Axion harbored no interest in conventional comrce; his focus remained fixed on a single variable: the thod of egress from this localized anomaly.
"Inquiry: How do you ensure navigational vectors within this sector?"
Vormay, though her entrepreneurial montum had been montarily checked, took no offense. Instead, she extended a formal invitation.
"This region of the void plays host to certain unique 'entities' capable of discerning orientation even when the Lightless Realm descends into total eclipse. We rely on these creatures for transit. If it interests you, co aboard my vessel. You may contract their services to guide your fleet."
Axion paused. A logic-loop snagged on a sudden realization: he possessed zero Imperial currency.
The ancient Federation had utilized its own sophisticated monetary systems, though such things had never concerned the Iron n directly. Aside from service-model units tied to individual creator-entities, most Iron n belonged to collective strategic fraworks. Units under the sa command shared a unified requisition account.
Typically, logistics-grade Iron n managed these exchanges. Resource consumption or material acquisition was calculated in real-ti, settled by any logistics unit at any Federation paynt node. The zero-latency Quantum Network made synchronized, multi-locational transactions a standard protocol. Such was the level of automation that the margin for accounting error was non-existent.
In the old days, as front-line units expended munitions in the fires of expansion, replacents were purchased instantly from various Federation consortiums, the costs settled automatically via the central command accounts. Iron n were classified by alignnt; while the Federation Governnt held the vast majority of the machine hosts, ga-corporations and planetary high-lords maintained their own private Iron Man cohorts. However, only the Federation's own legions were tasked with the Wars of Expansion, and only the Federation held the mandate to iterate upon the technology, selling de-optimized legacy patterns to corporations to maintain its absolute hegemony.
Now, however, Axion perford a remarkably human gesture, scratching his tallic cranium with a pincer.
"This unit does not possess any Imperial transaction credentials or currency denominations."
Vormay's expression shifted, a flicker of suspicion crossing her eyes. Hails from Segntum Pacificus, yet lacks a trade-guild account or even basic currency? It was an absurdity. She began to wonder if these silver titans were playing a convoluted ga or concealing a deeper, perhaps more dangerous, truth.
"It matters little," Vormay said, waving a hand. "This is the frontier. Most Imperial credit-ledgers are useless here. Trade-scrip and vouchers are equally void. Even Throne Gelt has limited utility; we deal primarily in barter."
Axion processed this with a note of chanical wonder. Such a primitive mode of exchange, still functioning in this era.
"Specify the exchange paraters."
"I know not what your vessels carry," Vormay began, "but I assu you possess armants. To provide a baseline: a single Imperial-pattern Lasgun is worth fifteen units of rations. A functional power pack is worth three. We can appraise specific items aboard my ship. A Rogue Trader is always equitable."
Vormay's example was a calculated low-ball. The reality of this frontier was that it lacked a single Forge World, and most planetary populations possessed negligible defensive capabilities. With Orks, Aeldari, and human pirates as constant predators, weapons were the ultimate "hard currency," second only to food.
A pristine Imperial-pattern Lasgun could actually fetch at least twenty units of rations; a power pack was worth eight. Such quantities could sustain a man for over a month. Axion's processors easily stripped the subtext from her words: she hungered for weaponry.
"I require one standard Terran hour for armant preparation. A shuttle will then transit to your vessel."
Vormay, assuming he simply needed ti for inventory and loading, was happy to wait. Her flotilla was still a chaotic hive of activity as crews shifted cargo and personnel between ships, and a handful of tech-serfs perford crude, desperate repairs. The Adeptus chanicus did not deign to travel on common rchantn; if the rchants required the Omnissiah's blessing, they paid for it. Vormay, however, maintained a permanent staff of dozens of Tech-Priests aboard her battlecruiser, contracted at a ruinous expense from the Machine Cult.
The vox-link darkened. Axion imdiately transmitted a set of optimized Lasgun schematics to the Machine Weaver.
Iron Man wargear was inherently unsuitable for mortals. The power-yield was too high, the energy demands too extre; unless powered by a machine-core, a human would be incapable of even lifting the trigger, let alone sustaining the recoil. However, Imperial technology was transparent to Axion's analytical suites. During his ti wandering the Dawn of Fire, he had mapped every piece of Imperial infantry gear in existence.
Since Vormay had used the Lasgun as her benchmark, Axion saw no reason to deviate.
Deep within the industrial ship, raw materials were pulled from the vaults and fed into the central fabrication tiers. Within minutes, a batch of ten thousand reinforced Imperial-pattern Lasguns and forty thousand spare power packs, four per rifle, was completed.
While the materials matched the Imperial baseline, Axion's superior assembly thods resulted in a 13.72% increase in energy density and focal stability, while power consumption remained flat. Axion was unaware that while the Astra Militarum technically allotted four magazines per rifle in its armory ledgers, the average Guardsman was lucky to be issued two or three.
A standard pack provided one hundred and fifty shots for a common rifle. In the at-grinder of the 41st Millennium, few Guardsn survived long enough to empty two. Only units equipped with the Lucius-pattern No. 98 were standardly issued four packs, given that pattern's high-energy draw which depleted a cell in twenty-five shots.
Furthermore, Axion's power packs boasted a 27% increase in recharge efficiency. He even retained the Imperium's "absurdist" charging protocols: the cells could be recharged via a standard terminal, prolonged exposure to sunlight, or, in a pinch, being tossed directly into a campfire.
With the manufacturing complete, Axion deployed four Automated Sentry-Troopers, two Sapient Machine Automata, and a single Eight-Legs to manage the massive crates. The detachnt boarded a shuttle and launched from a docking port of the Machine Weaver, gliding toward the anchored Mars-class Battlecruiser.
Axion maintained a remote-link to every chanical entity within the Pectaro's broadcast range. He saw no reason to physically sever his connection to his own command core to tread upon a vessel of flesh and bone.
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