After another year at Antax waiting for more upgrades and a squad of Knights warmachines getting prepared for my future Knight House, Captain Veryon arrived as well with the rest of his fleet, only this ti he had acquired a new Forge World is whispered to have built an Ark chanicus long ago, deep underground. And it should also have a working STC on board. However, I fear that waking up the old Machine Spirit will destroy the minds and everyone else on that planet." I spoke with doubt in my voice. I couldn't be certain if this was still true, or just wishful writing in another universe.
To my surprise, the Fabricator General stepped close and hugged with a dozen tentacles. "Who cares about Palomar! I will go personally to recover the Holy Ark. Well, once the Lant is fit for travel."
I patted his eager limbs and shook my head. "Arrange for Palomar to relocate, at least partially. Better have them support the Eye of Terror blockade, and supply humanity with war machines. The Black Crusades will keep coming."
The tal Magos deposited on my chair and patted my head like I was a baby. Well in size and age I likely was one, compared to him, not to ntion ntal ability. "Always trying to save people, even if it would only delay the return of Omnissiah. Let's hope your descendants will share your empathy, Lord Pef. This cursed galaxy needs more n like you..."
I nodded a bit shyly. "If you say so, Fabricator. Let's see about arming my existing troops with sufficient weaponry to pacify the Fringe."
The Magos cald down and we returned to business. "The heavy tanks and the gunships will take decades to begin mass-production. Perhaps even more for the new Retribution-pattern space fighters. But these Weasels will not be difficult at all. My Forge will provide 70 thousands Laser Cannon variants and 30 thousand logistics support, as well as production facilities for ammunition and fuel. "
Well, that was one worry wiped away. chanized PDF would be very useful.
"Orbital defenses and the upgraded Conveyor?" I asked in a hopeful tone.
"So extra orbital-class weaponry, and a space mine factory for your minefields. I have already begun testing these mines for our own defense, but your Nova shell mines are not feasible. Perhaps against beasts like the Tyranids or the Hrud." he explained patiently, and deftly ignoring the other item.
I sighed in defeat. In truth, Nova mines could be captured and turned against us by a savvy technological enemy.
"And genetic treatnts, life extension for my crew and veterans?" I wondered in a more subdued voice.
The Magos turned his screen on and showed his projections. The cost scaled imnsely for every new crew category, as these treatnts needed rare organic components and thousands of work-hours from his Biologis Magi. Damn it.
"Ship captains and regint colonels, for now. With light power armor and shields for the other field officers." I mused softly, seeing the cost drop abruptly on the screen.
"Nobody can support such expensive upgrades, unless it's the Ecclesiarchy that is donated trillions of thrones and arms the Adepta Sororitas. And even so, not all of them have good gear or shields." the Fabricator replied in a wise voice, and sighed.
Again, logistics for such upgrades were the main problem.
"Ion shields for every spaceship or heavy vehicle? I have read sowhere that Necron weapons are ineffective against those types of shields." I said in a wondering voice.
My interlocutor froze a second, then stared at intensely. "It's a worthy conjecture, Lord Pef. I'll have the astropaths send this data to Mars right away. Necron worlds are terrible enemies for mankind, and their predations are nearly unstoppable due the advanced xeno technology."
I smiled and drank so wine." Well, don't hope for a perfect counter to the Necrons, esteed Magos. I'm quite certain these have many more weapons with different technologies, just like the chanicus doesn't have only macrocannons."
The Fabricator snorted in derision. Macrocannons were plebeian weapons, used by the Navy or Orks.
"Indeed we do, like I already showed you on the upgraded Lant, Lord Pef. But if we manage to recover that Ark chanicus relic...there should be a trove of better holy machines, from the Golden Age maybe." he announced in a fanatical voice and imdiately splashed with sanctified ointnt.
Damn lack of common sense again.
"Upgrades to my Canticle?" I asked with little hope.
"Minor upgrades now, and 20 thousand plasma torpedoes delivered to your base at Retribution, in a decade or so. Gyron decided to covert that world into a new Forge World beholden to us, to supply your holdings forever. So everything else will be done on site" he told with a wry tone.
A bit sneaky, and perhaps trying to find real STC templates on Retribution. Then again, I wasn't attached at all to that world, with painful mories from losing my father and many of my clan.
He could have it, and good riddance.
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