Test Subject One's sensor feed—like a cold, silent observer—transmitted every heart-stopping moment from Biotechnica Tower's rooftop in high-definition, data-annotated detail straight to Cairo's main terminal back at the desert workshop.
He watched Sasha shatter reinforced glass with fatal resolve, her small frame falling from the building's edge with almost tragic beauty.
He watched Test Subject One efficiently execute its preset "minimize casualties" protocol, rapidly hijacking a nearby security drone on patrol, precisely adjusting its flight path to position itself beneath Sasha at the critical moment.
Thud—
Dull impact transmitted through audio sensors. The drone's shell instantly fractured under the weight, frame severely deformed—but it did cushion the fall.
Sasha didn't smash directly into hard pavement but crashed heavily onto twisted drone wreckage, avoiding instant death.
Still, the impact force from falling dozens of floors remained horrific. Sensor-transmitted vital sign readings plummeted instantly: multiple compound fractures, internal bleeding, severe neural system trauma...
The subsequent rescue operation by Maine's crew was faithfully recorded: Rebecca charging forward like an enraged lioness, clearing the path with overwhelming firepower; Maine carefully lifting barely-alive Sasha from the rubble; Falco nervously applying emergency hemostasis and stabilization; Pilar cursing while watching their backs.
Throughout the process, Test Subject One maintained safe distance, hovering silently in shadows like a ghostly war correspondent, recording everything while occasionally releasing weak electronic interference to scramble potential Biotechnica tracking signals toward Maine's crew.
Cairo watched all this calmly, crimson optical lenses like two bottomless ancient wells—not a ripple.
Sasha's choice to end herself protecting teammates sparked zero reaction in his mind, forged through the Warhammer universe's countless crueler, grander sacrifices.
Just standard damage control after mission failure. A quantifiable rational choice in desperate circumstances.
He could even coldly analyze how Sasha's fall angle and cushioning mass affected survival probability coefficients.
His thought patterns had been profoundly reshaped by Mechanicum doctrine and Warhammer universe survival laws.
From a bewildered transmigrator, he'd climbed step by step to positions just below Tech-Priest Magos rank. He'd seen and done far too many things beyond ordinary moral boundaries.
Converting former classmates into servo-skulls to "preserve their knowledge and will to serve the Machine God." Ordering orbital bombardment on loyal legions still locked in combat with enemies—for strategic victory or contamination elimination...
When necessary, these choices came without much psychological barrier.
Emotional fluctuation was viewed as inefficient system interference requiring strict logical protocol management and suppression.
That didn't mean he'd completely become a cold killing machine or religious zealot, of course.
Retaining pre-transmigration memories, he deeply understood the simple truth: "Be good to others, be good to yourself."
When costs were controllable and didn't endanger core objectives, he didn't mind displaying certain "mercy" or providing "help."
This flexibility and pragmatism were key to his survival and continued advancement within the Mechanicum after both his mentor and classmates got purged for heresy charges.
Absolute ruthlessness and occasional "warmth" were both optimized survival strategies for different contexts.
Therefore, when Maine's crew rushed back to the desert workshop with critically injured, dying Sasha, when Maine desperately begged Cairo for help—Cairo's response was neither enthusiastic agreement nor cold refusal.
He first had the servo-skull conduct more detailed scans, confirming injury severity. With this world's medical technology, even if saved, she'd likely end up completely paralyzed, dependent on life support systems.
Unless she underwent full-body cyberization—not just expensive but requiring specialized custom solutions and long-term meticulous maintenance.
Otherwise, just cobbling together cheap secondhand cyberware would make cyberpsychosis almost guaranteed.
"Her biological tissue damage rate exceeds sixty-five percent. Multiple neural system breaks, compound spinal fractures." Cairo's synthesized voice stated facts flatly, emotion undetectable. "Conventional medical intervention meaningless. Complete restoration requires massive bioconstruct replacement and neural reweaving surgery. This consumes my reserves of specific bioactive matter, precision nano-repair units, and considerable energy."
Maine's heart sank, but he caught a thread of possibility in Cairo's tone rather than absolute condemnation. He immediately said excitedly: "Boss, whatever the price! Whatever we've got, just name it!"
Cairo's optical lenses turned toward Maine, crimson glow seeming to flicker slightly.
"I don't need your money or scattered 'scrap.'" He paused, seemingly pulling up blueprints. "I need resources. Massive, systematic construction materials.
High-strength concrete, structural steel beams, composite armor plating, large environmental control systems, main power cabling...
Enough to clear, reinforce, and preliminarily renovate that 'Little Dipper' facility's main structure beneath our feet."
He projected a detailed materials list before Maine: "Deliver these items. In exchange, I'll repair Sasha—make her better than before the injury. Fair deal."
Maine stared at that lengthy, expensive list, sucking in sharp breath.
This wasn't small change—practically equivalent to materials for contracting a small military outpost construction.
But looking at Sasha's faint breathing on the medical bed, then at Cairo's non-negotiable attitude, he nodded firmly: "Deal! We'll figure out how to get this stuff!"
"Good." Cairo said no more, gesturing for them to place Sasha on the workshop's specialized medical bed.
Mechanical tentacles began interfacing with Sasha's body, injecting life-sustaining nutrients and stabilizers, temporarily keeping her alive.
To Cairo, this was a profitable transaction.
Resources and time spent treating Sasha fell far below that materials list's value.
Plus, once repaired, Sasha's netrunning abilities might prove more useful for his future plans.
It also further bound Maine's crew, making them more dependent on his technical expertise.
As for Sasha's personal tragedy and emotional trauma? That fell outside his calculation parameters. He provided physical-level repairs. Psychological issues were "software failures" users needed debugging themselves.
His attention quickly shifted from this small episode toward grander plans—completely renovating the underground facility, creating a true Tech-Priest-standard laboratory where he could conduct deep research in peace.
The surface garage workshop could no longer meet his next phase requirements.
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