The avian, emaciated elder, clutching a crystal staff, awaited the eight figures as they gathered before him.
"The ordained moment has arrived. It is time to enlighten the Vostonians, to reveal that the Machine God is a false deity, a hollow pretense, and that only the God of Wisdom reigns true."
The elder's voice was shrill, piercing like the cry of a raptor.
Zelinski, perplexed, inquired with measured caution, "High Priest, eleven stellar years remain until the appointed time of our enlightenment plan. Why do you hasten its execution?"
"Zelinski, our Lord has bestowed a revelation. The ordained moment is now upon us."
The eight priests, hearing this, bowed their heads in unison, their voices rising in fervent harmony, "We obey the High Priest's command! Praise be to the God of Wisdom!"
The High Priest extended his left claw, directing it toward Zelinski.
"Zelinski, you are the first link in our chain. How fares the execution of the Radiant Light Plan, the spark to ignite enlightenment?"
"High Priest, the foolish Piotr Świdlerski is now my puppet, ready to carry out my every directive."
"Excellently done, Zelinski. Before you succumbed to the folly of mechanical augmentation, you embraced true wisdom."
"Wield the wisdom and enlightenment I have granted you, and those foolish humans, slaves to the false god, shall become your playthings."
The High Priest nodded with satisfaction, proceeding to interrogate the other seven in turn.
"Nine work cycles hence, we shall execute the Enlightenment Plan."
"As you command, High Priest."
After the eight priests departed, a glint of cunning flickered in the High Priest's azure eyes. He descended the staircase with deliberate steps.
Reaching the passage's end, he mounted a single-man attack skiff, emitting a cackle of glee.
"The Enlightenment Plan is no longer paramount. My Lord has entrusted me with a new mission, a task only I can fulfill."
Aboard the Piszczek, Rosicky stood aghast, realizing Nimrod's judgment was unerringly precise. Enemy vessel A-II entered the Wisła Asteroid Belt at the exact moment he had foretold.
Rosicky's eyes locked onto the holographic projection, his tension palpable. Nimrod, exuding unshakable confidence in his calculations, had forgone deploying the two destroyers to draw enemy fire. Instead, he executed a daring tactical maneuver, positioning the Piszczek to emerge behind the enemy vessel as it rounded an asteroid, perfectly timed.
This audacious gamble succeeded, allowing the Piszczek to evade the devastating coverage of A-II's wing-mounted cannons.
Rosicky's heart swelled with newfound respect for Nimrod. He had previously regarded the giant as merely a peerless warrior, but now recognized his terrifying computational prowess.
[A flesh-and-blood mind surpassing the calculative capacity of a mechanical corpus!]
The tech-priest's faith in Nimrod's subsequent plans deepened. Grasping his vox, he queried the boarding torpedo operator.
"Operator C-53, is the launch protocol prepared?"
"Protocol ready, lord."
"Execute launch sequence immediately."
Boarding torpedoes, though less maneuverable and armored than assault boats, were smaller, harder to intercept.
To accommodate Nimrod's colossal frame, Rosicky had modified the torpedo, extending the crew compartment's height to allow the giant to stand, albeit barely.
The torpedo, designed to carry an assault team, could house only Nimrod and the three assassins—Maria and her companions.
A mechanical vox intoned within the crew compartment, "Disengaging fixed torpedo cradle."
"Promethium fuel ignited."
"Launch countdown initiated."
Nimrod stood resolute within the compartment, heeding the broadcast.
"Three."
"Two."
"One."
"Thrusters engaged!"
Propelled by blazing promethium, the boarding torpedo launched from the Piszczek like an arrow loosed from a bow, hurtling into the void.
Maria and her fellow assassins felt their bodies lurch, the shoulder restraints insufficient to stabilize them against the rocket-like acceleration.
Their forms pitched forward, colliding with the obsidian armor of the giant before them.
Maria's eyes widened, beholding Nimrod, who gripped the restraints with unwavering stability, his body unmoved by the violent surge.
With fierce determination, she clutched the handles before her shoulders, resisting the impact, halting mere five centimeters from Nimrod's back.
The other two assassins stopped just shy of colliding with Nimrod's arms.
The mechanical vox resounded again, "Contact imminent. Estimated impact duration: seventeen seconds."
"Breaching charges primed! Countdown: three seconds!"
"Clench your bite-guards."
Nimrod's command snapped the trio to attention, and they complied without hesitation.
"One."
The torpedo's melta-charge module detonated, a thunderous roar reverberating through the compartment.
Maria and her companions felt a titanic force surge from ahead, hurling them backward.
Despite their helmets, the deafening blast left their ears ringing and vision blurred.
The violent tremors and jolts drained the color from their faces, until a majestic command pierced the chaos.
"Engage!"
The trio realized the compartment's hatch had opened, bridging onto the blazing deck of the enemy vessel.
Nimrod had already leapt forth, his impact upon the deck pulverizing several xenos into gore.
Maria, seizing her twin blades from the unlocked weapon rack, barked, "Move."
She sprang forward, stepping onto the hatch and launching herself with a borrowed leap, pouncing upon a tall xenos clad in a purple skintight voidsuit.
The xenos, turning to flee, drew a serrated dagger from its garb.
Abruptly, it pivoted with the fluidity of a fish, its dagger thrusting toward Maria with lightning speed.
The xenos's poised strike was swift as a thunderbolt, yet Maria, honed by years of chemical augmentation, reacted with greater alacrity.
Her left curved blade rose, parrying the dagger, while her right blade slashed, striking the xenos's neck.
Maria immediately sensed resistance; the xenos's neck, layered with folded wrinkles, proved tougher than anticipated, akin to stacked leather armor.
Undaunted, she withdrew her blade, executing a somersault to land behind the xenos.
Upon touching down, she crossed her twin blades, cleaving into both sides of the xenos's neck.
The shark-like, flattened head fell to the deck. Maria raised her left arm, astonished to find that her finely forged curved blade bore a gaping notch from the parry.
Curiosity piqued, she retrieved the xenos's dagger, observing its construction—seemingly carved from a single piece of smoldering crystal, its edge perpetually shedding minute fragments that scattered upon the floor.
Maria resolved to test the weapon's potency. With a swift stride, she charged another xenos.
Her curved blade severed its arm, and she raised her left arm, thrusting the dagger toward its neck.
As the dagger grazed the xenos's wrinkled neck, Maria felt resistance anew.
Her eyes locked onto the blade, witnessing its edge disintegrate into a swarm of tiny fragments, burrowing into the wound.
Amid a faint sizzling sound, the xenos contorted in agony, collapsing lifelessly.
Maria claimed the fallen xenos's dagger, her gaze lifting forward. She spotted a xenos with eyes positioned on its cheeks, charging toward Nimrod with frenetic speed.
She shouted a warning, "Its dagger…"
Her words trailed off as Nimrod's power halberd thrust forth, deftly evading the dual daggers, its point piercing the xenos's skull.
Nimrod, aware of the Fra'ow glass blades' renown for their strength and sharpness—capable of piercing ceramite—chose to preserve his weapon, effortlessly dodging the xenos's high-speed assault and slaying it with precision.