Gerebix Rho sat before the video terminal that connected him to the main cogitator in the Adeptus Administratum, searching for a file that had been entered some years before about a battle on one of the Sentinel Worlds. The junior Lex Mechanic could enter or retrieve reams of data in seconds – so skilled was he at his task that it was as if he and the main computer were as one.

‘Do you have it?’

The barked question came from a hulking figure standing directly behind Rho, an Adeptus Astartes warrior whose frame nearly filled the entire room he and the slight librarian shared. Rho now had the file in question, but didn’t appreciate the warrior’s tone.

‘Just a minute or two more,’ Rho said. 

He touched a small button on a keyboard below him, which made the video terminal swim with numbers and symbols and emit a loud buzzing noise, like a hive of insects coming to life. This was for show, a trick the Lex Mechanics would play on visitors who didn’t know better. And if they weren’t Lex Mechanics like Rho, they never knew better.

Rho was short and skinny, dressed plainly in a black robe. His bald head was augmented by a metal monocle, with small wires that descended into his torso, where more machinery melded with his human form. He was a member of the Adeptus Mechanicus, keeper of the Imperium of Man’s technology and information. Rho liked to think of his order as the metal soul of the Emperor himself – far sturdier than flesh, which was bound to decay and die.

‘The information must be corrected,’ the huge warrior said to Rho. ‘The contributions of the Imperial Guard are exaggerated.’

Rho brought the file up on the screen, then turned to face the Astartes. He was young, which meant that he had waged war for the Emperor for only a short time. His order was the Steel Confessors, closely associated with the Adeptus Mechanicus. That bond was the only reason he had been allowed into this sanctum of information.

In the complex hierarchy of the Adeptus Mechanicus, Lex Mechanics like Rho were fairly low. Respected for their utility, but expected to follow orders. Rho’s directive had been to hear the Space Marine out, no more. Best to keep the Steel Confessors placated, if not completely satisfied, Rho had been told. 

Rho resented the assignment – he knew it had been given to him as punishment because he’d recently questioned an order from his superior. He also disliked it both for the waste of his time and because of the unseemly compromise – so human, so weak, so unlike the perfection of machinery and information.

The Steel Confessor was also dressed in a black robe but bore no mechanical enhancements. Like all Astartes, Rho had to concede, the man was a perfect, albeit genetically enhanced, example of humanity. He was eight feet tall and his shoulders were nearly as broad as Rho stood head to toe. Even without the armour Space Marines wore into battle, the man looked like he could throttle several Orks with his bare hands and not break a sweat.

Rho craned his neck to look the Astartes in the eye, causing the metal wires which reached from his head to his body to make a noise like paper being crumpled.

‘What is your name again?’

‘Cestal Moreel,’ the warrior answered.

‘Cestal, if I may be so familiar…’

The large man nodded.

‘Cestal, you’ve undoubtedly fought on planets throughout the galaxy. I’ve never left Terra, and very rarely leave the Administratum.’

‘And your point is,’ the Steel Confessor said, his impatience evident.

Rho paused.

‘Accuracy is, of course, paramount, but there seems nothing deficient with the report. It was a victory for the Empire. The information about the Imperial Guard consists of only four paragraphs, detailing their charge on the left flank of the main attack.’

‘You read the entire battle report already.’

Rho smiled. It was rare for a librarian to be able to best an Astartes.

‘Thanks to my mechanical additions, and my training, I can read and recall an entire library’s worth of information in the time it takes you to draw a Power Sword.’

The Astartes returned Rho’s stare, but said nothing.

‘It’s just,’ Rho said, hesitating for just a moment. ‘This seems, if you don’t mind me saying, petty and hardly a good use of the Emperor’s resources. I understand my superiors already reviewed this and rejected a request from the Steel Confessors to change this data. And you are a warrior. This task of coming here hardly seems suited for you.’

The Astartes turned his head to the side and, for the first time in the smaller man’s presence, deflated a bit, his shoulders lowering slightly.

‘You, Lex Mechanic, do your bosses assign you menial tasks when they are upset with you?’

Rho grinned, which, when combined with the monocle on his face, made his whole head look like a plate with geometric bits of food.

‘Of course.’

The Astartes stared at the floor, his black hair falling across his face. Rho thought he looked like a giant school boy who had been scolded by the headmaster.

‘I activated a remote detonation pack early on my last deployment. My mistake warned the xenos units of our presence, allowing some to escape. For this, I was told to come here and ‘badger the metal librarians.’

Rho bristled at the put down, but sympathised with the young warrior. Undoubtedly, the Steel Confessors thought being in the presence of the ‘metal librarians’ was punishment enough.

‘Well, Cestal. I will allow you to return triumphant. I won’t make the changes they seek, but I will alter the file so when it is accessed by your order it will seem as if alterations were made.’

The young warrior smiled.

‘We must seek our victories over our enemies, external and internal, whenever we can, don’t you think,’ Rho said as he resumed typing.