, replicate function, harvest available local materials for reconstruction, and optimize irrational structural foundations."
With a mechanical nonchalance, the automaton handed the cube to the Apothecary. It then gestured toward its fellow automaton, whose auxiliary arm it had previously detached, and the Automated Sentry-Trooper, whose corrupted limbs had been purged.
"We are foundational mechanical entities. We possess a high volume of prefabricated spare parts and have sustained no catastrophic structural failure. Usage of Field Repair Modules is deemed inefficient. Proper maintenance will be administered upon return to base."
The machine's sensory lens then swiveled toward the Iron Hands Legionary, who was still calibrating his new bionics.
"Non-standard bio-mechanical hybrid structure. No spare parts available in inventory. Meets criteria for Emergency Repair Protocols. Authorization granted. Damage rectified."
The Apothecary listened to the explanation in a daze, his mind reeling at the impossibility of it all. Compared to their Astartes cousins, the Iron Hands simply possessed more extensive cybernetics; yet, to be categorized and processed purely as "machinery" was a concept that defied conventional Imperial logic.
Gazing at the marvelous cube in his hand, the Apothecary spoke tentatively.
"May I... possess this repair module?"
The automaton seemed to stall for a microsecond, its electronic eyes flickering. Then, it detached the entire metal crate from its chassis and extended it toward the Apothecary.
"Request processed. Basic emergency supplies provided."
The Apothecary took the crate, nearly stumbling as the staggering weight of the case caught him off guard.
To these Iron Men, the disposable STC products, technologies whose very principles were beyond the Apothecary's comprehension, were hardly rarities. When specific missions carried a high probability of attrition and lacked access to effective logistics, these Field Repair Modules were issued in bulk. To the Iron Men, this technology was analogous to the Panacea used by the Creators. For a machine, the concept of "lifespan" did not exist; so long as damage and malfunctions could be repaired, existence endured.
Naturally, these simplified repair devices had their limitations, performing with peak efficiency only on small-to-medium mechanical units. Larger assets required multiple modules; an Apocalypse-class Titan, for instance, would likely require fifteen or more to see any significant effect. An emergency repair module could, at best, restore a single localized sector.
Even so, it was a feat far beyond the imagination of the wider Imperium. To a mechanical entity, a machine's structure, much like a human body, retains "information" within its physical matter that permeates the entire system. At a data-strata level, the complete blueprint of a damaged machine can be easily read. Just as every stem cell in a human contains the genetic code for the entire body, the very principle behind self-cloning, machinery possesses a similar, wondrous property.
The Field Repair Module operated on this logic: reading the informational essence of the machine, harvesting matter, and performing on-site reconstruction. Had the Iron Hands' bionics not been so crude and poorly designed, the repair module would not have flagged them as "structural errors" and "optimized" them into such a formidable upgrade.
THOOM!
A dull, heavy explosion suddenly shook the air.
"ROAR! FOR THE GRANDFATHER'S GRACE!"
Ear-splitting bellows echoed through the mountainous facility.
Squeltch! Tear!
The sickening sounds of rupturing flesh and rending metal drifted from the depths of the complex.
Drawn by the din, the other Iron Hands warriors returned to the hall, many lugging recovered crates. Once assembled, the Astartes forced the crates open, revealing a cache of ancient, standardized weaponry, including Volkite Calivers and Phosphex Grenades.
Against the daemons of Nurgle, fire was a far more potent cure than mere bolter shells. While perhaps not as efficient as the Iron Men's neutron-beam weaponry, these were the most suitable tools in the Imperial arsenal. During the Great Crusade, Volkite weaponry had been commonplace, but the loss of its technological secrets had seen it fade from the Imperium's ranks until Archmagos Cawl recently reintroduced it, though his efforts had largely produced only high-energy Volkite Serpenta pistols. These calivers, however, had once been the mainstay of Astartes Heavy Support squads and Dreadnoughts alike.
As for the Phosphex... it was the ultimate anathema to the scions of Nurgle.
The "crawling fire" of Phosphex could burn without oxygen, required no fuel, and functioned even underwater; indeed, it could set water itself ablaze and eat through solid rock, adamantium, and plasteel. Once unleashed, the green mists of Phosphex expanded exponentially, igniting everything in their path. The lingering contamination was more persistent than nuclear fallout, leaving scorched earth permanently uninhabitable.
Due to its extreme lethality and environmental devastation, even the Death Guard avoided its use during the Great Crusade except in the most dire circumstances. Yet, for the modern Imperium, this uncontrollable, all-consuming flame was a godsend. Had the Tech-Priest Veriliad not destroyed the last remaining Phosphex STC in 009.M40, robbing the Adeptus Mechanicus of the ability to manufacture it, the Imperium might not have found the struggle against the Tyranids and the Plague God so desperate.
As the gear was distributed, the battle-brothers finally noticed that their comrade's severed leg had been restored. They also noted the oddly familiar case the Apothecary now carried with such singular devotion. Even through their ceramite helms, the others could sense the Apothecary's reverence for that crate and the treasures within.
But there was no time for questions. Confirming their brother was fit for combat, the squad moved out. They had to locate the critical technology left behind by the Primarch and ascertain its status.
They had not yet entered the primary warehouse district. Only two Destroyer-class automata had ventured ahead. The echoing roars had already told the warriors exactly what awaited them within.
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