When Tallen Wick regained consciousness, he found himself in an unfamiliar place.
The ground beneath him was cold metal, and not far away was a control console flickering with faint light. The surrounding structure was compact and precise, looking like the bridge of a small ship.
The escape pod seemed to be a teleportation device, bringing him directly here. Outside was the cold, silent universe, but the image of everything burning in his mind refused to fade.
Wick sat on the ground in a daze for a while, no light in his mechanical eye sockets. After a long time, he stiffly stood up, like a machine restarting. He clutched the water tank tightly, as if using all his strength, and shuffled step by step to the control console.
Sensing his approach, the main screen lit up just in time, displaying a simplified star map. The system prompted him to choose a destination.
Wick made no choice. He carefully placed the water tank on a nearby stand, then slumped into the pilot's chair, beginning to quietly reflect on everything that had happened. Dimitry, Boni, Leonid... their sacrifices must not be in vain.
Those damned xenos must pay for this!
At the same time, Wick remembered Dimitry's last words—"Be sure to hand it over to someone who can use it to benefit everyone"—and the earlier phrase, "enough to allow every Imperial citizen to drink clean water."
If it were any other Tech-Priest, any metaphor might be used, but never this one. In Wick's understanding, few Tech-Priests cared about anyone other than themselves, let alone ordinary mortals who had no relation to them. Their world contained only gears, data, and piety towards the Omnissiah.
Why does this cold universe always let people with such passion die, and let people like him, who are already numb, live? Is this the scene the Emperor would want to see?
Wick exerted his greatest effort to pull himself out of this endless despair. First, consider the issue of revenge! He turned his gaze to the star map on the screen. In the vast eastern part of the galaxy, which force was the strongest and most capable of delivering a decisive blow to the tyranids?
The answer, without a doubt, was the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar, ruled by the Ultramarines.
But he was an insignificant person. If he only presented the intelligence he currently possessed, would the Ultramarines take his opinion seriously? After all, although Wick, out of trust for Dimitry and the others, firmly believed in the threat of the Tyranid Swarm, ultimately, only one planet had fallen so far, and it was a barbarian world so remote that not even tithes could be collected.
Suddenly, a faint spark flashed in Wick's logic circuits.
According to Dimitry and the others, the Tyranid Swarm was vast and would inevitably devour everything in its path. If so, then the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar, as the largest power in the eastern galaxy, must certainly be a tyranid target. Perhaps the tyranids' straight line of march had no special reason; Ultramar simply happened to be in their direct path.
But Wick, as the first Tech-Priest to encounter the tyranid and survive, could "artistically embellish" this! In a situation where the entire Imperium knew nothing about this new xenos, no greater authority would be able to reasonably question him.
For example, he could claim that the main reason the Tyranid Swarm swarm was heading straight for Ultramar was to devour the flesh and blood of the Primarch!
And when the Ultramarines actually discovered that the Tyranid Swarm was heading straight for them, they would certainly have no choice but to believe everything he said. After all, how could the Ultramarines not be angry when their genetic Magos was coveted by xenos? How could they not gather all their strength to deliver a thunderous blow to the tyranids?
Wick felt a surge of excitement from this flash of inspiration! He could even see hundreds of thousands, even millions, of enraged sons of Guilliman gathering in Ultramar, preparing to mince every single Tyranid Swarm into meat paste! By then, Dimitry and the others' revenge would be within reach!
Wick stood up excitedly, pacing back and forth on the cramped bridge. Next, it was about how to achieve Dimitry and the others' ideals.
At this, Wick felt a violent headache. To make all citizens of the Imperium live good lives? Omnissiah, this was much harder than eliminating the Tyranid Swarm!
After much thought, Wick had not the slightest clue. In the end, he had to give up the idea of immediately coming up with a complete solution. Such a thing was impossible to achieve overnight, so he decided to take it one step at a time.
"First, I must begin to rapidly advance within the system," Wick muttered to himself, "I need knowledge, a vast amount of knowledge to strengthen myself..."
At this point, he became somewhat dejected: "But where can I find knowledge?"
"Knowledge?"
A cold, emotionless mechanical voice echoed in the spaceship, where there absolutely should not have been a second person.
"That kind of thing, however much you want, I can give you."
Wick spun around abruptly and saw a xenos he had never seen in any biological database on Mars—it was like a silver skeleton made of metal, with a long, dead face devoid of life, only its eyes emitting an eerie, glowing green light.
"As long as..." The xenos extended a long, metallic finger, pointing to the water tank Wick had placed aside, "...you give me that."
Wick didn't hesitate for a moment, darting forward and spreading his arms to shield the water tank behind him, like a wild beast protecting its young: "Xenos, get lost!"
"Heh heh, you'd best think carefully before speaking, Magos Wick." The silver skeleton-like xenos said leisurely, its voice cold and smooth, without a trace of emotional fluctuation.
It bowed slightly, performing an ancient and elegant gesture: "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Trazyn the Infinite, a collector who enjoys collecting items of unique historical significance."
Trazyn straightened up, calculating light flickering in his green eyes: "Then, let me do some accounting for you. Firstly, you have no combat power; at least right now, you are absolutely no match for me. This means I could completely kill you right now and then take this water tank. The reason I offered to exchange it for knowledge is simply out of my adherence to ancient etiquette."
It paused, seemingly giving Wick time to process this statement.
"Secondly, if you truly die here to protect this water tank, which is useless except for its symbolic meaning, would Dimitry and the others be happy?" Trazyn continued, accurately speaking the name, making Wick's heart sink, "And if you accept the trade, not only will this water tank be handed over to the person who can truly master it—that is, me—but you will also gain the knowledge sufficient to realize Dimitry and the others' ideals... Believe me, the knowledge I possess absolutely exceeds your imagination. This trade is well worth it."
"You've been watching us..." Wick squeezed out the words through gritted teeth.
"Yes," Trazyn admitted frankly, "You're not going to say something like, 'Then why didn't you save us?' are you?"
Wick said coldly: "Being saved by a xenos is worse than simply being eaten by the tyranids."
"Very good, it seems your mind is clear." Trazyn said with satisfaction, "So, have you considered the trade? Or do you intend to place all your respect and meaning for them on this inanimate object, thereby losing the opportunity to truly realize their ideals?"
Wick fell silent. Every word of Trazyn's was like a precise scalpel, dissecting his defenses and striking at his core contradiction. Should he cling to his friends' relics, mourning in helplessness, or use this relic to gain the power to fulfill their last wishes? For a Tech-Priest, the scales of logic had already begun to tip.
After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice hoarse: "I need some time to think... and to inspect the goods."
"Of course, of course." Trazyn seemed to have anticipated his response. It grabbed something out of thin air, and a black data chip shimmering with faint light appeared in its hand. "You can inspect as much as you want, and think as much as you want. My patience, like my time, is infinite..."
It placed the chip on the control console.
"...It's just that the tyranids are not."