Chapter 451: The Sanctified Knight
The Titan's Adjutant was a critical member of any Titan crew, but he wasn't a pilot.
The neural interface tech of the Warhammer universe operated on strange, almost mystical rules. The larger the war-machine, the greater the psychic strain fed back into the pilot.
The largest chassis a single person could reasonably operate was a Knight. Anything bigger, and the human mind simply couldn't withstand it.
Which meant piloting something on the scale of a Titan, twenty meters minimum, required a full multi-person crew.
(note: this section is the author's own speculation. Even the author isn't entirely sure how Titan piloting is actually supposed to work.)
Generally speaking, a Titan's crew consisted of one Principal pilot, the senior commander, supported by anywhere from three to ten Adjutants beneath him.
These Adjutants weren't pilots at all. Their role was to absorb and distribute the massive data overflow generated by the Titan's chassis. They had no ability to actually operate the machine.
Put plainly, they were living memory modules.
Below the Adjutants sat the rest of the Titan's crew, personnel who had no neural connection to the war-machine at all, and instead handled maintenance and operated point-defense weaponry and the like.
Taken as a whole, an Adjutant was essentially a human component, part of the Titan itself.
A component doesn't think, it simply functions, so an Adjutant showing up here could only mean the Titan itself had sent him. Which was exactly why the surrounding tech-priests treated him with such profound reverence.
Tech-priest Boothe bowed low and asked with deep respect:
"Honored Adjutant, is there anything we may do for you?"
The Adjutant walked up beneath the Lancer Knight and looked up at it.
"He sent me here. To see one of his own kind."
He rested a hand against the Lancer's leg, and after a long moment, spoke.
"Inside here, there's a soul like his. Warlike, and loyal, but deeply weary."
Kian's brow twitched, something clicking into place, and he asked, "How do I wake this weary soul?"
The Adjutant turned to look at Kian.
"Battle. Loyalty. And a keepsake."
Kian pressed further. "What keepsake?"
The Adjutant said, "You know."
Kian fell into thought for a moment, and then it hit him.
He turned and bolted, sprinted straight for the shuttle parked outside the hangar, kicked it up to 20G on ascent, and shot straight up to orbit, to Inquisitor Trasolh's flagship, back to his Sanctum.
He made his way to the Emperor's Shrine, where Luca's flute had sat in offering for who knew how long now, and this time it seemed to glow with an almost cinematic shimmer, flickering with faint gold light.
Kian picked up the flute and pulled up its description in the system.
Sanctified Luca's Flute: play it in a place of significance to awaken a fallen hero's spirit.
He gripped the flute tight and shot straight back to the outfitting hangar at the Titan Temple in one uninterrupted rush.
The Adjutant was still there, and the rest of the tech-priests were waiting in silence, as though they somehow already sensed what was about to happen.
Kian walked up to the Lancer, flute in hand, called to mind the melody Luca used to play, and put the flute to his lips.
A haunting, mournful melody rose up, one that told a story, of a soldier who had carried an unbearable weight across a battlefield, a mountain pressing down on his shoulders.
And in the end, the war was over, and the soldier finally set that mountain down, his body flooded with a strange, complicated mix of relief and exhaustion. (The melody here is "Under No Flag," one of the Battlefield 5 theme tracks.)
As the music played, the Lancer Knight, standing silent in its scaffolding, began to stir.
The plasma reactor roared to life, the turbine coolers spun up, the massive mechanical head turned slowly, and its grey electronic eyes flared red, locking onto Kian.
The tech-priests around them gasped in a wave of disbelief, staring at the impossible sight, while the Titan's Adjutant simply smiled.
Kian finished the final note of the melody and looked up, meeting the Lancer's mechanical gaze.
"Luca. Are you awake?"
The Lancer Knight was silent for a long moment, and then, through its vox, a familiar voice came through, groggy, as if just roused from sleep.
"Ah. Count. It's you. It's been a while."
Hearing that voice, Kian asked, "Luca, do you understand your current state?"
The Lancer looked down at its own mechanical frame.
"I remember dying. But it seems the Emperor never claimed my soul after all."
The tech-priests around them descended into pure frenzy, prayers erupting from every direction in a chaotic storm, flooding the entire hangar.
The Mechanicus worshipped the machine, worshipped the machine spirit above all else.
They understood clearly: there was no pilot inside this Lancer, and yet the Lancer was moving under its own power. This was nothing short of a divine miracle.
Somehow, Luca's soul had fused directly with the Lancer Knight itself.
For a priesthood obsessed with mechanical ascension, forever trading out flesh for machine parts, this was nothing less than a living god made manifest before them.
Every tech-priest present prayed, desperate for a chance to become a machine spirit themselves, just like Luca.
"Quiet! Quiet!"
Their prayers grew so loud that Kian had to shout to be heard, and the hangar fell into instant, absolute silence, as though someone had hit mute.
Kian turned back to face the Lancer and asked:
"Luca, what did death feel like?"
After another long stretch of silence, Luca answered.
"Peaceful. I felt like I was lying... lying in a field of golden wheat, swaying in the wind. Warm sunlight kissing my face, a gentle breeze brushing over me, and the air smelled of fresh-cut grass."
The tech-priests around them scribbled furiously, recording every word. So this was what it felt like, becoming a machine spirit.
Kian asked, smiling:
"Luca, do you want to keep sleeping, keep enjoying your peace? Or do you want to head back to the battlefield, back into the noise of gunfire?"
A warm, contented laugh came through the vox.
"As peaceful as it is, even peace grows tedious after long enough.
Let me return to the battlefield. I still hunger for glory. I wish to keep fighting for the Emperor.
Though these days I tire easily, so if there's nothing pressing, please, let me sleep a while longer!"
Kian laughed heartily.
"Ha! Luca, there's no shortage of glory to be had around here. Go back to sleep. When the war calls, the flute will wake you!"
With that, the Lancer's plasma reactor powered down, the turbine coolers spun to a stop, and the red glow in its mechanical eyes faded to black.
The tech-priests absolutely lost it, shrieking and chattering in an uproar. A human soul that had become a machine spirit. A Knight that could move entirely on its own, with no pilot at all!
The chief maintenance tech was practically short-circuiting with excitement, that he'd get to serve a Knight piloted by a machine spirit itself, what an unimaginable honor!
A whole crowd of tech-priests swarmed the Lancer, plastering it with purity seals, lighting candles, chanting prayers without end.
Amid the chaos, Kian went looking for the Titan's Adjutant.
The man was already gone.
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