Warhammer 40k : Space Marine Kayvaan

Kayvaan frowned. "Do you really want to protect the future of humanity? Or is this just about your thirst for knowledge? You've always been happiest when immersed in your studies. You once told me that eating and sleeping were just chores to you—wastes of time. That if you could, you'd spend your whole life doing nothing but reading and researching."

A dry chuckle came from Valyra. "You remember that so well. But no, this isn't just about my love for knowledge. This is about responsibility. When grandfather discovered the STC, his first instinct was to share this monumental find with the Emperor. But back then, the Emperor had just forged a pact with the Mechanicus. If this discovery went public, the STC would've been handed over to them as part of the deal.

"The Emperor knew better. He understood the true nature of the Mechanicus and refused to let them have it. Instead, he ordered grandfather to keep the STC hidden. He dreamed of a future where the Imperium would have its own research institutions, its own scientists. In that future, the Mechanicus wouldn't hold humanity hostage with their archaic faith. The Emperor saw this STC as a tool for that future—a future where humanity's golden age could return.

"But…" Valyra's voice faltered, tinged with sorrow. "The Emperor was betrayed, and that dream never came to pass. Brother, you don't need to worry about me. I know my limits. I can hide well from the eyes of the Mechanicus. When my Captain discovered the STC, the Emperor's protection was already in place. Besides, while this STC is undeniably precious, it's not as useful as you might think—not without its original protocols. Each STC is equipped with a comprehensive defense system. Accessing its files without the proper permissions is nearly impossible. I've been battling this system for years, and even now, I've only managed to unlock less than one ten-thousandth of its data."

Kayvaan frowned, trying to process the staggering inefficiency. In over nine thousand years, she'd unlocked a fraction of the "knowledge," and even then, it seemed to consist mostly of basic schematics. "So, let me guess," Kayvaan said. "You gave up the Governor's seat to me because you need more time to break through that defense system?"

"My time is limited," Valyra admitted, her voice heavy with frustration. "I can't afford to waste it on trivial matters. Imagine standing before a treasure trove of invaluable knowledge, only to find yourself locked out. It's maddening. Even though I don't need to eat or sleep anymore, I still need to rest and manage the territory, which eats up so much of my time. And let's not forget the Mechanicus. I have to constantly watch my back because there's a Forge World orbiting the Reach star above our heads. All these distractions make it impossible to focus. But now that you're here, brother, you can handle it all."

Kayvaan finally understood. The remote and barren planet, the long-forgotten lineage, and even the throne returning to his hands—it was all for the STC. "So, I'm essentially your babysitter?" he asked with a wry smile.

"Let's call it mutual assistance," Valyra said, her tone lightening. "I can do plenty for you too."

"Like what?" Kayvaan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"For starters, the armor you're wearing," Valyra replied. "Don't worry, it's just a routine check-up," she added as eight sleek, metallic arms extended from the massive machinery surrounding her. Some carried scanners that emitted a soft blue light, while others had intricate tools. The arms moved around him, scanning and probing his suit before retracting.

"Done," Valyra said, stepping back to inspect her work. "The suit you're wearing is a simplified design based on early Imperial reconnaissance gear, likely derived from pre-Heresy scout uniforms. Stripped-down performance for a massive reduction in cost. It's functional, but crude by today's standards." She tapped a few keys on her portable cogitator. "With the tools I have, I can tweak and upgrade it. Some adjustments to the armor's joint flexibility and thermal padding could improve comfort and overall performance by about 20%."

"Twenty percent?" Kayvaan exclaimed, stunned. That kind of improvement could mean life or death on the battlefield. The suit wasn't just protective; its exoskeleton design enhanced strength, stamina, and reflexes. A 20% boost across the board was like being handed god-tier equipment in a game, except there were no second chances in real life. He swallowed. "Just the suit?"

"I can upgrade your weapons too—guns, blades, cloaks, you name it. Standard scout equipment is within my reach," Valyra replied.

"What about more advanced gear, like power armor?"

Valyra hesitated. "Brother, having better personal gear is fine. After all, you're the Governor of a star system—some perks are expected. But equipping your entire legion with top-tier gear? That would draw the Mechanicus's attention, and you don't want that. If they find out about me, it won't just be inconvenient. It'll be the end."

Kayvaan nodded grimly. Exposure would mean annihilation, no doubt about it. "So, what do I do moving forward?" he asked. "Any advice?"

"That's up to you. I'm not interested in managing the territory. The only reason I bothered before was to stay under the radar. As long as I didn't stir up trouble, I could work quietly. Now that you're in charge, none of that concerns me. Honestly, you could sell off all the people, turn them into slaves, mine the planet dry, or build a massive palace and fill it with wives and concubines. Whatever makes you happy," she said with a teasing smirk.

Kayvaan sighed. "And how do we stay in touch?"

"It's better if we don't. You're going to be busy—governor, leader of a Chapter regiment, all that. Just focus on your work and make sure the Reach system doesn't fall apart. If I need you, I'll find you." Valyra paused, the machinery around her emitting a low hum. Suddenly, the giant construct that housed her body began to ripple like liquid metal. Moments later, it spat out a metallic coffin, which clattered onto the floor.

The iron coffin opened with a mechanical hiss, and from within emerged a fair-faced female servitor. Like all servitors, she wore a long robe, but this one was unique: four mechanical limbs, resembling an arachnid's, extended from her back to assist her movements. Her slender frame and the fluid motion of the limbs gave her an unsettling grace—something alien, yet disturbingly human.

Beneath the robe, there was nothing—just emptiness where flesh should have been. The front hung slightly open, revealing elegant collarbones and a slender, unblemished throat. Her closed eyes and serene features hinted at a beauty frozen in time, untarnished by the ravages of reality. Crawling out of the coffin, the mechanical limbs bore her weight, allowing her to stand. The limbs moved her forward, each step accompanied by a faint mechanical whir. The robe swayed with her movements, offering glimpses of pale legs beneath. He studied her, and his expression darkened. "This…" His voice was low and guarded. "This is you. From when you were younger."