+This chapter took so long because even if it isn't the longest, this will be the most significant chapter until further developments in regards to the things going on behind the scenes. Action returns next chapter. Starting from here the next chapter will be released alongside a near complete rewrite of chapter 1.

Another point is my writing and narrative style. I tend to use more body language, introspection, description and exposition than most authors. This is also a product of the characters. Though I'd like to know how you all find it so far.+

+ 001 M.42 +

+ Ark Mechanicus: Faber Ferracius +

+ Legio: Gradus Volund-Titan Foundry +

"I hate it." Her words was as blunt as an Ogryn's headbutt when she made what she thought of her Darling's new wargear known.

Casten blinked at the no nonsense statement, her emotives giving him a good idea why she disapproved.

He unsealed the airtight respirator apparatus built into the Barbute visor. His vision dimming with the loss of power feeding into the red eye lenses of his helmet before his facial features returned in full view to the horned girl. A metal brace still framed his jaw to the back of his head, attached to hydraulic pistons that prevented his neck from snapping hissed following with his neck's movements. His navy blue eyes stared into her teal.

He sighed, flicking a switch to attach the helmet his mag-lock belt. "Happy?"

"There's my darling..." Zero-Two's expression softened considerably as she started running her fingers through his short black hair. "You look much more handsome without it."

He sighed, relishing in the simple act of affection of her head rubbing. "You're one to talk. Your piloting suits makes me question what is considered common sense on your planet."

Zero-Two shrugged, emphasizing her response with her arms following the movement of her shoulders. "What can I say Darling? The old man's a pervert."

The answer threw him for a loop before the pieces clicked in on the 'old man'. "You mean he designed even the pilot suit?"

"Yup!" Such a simple answer. That irked him.

"...Now that's troubling," was the only response he could manage.

What sort of mind it took to design something that looked more appropriate in a pleasure district than attire to secure a warrior's safety. It was always something that eluded him earlier. Now that he was in a more familiar environment; he didn't have to be cautious with his words as the Imperial liaison to Plantation #13.

The red clad girl took a step back before leaning over the railing of their current place of respite. A gantry that hung over a Titan repair cage. Its current occupant, however, was a corpse. What was once a veteran Warlord Titan named, Ignis Lux. A funeral procession of servo skulls and black robed Tech-Priests swarmed around its feet hundreds of meters below the pair, chanting their mournful hymns to the dead avatar of the Omnissiah.

The ancient Mars-Alpha pattern Warlord had met its end not in glorious combat. But from treason within. Its tragic demise came at the gnarled hands of daemons of Nurgle that wormed into existence inside the barrel of its volcano cannon; clogging it.

They would have rotted everything from the inside if the Princep didn't shoot his traitor Moderati before terminating the God-machine along with himself by flooding every inch of its interior via purging its interior in burning plasma heart. The rest of crew suffered a quick, agonizing death and the inner workings were entirely molten; but that act cleansed the taint all the same. Now it was a molten wreck where a master crafted construct of the Omnissiah's wrath; reduced to a glorified statue. The Tech priests been scouring for anything that might still be saved from the dead Warlord, wearing black robes and mourning a beloved God-Engine of Volund that had been lost.

Thus far the salvage was a fruitless endeavor.

Casten joined his companion on the railing looking in the direction of the Titan. Their bond, however, made it easy to know where Zero-Two's eyes were really truly looking at. There was never a dull moment this link that they shared. Foreign for sure, but not unwelcome. He could see her eyes were lit in joy, watching the canvas of people that littered everywhere around and beneath them. Her emotions always resonated strongly, they only gotten stronger the longer they were together. Even more so the moment Zero-Two laid her eyes on the people in the fortress planet side.

"Nee... darling." She smiled coyly, shuffling over to bump shoulders with him. "Why do you need that thing anyway? We don't wear helmets and we've been doing fine so far without them."

He released an exasperated sigh but indulged her anyway. "Apologies, Zero-Two." Patting the helmet at his side for good measure. "Your ways may forego it, but safety of oneself is a virtue. A concussion is not something I wish to have a repeat experience with."

"Boo!" She booed, pouting.

She kicked his armoured greave for good measure to express her disapproval. It was a playful tap, causing no real pain.

Casten smiled, chuckling at his unpredictable partner. He leaned over and wrapped an armoured arm around her, gently holding her waist. He felt a swell of happiness emanating from her. He felt the smack her soft lips on his cheek before she returned his gesture by leaning into him and resting her head upon his shoulder.

Both ignored the groan of disgust by a passing Tech-Priest that voiced their opinion of 'filthy biological mating rituals' in a vox-corrupted string of High Gothic.

They were preoccupied with the bond, with the world around them melted away like so much ice dropped into the heart of a volcano. They started to wonder where Casten the Freeblade began and Zero-Two the pilot of Strelitzia ended. So deep in their emotional trance that they could even feel a lingering thread to Mitsuru. The pair silently agreeing that while Mitsuru did not share the same bond they had, the bleeding effect remained with him in some small capacity. Like such a bleeding wound, it was weakening as the day he had intruded on the pair's communion was fading into the past… but for now, it was there.

"I dreamed of this." Her eyes fluttering open. Unaware of when exactly she had closed her eyes to indulge in the sounds of the ship before allowing herself to see its colourful populace while smothering herself in the physical and emotional warmth of her Darling. "Seeing darling's world."

The Freeblade nodded. "Emperor willing. It will be yours too."

Then he felt it. That throb deep within his chest… it came from her. A swirl of emotions both bitter and sweet. Hope, pride, pain, and sorrow. There was something she wasn't telling him. Something of her past. A topic he had faith that she will share when the time was right. He has laid his bare, one way or another it was only a matter of time before she shared hers with him. At least he hoped his honestly would let her open up her past to him him.

"I love you," he said, laying his feelings and will bare to her. As simple as it will ever be.

He was met with silence, he did not need to hear her response. Her emotions spoke for her.

Tears flowed like the crystal streams that once flowed from Avalus' peaks and the tight scrunching of her brow is all the affirmation he needed.

"The Emperor protects…" She sniffed, her facial features seemingly emotionless but her tone betrayed her raw raging emotions. "Isn't that right Darling?"

"Yes," he shuffled closer, the almost smothering her within his chest as his strong arms held her close.

Her tears cascaded down his breastplate and disappeared, absorbed into the Freeblade's inky black tabard like liquid stars disappearing into the void. Some of the crystal liquid trailing down his armour and splashing harmlessly onto the head of the dead Titan below.

"Yes he does. He protects you too."

They didn't know how long they stood there in each other's arms. Tears falling down to the procession that mourned the dead gods of Legio Gradus Volund.

+ Librarium Deck: L-34 +

Mitsuru judged silently at the labyrinth before him, unsure where to begin in the vast librarius of the Faber Ferracius. Misteltein's collection looked laughably tiny to the hallowed repository of Imperial knowledge. A grand hall lined with shelves so tall that he had to crane his neck up to see their uppermost levels.

If this place were empty Mitsuru had a feeling that such a place would have been like a crypt, or a tomb. He was not alone thankfully, adepts and other knowledge seekers perused the countless tomes with their own hands or servo skulls seeking the answers to their quandaries within the ancient texts. The presence of other hooded figures and their whispers of discussion, litanies and prayers alleviated the sense of claustrophobia and emptiness.

Mitsuru walked over to the shelf closest to him, his height absolutely dwarfed by the rows upon rows of scriptures that could easily crush him under their weight. Thus explaining why they were bolted to the ceiling and floor.

He gently placed a hand upon one of the spines, and noveled at the sensation. The coarse, leathery surface of its cover reminding of the ones back home. The books weren't like the manufactured ones he was familiar with, however. These had a quality of character to them that was lacking. These felt hand crafted, aged and meticulously cared for. A sense of manic preservation and devotion he guessed.

One step, then two, and three. Mitsuru followed along the shelf, letting his eyes glide across every book. Sailing the seas of leather everywhere his hand touched. It was a weird feeling for him. He felt like if stayed here long enough he would never want to leave.

"I see by your reverence to our sacred tomes that you too hold an appreciation for knowledge." The synthesized garbling that translated into coherent words startled him before he was face to face with another Tech-Priest.

A tall, bald headed, scalp covered in what appeared to be softly glowing yellow tattoos and a vox grill replacing his mouth. The markings across the visible skin bore the designs not dissimilar to a circuit board and glowed a soft yellow under his skin; evidently he was another one of the Imperium's' augmented technoclasts.

"Ah, yes. I guess?" Mitsuru stumbled in his reply. Earning a questioning raised brow from the Tech Priest.

"Why the hesitation young one? Are you or you not a seeker of knowledge?" He pressed. "There can be no half-measures or doubts in the quest for knowledge. Only certainty. So says the Omnissiah's teachings."

His thoughts scrambled at how to process an answer. Even if he was a guest, he was still an outsider. If experience talking to Casten has taught him anything; it was that Imperials tend to prefer the most straightforward answer.

"I like to read, but I have other responsibilities. For me, reading and gaining knowledge is really just for the sake of my curiosity."

The Tech-Priest emitted an electronic rumble from his implanted vox-grill; making his displeasure known about the young boy before him.

"How unsatisfying…" He grumbled, static tinged voice crackling. "Very well, I suppose I cannot expect much from someone not enlightened by the Omnissiah. You fight admirably all the same, pilot Mitsuru, so I wish goodwill and his blessings all the same."

Mitsuru twitched. He couldn't tell whether he was trying to compliment him or was simply insulting him. It felt like the latter though.

"By the way... you," he called to the machine-man."You called me pilot... and you know my name. Have we met?" Mitsuru asked.

"No," he answered frankly, pulling his metallic limbs out from his robes to greet him with the Cog Mechanicus. "I am Datasmith D-Three-Three of the Legio Cybernetica. Among the number of the cohorts of His blessed Thanatar automata who led the artillery bombardment on the Gutenberg in the coordinated defense of Plantation #13 and Plantation #26."

"Ah!" Mitsuru's mind in realization flashed back to the fight with their first Guttenberg encounter, where he recalled the event of shooting stars dropping down on the behemoth. "Thank you then, your help was much appreciated."

The Datasmith slightly bowed. "Think nothing of it, I serve the Omnissiah. It is He who you should give thanks. I am but a humble instrument of His will."

"Right…" Mitsuru hiding his apprehensive thoughts at such zealotry.

The Datasmith shifted his sights to the still shelved tome that the Parasite had his flesh fingers on. Giving voice to the curiosity that lead to him walking over from his aisle to introducing himself to the FranXX pilot.

"I see you have an interest in 'The Cain Chronicles' written by Amberley Vail of the Omnissiah's holy Inquisition. A new addition but already proving a favorite read among the guardsman the Imperium over." D-Three-Three gave an appreciative burst of static. "A fine servant of the Omnissiah."

Mitsuru blinked in confusion before realizing he was still holding onto a random book before pulling it out of its shelf. It was leather bound and he could make out the words 'Annaless Cain' on cover. He turned open the book only to find out in his dismay that like Casten's predicament in learning the local language. He did not, in fact, understand a single word that was written here.

Glowing eyes scanned the Stamen's features. "What ails you so? Does the tale displease you?"

Mitsuru shook his head. "No, it isn't that." He cleared up the confusion "Just didn't have the time to learn your language. I don't understand any of the books."

The Datasmith nodded at the sound reasoning.

D-Three Three nodded. "I see… A logical conundrum as this world has still not acclimated to our ways,"

The Datasmith motioned to something above Mitsuru's head. A servo-skull floated silently to his beckoning, he then took out a data wafer packet and slid it into a free slot. A few beeps, and it floated next to the FranXX pilot. While the Imperium's macabre constructs were still unnerving, Mitsuru was starting to get used to the haunting presence of such devices.

"I have uploaded commands into the servo-skull to act as your aid; it will follow your commands and assist in your endeavors of the language barrier until you command its retirement." The Datasmith walked past the pilot but not before briefly folding his fingers into the Cog Mechanicus with a nod of his head.

Mitsuru thanked the Datasmith kind before he disappeared into a corner and out of his line of sight. He looked back at the servo-skull who looked right back at him with unblinking red lenses; awaiting the current handler's commands.

He pinched his chin, pondering what to say to it. "The history of the Imperium. The very start of it."

The servo skull beeped a positive and hovered to a distant shelf. guided by a mix of ancient memory and uplinks to the librarius' inventory manifest. The Stamen followed it down to the depths housing some of the most ancient volumes of text openly available on the Faber Ferracius.

+ Agri-block +

+Deck #F-7 +

The 'Agri-block' as the Imperials called it. One of several on the Faber Ferracius, or so the automated vox announcer had informed them upon their arrival.

Futoshi in particular had wanted to see how they fed so many people from a single ship.

"This place is amazing… Check out all these plants!" Futoshi gasped.

His partner nodded in agreement as she looked out at the near endless farm. "Way bigger than our greenhouse in Misteltein!"

Kokoro and Futoshi walked in a catwalk suspended above one of the farming deck. Walked by many labouring Imperial farmers assisted by servitors whose limbs were with anything from heavy lifter servo arms to scissor blades. Heat and light from sun lamps filled every nook and cranny and mineral rich solutions ensured the plants grew as fast and produced as much as possible.

Lines of cylindrical armour glass growth vats filled strange vine-like plants with large white beans growing from them. Hololithic labels on each identified them as Soylens Veritas, commonly known as… corpse starch. For the first time, there was a foodstuff that Futoshi wasn't too eager to sample.

There were other forms of crops on this block. Row upon row, rack upon rack of hydroponics with names and purposes that the pair could only guess. From unremarkable Recaf leaves, uneven purple Ploin fruits to moving growth plates of golden stalked wheat-like crop that were being harvested by scythe armed servitors.

Muffled grunts and animalistic growls turned their attention elsewhere.

"What's that?" Kokoro pointed towards cages in the distance; the source of the sound.

The smell was the first thing they noticed as they approached. A disgustingly natural foul stench unlike that of the artificial, recycled air around them. It came from the occupants of the cages. They were ugly spiked, horned, hunchbacked creatures. Covered in mottled green scales, the reptilians looked a little like dragons that they had read about in books.

"So these are Grox…" Futoshi mused, remembering Casten's words on the universal domestic animal used by the Imperium.

The reptiles are kept inside reinforced ferrocrete cells additionally restricting their movements in sturdy chains. Perhaps the parasites might have felt bad for the creatures. If, that is, Grox weren't monstrously aggressive creatures that would charge and maul anything and anyone in their way.

Kokoro jumped back as one of the creatures shoved against its restraints in her direction. A snap of chain resounded through the air, the Grox below had broken one of its clawed limbs free, now swinging against its metal barred confines. Newfound free limb prompting the Grox to thrash against its bonds in an attempt to break free.

Clad in thickly padded grey void suits, crewmen and workers came shoving between the two in their rush to contain the potential breach before the Grox broke fully free.

"Kokoro!" Futoshi cried out for his partner.

The pair were being separated by the commotion as men and women crowded the narrow gantry and the deck below, shouting orders and warnings to their fellows wrangling the beast. In their urgency; they formed a tide of humanity and activity that forced the parasites apart. Kokoro found herself shoved back against the open maglev lift, falling on her backside whilst Futoshi was lost in the crowd.

"Futoshi!" She called out for him.

She could still see her partner's arm waving in the air as he tried to get her attention beyond the wall of people. Ignoring the sting in her bottom from the fall, Kokoro reached up and grabbed on to the closest surface to help her get up. That surface so happened to be the control slate beside the door. A beep chimed from beside her when her hand touched it.

"Eh?" For a moment, a shocked looked of realization upon in her dull blue eyes.

Her fingers pressed upon a glowing green activation rune. The Pistil couldn't read the High Gothic displayed on the pict screen. Though she knew when the Adamantine doors hissed shut followed by the shifting movement of the maglev's capsule that she had touched something she shouldn't have.

A burst of static filled the air from the skull-topped vox speaker, not that she could understand it. "Locus clausa."

She couldn't tell if the capsule was going up or down but wherever the thing took her. It was clear that she was to go along for the ride regardless of how she felt.

+ Later +

+ Medicae Deck #H-37 +

She sat down in silence, her initial worry passing not too long ago and just settled on taking wherever it was taking her. Until another vox corrupted announcement from the skull intercom drew her attention; but the voice was still clear.

"Venit," it hissed. "Medicae Ornare #H-37."

She sighed. "Thank goodness…"

The doors hissed open to a hall of stark white walls. Cool air that rushed around her as did the bitter, minty tang of disinfectant. It reminded her of somewhat of The Garden. Yet that was all the similarities that they bare. The ever present gothic architecture broke up the red ferrocrete walls and unpainted metal decking with stone sculptures of hooded angels all holding pict monitors lined the corridors. They displayed what she guessed was a medical diagram upon each room, along with a list of names and list of afflictions she couldn't read.

Shoes tapped against the deck plating as she passed the closed pneumatic doors. Looking left to right and looking upon the names for a clue as to where exactly she was. She would try to grab some passerby's who looked the part of staff. Though her confidence and social interaction was woefully lacking outside of Plantation #13. She would not readily admit it, but she was essentially stranded; lost and alone.

The musings of her problem was thankfully brief.

An unfamiliar noise filled the air piercing, squealing and grating like the a blade scraping on a sharpening wheel. It was nostalgic yet unfamiliar. Growing up in the Garden; there were occasional children who wailed and cried. Yet the sound she was hearing now felt much higher and weaker than the loud ones in her memory.

High pitched and shrill; the noise echoed down the hall. Kokoro took a hesitant step back, features pulled into a worried grimace. Yet, a pinprick of curiosity tugged at her brain.

"What is that?" She whispered to herself.

She swallowed, taking a few steps towards the source of the wailing with a closed fist against her chest to steady herself. She didn't know what sort of malediction the crying had that egged her ever closer. But... it called to her; waking something instinctual deep within her that had been dormant up till now.

The gentle girl's destination turned out to be an open ward. Lying on the bed in the furthest corner, a woman in white robes, is looking down at a bundle of cloth cradled in her arms.

A man sat at her bedside. Clad in the green armour and Khaki fatigues of the Imperial Guard, sans the helmet. His face wet and eyes red with recently shed tears. She did not understand why he was crying. Did something sad happen?

Overlooking the pair stands a less than gentle looking disposition wearing a thick set of armour that dimorphosed her gender from the curves that she accentuated. Vestments of snow white and blood red hung between thick slabs of white armour decorated in silver flower-like symbols whilst a habit of blood red left all but her stern but attractive face exposed. Purity seals, golden chains of worship and, of course, the ever present Aquila hung from her plate. All of which sparkled in the white lumen strips along the walls.

The crying began to ebb and fall silent as nearby patients smiled in both joy and sadness. The former elated to see new life, the latter despondent of the grim times the youth must endure in this cruel galaxy.

Kokoro took a cautious step. One tap of her shoe against sterile, polished stone casting reverberating echo throughout the ward.

A click of a weapon followed and she froze in place.

The woman in silver was looking directly at her with grey eye full of fury. The massive red cased box of a Godwyn-De'az pattern Boltgun raised towards the parasite. A thin red laser sight flashed from a node above the muzzle and landed square on her chest. Like a thread that would be cut her life with the squeeze of the scissor's handles.

Kokoro was never one to be easily frightened, even when pitted against the Klaxosaurs she was surrounded by her friends knowing that if they had each other they could get through. Here; she was alone and her life was on the line by the smoldering judgement of her executioner. She was never afraid of doctors, not even back in the Garden. She always saw them as gentle people. The clenched armored fist on the bolt pistol is not a gentle person.

"Who dares steps into this sanctum of healing for the Emperor's faithful?" she growled, eyeing the unfamiliar attire.

She was protective of the faithful, as any sister of her Convent would be. Her patients even more so, the oaths of healing she had taken as part of the Sisters Hospitaller demanded as much.

Kokoro's heart rate spiked. If it wasn't enough that she was being looked down the barrel of a massive gun. The looks from the other patients said that they too were silently judging her.

"I'm sorry. My name is Kokoro…" She swallowed nervously. "I got separated from my friends. I came from the surface."

For the patients; this satisfied them, and they went back to their means of numbing the boredom of their recuperation. The Hospitaller grip softened and the boltgun lowered, yet kept in her armoured grip.

"So, you're one of the visiting local PDF we were told of…. I am Sister Hospitaller Avara." She introduced herself, eyeing the newcomer.

Her grey gaze still as hard and cold as a glacier, Avara spoke once more. "You have yet to answer me. Speak swiftly child. I have many of His ailing faithful that need tending."

Kokoro's eyes were flickering back and forth between looking fearfully at the weapon to the tiny, fragile thing being held protectively in the woman's arms.

This was not missed by the Sister's judging gaze. "Have you never seen a baby in your life?"

Kokoro shook her head "...No?"

The sister kept her features still. She made note to report this intelligence to those who might be interested. Namely the queen herself.

At her age, the girl's lector or educator should have already taught her the nuances of that most Holy of relations between man and woman. A considerable oversight on the part of A.P.E? A callous disregard for those which they expect to die in battle against the Klaxosaur Xenos? Or something more… Heretical?

"Is that what the little thing was called?" Kokoro's question snapped the Hospitaller of her musings.

The newborn's parents shared each other a glance. Her father gave his wife a long stare but relented with a nod. Cadians were a naturally suspicious people; with good reason. Yet, his wife was an Avalon, and deigned to trust the girl.

For what it was worth, his gut told her it was safe. Honed instincts gained from years in the Imperial Guard told them that she girl was no threat. She was just a curious child. Perhaps their daughter would grow to this one day.

"Say, love." The mother's cheerful, high-pitched voice cut the tense air between the two." Would you like to hold her?" The woman offered to the nerve wracked Kokoro.

+Skitarii Sector +

+ Deck #B-34 +

Since before the Great Crusade, before even the treaty of Mars and Terra. All Ark Mechanicus are priceless exploratory vessels of the Omnissiah, searching the stars for lost technology in distant human colonies before the Old Night. Each sacred vessel serving as mobile forge worlds so too is the need for its own defenders.

Nana, along with the last two parasite pairs that remained with her wandered past the self contained armouries, combat simulacrum decks and barracks that currently housed and trained the ranks of newly raised troops of the Imperial Guard. Where once only charging stations and fluid replenishment ports of Mechanicus warriors now neighboured hastily raised bunks for the human requirements of their unaugmented brethren .

They stood on the elevated walkways, looking down within armour glass simulacrum chambers. Officers and red-capped Imperial Commissars watched the units under them. Making records and comments to address their troops with later.

Nana had been quiet after her ordeal and the meeting with the High Queen. The headaches had reduced to a dull throb, however, there were still questions. What had caused it? Who were those people? Those flashes of places she didn't recognize?

Her thoughts were cut short by the sound of sporadic fire from Lasguns and her charges' comments on the sights before them.

"Hey! Those look cool! I wonder where those places are!" Zorome exclaimed.

They all saw what he was pointing to.

Simulacrum chambers in which climatoria systems worked with hololithic projectors to simulate the combat scenarios and environments of worlds.

Almost perfectly; a chamber on their left radiates the humid heat of Catachan. Energy weapons had been set to low-yield, stubber powder loads switched with low grain and bayonets sheathed. The newly raised Guardsmen fired into the leaves, unpracticed eyes trying to pick out their targets in the dense brush whilst their drill sergeants barked orders and instructions.

In some of the simulacrum chambers Skitarii trained alongside the new Guardsmen. Often playing the part of the superior foe or the supposition of some Xenos. Their mechanical, inhuman abilities made them brilliant actors in that role.

As the group walked along, they passing another chamber running a simulation of a war torn Imperial cityscape with a squad advancing among shifting ruins and moving barricades towards their objectives. Yet others had no complex simulacrum at all; just long hallways made into firing ranges that instructors shouting a recruits. The trainees fumbled with the arms they were being trained with; the Lasguns, shotguns and stub weapons almost comically large in their young arms.

"Look over there." Goro said, pointing at them. "They look about our age."

The children seemed to take interest at the prospect of other kids, turning to lean against the railing and watch the recruits. They were indeed young. Some younger than even themselves. It appeared Casten wasn't the only young warrior of the Imperium. Even though the ages had separated their two branches of humanity, war was forcing all of them to field young soldiers.

The parasites weren't sure if they felt relieved or dismayed at that commonality.

"Some things stay the same… From the stars or not." Ikuno idly mumbled. A sentiment they all nodded to.

"I guess..." Goro tried to force a smile and turn the mood around. "At least we've got lots of comrades now. Right, Zorome?"

His question was met with silence.

Miku's face twisted into an annoyed grimace. "Hey, he's talking to you-!"

The brunette girl's words died on her lips when she faced the empty walkway her partner once occupied. Immediately, temper flaring, she stormed off to chase down her mischievous Stamen. Heedless that she hadn't the faintest clue of where she was going.

"That idiot! I'm bringing him back!" Miku called over her shoulder.

Ichigo reached a hand out to stop her. "Hey! Wait!" It was too late, her squad mate had taken off at a run into the depths of the ship.

Goro shrugged. There was no point trying to pursue the pair. Of all the children he had come to know from Garden to Plantation #13, those two were always the fastest. He heard Nana release and exasperated sigh.

"Let them go, Shipmaster Zetros said he'd know where we all are. You both might as well go explore too." She groaned the sentence, feeling the headache building in her head even as she massaged her temples.

The caretaker walked away, nursing her throbbing head and trying to find some distraction to assuage her pain. For now; she settled for just getting out of the troop section of the Faber Ferracius. The muzzle flashes of various weapons discharges was only aggravating her ailment. Nana groaned as she stalked away to parts unknown, her charges watching as she left.

Once their carer was out of sight Goro looked down at his partner with a smile. "Let's go look around?"

Ichigo sighed, letting go of the frustration of having her whole squad wander off on her. Still, she couldn't fault them for being excited. There is a lot they've never seen before.

"Sure…" She mumbled.

+ Meanwhile +
+ 3rd Avalon Regiment 1st platoon Barracks +

"Zorome!" Miku cupped her hands around her mouth. Calling for her wayward partner. "I'm swear I'm gonna hit you if you don't come out!"

Why did she even bother? She wondered this even as she wandered between the rows of numbered barracks. Most of their bunks vacant as the troops trained. Though some recruits still remained, spending their allotted free time. Most ignored her. Others gave her curious glances but none bothered her.

A flash of blue captured her eye in one of the barracks amidst the monotone drab of grey, green and rust red of most of Faber Ferracius.

Miku stopped in the tracks, staring at a strange doll sitting upon one of the bunks. It was a plush of some sort of blue armoured warrior with a large torso, pauldrons, and a strange red gun sewn onto one stubby hand's grip and a helmet fixed into permanent angry visage. It took awhile, but she recognized the plush as… What did Casten call them? Space Marines? Right. The Emperor's chosen warriors and all that. Ultra-Legion or something to that effect

Maybe the real thing would be scary but this? It's so cute!

She took a step into the barracks, a narrow corridor lined in row upon row of bunks. Each with a footlocker and an armour stand. Fixated on the plushy, the Pistil felt an urge to pick up the thing and hug it.

Nobody would know if she just admired it for awhile... right?

Miku reached out, holding the doll under its arms and lifting it up to meet her eye. The plush marine's red slanted red semicircles of its eye lenses and a small, snarling vox grill stared back. She pulled the marine into her embrace, feeling the soft material sponge with each squeeze.

"Frater quae agis Somnius?" A new voice suddenly asked.

Miku yelped in shock. The plush marine dropped back onto the bunk's pillow in a heap. She spun on her heel to see a girl roughly her age and build standing at the open door. Her helmet carried under her arm to expose a head of shoulder length dirty blond hair and a pair of green eyes, wearing the green Flak armour of the Imperial guard. A Lasgun that looked far too large for her slung over her shoulder.

"I uh- just looking! It looked cute is all!" Miku stammered, unsure how to convince the girl that she wasn't going to steal the plush before a bayonet found her face.

Thankfully the recruit didn't see fit to do that. Instead, she walked to the bunk's foot locker to retrieve a black band with a grill-like mask attached to it. The parasite recognised the device. Casten had worn it until rather recently, a translator device. Though this one was far bulkier and didn't plug into a slot behind her neck, unlike Casten's. It seemed not everyone was so 'blessed'.

"I said," the girl repeated, her speech tinged in with a crackle of vox corrupted static. "What are you doing with Brother Somnius?"

Miku calmed herself, holding a hand to her chest as she answered. "I was just holding him, sorry. He's so cute!"

The Guard recruit smiled behind the vox-grill. "Isn't he? Oh! I'm trooper Praesidia! Most call me Prae!" She grasped Miku's hand and began shaking it. "You must be the PDF we're told were coming on a visit." She sat down next to the parasite, the bunk creaking under the two girls' combined weight. before taking the plushy marine from Miku and held it in her lap. She put her calloused fingers to the plush doll's arms.

"Hail citizen!" The guard girl squeezing her voice for the plush marine while waving its right cotton filled arm "State your name and business before I judge you a heretic!" Ending the statement with a cute growl. Miku could not help but giggle one that the guard girl also shared.

The guard girl continued her play. "Gasp! You dare mock a son of Guilliman!? Such is to Emperor himself!" She shook the plush to imitate anger. Quaking anger that only managed to get a coo to spill from Miku. She then raised both plush hands into the air "This shall not stand! I Brother Somnius march for Macragge I will bring righteous fury upon you! For the Primarch and the Emperoooor!"

Guard girl pushed the plush within punching distance of Brother's Somnius's stubby arms. Lifting the arm to raise its tiny bolter

"BLAM!" said the guard girl the moment its blue cotton boltgun made contact the Parasite's nose.

At that point, Miku lost all composure, falling backwards and hugging with the doll with a girlish squeal. "He's so cute~!"

Praesidia giggled, shifting her lasten to rest it down on the bunk with a soft prayer of slumber under her breath. For a long minute after, there was a quiet between the two girls. Until, that is, Miku finally broke the ice.

"I'm Miku, part of Plantation #13 corps." She introduced herself.

Praesidia nodded, pointing to the plush. "If you want... You can have him."

For a moment, Miku sat in stunned shock, staring at the girl. She had never received a gift that wasn't from Father.

"Really? Isn't he yours?" The Pistil held the doll up, making it face its original owner.

She gave a smile, though Miku saw something else in her eyes. She seemed to have glazed over, silent and forlorn. An unspeakable pain coming from the greatest loss.

"Yeah. I mean, mother gave Brother Somnius to me… Back on Avalus. I doubt I'll get to keep him when I join the guard proper anyways." She said, taking the plush in for a final hug before returning it to Miku. "You can keep him."

The Parasite nodded and sat it upon her lap, hands crossed over his soft breastplate. "I'll take good care of him!"

Praesidia nodded, then picked up her Lasgun. "Hey," she grinned. "Want to see me shoot some Orks?"

+ Legio Gradus Volund +

+ Collegia Titanica Medicae +

Emerging from the grate of a vent that he had used to escape his partner's retribution. He found himself a room filled with whirring cogitator banks and data towers thrumming with power. Frosted mist wafted off them and drifted down to pool at his feet. Hooded angels and skulled figures looming overhead with dull pict screens bathing the room in a dim, sickly green glow. It was like walking through a tomb or a cursed black forest.

"Now where am I?" he mumbled.

Zorome shivered as he looking around. Why did the Imperials have to build every room to have such a haunting macabre to it? Would it kill them to install more lights so it didn't look like the looming statues were about to jump out at him?

Stamen's attention was drawn to a yellow glow that shone between the data towers. Small shoes tapped against the stone as he took tentative steps between the pillars of technology towards the light. As he got closer, he heard laboured breathing, the sound of pressurized gas pumping through pipes and the bubbling slosh of some viscous liquid.

"Hello!?" He swallowed hard, calling out to the glow.

Unexpectedly, a wheezing, vox corrupted reply was returned. "Who…?"

Confidence restored; Zorome took a few bold steps closer to the voice. "I'm Zorome! Defender of Plantation #13 and-!"

His usual prideful boast died in his throat when he finally laid eyes on the person that answered. Was it a person at all? Floating in an eight sided armourglass amniotic tank filled with thick, yellowish fluid. Lights at the base and ceiling of the tank illuminated a figure that he recognized as female… just barely.

The woman looked… well, he couldn't see what she looked like. A thick containment suit separated her form from view. He could tell she was a woman because of the contours of the suit, but that was all. Her face remained obscured behind a tall vox grill in the shape of a pointed arch and a reflective dome of gold tinted armourglass over the rest of her head. A strange crest was recessed into her chest, seemingly attached to the flesh beneath. A golden crest of a hollow circular gear housing a hexagon centered with a bright, glowing emerald gem.

The most curious feature of the suited figure was her spine, running from the base of her head down the length of her back her spine was a bionic replacement. Like a metallic centipede, each segment of the vertebrae serving as a port for any number of the hundreds of cables, tubes and wires winding into one at the base of the tank. Floating as she was, the cables were like a mass of snakes or tentacles undulating in the semi liquid slurry.

"Go on child." Her rich, albeit rasping voice emanated from vox speakers all around her octagonal prison of multi-layered reinforced armourglass.

"I...uh. I-I'm Zorome, from Plantation #13." The parasite repeated himself, his usual gusto gone from his voice.

With painstaking slowness in the effort; the woman brought her hands up and twinned her fingers into the icon of the Omnissiah's Divine Cog. She took a deep lungful of oxygen enriched fluids into her withered lungs. "Cordia Macia...Princeps Domina of...Legio Gradus Volund. Once...will of the Warlord Titan Irae Belli…"

It irritated him but even he knew when to shut up. When the lady...Cordia...started talking it annoyed him that she took long pauses in between to fully say her name. He was always one who wanted to be faster than anyone else, so being forced to slow down was a novelty. Usually he would have bolted by now to find something more exciting.

Usually. He didn't though, he didn't like the what the person in front of him looked like even more. She looked lonely, and it was something that he despised more than something boring.

"Once?' he started "So... you mean not anymore?

"...Yes…" she answered.

He tapped his foot at this slow moving conversation. It was frustrating! Usually when he started talking to someone it moved flowed at his own frenzied pace. You talk then the other person talks, then its starts rolling, but this just too slow!

"Sooo...?" Zorome started again give momentum

"So?" Cordia returned with query "So what?"

Now that just teared it! "So?! Aren't you going to tell me what happened to you or not?!"

He regretted his outburst, like an idiot, like Miku rattled on all the time. When the clearly injured person twitched indicating a response under all that layers of covering and clear sludge she was suspended in moved.

Then that regret turned to horrible sense of dread when he heard the first few sniffles, It didn't take long to realize she was crying. It was the most horrible thing Zorome has ever heard. When he was around the other kids he knew some that cried, and he said that he would never cry. It's whole other thing when he was responsible for it, and he panicked at this blunder.

Princeps Domina's mind returned to the bitter cold of Avalus' last starport in the frozen north and the final battle on that doomed planet. The memories of the last Maniple of Legio Gradus Volund falling one by one returned to her in vivid detail. The pain of each of their Princeps and machine spirit's deaths crashing like waves across her mind in the Manifold.

Her Legio had never been large. Volund spent more resources and expertise on the Knights of Avalus than the construction of new God-Machines. So every death was felt more keenly. More so when her mentor fell, making her new new Princeps Domina.

That was, of course, until death of her own precious Irae Belli and her life outside of her metal tank.

A traitor Banelord battle titan, smoking and burning from weapon hits and maddened with bloodlust, rage, and agony crashed through the loyalist lines. Its Doomfist found Irae Belli's head, rending its face open and killing Moderatii Avern. Arcs of energy filled the compartment from overloading command diaz and exploding power conduits, she heard the screams of her crew over her own.

She didn't know when the Banelord fell from the combined guns of the Knights of Avalus and the Starport's own weapon batteries. Nor when her spasming, unconscious body had to the cut from her command throne where her flesh had been fused by the Secutarii. But she found herself here, months after, the pain remained.

"Hey'...please! Don't cry!" The sobbing didn't stop, but he could hear that the once pained wail dramatically lessen, and he almost breathed a sigh of relief.

Only for his heart to clench when an automated door opened revealing to a pair of men robed in white and black. The imposing Secutarii, the Titan-Guard. Bionically augmented bodyguards of the God-machines, armoured in brass plates and armed with sparking Arc pistols and mauls. They marched with zealous intent towards the child that dared intrude on the sanctum of their Legio.

"Trespasser! The Omnissiah's wrath awaits you!" Their heavy metal boots thumped across the deck planting as their long strides carried them before the boy.

Zorome hadn't even a chance to panic. One grabbed him by the neck in his iron grip and pinned him to the unforgiving floor. It was painful and suffocating, as it feels like if he gripped any harder, the guy could squeeze his neck right off his shoulders! "Your slight against the Princeps will have a reckoning!"

"Stop…"

The raspy voice cut through the fog of Zorome's panic as the vice on his neck lessened considerably and the listened to the will of the Princeps.

"He did not slight me...he has... done no wrong" Cordia responded "I am...not so...weak...that disquiet... would consume...me"

A finger twitched and the Secutarii stood attention, waiting their next order.

"Leave us." Cordia commanded.

There was some hesitation but the Titan-Guards did as commanded by their Princeps Domina. Marching out the way they came with a sidelong stare at Zorome, daring him to try anything and face their ire. Despite his reputation as a troublemaker, Zorome wasn't keen to test their willingness to carry out that threat.

Behind the foggy tint, her human eyes drew back to the young man who has ventilating from the increase of adrenaline that came at the threat to his life. "Take your time child, I am not going anywhere."

Take his time? Yes, he could do that. That sounds fantastic to him right now, slowing down seemed like the best thing in the world at this moment.

Zorome clutched at the bruise on his neck as he tried to stand, only for his legs to fail him. He tried to stand again, but found his legs not responding to his will. They weren't numb, and he could still feel them. Rather, no matter how much he tried; his legs refused move.

A giggle reverberated through the room and Zorome knew exactly who the culprit laughing at his plight. Zorome gave glare to the person in the tank, only for the giggle to persist. He gave up with a sigh and pouted from his seat on the floor.

As both calmed from the episode. They stopped to silently observe each other. Cordia saw the youthful Zorome as welcome change from the monotonous, quite literal robotic company she usually kept, bound by millenia old tradition. While Zorome, in turn, saw a person quite literally otherworldly to him, an adult, something he had always aspired to meet.

"So…" Zorome started again to resume their talk "Who are you? And what happened?"

Cordia gathered her thoughts as she processed so many things about her life that led to where she is now. So instead she wanted to do start her tale from a simpler time in her life, from her humble beginnings.

"Tell me child…do you know... how to whistle?" Cordia asked.

"Whistle? What's that?" Zorome answered truthfully since he has never heard of it before.

"It is... a wondrous thing… a simple thing that defined... and helped me... through my darkest moments"

"Let me teach you…" Cordia began her reminisce "the story before Cordia the Princeps… I was Cordia the Tuner"

+ Faber Ferracius +
+ Cargo Sector #C-34 +

Oddly enough, peace of mind came to Nana in the ship's busiest section. Busy, but ultimately lifeless.

Servo limbed lifter servitors were the only ones here. They worked in teams to hoist crates and stacks of everything from Lasgun power packs and entire armoured vehicles into bulk containers. Who lowered into giant magnetic clamps of the rail haulers that brought their shipments down to the planet below. This hub of delivery was one of several on the ship, or so she had been told. It served as a massive station for the delivery of goods and return of empty crates to be filled once more.

At least it wasn't as noisy as the constant rattling gunfire, explosions, and the fizzle of Lasbolts in the barracks she had left the children. Even the constant canticles and chanted prayers of vox-servo skulls patrolling above were growing on her, despite the fact that she didn't understand a word of them.

Nana wandered past stacks of moving freight, eyeing the unceasing conveyors of industrial and agricultural produce. She would be sure to include the Imperium's stunning industrial capacity to A.P.E command. Though she wasn't quite sure how to put it in words. The scale was simply… unimaginable to her until this point.

She pinched her chin, folding an arm under her bust as she usually did while in deep thought. She walked down the lanes, head turned to the side to watched the coming and goings of the rail haulers. Which is why she didn't notice when she reached the end of the long corridor and slamming face first into someone.

The caretaker stumbled back, cupping her stinging cheek in both hands. "I'm sorry I wasn't…" her heart sank like a rock into an icy lake at the figure standing before her. "...looking."

Looming over her was a massive armoured figure. He towered head and massive shoulder pauldrons over her; a pair slanted red lenses and a snarling vox-grill stared angrily down at her. Standing eight feet tall, a golden Aquila proudly displayed upon its breastplate.

He seemed to be glowering down at her, as if her very presence was an affront to him.

"I-I'm sorry! I... wasn't looking where I was going!" Nana stammered, backing away from the warrior.

She backpedalled from the unmoving warrior until she saw other, identically armoured warriors. Behind him, beside him, all in the same pose, knees bend slightly and head lowered with arms at the side. It took some time for the fact that she was apologizing to an empty suit of armour to sink in.

Lined up rank on rank, beside each one, racks full of weapons. Chainswords and Plasma pistols, she recognized, Casten never went anywhere without his. What drew her attention were massive box-like guns painted in red; embossed with a golden winged skull. No, it wasn't right to call these weapons mere guns; they were more like cannons squeezed into the rough shape of rifles. Neat stacks of sealed crates, labelled in the same winged skull but now backed with a downwards pointed sword.

"Who do you belong to…?" Nana whispered.

Silent minutes passed with her examining the suits, they looked familiar. She took a fearful step towards one of the golems to get a closer look; her heart hammering in her chest. A fear that seemed to crush her ever tighter as she got closer. As if one would suddenly come to life and crush her with those massive gauntlets. Maybe one of them would grab one of the many weapons off the racks to test on her?

Nana wasn't surprised at the size of cargo bay. The bulk transport haulers that transported entire stacks of shipping containers, the army of lifter servitors that toiled in their typical single minded programming, the massive cranes that carried anything from fully assembled tanks to sections of Knight walker parts down to the planet below. Seeing it all working together with such clockwork regularity was both awe inspiring and… completely unnerving.

Her headaches had gone now, the walk had cleared whatever "E-excuse me? You're not supposed to be here." A squealing, nasally, voice called from behind her.

Nana turned to see a sallow, stick of man in a baggy robe and a brass collar emblazoned with the Cog Mechanicus. Wires attached from the collar to sockets in his temple to a vox speaker at his collar. He looked some years older than either Casten or the children under her care. A stick of a man carrying a harness attached to a massive metal cogitator box and a pict monitor. It looked like the weight alone could snap him in half. Some sort of device to keep track of shipping?

Either way, he looked like someone that would know something.

She flashed him the most honeyed smiled she could manage and slapped her palm against her forehead with a soft smack. "Oh! I'm so sorry. I'm the caretaker for the local… uh P.D.F that are visiting and it seems I've gotten lost! Where am I exactly?"

The man seemed hesitant, or nervous. "I can't tell… You shouldn't be here."

"What's the harm in it? I'm just interested in the Imperium we're about to join. Doesn't the… Omnissiah encourage you to share knowledge with those who might join you?"

"I suppose you're right." The man hummed before tapping a few times on the pict screen attached to the heavy cogitator harness. "You are currently in an area of the bay designated for deep storage. Much of the perishable stock such as ammunition is kept in stasis lock for long-term storage to prevent degradation of active compounds over time."

He pointed to the sealed containers, specifically, the massive devices that locked to door. Large things that looked like vault doors with glowing green pict monitors flashing with symbols she couldn't understand. Though their use was obvious, she couldn't help but imagine the nature of such technology.

"These?" Nana asked, looking to the suits of armour.

The man seemed to brighten at the mention of the armour. "Ah… Mark VII power armour. The best armour for the Emperor's own sons. We were supposed to deliver them but… well, you should the rest know by now."

She remembered the mural and stained glass windows against the starry void of the orbital fortress. Finally, the she saw the connection. "Space marines... Where are they now?"

The cargo, worker shrugged. "Spread across the stars of His realm. Going wherever the Emperor's avenging angels are needed."

Nana nodded. "You don't have any here now?"

The man snorted. "Given there aren't any of those walking around?" He gestured to the suits. "No, their machine spirits await the day they can join their true masters… That day will come when these abhorrent warps storms recede."

"Warpstorm-?" Nana was about to ask further when a loud beep sounded from the man's contraption.

The man looked down at this pict screen, eyes widening. "Apologies, I have my own duties to attend to. The Omnissiah's faithful expect their shipments punctual."

With that, the man shuffled off, tapping at his harness terminal and muttering to himself in Gothic as he retreated down the corridor.

"Interesting…" Nana mumbled.

She gave the intimidating suits of armour one final look before she turned to leave. Apparently not all was as well as the Imperials would have A.P.E believe.

+ Observation Deck #O-03 +

"It all looks so small from up here." Ichigo mused.

She reached out, as if reaching to grasp the slowly spinning world below. Her delicate fingers touched the armourglass, feeling the cold, smooth surface of the multi-layered barrier that stopped her from embracing the void. Light from her home planet's distant star bathing her in an orange glow.

" It does huh…?" Goro said sharing in the simple wonder of watching their planet from space

The pair watched the sphere in silence as the white streams of cloud formation moves whichever way currents of precipitation and condensation cycles . From the ground they just looked like giant mounds of puff where sometimes one can hardly tell that they were moving; here though, they could see everything. There was an indescribable feeling when see one's home from a perspective of a god.

"This… this is what we fight for. All those Plantations and parasites like us down there." She held her hand against the viewport, imagining as the she was holding it in her hand.

The enormity of their purpose like a tangible weight onto her slight shoulders. She squinted her eyes, giving her best in hoping to see the Plantations from here in space, but relented. No matter how she tried getting close to the port, they were too small to see, the plantations that APE are so proud of were nothing compared to the world. It was so overwhelming to know that while the Plantations were supposed to be cradles for humanity. The truth now dawned on them that the cities they protected surmounted to nothing but a speck to the vastness of their planet.

Goro placed a hand on her shoulder, smiling when she turned to look at him. "Hey now, no need for that face. its the same for me. It's a lot to take in." She felt a little relieved. Anxious, but still relieved with those words of comfort reassured that she wasn't alone in her feelings.. "Just think about it Ichigo. With this ship and the Imperium looking for us. It's nice to know that there are other humans -Terrans- out there who missed us."

Her smile was all he needed, and Goro would have continued this moment of silence with her.

Their privacy and moment was shattered the moment that a horrendous slurping sound broke their tranquil. A man stepped out of the shadowed corner of the far hall, black steel toed boots thumping on the deck plating. He was easily the tallest man either of the two had seen, taller than even commander Hachi. His form was slight, made to appear larger with a muddy brown great coat that cast a long shadow.

"Ugh! This concoction is just foul! You just can't trust those cogboys to make good recaf these days." A crass guttural snarl of a voice grumbled.

The buttoned great coat left no clue as to what he was wearing beneath, however, the large leather belt that wrapped the coat around his slight frame was buckled by a golden Aquila. A head of raven black hair was shaved close to his head. Gaunt features casting a dark shadow, barely allowing enough light to reveal his pitch black eyes. With a metal mug in his hand.

"Uh…" Goro mumbled, trying to get the man's attention.

Whether he heard it, or just outright ignored him, the man walked closer to look toward the planet from the viewport sharing in the sight of their planet. For Goro and Ichigo, this was their home. They looked on it with wonder and with the overwhelming flow of righteous responsibility that came with their purpose of defending the Plantation.

This man, however, struck a negative cord within Goro the moment he laid eyes on him. Whether or not it was his dispassionate stare when looking over his home planet or his rude, almost dismissive attitude. It was as if the place he looked upon was just a piece of scenery to be forgotten. The Stamen wanted to rebuke or to call the man out; but Goro had more self-control. Besides, as he's learned with Casten; it's always better to get know someone before you judge to them.

"Um...hey there..." Goro started off with a friendly smile and a wave; but was met with an unnerving stare as black as onyx. Even so, he tried once more. "My name's Go-"

The man cut him off by loudly sipping the lukewarm recaf he was complaining so much about. The Stamen felt a twitch of irritation in the corner of his lip. Never before had he been met with such a gaze that dripped annoyance. Casten may have been irritated and blunt with his squad at first; but never was he so rude.

"As I was saying. My name is Go-" Again, he took another loud slurp cutting him off and aggravating Goro's usual temperament. "Goro… and this is my partner Ichi-"

"Who asked you whelp?" The man snapped, leaving Goro stunned. Likewise Ichigo shared her partner's shock at such a blatant display of unwarranted contemptuous dismissal.

"H-hey! Who do you think you are?" Ichigo demanded. Her gaze smoldering with restrained anger.

"Easy question." He took another sip of the recaf. "Your better."

The parasites flummoxed not at all did they expected something so derogatory. Ichigo was not one to back down, and compared to Zero-Two's attitude this one was worse. The squad leader flared in her head that such a notion was not even possible.

She was about to fight back, before she felt Goro's hand grab her shoulder and shook his head. 'It's not worth it' he silently conveyed. She felt irritated, thinking that they shouldn't back down, but his pleading look relented, before she sighed venting out the heat she built up.

She briskly turned around, and started walking, not caring or more truthfully not able to bear whatever smug satisfaction that person was giving her.

Goro followed suit, but not before giving a scathing look to the man that ruined their good. He almost regretted though, as soon as he looked back, he couldn't help but be unnerved by a different look in his eyes. It was subtle, but he swore he could feel a cold spot coming on. Briskly followed after Ichigo. He didn't want to be a second longer around this strange person that seemed to radiate malice.

The two disappeared into the labyrinthine corridor of the Faber Ferracius and the man was left alone in the observation deck. he was conflicted in the experiment of first impressions. He opened his coat and pulled out a vox recorder, battered from years of use; it served him long before he was apprenticed to his mentor. A chained rosary of a gold bordered red letter 'I', centered by a human skull falling from his pocket.

"Inquisitor Edmund Dumas; Ordo Hereticus. Log Date…" He raised his hand and tugged at his sleeve to reveal his wrist-chrono. "...001. M42 of our Holy God-Emperor's Imperium. Low orbit aboard Ark Mechanicus: Faber Ferracius over the still undesignated human colony planet located possibly in Segmentum Ultima… or Emperor only knows where." He leaned on the railing while tapping his boots in thought of the less than optimal results of his approach.

"I have made first contact with the rogue human organization of APE pilots Number #15 designation Ichigo and Number #56 designated Goro. Operators of the squad leader machine named Delphinium. Addendum, all Franxx in their squad are apparently named after a species of a long extinct ancient flora of Terra. The suggestion that APE has access to knowledge prior to the ascendance of our Holy God Emperor merits further investigation" he paused for breath before he took a sip of his now cold recaff.

"My attempt at first impressions via a hostile approach was met with a-" He scratched his head for a proper term of his unsuccessful attempt. "-resounding stumble."

He cleared his throat to hide the disgust at himself; the attempt was clearly a failure. He was banking on the experience of the atypical societal norms of the Imperium where people of high status similar to knight houses shared a similar behavioral connection and his efforts to undermine their pride would in turn cause them to lose their cool and inadvertently reveal details of themselves that would otherwise be classified. His disastrous observation aside, the experiment was not without some rewards.

"The subjects seem to have the impression of hopeful optimism that the Imperium would lead to their salvation. While the outcome is the best possible end result we are looking, they have yet to grasp the full idea of the goings on of the Imperium in the greater galaxy and hopefully it will remain that way." Edmund mulled over how to finalize his documentation of whatever he could glean off his conversation.

"Final note for this entry. Continue observation required; recommend as either the same person or a different persona. Further study is needed on the Freeblade and the pilots of Plantation #13 while making preparations for long term operations to tip the power balance in the Imperium's favor." He sipped the last of the recaf with a single gulp.

"Inquisitor Edmund Dumas, Ordo Hereticus. Log complete, I'm going to find something better to drink. Blessed be to the God-Emperor of Mankind, for we all walk in his immortal shadow." He flicked the switch on the vox recorder off.

Edmund Dumas stowed the worn device into the recesses of his greatcoat. He started to whistle a tune to himself, the tune echoing down the dark corridor of Faber Ferracius. Soon, both the Inquisitor and his jolly music disappeared into the bowels of the ancient vessel.

+ Location Unknown +

A massive boulder exploded into dust in a flash of blue light. The dimming red of the evening lit up in a brief flash of light, scattering debris across the dry earth in the wake of the shimmering coils from the discharge of a disruption field. Bursting through the cloud of its own creation, a tracked vehicle painted in the gunmetal grey and brass lining of Volund rattled across the desert, strips of cloth from stamped purity seals fluttering from its hull.

The Triaros Armoured Conveyor appeared as a cross between a heavy tank and a train. A rare vehicle never seen outside the ranks of the Adeptus Mechanicus and ever rarer since the Death of Innocence during the Horus Heresy. An ancient and venerable design whose secrets and constructed technology have remained jealously guarded since.

A powerful Plasma Reactor fed power all its systems. Heavy gauge caterpillar treads held stable by multiple galvanic traction drives supported the immense weight of the armour slabbed hull and interlocking energy fields whilst techno-cant wards granted protection from that which would threaten the transport's holy machine spirit. Threats of the physical nature would contend with Mauler Bolt Cannons, Volkite Sentinels, and a plow-like Shock Ram brimming with anabaric coils disintegrating anything that dared stand in its path.

Six Onager Dunecrawlers surrounded the Triaros in a rough escort perimeter as it moved. Bristling with all manner of techno-arcana only known by the Omnissah's chosen from Neuron Lasers to Eradication Beamers. Their four insectoid limbs moving feverishly to keep pace with their charge as well as balance their large cabins. Unlike the Triaros with its Shock Ram; the Onagers had to go over and around obstacles

This was of no concern to Fabricator Locim Erias within the Triaros. He was the one that ordered the vehicle out of stasis storage in the first place. No other authority could sanction the awakening of such ancient and venerated techno-arcana. He hung from the interface harness within the cabin; surrounded by his cohort of dormant tech-guard.

"Impossible…" He muttered.

Erias ran through the report he had received from Explorator expedition Nu-Xi-#34 once again. He knew it was a discovery of some significance when he received the data-packet. Encrypted so heavily that it took his advanced cogitator implants close to a full minute to decipher it. A further minute when he had it reprocessed for false positives, data-corruption, malfunction… anything to suggest that the report was flawed in some way.

"Inconceivable…" The Fabricator Locum mumbled once more.

He ran through the calculations again and again. For the first time in perhaps a century, Erias was confounded. No simulacrum he or his late master ever prepared for such a discovery. There was simply no contingency nor precedent that could prepare him for magnitude of the report, if accurate, presented.

Thus, he had to see for himself if it were true. He brought no Knights despite High Queen Artra's urging. Honourable and dutiful thought they were, the noblemen tended to talk. For this, the Imperium could afford to take no risks of the nature of this discovery being discovered. The Knights, glory seeking as many were, would not be silent of this.

"Approaching expeditionary outpost: Nu-Xi-#34. Five hundred meters." The servitor slaved to the Triaros' navigation cogitators announced.

Normally, he would have no need for such mundane information. It was needed now, as he was devoid of his remote connection to the array of new satellites or Faber Ferracius' extensive augeries and sensorium suites. It felt like being blinded, muted and deafened, missing a crucial sense that gave him his perception of the world. The mission required it; he could not risk anyone tracing their location.

+ Outpost Nu-Xi-#34 +

The outpost was silent as the rumbling convoy of Mechanicus vehicles entered the hastily erected compound. Ordered to run as silently as possible, the lights had been left off even as darkness crept into the horizon. Standing before the Sock Ram of the huge Triaros Armoured Conveyor, the Explorator Magos stood.

Unlike most of the scions of Mars, she was easily recognisable as a woman, tall and slim built. Her robes here cut to expose thin grasshopper-like bionic legs and thin bionic arms with long, taloned fingertips. They ended in springed plates made to traverse rough terrain. In stark contrast to her thin frame and limbs a servo harness with a large drill and plasma torch arms hovered over her shoulders. Under her hood, other than trio of oscillating green cameras that replaced her left eye; her attractive face exposed what little human flesh remained to her.

"Fabricator Locum," she greeted with a curt bow, speech coming out in the a static tinged burst of Lingua Technis. "Omnissiah's blessings."

Her sharp metal fingers formed the Cog Mechanicus when Fabricator Locum Erias emerged from the Triaros, Omnissian force axe and Volkite Serpenta in hand. His bulk casting an intimidating shadow over her own stick-like frame. He returned her salute with his own using his many mechadendrites.

"Explorator Magos Rho-Three." Erias nodded in turn.

Shadows from behind the Triaros, they moved all around the pair. Ten, maybe twenty of them surround compound with eerie silence. Rho-Three recognised some of them as robed Skitarii; yet her ocular bionics seemed to malfunction when she tried to identify which cohort they belonged to. At her peripherals; a burst of movement and a blur of electric blue in the darkness. When she tried to focus her auger implants on it; a stab of pain laced through her electrical senses and her augmented vision fizzed with static.

"Sicarian Infiltrators." Erias nodded, both an introduction and a command as one of said servants of the Omnissiah lept from the darkness to land beside the Fabricator Locum.

They was an ominous thing. Her bionic senses; blessed to her by the Omnissiah, seemed to scream at the Sicarian's presence. Their torso little more than featureless segmented carapace of Aegium alloy. Unlike her, they're limbs held not a single pretense of a casing to appear proportionate to they're frame. Bare servos and hydraulics made up all their limbs, legs in particular were system of triple jointed constructs made to leap and bound. One hand grasped flechette blaster. The other ended not in a hand; but a jointed Taser Goad, sparking with stray arcs of energy. The most unnerving feature was their head; little more than a dome dotted with jutting antennae and snaking tendrils of metal; like some cybernetic jellyfish crossed with an insect.

She winced as dull throbs of pain like tugged at her senses. She received a data packet from Erias, null codes to neutralize the disruptive uploading it to her auditory and auger implants. Their electromagnetic disruptor implants would continue to play havoc on her without them.

"Take me to it." Erias commanded.

Rho-Three nodded and turned towards the ancient ruins that the Outpost bordered. "Omnissiah guide us…" She whispered, releasing a servo servo skull.

The city, such as it was, was little more than a ruin of half-collapsed hab-blocks and spires. Roadways lined with the rusted, crushed husks of what were once vehicles. Reduced to ruin from centuries of neglect and exposure with dunes of orange sand half-burying everything. Soon nature would reclaim all that mankind had built.

There was also the signs of unnatural destruction. Craters odd craters in the pavement, collapsed hab-blocks where something had torn through them and the telltale swell of where some sort of extreme heat had melted through.

Signs of the vile work of Klaxosaur Xenos. Reducing mankind's fine work to nothing but waste and shadow.

The shadows crept ever taller with the coming of night. This fact didn't hinder the Omnissiah's chosen. Sensoriums and Augers scanned the ruins for movement, thermal signatures, or subterranean vibrations. Rho-Three walked at the head of the group with Skitarii at her flanks. Every now and then a flash of movement betrayed the Sicarian Infiltrators dashing between alleys and the windows of the the ruins, running their interferences subroutines to jam anyone attempting to find the party.

"What information have you discovered of this planet?" Erias asked.

It took a moment for the Explorator Magos to recall the exact details from her memory files. "This particular city was attacked two centuries ago according to the carbon data gathered. Prior to its fall the oldest structures are perhaps two millenia old at the most. The samples collected show the planet endured a climate shift around the same time with a one century margin of error."

Erias nodded; that meant there was little chance in the way of STC recovery. Just looking at the primitive nature of their vehicles made it clear; internal combustion engines running on some sort of Promethium. It was clear that the world before the Klaxosaur attacks was hardly advanced to the point of developing the Plantations.

So how did they acquire such technology? The Omnissiah has gifted humanity with the amazing ability to survive, was it a spontaneous leap of technology when they were under threat of extinction? Or...did A.P.E have somehow managed to preserve or acquire technology from the Federation of ancient Terra.

Both options were just as blasphemous to His will. They would need to uncover the truth behind the knowledge of A.P.E and bring them into the light of the Omnissiah… kicking and screaming if needs be.

"Here." Rho-Three interrupted his musings.

The Highway opened up into a large circular opening. What must have once been a large building at its center. Now little more than a half-collapsed edifice of broken rockcrete and twisted rebar. The nature of it was lost, marching and reliefs worn down by the beating sandstorms, the searing sun, and freezing nights. But that was not what the seekers of knowledge sought.

There.

Standing as what looked to be a central pillar of the building and might have been missed of not for the collapse of the surrounding architecture. Erias' augmented vision was already running cross references with visual data and electromagnetic interference that stopped any of his attempts to get an auger reading on it. He had been running the calculations of probability ever since his departure from Faber Ferracius.

Defying all calculated results. A monolith of smooth black material lined in glowing lines that mirrored the conduits of circuits. Blue light seemed to pulse from the seams on the pylon's surface. Glowing runes, arranged in circles and lines at fixed points throughout the pillar pulsing like blue veins to a beating heart within. The runes were of unknown origin that no one, adept of the Machine Cult or otherwise, has been able to decipher.

"Five hundred meters tall from the surface and initial subterranean auger scans have detected a further two hundred and fifty meters of unknown volume underground." Rho-Three clarified.

"The Cadian pylons… Here." Erias nodded to the Explorator. "Order all current teams not already assigned to resource surveyor duties to locate any Cadian pylons. Relay coordinates directly to me and the High Queen. Task parameters are Prioris Maximus, maintain secrecy as far as possible from our… hosts."

+ Meanwhile +

+ Ark Mechanicus: Faber Ferracius +

+ Temple of the Omnissiah Ascendant +

The long feasting halls of the temple were massive spaces of tall arched ceilings lined with long tables of stone and gilded steel. It was one of the places that has been kept mostly lit as a shrine first dedicated to the Emperor. Stained glass windows made up the upper walls and the ceiling, casting the expansive space in a cascade of colors when light is shined by the nearest star. At the end of the room; a grand golden statue of a man in armour rendered in immaculately sculpted detail. It's stoic vigil stood implacable with both hands on the pommel sword at rest the blade planted in the podium its exquisite design making it seem as if he is watching from every angle.

For who else could this singular being be but none other than the visage of the God-Emperor of Mankind during the Great Crusade.

Twenty foot walls were lined with walkways and staircases leading up to view the banners. They told tales of winged angels in armour to battles on the soils of foreign worlds. Ranks of Imperial forces doing battle against hordes of inhuman horrors and foul Xenos.

Goro and Ichigo were the first to have been escorted by one of Shipmaster Zetros' servo skulls to the temple hall. Here they were left to wait whilst the same was done to their squad throughout the ship.

The pilots of Delphinium were currently observing at a tapestry that caught their attention. It had pictures of knights depicting some form of action and gesture but they were portrayed miniscule to the cogwork and gears of Mechanicum Priests that were finely detailed over a red backdrop and inlaid within the lining were ones and zeroes that stretched all around the cloth.

Unbeknownst to them who are not enlightened in the language of the machine, it told the tale of the First Magos of Avalus when he and the knights of the old families claimed it as their own and eventually pledged their loyalty to the Emperor.

Neither of them understood the tale, but they can at the very least appreciate the amount of effort that must have been put into this piece of artwork.

"Hey~!" A familiar, high pitched voice called to them.

Her new Astartes plush tucked against her chest, Miku waved to her friends. The servo skull that had been guiding her floated away to perform its other pre-programmed duties. Curiously, Zorome was nowhere to be seen.

"What's that?" Goro asked, pointing at the angry little doll in her arms.

Miku held it up to her squad leader's partner with a pout; stuffed felt boltgun raised. "His name is Brother Somnius! I got him from a new friend I made in the Guard!"

The boy did not know what to make of the new friend she made or her new toy but he smiled happily for her nonetheless. It seemed that Miku's experience with an Imperial citizen went better than his at least.

Not far from them, Nana walked in the room looking for her charges amidst the throng; he waved where he gained her attention and headed over to them with a smile.

"I hope you had a better time than I have?" The caretaker asked. Smiling in her half-truths.

Goro nodded, Ichigo shrugged. Miku enthusiastically nodding with Brother Somnius. This doll was obviously hand made in the likeness to the soldiers of the currently empty powered armor suits back in the ship's storage facility. Not wanting to betray her current thoughts; she just smiled and nodded, still worried for her missing charges.

Futoshi was next to arrive, also missing his partner and looking somewhat flustered. Though he did still smile when he saw his teammates.

Nana was the first to ask the obvious. "Where's Kokoro?"

"We got split up and lost each other after looking at some alien animals…" The pudgy boy mumbled with resignation. "The skull told me that it was bringing Kokoro here so I followed it."

The sound of heavy sabatons against the metal deck plating alerted them to yet another arrival. At first, they thought it was Casten; the only person they knew who was coming and wore armour.

"We're back!" Zorome's called from down the hall.

Speaking of her, Kokoro was the next to arrive. "Hello everyone…. Sorry I... fell into an elevator." She smiled..

But they were not alone. Zorome was visibly uncomfortable with the tight steely fist on his now wrinkled clothes. A stark contrast to Kokoro's more tranquil older companion.

Any planned scolding went into a screeching halt just by looking at their respective escorts They wore armour, certainly. But Casten, they were not.

Beside Kokoro, a tall woman in white armour and vestments of red and white. Waxen seals stamped over parchment scrawled with lines of text. Chains and Aquilas of gold hanging from her battleplate and a strange white gauntlet around her wrist that looked like a mix between a drill and a cluster of syringes. Her grey eyes scanned the parasites and their caretaker as if looking for some sort of imperfection before she made to greet them with nod.

"I am Sister Hospitaller Trinia of our Holy Emperor's Adepta Sororitas. Kokoro had found herself in my assigned medicae section by some misadventure." Trinia said.

Nana bowed lightly. "My thanks for taking care of her. I'm sorry for any trouble caused."

A gauntleted hand waved the caretaker off. "Think nothing of it. She's an intriguing little one, we have spoken much in our time together." She glanced between Kokoro and Nana. "I have dawdled long enough. I must return to my patients. Fare thee well my child."

The sister turned and marched out the door, nonplussed.

The metallic hiss of hydraulics sliced through the air thick with restrained contempt and impatience. He was a tall, imposing figure robed in white and with embroidery of black flame licking the ends. Cables ran from a strange metal backpack about his body. Brass coloured armour plate covered most of his torso. All his limbs were bionic replacements of grey Adamantine; and that was all they could see. A silver death mask of metal with a pair of emerald green eye lenses regarded them with mechanical dispassion.

"This unit is designation: G-S-Zero-One," he introduced himself in low vox monotone. "Secutarii host of Legio Gradus Volund."

He shoved Zorome forwards with a none too gentle push with his metal hand. Much to the small boy's discomfort. "This juvenile intruded upon the rest of our Princeps Domina. Ensure he is within visual range in the future."

Nana bowed deeply. "I'm sorry for any trouble he caused. It won't happen again."

He was gone before she even completed her apology. Having little care for amends. They were not part of his task priorities. He turned and stalked back down the hall his robe swishing behind him through door, after the sister.

Nana sighed in relief. Wondering if being intense is the norm in the Imperium's way of life.

"Hail." The familiar greeting came.

This time, the heavy footsteps that approached did belong to Casten, accompanied by the clicking heels of the pink haired girl that seemed glued to her partner. She had wrapped both her arms around the Knight's, twining her fingers with his. Wearing a bone white long coat with golden piping leading to epaulettes on each shoulder. Worn over a pristine white dress shirt and pants. All ending in a pair of high black riding boots polished to a shine. Goro was amazed of such attire it made stark contrast to the Freeblade's preference to wear armor on almost every occasion back at the Plantation. For Zero-Two; he looked exactly the Prince from her picture book... and she couldn't be happier.

"Are those yours? You sure look fancy!" Goro grinned.

Zorome gave the Freeblade a sidelong stare, head turned to feign disinterest. Though after a once over the boy couldn't help but imagine himself in such grown up clothes.

"These aren't actually mine." Casten began to correct the statement "I actually was loaded a spare dress uniform that fit my size. I implored the Baron. I owe him a favor now; but I say it is worth the effort. I felt that I needed to look the part."

Zero-Two beamed even further for her Darling. He looked so handsome!

Soon after being seated at one of the larger tables at the head of the room, The guests began to stream in. Knights, some dressed in their formal attire. Young and old wearing the heraldic colours of their house with whatever accolades they may have still wore their battleplate, seemingly just out of the simulacrum chambers and sparring cages. In contrast the Imperial Guard officers that arrived were dressed in neatly pressed khaki and olive drab uniforms and chests laden with medals. Followed closely by a few Commissars sporting their usual black greatcoats, immaculate uniforms, and red peaked caps.

There was greeting and jeering alike among the Knights as they sorted themselves into tables. House rivalries played out in varying forms of interactions. Some more lighthearted than others, the maroon robed of knights of House Targus regarded the bone white Knights of House Caelum with glares whilst the latter offered cold scoffs.

Among the myriad of colours, the green quilts of House Coltan's mingled freely with all tables. House Regis' court of silver and gold coats sat far and apart from their vassal houses. Though some members did mingle with the other houses. Perhaps they deemed such feuds beneath the station of the ruling house… or perhaps they simply opted to avoid walking the tightrope of courtly favour.

Casten introduced each to the parasites seated around him, pointing to the unfolding scenes. Such as the red of House Targus who ruled the volcanic equator. Famous for their skill in melee to match their hotheadedness. Reintroducing House Caelum from their battle; who ruled the prideful plains. His House's rival for ten millenium prior to the evacuation of Avalus.

All of this while interesting trivia to everyone in the table. It was mostly common knowledge that the children only half paid attention to. In truth, their hunger was not for knowledge. They had spent the better part of a day walking around. In truth, they hadn't truly noticed until the aroma of meals carried by serving automata drifted into the feasting hall.

Interestingly, the Mechanicus used serving automata resembling porcelain maids. Faces lacking any human features beyond two large green lenses, slanted slightly to resemble inhumanly large eyes. Why servitors were used in all but this role, none knew nor cared, their attention firmly upon the trays they carried: Grox mince pie, grilled Hetelfish with herbs, Gantha-Root rollups, caramel coated roasted Caba nuts amongst a myriad of other food was laid before them.

The eating and revelry began immediately. Tankards of strong with the bitter, burning scent of alcohol were brought out. Amasec, Gleece… even the Sacristans and what few Adeptus Mechanicus were present drank… or simply filled fluid reservoirs of Gorsk White Gyn, a drink made from modified engine coolant. One of the few beverages the Knights could share with them.

Zero-Two began to sample everything. Though her partner made sure to point out anything he knew that was sweet. Futoshi in heaped his plate high, eyes lit up with joy over such delicacies from the stars. The others were more reserved at first, though hunger soon got the better of them and they too began to eat.

One of the porcelain maid-automata placed tankards before Nana and himself and Nana.

It was about to lay down tankards for the other parasites when Casten stopped it. "Ploin juice for them." It nodded before turning to do as commanded,

Zorome, mouth full of pastry let out a muffled protest. "Hurmph! Howf comf-!"

"Stop talking with your mouth full!" Miku smacked his hand.

Zorome glared at her, but he did swallow and speak. "How come you get to drink that stuff!?"

"You're too young. Plus. I've been drinking little by little since my childhood." He explained, taking a sip from the Amasec.

"Eh… Aren't you the same age as us?" Kokoro asked.

"Yes. But by Imperial standards, I'm an adult." He finished.

Zorome's protest was quickly cut off by all attention drawing to the table of House Regis. The Queen was standing now. Speaking above the noise, all talk and arguments or otherwise halting at the sound of their Queen's voice.

"We celebrate this day to honor fallen who is now one with our God-Emperor, May we shed more of our enemy's blood in his name!" She looked to the parasites. "Also, to our reunited brethren! I drink to them all! What say you my loyal subjects?" She declared to the gathered.

"AYE!" The hall thundered as they cheered as one "FOR QUEEN AND IMPERIUM!" The men and women bashed their drinking wares with each other before guzzling their chosen contents,.

Foul smelling beverages slipped all over themselves and each other. Not even the Parasites were spared as Miku huddled to protect Brother Somnius all of them drenched some more than others. Ichigo felt the eyes of another person on her. She looked up, seeing that same rude man from the observation deck standing atop the maintenance gangway high above. For a moment, their eyes met. It sent a shiver down her spine.

There was no emotion in those cold, empty black eyes. It was as if he was simply staring a subject of interest to be examined… and discarded.

"Ichigo? Aren't you eating?" Goro's call drew her gaze away for a moment.

She looked back up, seeing the man gone, an empty gangway where he once stood.

"Yeah…" She answered, sparing one last look around to find where he had gone. "Sure…"