Herald of the Stars - A Warhammer 40k, Rogue Trader Fanfiction

“For something that you whipped together in a few minutes, that was a remarkably well thought out proposal,” I say. “As it is, there are a few things you haven’t been made aware of that make it unusable. I still think it is worth pursuing though.”

“I wasn’t expecting to get something perfect in the first go,” says Owen, “but I am pleased you like my idea. What are the hold up points?”

I rub the back of my head with my hand, “Well, rather than me always being the one with the ready explanation, how about you do it this time, Róisín? As a Datasmith, This is your specialty.”

“Huh? Oh, sure. Are you talking about the Servitors?”

“Yes.”

“Well OK then,” says Róisín. “The Servitor bodies aren’t as plug and play as you might think, nor does the Janus pattern make for good Battle Servitors. We do have some Servitor Companies, though they are a supplement, not a replacement for real people. Still, they helped immensely on Kinbriar V.

“There are two primary issues as to why we can’t stuff Acolytes inside a Janus body. The first is security: the remote piloting feature built into a servitor is done at a hardware level. That isn’t something you want in a body with an actual person in it. They’re also slightly hackable, in batches of twelve. This was a security vs practicality trade off and it isn’t something we can fix with a few Tech-Adepts coaxing the machine-spirits.

“Their limited security is why we have problem number two. Because a Servitor can be subverted, we do not build them for war. While their physical toughness makes them adequate troops, they can be temporarily disabled by haywire and other anti-machine technologies. They are also vulnerable in melee, with limited combat routines and parts built for manual dexterity, rather than brute strength and agility.

“Kataphrons are much less vulnerable, but we don’t have the appropriate criminals for conversion. We don’t practise recycling our dead crew into Charron Pattern Battle Servitors either as they are horribly unreliable and tend to shoot at both sides.

“While we could improve our Servitors, we must ask ourselves what we are trying to achieve, and that is to avoid mass casualties. We need something that would work well with heavy assaults that isn’t a tank. Usually, that’s our vanguard armour, or our limited power armour troops, but we’re looking for brutish fodder here, not a miniature Imperial Knight or an imitation Sisters of Battle unit.

“Any questions so far?” Róisín looks from face to face.

“Didn’t we put the cured mutants inside Servitor bodies?” says Brigid.

“We did, and each one was a custom job,” says Róisín.

Brigid mutters, “So that’s why it was so expensive.”

Róisín continues, “What Aldrich is getting at here, I think, is a two layered argument. First is that Confessor Broin has the laudable goal of ensuring everyone in the fleet has a fully mechanical body. I estimate that to achieve this we would need the output of a Goliath-Class Factory Ship, which we don’t have, as well as extensive research in creating an appropriate, unified body for everyone as the Janus Pattern Servitor is unsuitable. We haven’t even acquired a garden ship yet to get the rejuvenat Blessings and Castigations system up and running yet, let alone a factory ship.

“Providing a mechanical body for everyone would also raise issues with pro-creation. We would become reliant upon exo-wombs. Not every woman will be happy to give up their right to give birth for the Glory of the Machine God. It would also make a lot of our work on gene editing redundant and a mechanical solution isn’t always the best choice for every encounter. We wouldn’t want a technologically superior foe, like the Necrons, finding a way to hack our troops, for example. That they do not, is likely out of disdain, rather than capability.

“The second issue is that what we require here are Battle-Automata, the most famous being the Kastallan, rather than Servitors. We don’t have the STCs for Battle-Automata, nor the industrial capacity to build them, at least while we’re making the Macro-Ferry Core.

“It might surprise you to know that, from a cogitator point of view, a Kastallan is actually a significantly more advanced cyber mastiff, so I could develop proper Battle-Automata, but I am unsure if it is worth the effort as I probably won’t save us time or resources. Once we reach the Imperium, we should be able to contact other Forge Temples and, with the right incentives, directly trade for the knowledge.

“As for what we can actually do right now, a Machine Blessing for a Herald Acolyte could replace their limbs and armour their chest. Servitor limbs, even if we end up needing to modify them a bit, are within our means. The consequence is that the Macro-Ferry, when launched, would have an inadequate quantity of Servitors.

“How necessary limb replacement is also debatable, with the exo-skeletons and vitae supplements on the void armour providing the best survivability one could hope for without power armour. It might seem inadequate because we’ve been facing Necrons and Eldar since those systems were implemented, but these are two races who have reached the zenith in their chosen paths. Fighting them is always going to be hard.

“While even a moderate Machine Blessing would make the Acolytes slightly stronger and significantly faster, a hundred thousand multiple limb replacement surgeries is not something we can do on a whim. ‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’ is a poor engineering adage, but it does hold some merit, especially in this case. Significant simulation and practical testing would be required. Don’t mistake my caution and caveats for disapproval though. Any remarks before I finish my evaluation?”

Maeve smiles “I did not know about the comparison between Kastallans and Cyber Mastiffs. Also, does that mean that technically our cyber mastiffs are Battle Automata?”

“Ours are bionic mastiffs,” says Róisín, “As they have a full brain and are not partially organic circuitry mimicking life. Cyber Mastiffs are no more Battle Automata than our Servitors are, even if both could be changed to become so. You would find more in common with an insect brain, with its set navigation instructions, in Battle Automata than you would a mastiff. That brain would be orders of magnitude greater in capability though, like the difference between a calculator and D-POT central cogitator.

“On second thoughts, given our extensive design work on cyber mastiffs already, I could create a design with the mind and capabilities of a Battle-Automata if we’re not too bothered about acquiring more conventional designs. Aldrich?”

I steeple my fingers and hold them against my mouth, “It would be a far more stable design. Though there is some overlap with the Praetorian servitors, so long as canine automata are focused on shock assaults, rather than defence, you should be able to avoid creating redundant designs. Simulate a few ideas and shove them into the battle raging beneath us and see what the different sides do with them. We’ll decide on proper prototypes if they prove useful.”

Eire says, “Could we not turn the Vanguard Armour into Battle Automata? We don’t have to go with dogs every time.”

Róisín holds up her hand and freezes for a moment, then sighs, “Yes, we could do that. I’ll try both a canine and humanoid model in testing. Now, back to my evaluation, adding a Forge Temple to Iron Crane’s military complex would cut into the amount of matériel we can stockpile by fifteen to eighteen percent. Usually we maintain enough supplies for two years of war, assuming no resupply. This deduction would place our buffer at twenty months.

“The Forge Temple would enable the assembly and maintenance of twenty dragon-scale power armour a week, approximately. On a practical level, that would allow us to field a thousand Battle Smiths based from the Iron Crane. A Lathe-Class light cruiser could maintain three hundred or so and an Adder Class would have ten. To put that in perspective, the Iron Crane’s mixed regiment only has ninety power armour infantry in a force of thirty thousand, four hundred and twenty Heralds. Making Battle Smith a more coveted title is by no means a bad thing, but it does limit how many talented artisans we can preserve.

“Battle Smiths needing to make their armour would allow for some rotation into industry by our overqualified Heralds as they wouldn’t be able to work on their armour continuously as the compressed composite armour plates take many weeks to form. I don’t know how many Heralds we could fold into Macro-Ferry construction as we just lost our Shipyard Overseer. I doubt it would be many though as everything was planned so that it would match our expected labour output.

“To summarise, while we can’t do every part of Confessor Broin’s plan, doing as much of it as possible, slowly over the next decade, is worthwhile. I don’t think we should concern ourselves with the politics of large numbers of power armoured infantry. We can’t actually manage it and it would be silly to try. If someone does raise a fuss? Fuck ‘em. What matters is that we have the means to face the threats we encounter. People might scream ‘Heresy!’ or decry us with ‘Rebellion!’, but what they really want is an excuse to steal our shit, hence: fuck ‘em.”

“Well, that is an option,” says Eire. “We will need some friends, and I’d like my job to be more than just swearing at every diplomat we come across.”

Several chuckles echo through the cold air.

“Quaani has paved the way for us there,” I say. “Your role as High Factor might not see much use right now, Eire, but you will be quite busy soon. Odhran has also set us up to meet with his Chapter. Hopefully it won’t be an explosive reunion.”

“Yes, Quaani has been rather busy, hasn’t he?” says Eire. “I am hoping he will come back with a good idea of how Imperial trade actually works. There are a few points that just don’t make sense to me.”

“We will learn through our mistakes if we must, but I’ll make sure to add your query to the next scheduled message.”

“Good, that would be most helpful,” says Eire.

I address Róisín, “Thank you for your fine explanation,” I say. “I would have rambled.”

Róisín snorts, “Isn’t it your wife who should be the only one who can read your mind? Guessing your thoughts is nerve wracking!”

“I really shouldn’t have shared that behavioural model, Róisín,” says Brigid, her hand pressed to her mouth. “That’s a very important ‘how to’ guide to impress him.”

I sigh, “Alright, I know you could make something like that, Brigid, but I am certain that if you actually did, you wouldn’t share it. Let’s keep this meeting professional, please. No one likes it when they drag on, even for a cheap joke at the boss’ expense.”

“So we’re done?” says Róisín.

I say, “We did derail it a bit, but this is Maeve’s meeting.” I smile at Maeve, “Have we spoken about everything you wanted to cover?”

“I wanted you all to be aware of the problem,” says Maeve. “We can hash out the details over the next few weeks. Now that I have an idea of where we want to push this, I’ll go looking for the exact numbers and what we can test, then put forward a variety of proposals. Thank you, all of you, for helping me with this.”

Not everyone is smiling, but I do think everyone here is satisfied.

“Ah, I have one last question,” says Eire. “Was it not mentioned that almost everyone below us reached their Tech-Priest qualification by building power armour? What happened to all those suits?”

“It’s usually done in simulation,” says Brigid. “Very few Tech-Adepts can pay for the forge time to make a real one.”

Eire huffs, “Times sure have changed since I did my exam. I had to pay to make an MIU!”

“The Iron Crane ate most of the budget back then,” I said, “and we didn’t have many sleeping pods.”

“I know,” says Eire, “that doesn’t make it any less annoying.”

Maeve looks at each of our faces, then nods, “Alright then, meeting adjourned.”

Everyone almost immediately disconnects from HiveSim apart from Maeve and I. Maeve starts bringing up tables in front of herself, showing the details of the battle below. After a moment she pauses her analysis and looks over.

“Did you need something, Aldrich.”

“Yes, a personal question, if you don’t mind.”

“You can ask.”

“I wanted to know when your drama group is putting on their next play. My kids loved the last one and have been badgering me all week to find out what it is and when it might be.”

“Oh?” Maeve beams, “I’m glad they liked our rendition of the battle with the Orks on Marwolv. We haven’t quite decided what we will do next, so there is nothing to spoil. We are planning to do something for Sanguinala though, so five months from now.”

“Thank you. If your group has an idea they don’t have the budget for, come and ask me. As long as it’s not too outrageous, I will sponsor you a little extra.”

“That would be wonderful. Confessor Broin does a good job of distributing community funds, though if you sponsor the after party, that would give us more for the play. The veterans that I work with can always drink more beer.”

“No surprises there,” I say, “Alcohol production is rather limited, and yes, I will sponsor your after party.”

“Great! See you later, Aldrich.”

“Bye, Maeve.”

I disconnect.