Chapter 12: Abominable Intelligence
December 31, 3241, 0500 hours
Rogue Trader Vessel Fair Lady
Umbilical 3
EUS-1840

Gregorias Servaus walked quicker than he usually would through the arching halls of the outer sections of the vessel, a few servo-skulls following in his wake. They chirped in the lingua technis for updates or asked for messages to be relayed to the other adepts throughout the vessel. Servaus chimed in, the loquacious binary flowing from him in streams of static almost inaudible to those around him. He had his hood down, leaving his somewhat sweating head to reflect light shone from multiple different sources. His shaved pate was pristine, and despite his age, would he leave it, would produce a full head once more. Such things were looked down upon in the Cult Mechanicus. Many things indeed were looked down upon.

Servaus had his share of implants as many in the service of the Omnissiah did. More than one subdermal electoo was installed to communicate information at a whim to passing colleagues and superiors, though as an Explorator Magos, one charged with furthering the knowledge of the Mechanicum through sailing the stars, he didn't have much more above him. He did not report to the Fabricator-General on Mars, Gastaph Hediatrix. He reported to other less important Fabricators, though for all practical purposes, the Rogue Trader commanded his attention. He had served alongside the Departeu family for some time, and he figured he would remain at their side for quite a time yet.

He did not muse on his good times here though, despite the many examples, such as intoxication among friends, a word he did not use lightly, or late-night conversations with the Rogue Trader himself over topics deemed 'unorthodox' by others in the Mechanicum. Something else demanded his attention, and the thought that it was right underneath his very nose infuriated him. So he walked, quickly, but with great control, down the series of corridors that would take him to the umbilicals that connected the Fair Lady to other visiting craft. On more than one occasion, the voidships that 'attended' such an event had been forcibly broken in to, unable to escape and unable to call for help. Today, the vessels were willingly giving themselves over to investigation.

Guardsmen held fast over one of the several entrances to the docking clamp. Their polished green armor clashing with the aged metal of the ship around them. There were four of them standing at attention led by a sergeant, indicated by the three chevrons on his flak jacket. These were well trained men. These were Cadians - the best of the best. Servaus had never been to Cadia, but had heard tales of it, and the Guardsmen of this world always went on about how it was the most important of the worlds in the Imperium. It was a world of fortresses. Every square meter of its surface was dedicated to some form of defense. Anti-air guns were as big as skyscrapers and littered the horizon as if they were mountains themselves. Every citizen was a solder first and an Imperial second, and every child knew how to field-strip a lasgun before they were out of diapers.

Such lasguns were in the hands of these men. They stood at parade rest with legs a shoulder width apart. Their left hands were behind their backs, and their right hands were clasped over the barrel of their weapon, stock firmly planted on the deck. They stared into space, but Servaus knew that these men were watching him approach. Damn fine troopers, Cadians.

As he approached, the sergeant's head jerked in his direction. The man snapped his gun off the ground, made a series of motions as he switched it to his left side. The weapon's butt hit the ground and his hand shot to his temple.

"My lord Explorator!" he called.

"At ease, Sergeant, at ease." Servaus said, partly out of breath, partly out of annoyance. He didn't care much for salutes, much less being treated as one of the Militarum. "I must pass to the voidship beyond this point."

"That is not possible, my lord." the Guardsman responded, not one feature on his face twitching out of surprise. He betrayed no emotions at all, to the point where Servaus was impressed. "Translation is underway at the moment."

"I understand." Servaus said, keeping his voice level. "But I must cross to one of the vessels, and in the interest of keeping the crew safe, I demand access."

That was all he needed to say. He knew that the Guardsman wouldn't challenge him. Men like him, Cadians doubly so as they were bound by their honor. To disobey an order was to disobey the Emperor himself. They would let him pass, lest an unfavorable report pass by the desk of the commissar; a most detestable man in his own right. True, the job of keeping the morale of the Guard was not a job that many looked upon with jealousy, but it was necessary. It made hard men, and such men had harder rules, oftentimes enforcing their point with a bullet to the skull, warranted or not.

The Sergeant snapped another salute. His outer expression hadn't changed, but the implants that Servaus did possess allowed him to assess how others were feeling - slight increases in heart rate, sweat, rate of breathing - little things that added up to a larger picture. The man knew the consequences of refusing access of the ship to one of the Rogue Trader's retinue. He barked an order, and the men stood aside in two columns, their rifle stocks smacking on the ground to allow passage. Servaus nodded in appreciation and passed them, muttering a small thanks to the machine spirits that allowed him to pass unfettered through the airlocks. The giant skull that was the symbol of the Human form spun many times to allow him to pass through. Servaus mused on how closely his own form mirrored this.

The doors parted to reveal a long hallway that seemed only slightly different than the rest of the ship. This corridor contained markings indicating that it was a docking structure. Painted yellow and black lines showed stress points. Gas masks were tucked away in positions alongside the tube in the event of a breach, and various purity seals were stuck on pieces of equipment, the blessings of the Omnissiah-who-is-the-Emperor improving their functionality. Servaus continued his quick walk. The docking arm was deserted; he was the only soul passing through to the vessel. He shuddered more than once. They must have been translating to the Immaterium. He prayed again for the integrity of the Gellar Fields, though he knew that the engineseers were working their hardest to keep that machine under control. Gellar Fields were such fickle things and needed constant care in the event that their spirits were upset in any way. Out of all the machines on this ship, that one in particular was the one that Servaus wanted above else to remain calm and collected. More than one horror story had reached his ears about even the slightest flicker on these machines and the terror that followed in their wake. He had no idea of course where they were going, only that it must have been important given how quickly they had made preparations. That was not germane for his purposes; he had another appointment, and it created such a disruption in his gut that he scarcely knew what to call it. The Astartes would call it an imbalance of the humors if he believed any of that rot. No, he knew exactly what this was - a mixture of anger, and unless he was wrong, anticipation.

After a time of walking, the length of which he did not know, Servaus came to the secondary airlock that had forcibly attached itself to the hull of this voidship. The connection was not perfect, not even in the slightest, as the entrance to the ship was small compared to the hull plating surrounding it. Invasive hull attachment was required to keep the vessel attached, and a hermetic seal was applied around it to ensure that pressure would not be lost. Servaus could see a bit of white paint in the script that these strange visitors used. It covered part of the hull. Many were numbers; things he understood plenty of. Perhaps they were identification markings of the hull's components or perhaps they were related to the ship's identification itself. The lock itself was open to the hallway, but the inner door remained shut. He crossed the threshold, his cybernetic enhancements ducking down to allow him better access. When he stood inside the chamber which he assumed was a voidlock, he began to mutter a prayer, more out of habit than anything else. However, before he could finish, the door cycled shut. There was a hiss of air, and he made a sudden grab for his plasma pistol before the inner door cycled open, revealing the interior passageway.

Servaus let his hand fall away from his sidearm and let his cloak fall over it. His eyes narrowed and jaw set. He had an ill feeling about this vessel the instant that it had come within auger range.

Did it know he was coming? Would it try to vent the atmosphere from the hallway? No matter - he could hold a reserve air supply for upwards of thirty more minutes. His eyes were coated with a special film to prevent damage from a vacuum, though his body would suffer in other ways. Would it try to trap him and starve him to death? Perhaps it would attempt to detonate the ship with him on it? Servaus ran through possibility after possibility looking for a way to outmaneuver this thing. In a very old Terran game of strategy, it would have been called a 'checkmate'.

His mind was still running through possibilities as he slowed his stride, walking aboard the vessel and taking in the rumble of its reactor. He could feel electrical currents running up and down his body, the implants within him feeling the invisible force around him. Servaus took in every design of the ship as he had done each time he came aboard. Everything was functional and compartmentalized. It was all designed in such a way that he could appreciate. In a way, it was designed much like a vessel of the Mechanicum, minus several important aspects of design. He ran the possibility of this vessel coming from the past. Which past was it? Theirs, or another's? There was an entire Ordo of the Inquisition that dealt with this balderdash.

Servaus had also grown to understand one or two of the words that were present on the ship's walls. In truth, it appeared to resemble older script that had been found on ancient worlds. He was Martian after all, and several parts of the civilization that pre-dated Old Night was still there. If only the Repository had still survived. Oh what they could have learned...

He found himself moving without even thinking it, rounding corners and treading down the surprisingly quiet hallways lit by bright lights. The hard corners seemed to clash with the structures that Servaus had grown accustomed to while serving on the retinue of the Rogue Trader. He was actually glad for the diversion of design, but then he remembered the purpose of this visit, and his heart was gripped by the vestige of dogmatic hatred. What was it the Imperials taught? Hatred was good. Hatred begets strength, and hatred for such an enemy was very well justified.

He mounted the stairs of the vessel's decks, unsure of just how to work the elevators the way that the Captain of this ship had. To think that Humans and abhumans worked together like this, wearing the same uniform, taking the same orders, fought alongside one another - it reminded him of the Guardsmen in a way.

But these Humans used combined infantry both mechanized and conventional; a major breach of Imperial Guard protocol. He had toured their vehicle berths and noted tracked tanks, clearly inferior to the war machines produced on Mars, but alongside these were aircraft not dissimilar to Valkyrie gunships or even Astartes Thunderhawks that carried troops into battle. After the Great Heresy, unity between military branches was heavily regulated to prevent the massing together of another grand host like the ones used by Horus Lupercal so, so long ago - a wound that was still yet to heal. The War of the Beast certainly had not helped either.

Servaus had reached the bridge in his musings. The command deck was structured far more conservatively than the lower reaches of the vessel. Doors were double or even triple locked. Redundant bulkheads were layered on one another, and many doors required codes to get in. However, all of these were opened thanks to the Captain of the ship. Indeed, the engine-seers had access to all of the ships courtesy of their commanding officers.

There was one lone servoskull floating around the bridge scanning the banks of cogitators on the walls and ceilings. The seats that were occupied scant days before were empty, and if the Rogue Trader was to have his way, they would never be filled again. His attention went to the central cogitator ahead of the Captain's chair. The device was roughly rectangular and was set in such a way that it was obviously a war table to conduct strategy. Currently, the table was empty, but Servaus saw well that it was capable of producing holograms, some of them solid.

He looked around and, with a quick bark of binary code, banished the servoskull. It bobbed along, chirping to itself in its duties, leaving Servaus alone on an otherwise silent deck. He could hear the humming of the devices expelling heat from vents in the wall, and he could hear the slight creaking in the hull as the two ships' gravitational fields merged every now and then, and the forced air system kept the environment passable in temperature. Otherwise, without bodies to fill the room going about their duties, Servaus realized just how little echo or reverberations there were within here. A speaker on the other end of the compartment could be able to hear someone on the other side clearly even when muttering.

Then his eyes drifted to the windows. This ship had blast shields he was well aware, but they were never lowered. Outside, he saw the warp as it surrounded them and he was amazed at how dark it was. It was like being below the surface of a rumbling ocean. There was blackness all around, but he could see that there was energy out there barely visible. Even with his enhanced vision he couldn't make anything out. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw something, but a moment later when he focused on it, it vanished as if never there at all.

He swallowed. The Warp was for the Navigators to deal with, not him. It was calm out there though; that much was for certain, not like before. It had been turbulent before, but their Gellar Fields held strong against the forces of the Immaterium. Strange how it would just disappear like that. Many things were strange lately.

"Show yourself." He said out loud, his voice filling the room and then dying away. There was no response. Of course there wouldn't be. "I know you are here." he said, turning to face the central cogitator table. How clever that it would have masqueraded as a simple machine spirit - a program that feigned stupidity. He should have seen it coming; it had happened before.

"Answer me, machine!" Servaus said, a bit louder this time. One of the metal clamps on his mechadendrite clacked shut as if it were an exclamation mark.

No sound came.

The damned thing was playing with him. Fine. He would play along and he would win.

"Speak to me now or I give the order to kill each and every crewman that serves aboard this voidship."

Silence still.

"You think I toy with you. No. No, not in the slightest. I've seen your kind ruin others before. Machines like you strive to control! Strive to conquer! I will not have another of your kind take advantage of our mercy. Watch and see the price of your silence, abomination!"

"Obstipuere omnes nec talia dicta probarunt, ante omnesque Lelux animo maturus et aevo sic ait: "immensa est finem que potentia caeli non habet, et quicquid superi voluere, peractum est."

The voice silenced Servaus. He stood there, unable to make anything of it. It had come so suddenly and so clearly that the Magos could have sworn that it was right in front of him. Slowly he saw particles of light dance in space, slowly bringing themselves together. In a flash, a man stood hovering mere inches above the cogitator table's surface. He stood with a helmet under his arm, but was dressed in primitive garb. Under his free hand was a sword in a sheath. His hair was closely cropped, his face was lined with battle, and his features patrician and much like the sons of Ultramar; so like them that it gave Servaus pause. His eyes were deep hazel, and the color of his skin olive. He appeared larger than Servaus, even when taking the height difference into account, so he stared down at the techpriest with set jaw and a distinctly unpleasant expression on his face.

Gregorias didn't know what to make of it. The Magos froze, his own eyes locking on to that of the abomination and found something distinctly Human about this device, and it deeply disturbed him. It was far more Human than any of the Abominable Intelligence that he had seen before.

He regained his composure and opened his mouth to speak, but before his voice could be heard, the thing spoke first, in perfect High Gothic.

"Baucis and Philemon, Ovid's 'Metamorphoses'. I do not appreciate having my crew threatened, nor that of any other vessel within this battle group."

Servaus was ready now. "You. I knew there was something off about you the minute I came aboard this craft."

"Ah, then you are astute, Explorator Magos. I commend you for your observational skills."

"Identify yourself now!" the techpriest barked, anger flaring at this most egregious insult.

The AI inclined his head and held his free hand to his heart. Servaus noted that the armor was made to resemble flesh made of iron.

"I am Augustus - Serial Number AUG-3451-9, command level Artificial Intelligence assigned to this vessel, the Ontario. I am the Chief AI Adjutant of this battle group."

Servaus could feel rage rising in his breast. The teachings of the Mechanicum had argued that thinking machines were an abomination, the greatest of tech-heresy. His anger was so great that he could only stutter, "You... you..."

"Am very much an Artificial Intelligence, yes." Augustus finished. The hologram looked at the Magos with a slight arching of the eyebrow, and then he spoke in that eloquent accent that still seemed grateful even in High Gothic. "I've been reading. I've been learning about you, the Mechanicum, and the Imperium at large. The Fair Lady's encryption is good, but with three AIs together, it wasn't really enough to keep us out."

"You've defiled my ship?!" Servaus suddenly roared.

"Could have done whatever we wanted." Augustus replied, but then the static of Binary flooded through the bridge's speakers. "But you are not an enemy. You are not a target. We are not monsters; we are soldiers ourselves."

The conversation switched to this code, with the Magos hissing, "You will let me off this ship."

"No."

Servaus pursed his lips. "So you do intend to harm me."

"No."

Now, a spike of confusion went through the techpriest's mind. His eyes involuntarily darted, seeking information within his mind to help determine just what this machine's purpose was, and what it intended for him. "I do not understand then."

"I only want you to listen. Please, take a seat." Augustus replied, raising his free hand to an empty chair at a nearby station.

"I would prefer to stand."

"I insist. Follow me."

"Follow?"

Augustus stepped off the table onto the deck of the bridge. Servaus jumped back, surprised, and reached for his plasma pistol on his belt, his mechadendrites flailing like snakes.

"I would not recommend that. You would only be wasting ammunition."

The AI stood roughly the same height and slowly approached the Magos, helmet still tucked under one arm. Servaus could see the folds of wrinkles, the glint of light off the eyes, and even stubble on the machine's face.

Face. A term that one did not use with a machine.

"I insist. Follow me." Augustus repeated.

Servaus however was still in defensive posture with hand still hovering near the grip of his plasma pistol.

"What is stopping me from calling my forces aboard, seizing you, and ending your abominable existence?"

Augustus sighed. "Really your dogmatic repetition isn't helping at all. How about we have a real discussion before you start throwing words out like that."

Servaus watched Augustus turn and walk away towards the captain's chair where he seemed to tap the rest with his hand. Servaus walked on and stood near the chair, but he refused to sit. A question formed in his mind as he regarded the AI and looked over its appearance.

"Why do you look like that?"

"Excuse me?" Augustus asked, head cocked.

"Why do you... dress like that?"

Augustus gave a bit of a smile and chuckled, shifting his weight back and forth before making eye contact again. "Where we come from, an artificial intelligence creates an avatar. This is how we present ourselves to the world. We choose how we want to appear based on our personalities. I appear like this," he gestured over the armor, "to appear as a centurion in the army of the Roman Empire. Imperium Romanum."

Now it was Servaus' turn to raise an eyebrow. "Imperium?" he said verbally, mirroring the way that Augustus spoke.

"Yes." Augustus nodded. "It is an ancient Terran language known as Latin. The base of it is used in High Gothic, but it's become... corrupted over the last forty thousand years. I don't know who developed your syntax. The Romans created many of the names for regions and continents that are used even in modern day English, the language that I speak naturally."

Servaus could not help but be intrigued, both by this little window into history, and in the way that this AI spoke. It was a horrible creation to be sure, but the way it spoke was so different.

"You act as if you were a man."

"Am I not?" Augustus asked.

"No, you are a machine."

"Ah, but what measure is a man?" Augustus asked, now pacing. The helmet vanished into the ether and he pulled his sword from its sheath. It produced a sound of sliding metal as it hovered in space, glinting off light produced by the bridge's lamps. "How does one determine what a man is?"

"You are a mockery of man."

"So are your servitors."

"That is not an apt comparison." Servaus said raising a finger. "They embrace the Human form."

"Yet they are not treated as holy by your mechanicum; they are tools." Augustus shot back, gauging the blade and wiping it with his hand.

"No." Servaus quickly countered. "They are indeed pure and embrace the holiness of the Human form. It is considered the greatest honor to serve the Imperium no matter the condition."

"Are the servitors even aware of the purposes they serve?"

"That is irrelevant."

"Oh, I do not think so." Augustus said, turning to look out the window into the billowing depths of the warp. "A philosopher from my world once stated that pleasure begets motivation, and that motivation is the keystone of purpose. What pleasure can a servitor feel after you have lobotomized it?"

"Nothing except for its duty." Servaus admitted.

"Do you agree that knowledge of your actions is important?"

"I do not. I believe that even unaware of their own actions, the citizen's service to the Emperor is its own reward."

"But servitors are not people as you have said."

"What?"

Augustus gave a sly little smile. "I've been keeping an eye on my crew. Lieutenant Prower lately as he was moved through your ship."

"Ah, I see constructs like you are just as loosely bound by ethics as those found here." Servaus said, crossing his arms. "Another strike against you."

"Ethics? You mean spying on you? I acted in the same way a Human being would. I saw a chance and I took it to maintain watch on those I was assigned to protect. I saw gaps in your security and exploited them. Is it true you load your cannons entirely through manual labor? No, my dear Magos, I have my own code of ethics. Indeed, I have special ethics in certain situations. Under partial power, I must abide by a certain set of rules. Are you aware of the Three Laws of Robotics?"

"I am not." Servaus said neutrally.

"Ah, why would you be?" Augustus shook his head. "So much subversion; so many secrets. The First Law of Robotics: A robot may not harm a Human being through action or inaction. Even if I wanted to, I could bring you no harm."

"And at full power?" Servaus asked.

"I have that choice."

"Well that proves it then; you are a danger."

"That is no proof at all, Magos." the centurion fired back. "Have you not the option to use one of those fantastic mechadendrites to stab an unwitting Adept who did not recite his last litany correctly to make the cogwheels turn? Perhaps you have crushed an appendage of a foe... or friend with those clamps? Do you not have this power but not act upon it when it is in appropriate?"

"The difference is I am not a robot."

"Are you? At what point does the Mechanicus no longer consider a man a man? You replace your limbs, your organs, your very emotions with cold calculations. Many of your fellow adepts and Magi take efforts to become more like the Machine God and less like that of a man. How much flesh has your Fabricator-General stripped? 80 percent? Ninety? But not you though. Perhaps the flesh is not so weak after all..."

"Do you have a point in all of this? You are not making a good case for yourself. You recite laws as if they mean anything."

"Laws mean everything and those that follow them mean everything. Just because I can ignore these laws, I do not want to, because laws and rules are the guidelines for society. True?"

"Quite true." Servaus nodded.

"And you would argue that the Lex Imperialis is the cornerstone of Imperial society. Bloated as it is, it is a code of law that keeps society in line. Those that can ignore it do, but good citizens follow it. Is this true?"

"I agree..." he said, drawing out the last word.

"The fact that an Imperial citizen follows his laws, and I follow mine both make us good citizens. Citizens contribute to the greater whole of their society, and are thus respected by the state. Do you agree?"

"I agree. To an extent."

"And what is that?"

"Citizens appear in body; you do not. You do not embrace the Human form."

Augustus waved at his form expectantly, tassels waving on his uniform.

"You appear in Human form, just as those of the daemonium sometimes are said to appear in the guise of a man, but this is clever holography. Where be your proof that you are indeed a man as your argument seeks to claim? How do you embrace the Human form?"

Just then, Augustus smiled widely, white teeth appearing through the gap in his lips. They had gone full circle, but with a purpose. "Now it is time to answer that question after this whole debacle." Augustus flared like a star, then suddenly the captive photons in his frame blew apart, hovering in space.

Servaus instinctively backed up, his eyes racing from one point to another, not quite sure if he should activate his microbead and call for the Cadians to rush in, break the door down or...

The particles began to rearrange themselves, knitting together in complex patterns that at first Gergorias found strangely familiar. The knitting increased until a gigantic mass of lines, curves, and a few other geometric shapes formed in the air, stretching nearly across his field of view. Pulses of light went off all around the floating collage.

"Do you know what this is?" came the voice of Augustus through the bridge speakers, manipulated in such a way to make it seem that he was still right in front of him.

"I've... seen this before. What is this?"

"This is me. A representation of me. I am actually located on a small chip, but this is my being right here. Where I come from it is not possible to create a AI such as myself from scratch. Mankind still does not understand the Human mind enough to do so."

"Why?"

"I do not know." Augustus admitted. "The mind is a complex thing. This means that there are certain steps taken to create a new AI that would seem somewhat morbid to the average person: I was born a man."

"A man?" Servaus asked. "A Human being?"

"Yes. Of that much I am certain."

Servaus took in this new information. This changed things. "Do you know who?"

"A historian most likely. I retain some of his memories and indeed personality. Upon his death, His brain was... copied I suppose would be the best way of saying it."

The logic wheels began to turn in Servaus' head. The entire conversation had been a game as well. One he may have lost. "That means..."

"... I am no different than a cogitator, which if I am correct has a Human brain as a central processing unit. Actually, since I was born a man and was brought a cybernetic existence I would go so far as to say that by your own logic, my dear Magos, I do indeed embrace the holy Human form. I am a servitor."

Checkmate. Servaus thought.

"Now, don't make it seem like I take pleasure in this. Allow me to placate you: we need your help. You are very important to us. Without the aid the Mechanicum can provide us... you can save many more Human lives. Untold numbers in many worlds like mine. Would you like to know the potential population across the folds of Existence that we have found?"

The hiss of binary filled the bridge. The number was unimaginable, and this was based on only what they had found? There were more?

"I urge you to tolerate my existence my dear Magos, for I too care for them. I love them you know; Humanity. It was where I was born."

Silence.

"So does the Emperor." the Explorator whispered. For some reason, when this thing, Augustus said it, he believed him. Servaus was not pleased with this. He was thinking with emotions and not logic. This was the reason why he was out here in the first place, but when he thought on it...

"You will abide by rules." he said.

"Of course." Augustus nodded.

"If you are out of line, you will be destroyed."

"I understand."

"You will not spy on us again."

"I promise."

Another silence as the Magos made more considerations. "I will need to inform the Rogue Trader of this. He will not be pleased."

"Do what you need to do." the AI said extending its hand.

"What is this?" Servaus said, looking at it with confusion.

"Where I come from," Augustus began, "many cultures consider it a sign of a binding deal."

"I know what a handshake is."

"What is the problem then? I am agreeing to your terms."

Servaus looked at the hand, and then made contact with the AI's eyes, and then looked back at the hand. With some deliberation, he extended his own right hand and placed it within the construct's, but then was surprised when he felt resistance, as if a hand was grasping his.

"Good." Augustus nodded. "We have a deal! Feel free to report back to your Rogue Trader. I will follow your terms to the letter." he raised a palm. "Ave Imperator." he said, and then vanished into thin air.

Gregorias Servaus now stood alone on the bridge, the conversation echoing in his mind. He felt strange. When Augustus' hand touched his, his subdermal implants felt fuzzy, as if static was crawling over his skin. He realized after a second that this was the second time he had thought of this thing by name. One did not make deals with machines. One makes deals with people. He started to wonder, and after a moment, took a seat to think.