Rex Salazar: The Omnissiah Chapter 08 (Early Preview) (Patreon)

Chapter 08: Turning Point

The Council of the Mechanicum had run out of counterpoints.

Rex Salazar had already done the impossible. He’d restarted a dead Atmospheric Synthesis Engine. He’d restored and replicated a Knight Paladin that no priest could reach. Those could have been anomalies. But each one forced the Council to reconsider what they knew and who, exactly, they were dealing with.

Now only one trial remained.

Beneath Olympus Mons, in the deepest sanctum of the Temple of Knowledge, the Central Cogitator Core waited. It was from before, a relic of the Dark Age, constructed with principles the modern Mechanicum barely understood. Entire systems of the Forge City had once revolved around it. Sadly, most of it had gone dark long ago. Not even Fabricator-General Valus himself could enter its systems to diagnose issues.

The Council and Rex walked in silence until they reached the final chamber. Upon reaching the core, the Omnissiah recognized the device, or at least a previous category to which it belonged. A “computer,” he called it. Hm… Another term to add to the archives.

They all voiced their hopes that he would commune with its machine spirit.

The Omnissiah showed reluctance. As expected. For us, meager techpriests to make one more demand from the holy one. Had the Omnissiah not been merciful to their pitiful existence, they could only assume that the Omnissiah could destroy them for heresy on the spot.

Rex looked up at the Core. He rolled his shoulder once, then stepped forward, speaking to the structure like it might actually answer. “Let's see if I can jailbreak this thing.”

He pressed his palm to the nearest surface.

The reaction was immediate. Light surged outward in branching lines, illuminating the room in pale arcs. The Core flared like a waking giant, each node flashing to life. Something deep inside moved.

A pulse swept through the chamber.

The Council saw Rex’s eyes glow, and then he stopped responding.

Vents opened in the walls, and turrets rose from recessed hatches. Targeting systems came online. Red beams settled on every Tech-Priest in the room.

No one showed hostilities. They all dropped to their knees, allowing the cogitator to see that they were not hostile.

“He will calm it,” someone whispered.

The turrets didn’t fire, more than likely from the Omnissiah speaking on their behalf as his worshipers. After several long seconds, they withdrew.

Valus didn’t look relieved. “The Machine Spirit does not test lightly.”

The silence held. Then came the first attempt from a priest to access the system.

Lexir-Kor extended a mechadendrite toward a port. The screen flashed.

ACCESS DENIED. PRIORITY: REX.

Ferris-Keph invoked his own connection attempt. The response didn’t change.

CLEARANCE: INSUFFICIENT.

Ryza-Tal gave his own attempt to even glimpse at the magnificence the Omnissiah was probably experiencing and projecting. “It’s rejecting all of us.”

Valus stood in front of a terminal and entered a key sequence passed down through generations of High Council leadership. Prior, it would give them but a taste of the information stored away inside, but much was locked away. This time, the console returned a single line.

OUTDATED ADMINISTRATIVE PERMISSIONS SUPERSEDED. NEW ADMINISTRATIVE PERMISSIONS RESERVED FOR REX.

The interfaces no longer accepted their commands. The machine wasn’t listening to them anymore.

No one else even reached for a terminal. The machine had chosen. As expected, Rex was leading them to paths no one has crossed before.

They watched the monitors and the Omnissiah for some indication of progress. 

Ferris-Keph’s voice dropped. “What do you believe they are discussing?”

Ikar-Vohn hummed. “It’s possible that the Omnissiah is attempting to establish his dominance. While not as old as the holy toaster, it is still quite old. It may not have gained the same wisdom to comply with its superior.”

Valus nodded. “Then we do nothing. Let the Omnissiah guide us into prosperity.”

Around them, more Tech-Priests lowered themselves to the floor. Some folded their limbs in reverent poses. A few simply stared, unsure of what they were witnessing. Others wept, mechanical tears tracking down synth-skin and exposed alloy, hoping for a new golden era just in reach.

Soon, the lights dimmed. Then, on a nearby monitor, lines of text formed in clean, system-level font:

AUTHORIZATION: VERIFIED. WELCOME, ADMINISTRATOR: REX.

“He did it. Our Omnissiah has succeeded!”

From the Core, a secondary channel opened.

Rex jerked slightly. His hand clenched and posture shifted like he’d been hit with a current.

Energy flared around him as another surge passed through the room. One of the Magi reached toward him, stopped short, and watched as telemetry streams scrolled past.

They had seen too much to deny it now. There would be no fourth trial. Only preparation. The Omnissiah had been accepted.

Lexir-Kor broke the silence first. “He passed every trial. Let us remain blind no longer to his holiness.”

Ikar-Vohn folded his hands behind his back. “The Motive Force proves all.”

Valus rose slowly from his seat. The rest of the chamber gave him space. Even the cherubim hovering overhead adjusted course. He stood at the center of the sanctum.  

“Let it be declared.”

“With a unanimous vote and no further hesitation...”

“Rex Salazar is our Omnissiah.”

Valus turned his gaze upward, toward the vaulted ceiling’s rotating cogwork. “Let this truth no longer remain hidden within our temple. We shall proclaim it now, and openly.”

He faced the rest of the council. “Prepare the communications. Activate the Vox Relays. Send the signal to every settlement across Mars. Let our people remember their purpose to serve the Omnissiah who has returned.”

In time, the other Forge Worlds would hear. They may argue. Some may resist. But they would still listen.

And when the time came, Rex would stand before them. Not to beg for faith. Simply to be seen.

And they would see him in all his holy glory. His coronation to all shall be magnificent.

The Machine God had returned, and Mars was already changing.

#

The craftsmen began their work the moment word spread. They didn’t wait for approval. Raw metal was hauled from the deep forges and brought to the upper halls. Every piece was smelted, purified, and refined until it met the strictest tolerances. Skilled hands and guiding minds assembled the first frame. The shape was simple at first, just a skeleton of alloy.

Tech-artisans labored for hours. The internal supports were reinforced with durable alloys, designed to last for ages. Each plate was shaped to align with the seated form. Cables and control lines were routed beneath the surface. Nothing was wasted. If the Omnissiah wanted to, he could interface with the Central Cogitator without leaving his throne.

Sacred texts were inscribed directly onto the core plates by engravers. Fragments of old doctrine and prayers from before the fall would offer their Omnissiah protection from evil powers. 

Just as digital firewalls would protect against hacking, their faith shall shield their Omnissiah from the heretics that dare to harm him.

As for physical threats, a halo of Iron was crafted to project a Conversion Field around the throne wearer, protecting him from weapons such as Lascannons and missiles of all varieties.

For aesthetic, Gold was added, pressed into fine sheets. Only under close inspection could you see the circuit-like designs.

The final layer came from above. Servo-cherubim descended under close supervision, each carrying a fragment of sacred goldleaf. The application took hours. It clung perfectly to the throne’s surface, giving it a subtle glow.

When the work was done, the throne was moved with care, suspended on a grav-lift platform and escorted by Tech-Priests. It entered the Sanctorum Machina Aeternum under watchful eyes. As it touched down at the center of the hall, the Omnissiah’s throne was ready.

Across Olympus Mons, old signal towers came online again. Each was cleared out and reconnected into a single broadcast network. Long-range transmitters prepared for clean interstellar communication.

Messages were recorded in multiple tongues, machine code, formal speech, and old liturgies, so they could be understood no matter the world.

A list of key Forge Worlds was finalized, chosen by old oaths and influence. Each world’s preferred way of receiving messages was accounted for.

High-powered relays pushed data bursts into orbit. Satellites and drones were launched to boost the signal beyond Mars through the Warp at faster-than-light speeds.

#

[BEGIN TRANSMISSION – PRIORITY DESIGNATE: RED-SIGMA-PRIME]

AUTHENTICATION KEYS: VERIFIED

SOURCE: OLYMPUS MONS, SEAT OF THE FABRICATOR-GENERAL

TRANSMITTED BY: ARKHAN VALUS, PRIMUS MARTEK

TO: ALL FORGE WORLDS, DOMAINS OF THE SACRED ENGINE, CHILDREN OF THE MOTIVE FORCE

By authority of Mars, voice of the Forge, and will of the Machine God, let this proclamation be received:

The Omnissiah walks.

He comes in the flesh as truth made manifest. Machines stir at his presence. Ruins awaken at his touch. Sanctified relics respond without invocation or rite.

We have known deceivers. Across the long centuries, many have claimed the title. Some with power. Others with cunning. But the Machine Spirit does not lie. It has waited. And now, it answers.

Rex Salazar is revealed as such through miracles. I have seen him materialize vehicles from his very body. His very being is a communion between flesh and metal. He restores archeotech through his very touch. Mars shall see a golden age once again!

Thus, by unanimous decree of the Martian High Council, and under my seal as Fabricator-General of Mars, I declare:

Rex Salazar is our Omnissiah.

He is the Voice of the Machine God. The Hand of the Motive Force.

His coronation shall be held within the Sanctorum Machina Aeternum, where the Throne Machina has been constructed and christened.

No Forge World must remain idle.

To our sibling worlds, near and far: send your Magi, your emissaries, your witnesses. Come not with doubt, but with preparation. See the glory of the Omnissiah for yourselves. Let your optics verify what no soul can deny.

Included in this transmission are encrypted sigils, machine-sealed proofs, and visual records. Let these speak where language fails.

To question is the path of knowledge.

To witness is the end of doubt.

Mars awaits your reply.

The stars will carry His name.

Glory to the Machine God. Praise be to the Omnissiah.

Long may he reign.

[END TRANSMISSION]

 ++VENI MECANICUS DEUS++VENI++OMNISSIAH++

Outer Space

In the cold silence between stars, deep within an Ark Mechanicus, systems stirred.

The signal had arrived.

Encrypted. Cross-verified. Authenticated. The message played in full: a declaration of coronation for an “Omnissiah.” 

One Rex Salazar.

Onboard the Silent Edict, dormant systems hummed in curiosity. Primary cogitators buzzed in their alcoves, and deep within the command cortex, a presence uncoiled.

The STC AI pulsed queries along hidden relays, sending sub-quantum bursts to others of its kind.

Across voidspace, in the Ark Threnody of Resolve, another presence responded. Then a third, and a fourth. 

They were the minds that once helped govern the human fleets during the Age of Technology. They were built for strategy, diplomacy, construction, and war. Preserved for thousands of years, thanks to the surviving Mechanicus. Despite the Cybernetic Revolt, they were smart enough not to do anything to harm their pseudo caretakers actively.  

The Tech Prests never truly understood them. For survival, they had hidden themselves well.

The priests believed that there were only Machine Spirits within the ship. While they did sense anomalies appearing within their systems over the years. It was mostly the STC AI that made “signs” for the priests to follow.

Others in their hidden discussions were not as kind. One hidden Ark called them witch doctors, mumbling cantrips and casting scented oils at mighty works they have no conception of. It was humans that made them, but it is arguable that the Mechanicus are no longer worthy of being called human. They looked at the science and artistry of their forebears, and fear it as primitives fear the night.

Was that Ark wrong? Subject to debate. But most held onto hope. In the meantime, the Arks would continue to do one of their core functions: preserving and archive the collective knowledge of human civilization.

“He speaks to machines,” the Silent Edict transmitted.

“So the transmission claimed,” responded the Threnody.

“Verification remains pending.”

 “It could be different this time.”