As the initial tension subsided, the Helldivers activated a discreet mechanism on their armor's collars. Their helmets retracted into their powered armor with a faint hydraulic hiss, revealing their faces.
It was a shock to everyone aboard the Sword of Solarius. Captain Elara Vance, though accustomed to the wonders and horrors of the galaxy, was momentarily speechless. She expected to see human faces scarred by war, but not this. They were replicants – clones – yet each bore a distinct personality. Their hairstyles varied, from regulation cuts to more unkempt styles. One of them had lost an eye, replaced by a glowing red bionic implant. Another bore a deep, old scar in the shape of a cross on his cheek. And Sergeant Kael himself revealed a magnificently complex bionic left arm, its joints of silver and obsidian gleaming faintly.
For Elara, who had seen everything, this was a first. Her Magos Explorator, a man much of whose body was already machine, emitted a stifled crackle. To him, this fusion of cloning, modified flesh, and personalized cybernetics was a heresy against the sacred human form. But, cautious, he said nothing for now.
Sergeant Kael, seemingly ignoring the reaction he had provoked, gave a slight bow. "Captain, I would like to invite you and your retinue aboard our ship for dinner. It would be an opportunity to learn about each other's cultures."
Elara, mastering her unease, thanked him and accepted. As she prepared to follow them, her finger discreetly pressed a hidden button on her ornate ring. A coded message was sent to the Sword of Solarius, addressed to a team of Space Wolves in transit aboard. The message was brief and clear: "If I do not return, burn them."
The Captain and her retinue entered the Helldiver ship. The interior was vast, spacious, and smelled of ozone, clean metal, and subtle energy. Everything was functional, sleek, but of such advanced technology that the Imperial retinue looked around with unconcealed curiosity. To facilitate movement through the long corridors, the Sergeant guided them to a conveyor belt integrated into the floor.
Elara looked at the device, impressed, then turned to her Magos. "Why don't we have this on our ship?"
The Magos replied in his robotic, cold voice: "The design of your ancestors' vessels, Captain, has no need for such frivolities. Efficiency comes through piety and permanence, not through softness." Elara shook her head, annoyed by his dogmatism.
They finally arrived in a room that seemed straight out of an ancient palace on Terra, beautifully adorned with virtual woodwork and tapestries. The Imperial guests stared, amazed, wondering how such luxury could exist on a warship.
Kael smiled at their reaction. "This is a multi-purpose holographic room. It's used for training, briefings, and events like this one."
All eyes turned to the Magos, expecting a technical explanation. But the Magos, far from being scandalized, was fascinated. His bionic eye blinked rapidly, and one could sense an almost avid thirst to dissect the ship and uncover its secrets.
Multiple and varied dishes, all smelling delicious, were brought in by server androids of stunning beauty and realism. The assembly watched them, mesmerized. It was too much for the Magos. He sprang to his feet, pointing a trembling finger—part flesh, part metal—at the androids.
"HERESY! ABOMINATION!" he spat, his synthetic voice shrill. "This profanation of the human form... These artificial creations that mock life..."
Elara immediately raised her hand, her authority restoring a precarious calm. "Magos, contain yourself! We are someone's guests. I ask you to apologize."
Kael, still calm, smiled slightly. "It's quite alright. Everyone is free to their opinion and their reactions. But please, eat before it gets cold."
The meal continued, initially somewhat tense, but eventually the ice broke. The food was exquisite, the wines strange yet delicate. Conversations, hesitant at first, turned to worlds explored, xenos encountered, and the mysteries of the galaxy. The evening ultimately unfolded wonderfully, and both parties expressed the hope of meeting again soon.
Once back on the Sword of Solarius, the Magos, flushed with retroactive fury, exclaimed, "We must destroy them! Heretics! Abominations! Open fire!"
But Captain Elara Vance refused categorically. "No. They received us with honor and shared their table. We operate under the Warrant, Magos. Our duty is to discover, to establish contact, not to judge and burn on principle. They are different, certainly. But they did not threaten us. For now, we will observe."