Getting Warhammered [WH 40k Fanfic]

Zedev

The Magos received respectful bows from the baseline humans and some grunts from the Astartes that he deemed to be a sign of some modicum of respect in their overly primitive way of communication.

They were well made too. He could acknowledge that even though he couldn’t help, but scoff at their utter lack of striving for knowledge. The Marines were warriors, destroyers and killers with a select few that some might even call ‘faulty’, holding an interest in anything that wouldn’t help them kill their foes faster.

Zedev held little respect even for the Tech-Marines. They were just like the rest, only focusing on weapons and tools that would be immediately useful. None of them thought to even look into the working of things any deeper than they needed to, which started at maintenance and ended on some repairs.

The utter astonishment on one of their faces when he dragged one of the slain bio-forms — a Hive Tyrant — through the gates was by itself proof enough that they never once thought about researching their enemies.

Their dead brothers could regret such folly when they faced death, though he was doubtful even that would be enough to put some doubt into their hearts. ‘Blessed is the mind too small for doubt.’ was a saying he long forgotten the source of, but the meaning it carried resonated with him, even if he wasn’t one for such useless strivings as poetry or linguistics.

Efficiency was what he was thought to strive for, such was the way of the Mechanicus and their language — Lingo Technis, a binary language they used to command technology and converse among themselves — was a perfect representation of that ideal.

Efficiency and results. The two things that first lead him off of the pre-paved path his superiors prepared for him. Zedev had been an outstanding Adept in his early days, he had to be to ever reach the rank of Magos and so he enjoyed the benefits that came with it.

Lessons, manuals, access to information that was just a touch out of what he was supposed to be seeing. He studied everything, focusing more on the practical applications of everything he learned, peeling away the useless flair that was oh so common in them.

That was the first time he found a glaring and obvious flaw in the reasoning of his ‘betters’. They talked about Xenobiologists and other Geneticists as if they were lesser, people who disregarded the will of the Machine God and instead studied the flesh.

Some even viewed it as heresy. Zedev though? He saw the logic behind it, the reason for it. The NEED for it. How could one ever hope to defeat foes when they didn’t even know how they worked? What made them tick?

He could take apart blasters, identify each part that made up the whole, and calculate the perfect way to hit one with a pebble to make it blow up in the hand of any who held it. He could see the flaws in the making of things he understood, and with flaws came more efficient methods of destroying said things.

It was an utter madness that searching for such flaws in the enemies of Mankind was looked down upon. In his eyes, Xenobiologists were some of the most important cogs in the grand machinery that was the Mechanicus. They were the foundation upon which other parts of it should be built.

Very few agreed with him, he knew that even as an Adept. That was the reason one of his first ever projects was the acquisition and making of the best emotional dampener and mental protections he could get his hands on.

Those fledgling ideals that the young Zedev once held had been shattered a thousand times and reforged in the fires of reality a thousand more. Zedev was old, very old by human standards. The only reason his title wasn’t ‘Arch-Magos’ yet was the added responsibilities and supervision that would come with such a thing.

Some more adept at pulling at the heartstrings of the Imperium’s overly complicated politics might be able to manage — Zedev knew of one such Arch-Magos, one equal times reviled and respected in the Cult for his innovative heresy —, but Zedev didn’t have that talent. He knew that very well and lived his life in such a way that took that into account.

That left him mostly free to experiment and research, with the only responsibility being directing the tech priests under him to do the work required of them aboard The Wanderer. He saw three generations of Rogue Traders grow old, wither and die only to be replaced by another one even with the Rejuvenation treatment that all of them used aside from the young girl that came last.

All that left him with a single realisation: while the human spirit might be indomitable, the human form was decidedly not so.

The obvious step to take once one realised that — a rather obvious fact in hindsight — was to improve upon the flesh as much, if not more so, than on the machine. One could never become entirely machine as that would mean transforming oneself into an abominable intelligence. This meant if one didn’t improve upon the flesh parts, one could never reach their maximum potential.

They could never be the most effective version of themselves. Such a travesty was what drove the Magos through centuries of research and experimentation, even as those he once thought peers would have condemned him if they ever caught as much as a whisper of what he’d been doing.

None of it matters anymore. He thought, equal parts morose and gleeful. He could never go back to how things were. Zedev could never again be the faithful priest who lived to bring the Omnissiah’s vision — or what he thought once was His vision — to life.

On the other hand, for the first time in his life, he could see an actual chance at his dreams becoming a reality, and to a man who’d been grasping at straws for such a long time, it was like water to a man lost in the desert. Hope, such a silly human thing.

Still, to turn that hope into certainty, he had to work and accomplish each task given to him by his new patron to the best of his abilities. He had to go above and beyond.

He believed he did exactly that, even if it cost him the vast majority of the armoured vehicle regiment he’d collected. He used them like the expendable tools they were, taking as much of the Tyranids with each vehicle as possible.

Now, he left the last few for the Space Marines as he retreated to a spacious hall given to him for his troubles. He spent half a day taking apart the Hive Tyrant, more a way to kill time until his Patron returned than anything.

And now she did. He knew it on some instinctive level, which he reasoned was probably a side-effect of the arcane method through which She connected their minds. He could even initiate some level of communication from his side if his calculations were correct, not that he ever would, aside from something catastrophic happening.

Zedev found himself lost in thought more often than not these last few days, so the fact that he could now sense the proximity of his Patron proved to be some sense of relief. He left behind his rudimentary experimentation and headed for where he felt her presence come from.

He accomplished the task set out for him. He was not quite expecting a reward or anything of the sort, but another task and some return on their previously discussed deals.

He waited some time, of course, not willing to intrude on Her just when She got back to the fortress to rest and whatever other activities She got up to with the young Rogue Trader.

Data showed those were important for the overall mental wellbeing of humans though Zedev himself never once understood the use of romantic attachments even if he understood the need for reproductive activities, especially with the strict regulations placed on cloning and vat-grown children.

The two’s ‘relationship’ was something his calculations found irregular. The speed, the scale of it and the overall entirety of it matched none of what his calculations would have expected. Still, it was none of his concern what pleasures of the flesh his Patron got up to.

When Zedev arrived near the door that led to the current dwelling of his Patron, he wasn’t too surprised to see the Eldar — under the guise of an older human — walk back and forth in front of it.

He’d seen the Xeno before through the live-feed images transmitted to him by some of the last tanks, the utter devastation he wrought on the Tyranids and the borderline insanity he showed while doing so.

Zedev never once heard of a Craftworld Eldar exhibiting such traits, madness of this kind was much more in line with the Drukhari and yet he still seemed to be just as much himself as before as he worriedly wandered up and down the hallway.

She must have done something. Perhaps remove a limiter from him? No, there is a reason no Eldar ever reaches their potential. He thought about it, calculated and despite his rather advanced capabilities, they all came back inconclusive. He had no way of knowing the plight of the Aeldari since he never once dwelled too much on their history. All he was interested in was their biology.

“Greetings.” His vox echoed in the hall, stopping the rhythmic footsteps of the Eldar as it turned to stare at him.

“Greetings.” The two held the other’s gaze, searching, analysing. They were as much rivals for their Patron’s favour in Zedev’s opinion as were they allies. Zedev wouldn’t betray her. That would be about as productive as shooting one’s parachute while skydiving.

Before they could exchange any more words, the door flew open and a white haired head peaked out at the two of them.

“Come in, you two,” Echidna said with a quick glance thrown their way before she was gone once again.

The Eldar tore its gaze away, rolling on his soles and striding into the room with its chin held high with Zedev following behind. He still didn’t know what exactly happened to the Xeno, nor was he all too worried about it. What it could provide his Patron was Psyker knowledge that she could get for herself with time, what Zedev could provide her on the other hand, was something much more unique in his opinion: The Marvels of Technology.

Stepping into the spacious room, Zedev saw his Patron sitting languidly on a couch with the Rogue Trader sitting further away at a table, poking some unrecognisable lump of food with a fork.

Zedev came to stand in front of the couch, a few metres away and standing at attention as if it was the Fabricator General himself sitting on that couch. He didn’t even spare a glance at the Eldar, only his sensors telling him how it was bowing so deeply its forehead almost touched the floor.

At least the Xeno knew how to show respect. Zedev contemplated bowing himself, but his spine was reinforced in such a way that didn’t allow for such a movement. Instead, he gave a respectful nod, sure that She would know the meaning behind it.

“So tell me what you two had been up to?” Echidna asked with a curious tilt of her head, her gaze landing on Zedev first, prompting him to speak.

“[I have accomplished what you asked of me … ]

[ … and with that done, I gave command of the remaining vehicles to the defenders.]

The Magos didn’t show any sign of outward pride, but I could sense a deep satisfaction radiating off of him at a job well done.

“Thank you.” I smiled at him. Then I decided to address what he was no doubt most interested in. “I know I’ve promised you various samples, and I can provide you with them all right now if you wish.”

I held down a smirk as I noticed him perk up like a cat shown a treat.

“But as you know, while we aren’t quite in enemy territory, we aren’t safe, either. I trust Commander Dante to not do anything idiotic, but I don’t doubt that he’d be all too happy to kill us all if he got the chance and neither do I doubt that every single detail he notices will be reported to the Regent once he arrives in less than two days.”

“[So your … divination is certain to be accurate?]” Zedev asked with a touch of worry in his mechanical tone.

“Yes, I saw the fleet yesterday.” I leaned back and threw up a small illusion replicating the flagship. “‘The Macragge’s Honor’ is leading it, which while not a 100% proof, I am certain I am right.”

“[Acknowledged.]” Zedev nodded simply.

“A living Primarch.” Val grimaced, his facial features becoming far more expressive or may be freely given since I pulled Slaanesh’s claws out of his psychic arse. I ignored him for now.

“So I think waiting to collect on those deals until we are out of here and somewhere far away would be optimal.” I said, trying to appeal to his pragmatic side.

“[Understood.]” He said. “[Is there a predicted timeframe for our departure?]”

“Good question.” I smiled. “It depends. If the Regent throws a fit at me existing as soon as he is notified of my existence, we need to be out of here yesterday, but if not, there is much for me to gain from him.”

“[Acknowledged.]”

I could easily tell that he wasn’t especially pleased with my answer, but he still understood it. What a good … what even was he to me? Friend? Certainly not. Servant? Not quite. Maybe a retainer? Worker? Should be something along those lines.

“Sooooooo,” I glanced between the two. “We have about two days of free time. I have nothing planned. Maybe a bit of spying and stuff to make sure our gratuitous hosts don’t end up running to their deaths a day before their salvation arrives in all his giant blue glory.”

Zedev understood a dismissal when he heard one it seemed, unlike Val next to him. There wasn’t anything useful he could report to me right now, and I didn’t really need psychic tutoring right now, so I wasn’t really sure why he was even there.

“So we are to do nothing?” He asked.

“You can do whatever you want,” I shrugged. “I’m not your mother, nor am I going to dictate how you live your life down to the minute. All I want you to do is get ready to leave … 31 hours from now if things all go to shit.”

“[Understood]” Was all Zedev said as he turned to leave, with Val following behind him a bit like a lost puppy.

There was an aura on him that, while wasn’t exactly the same as the one Fae had, it wasn’t all too different either. He didn’t worship me at least, but he might be deifying me in his own warped way. Problems for future me. Good luck future me.

I sunk into the couch as the two finally left. I wasn’t sure when my position shifted from being the first among equals to the commander of our little group, but here I was with two centuries old veterans looking up to me for directions.

Plus, the fleet somehow fucking with my predictions. How did they do that anyway? Ideas?

[There was a slight Warp ripple detected while you were in battle trance, it was similar to the signal detected when the Wanderer entered the Warp near Follax IV, but much more subdued.]

[Prediction: The Indomitus Fleet used a short range Warp Jump to speed up their travels.]

Why, though? That should be dangerous as hell. They could have reappeared inside a planet or something like that.

[Unknown. Not enough data.]

Whatever.

This new life is fucking weird. I thought. And it’s about to get even weirder. Soooo many problems for future me.