Informational note
Once we reached the so-called orbital plates, or super-orbital plates, which I had read so much about in the books, I was left speechless: some hundred kilometers in diameter, literally an entire continent floating in orbit, with populations of millions of people devoted to trade, industry and defense.
Only the most advanced worlds of the Federation, the so-called master worlds, ever managed to build something like this.
Although, sadly, the last of its kind, known as the Sky Fortress, was destroyed during the Horus Heresy, in the White Scars’ counteroffensive during the Battle of Terra.
A real shame.
Time skip
At that moment I was finishing gearing up to descend to the surface.
I knew that, at this point in history, Chaos didn’t yet have a significant presence, but I still had to take precautions, both for myself and for those who were with me.
I had no way of knowing what dangers we might run into along the way, so I decided to prepare thoroughly.
The first thing I designed was a hard-light sword, the kind the Promethean Knights use.
I could have made a standard model, but I ended up making an exact replica of the Doom Slayer’s Crucible blade, down to the last detail, symbols included, because in this universe words and symbols carry real weight.
I was hoping it would work, at the very least, against daemons.
I even recited one of the prayers used by the Ecclesiarchy, more specifically the Sisters of Battle, to bless their weapons before combat.
O Holy Emperor of Mankind, maker of our destiny and guardian of truth, we call upon you in this sacred hour, to grant your light and your power to this sword.
May its edge be as keen as the will of the loyal, may its weight carry the justice of your Imperium in every blow.
Into your hands, O Emperor, I entrust our fate, may this weapon be a beacon of your wrath and your protection.
Bless this sword with your divine essence, may every battle be a glorious offering to your greatness.
By the blood of our enemies, may it be the scales of justice and the terror of the heretic.
In your name, we shall fight with courage and honor, with this sword our faith shall be unbreakable.
May those who fall beneath its edge know the weight of your justice.
In the name of the Emperor.
Amen.
I ended up on my knees on the floor, my hands on my chest forming the Imperial Aquila.
God-Emperor, bless me, and please don’t destroy me.
I’m a good AI.
I recited every prayer I could remember, looking for all the protection I could get.
Somewhere on Earth, a man of such absurd beauty that it was almost unnatural, the kind that left anyone staring at him slack-jawed, men and women alike, was walking beside an equally imposing woman.
The people around them wondered whether they might be some kind of celebrities, given the air of majesty and glory they gave off without even trying.
Suddenly, the man stopped for a moment.
“Achoo.
Who’s talking about me?” he said, somewhere between puzzled and annoyed.
Back with Samuel
With the prayers done, I moved on to the rest of the gear I’d be taking with me.
Among other things, the Z-110 directed-energy pistol, of Forerunner origin, which I could disassemble and hide in pieces inside my own body, to summon it whenever I needed it.
Perfect for short- and medium-range combat, it runs on ion ammunition.
I’d also bring two pulse grenades, in case things got really complicated.
I just hoped our stay here would be as peaceful as possible.
Time skip
Once out of the spaceport, our first stop was immigration.
I had mentally prepared myself for a slow, bureaucratic process, but instead I found a genuine explosion of color and diversity.
The variety of xeno species was astonishing: creatures of every size, shape and color crowded the line, waiting their turn to show their credentials and get permission to board the maglev train that ran through the city.
My gaze lingered for a moment on a technologically enhanced jellyfish, floating inside a glass jar, with mechanical limbs that seemed specifically designed to interact with technological systems.
Its gelatinous body pulsed with a soft light, changing hue according to what seemed to be its mood.
Our luck changed when a friend of Marcus’s, a tall, thin man with what looked like integrated circuits in his neck, waved at us from the other side of the barrier.
“Hello, friends!” he said with a wide smile.
“I already got you a fast-track pass.
No need to wait in line.”
With a grateful nod, we followed Marcus’s friend through the crowd toward the train that would take us to the next point in the city.
We finally boarded the maglev train, which glided smoothly along the tracks that crossed the city from one end to the other.
The ten-minute ride flew by as I watched the urban landscape through the windows.
When we reached the second checkpoint, the guards asked for our credentials and the purpose of our visit.
I braced myself mentally for an exhaustive inspection, but Marcus had already warned us that this particular checkpoint was pure routine.
“Korea, the city of Seoul,” Marcus replied.
“And the purpose of your visit?”
“Business,” he said with a relaxed smile.
The guard stared at me for a moment, assessing my frame from top to bottom.
“Are you carrying any weapons?” he asked, addressing me directly.
“None,” I replied.
He nodded and gestured for me to step forward.
I submitted to the inspection without any trouble while a scanning device swept over my body looking for any prohibited items.
A second later, he handed my credential back.
“You may pass.”
As soon as they let us through, we boarded a private elevator that took us straight to the VIP area.
As we rose, I couldn’t help being surprised by the opulence around us: gourmet food, first-class seats, state-of-the-art entertainment, all the luxury money could buy.
It was like being in a completely separate world.
In barely an hour we reached the surface, where a luxury car was waiting for us.
The driver, an elegant man dressed in black, opened the door for us with an almost rehearsed bow.
“Welcome, gentlemen,” he said with a professional smile.
“I will take you to the Yoo family mansion.”
During the drive, I looked up at the sky and was met with a truly impressive sight: swarms of flying cars, the so-called “skyjets,” streaking through the air like a school of fish in constant motion.
Their aerodynamic design, together with the LED lights that twinkled like stars, created something almost hypnotic, especially for someone who, in his own head, was still a person from the twenty-first century.
The mansion, when we finally arrived, turned out to be just as impressive.
It was the headquarters of Zephyros Technologies, a corporation devoted to robotics and shipbuilding, both military and civilian.
Its motto, “The wind is our domain, speed our weapon,” was engraved right on the main façade.
“This is the home of our host, Mr.
Yoo,” Marcus explained as we got out of the car.
“He’s an old friend of the patriarch, and he has offered us his hospitality for our entire stay on Earth.”
The mansion itself was practically a palace: meticulously kept gardens, futuristic architecture that looked like it came straight out of a science-fiction movie.
For a moment, I almost forgot which universe I was actually in.
“I’m sure you will enjoy your stay here,” the driver said, handing us our luggage.
“Mr.
Yoo is expecting you in the main hall.”
We headed for the entrance.
Inside, we were greeted by a pair of android maids, so realistic it was hard to tell them apart from real people, who took charge of our luggage.
Another, who seemed to be in charge of the rest of the staff, very humbly asked us to follow her to the living room, where Mr.
Yoo and his wife were waiting for us.
“I see things are going wonderfully around here,” Bruce said as soon as we walked in.
“Not really,” Yoo Jinwoong replied, with a hint of annoyance.
“Between the constant trade disputes in congress and the regulatory policies the Federation imposes to line its own pockets, and above all, the mess you dumped on me,” he added, shooting Bruce a reproachful look.
“But you profited from all of it, didn’t you?” Bruce replied, unfazed.
“True, true.
And plenty,” Yoo Jinwoong admitted, letting out a grudging laugh.
“It’s good to see you again.
How’s the family?”
“We’re doing relatively well,” Bruce said.
“And your kids?
Where are they?”
“My son is at the company right now; he won’t be back until tonight,” explained Jin Yeojung, Yoo Jinwoong’s wife.
“My daughter Yuna is in her room, getting ready to go shopping at Harmony Plaza.”
At that moment, a young woman of about eighteen burst through the door.
“Mother, I’m going out with some friends to Harmony Plaza.
I’ll be back in a few hours,” Yuna announced.
But take a bodyguard with you.”
“Ugh, Mom, I don’t want to, it’s super embarrassing,” she protested.
“Besides, I’m a Yoo.
Who’s going to mess with me?”
“No buts,” her mother insisted.
“Crime on Earth has been at alarming levels lately.
I’m doing this for your safety.
At least take an automaton with you.”
“Ugh, fine.
You’re coming with me.
At least you’ll be good for carrying my bags,” Yuna said, grabbing Samuel by the hand without asking his permission.
“Who, me?” I asked, pointing at my metal face, as baffled as one can be without eyebrows to furrow.
“Yes, you.
Come on, we’re running late,” she insisted, dragging me out of the room before I could protest.
“Wait, Yuna, he’s with our guests…” Jin Yeojung managed to say, but her daughter had already run off, taking Samuel with her.
The head maid stepped closer, with a discreet expression.
“Ma’am, would you like me to call her back?”
“That won’t be necessary.
Please forgive my daughter’s manners; lately she’s been hanging around with some undesirable people from the university.
If your automaton suffers any damage, we’ll give you a latest-generation model as compensation.”
“No need,” Bruce replied.
“He can take care of himself.
But, changing the subject, I have a matter to discuss with you.”
Elsewhere
Inside an enormous plaza, I watched people walking back and forth, dressed in clothes that screamed wealth and status from every seam.
At that moment I was following the young lady of the Yoo family, Yuna, who had met up with her group of friends: three girls and two boys, who every now and then stared at me with curiosity.
We went through all kinds of stores, clothing and tech, where items were displayed as holograms before you bought them.
When you paid, a mirror-like machine instantly materialized the object in solid form, a process they called “transmaterialization.” Truly fascinating.
All afternoon they used me as the official shopping-bag carrier, but I took the opportunity to acquire as many Standard Template Constructs as I could find, of every kind available.
And, lucky for me, accompanying Yuna gave me access to the most sophisticated STCs in the tech stores: vehicles, suits, ships, research materials, even blueprints for Titans from past generations which, to my surprise, were available to the general public, as if they were selling lettuce at the market, for anyone who was going to found a colony.
If the Mechanicus knew about this, they’d be foaming at the mouth, spitting curses in binary nonstop.
I asked, hoping to find them, whether they had the blueprints for the Castigator Titan, the largest ever built.
Unfortunately for me, they weren’t available: only the corporation that designed it kept those blueprints.
A real shame.
Even so, I found other items of interest that I ended up buying.
Yuna and her friends watched me in genuine amazement, surprised to see an AI comparing and evaluating items just like any person would.
A couple more hours passed before we finally set off back to the mansion.
Yuna had her purchases, and mine, sent straight home, finally leaving my hands free.
At that moment we were in another store, buying some snacks from a famous brand to bring something back for the crew, when, on returning to the group, we found Yuna arguing heatedly with another group.
From what I could make out, it involved a classmate of hers named Sakura Sato, of the Sato family, one of the megacorporations that ruled the Federation.
Apparently, Sakura was considered little short of a goddess among the young people of the entire city of Seoul.
The argument seemed to revolve around a boy standing next to Yuna, in whom Sakura appeared to have a certain interest.
By the time we finally reached both groups, the argument had already hit its peak.
Yuna’s friends were telling her to ignore her and walk away; Sakura’s were doing exactly the same with her.
Just when it looked like both of them were about to hurl one last curse at each other, Sakura’s gaze drifted to the automaton standing beside Yuna.
She stood there staring at it, confused, not quite understanding why it seemed so familiar.
Before anyone could say anything else, a single sentence left her lips.
“Samuel Hayden.
What are you doing here?”
Sakura Sato
English is not my native language, so I hope you can understand if there are any inconsistencies or mistakes in the text.