87: Chapter 87 Homologous Fissures and Triple Defense Lines

Radioactive dust swirled under the searchlights, spiraling into gray vortices. Lin Yuan stood on the observation platform, the burning sensation from the Silver-wire Network surging from his spine to his temples. Below, the corpses of mutants were stacked outside the defense line, piled into a gray bulwark of death. Promethium blowtorches hissed, their tongues of flame licking at the metal implants pried from the corpses' chest cavities. Molten steel melted and flowed down the diversion channels into temporary molds. Once cooled, this metal would become ammo links for the automated turrets. The stench of charred protein mixed with the smell of rust, condensing into visible smog in the dry air.

"The third trench depth is 1.2 meters," THRONE-01's mechanical voice cut into the comms, mixed with static noise. "The knight mech's stepping impact depth is 1.7 meters; the current structure poses a collapse risk. Recommendation: Deepen to 2.0 meters and implant anti-armor piles."

Workers used crowbars to pry open the corpses' chest cavities and pull out alloy plates. Three days ago, these mutants were a threat; now, they were raw materials for fortifications. The twisted metal had once been human ribs. Lin Yuan gripped his melta gun, his knuckles turning white. "Continue digging deeper. Record the corpse IDs; we will erect a monument after the war. They were once human and should not be forgotten."

The communicator fell silent for a second. THRONE-01's mechanical voice sounded again: "Command recorded. Depth protocol fusion ready. Camilla is in the Control Room awaiting authorization. Countdown: 70 hours, 15 minutes."

In the Control Room, Camilla's wheelchair was locked into reinforced rail slots. She stared at the converging data streams on the screen, the artificial lens in her left eye reflecting blue light. On the left, STC cyan code flowed like a waterfall. On the right, the Bishop Network terminal's dark red protocols remained stagnant, like dried blood. The two sets of data collided in the center, sometimes merging, sometimes repelling each other.

"73% of the underlying architecture is consistent." Her rhythm on the keyboard was like a war drum. "But this 30% is completely different. The core discrepancy lies in the emotional processing module. The STC suggests 'Purification: Strip emotions to enhance efficiency.' The Bishop code displays 'Binding: Soul upload to achieve eternity.' The former erases, the latter imprisons."

Lin Yuan looked at the comparison chart, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. Template replication versus soul binding—homologous yet leading toward opposite ethical abysses. The STC created soulless tools, while the Bishop system captured souled slaves.

"Deep fusion can unlock the main turret." Camilla turned, her wheelchair making a metallic grinding sound. "But the Bishop has set a remote self-destruct protocol. I need to inject heretical code to bypass the firewall, with a 60% probability of triggering remote monitoring. In 72 hours, three knight mechs will trample the perimeter. Without heavy firepower, we'll turn into meat paste on the Anvil."

"Specific risks?"

"I can rewrite the self-destruct trigger conditions from 'remote electronic detonation' to 'local physical fuse-break.'" Her finger hovered over the execute key, the old scars under her finger stalls turning pale. "Even if Marcus Kane discovers it, he won't be able to destroy the data remotely. However, during the fusion process, the two systems will share data streams, and the STC core code might be exposed to the Bishop Network."

The burning sensation of the silver wires stung his nerves like high-temperature wire moving through his blood vessels. Lin Yuan gripped the railing tightly. "Execute it. But set up triple physical network kill switches and retain manual final decision-making power. I will not allow any system to fire completely autonomously."

"The first layer is at the circuit breaker by your left hand, the second is at the observation deck's main control lever, and the third is connected to The Original Seed pod's emergency brake valve." Camilla's lips curled up. "Understood. Even if the sky falls, you can cut everything off within thirty seconds."

The screen suddenly flickered violently, and the dark red data stream fluctuated wildly: [Heretical access detected. Skitarii reclamation unit organization data unlocked. Warning: Unauthorized protocol fusion].

Camilla quickly intercepted the data. Detailed intelligence was forced onto the screen: three knight mechs (model speculated to be 'Warhound' class), a Skitarii company-level unit of approximately two hundred men equipped with heavy flamethrowers and Neural shredder guns. Logistics data showed they were carrying 'Soul Containers,' upload devices used to capture consciousness.

"He's coming out in full force." Camilla's voice was dry, her fingers trembling. "This isn't reclamation; it's a crusade. Marcus Kane doesn't just want The Original Seed; he wants a complete soul sample."

Lin Yuan stared at the silhouettes of the knight mechs on the screen. The massive bipedal war machines cast long shadows. "How much time is left?"

"69 hours, 12 minutes. The perimeter defense is still missing the force field interference zone. The mutant mine detectors have consumed seventy percent of our reserves."

In the maze of ruins surrounding the lab, DORN-00 moved against the mottled walls, bone spurs glinting in the shadows. THRONE-01 walked three meters ahead, the interwoven mechanical and flesh tissue on his left arm glowing coldly, every step precisely calculated for weight distribution.

"Left ventilation duct, abnormal temperature, humidity 15% higher than the environmental baseline." DORN-00 stopped suddenly, bone spurs protruding slightly, mutant blood vessels pulsing under his skin. "Something is crawling inside. It's not the wind."

THRONE-01 scanned for three seconds. "No response on thermal imaging; sonar echoes show empty. Your mutant intuition lacks data support. Suggest proceeding to maintain patrol efficiency."

"Trust me," DORN-00 said hoarsely, his voice mixed with dual tones. "Or wait for it to bite through your cables, calculation expert."

THRONE-01 was silent for a second, then aimed his Bolter at the pipe. A gunshot roared, and a mutant corpse modified into a mine detector fell from the duct. The chest-cavity explosive device ticked away, with four seconds left on the countdown. DORN-00 used a bone spur to precisely flick the corpse away. The twisted face had once been human, its eyes replaced by optical sensors. He frowned slightly, the muscles at the tip of his bone spur tightening for a moment.

"Another scout," DORN-00 said in a low voice. "The Bishop is testing our patrol intervals and calculating our reaction time."

"Data recorded. Next patrol interval shortened by 12%, coverage of blind spots increased with crossfire points." THRONE-01's voice was devoid of emotion. "Efficiency improvement suggestion: Shoot immediately upon detecting an anomaly next time, no warning required."

In the Control Room, Camilla finished the final protocol fusion. The defense network map expanded fully across the screen. All three perimeter defense lines lit up with blue light: the automated turret array (85% ammo capacity), the force field interference zone (coverage radius pending calibration), and the anti-Knight trenches (2.1 meters deep). The central Original Seed pod was physically patched into the network as a power backup, blue bio-electricity flowing through the pipes with a low hum.

"Main turret online." Camilla took a deep breath, wiping radioactive dust and sweat from her forehead. "But there's a new problem with the cryo-pods."

She pulled up the interface. THRONE-01 had previously tried to activate The Original Seed pod with pure energy, but the system displayed: [Energy input sufficient, activation failed: Lack of key variable]. After cracking the Bishop code, Camilla discovered a biological protocol hidden in the deepest layers.

"The activation condition isn't energy." She pointed at the complex neural map on the screen. "It requires 'Original Seed Emotional Resonance,' a specific frequency of bio-electrical emotional pulses. THRONE-01's emotional memories were paid as a tax to the maintenance protocols, making him unable to trigger resonance. While DORN-00 possesses fragments of fear and rage, he is currently too weak; his bio-electricity isn't enough to sustain a psychic shock. A forced attempt could lead to neural meltdown."

Lin Yuan frowned, looking at the two failure records on the screen. "What does that mean?"

"Either we let THRONE-01 recover his lost emotional memories—but that would cause his machine spirit corruption rate to skyrocket to dangerous levels—or we let DORN-00 fully unleash his mutation and gamble on whether he can complete the resonance before going completely insane. Both choices could destroy our only Astartes combat power."

The terminal flickered again. Camilla had inadvertently triggered a deep map scan. The structural diagram of the eighth underground floor was forced into view: a massive bio-reactor and three unarchived oval pods twice the size of standard cryo-pods.

"These traces hint at the laboratory's original purpose." Camilla's voice was sharp and trembling. "Marcus Kane made something here and then hid it in the deepest depths. These pods... they aren't human-sized."

Lin Yuan stared at the massive, unmarked pod outlines on the screen. The burning sensation of the silver wires intensified, like needles stabbing into his brain. The outlines were vaguely humanoid, but far too large.

"Maintain monitoring; do not act rashly. Seal all passages to the eighth floor. We'll survive past the 72-hour mark first before considering what to wake up."

Camilla nodded, her fingers continuing to fly across the keyboard. The authorization bar advanced, finally stopping at a new icon: [Biosage-level access granted, temporary status, manual override of STC standard protocols enabled].

"I've obtained Biosage permissions," Camilla said, her voice filled with both awe and fear. "I can temporarily override certain STC commands, becoming the only key node in the team capable of mediating between the two systems. But every override leaves a digital fingerprint in the network. Marcus Kane will know someone is cracking his system. He will know there is a renegade Biosage here."

"Let him know." Lin Yuan looked out the window. The three defense lines glinted coldly in the wasteland night, the turrets turning slowly. "We want him to know that this isn't a farm for him to harvest at will; it's his grave."

In the corner of the screen, the countdown ticked: 68 hours, 47 minutes.

The scan image of the eighth underground floor remained lit. That unarchived cryo-pod was like a sleeping bomb, waiting to be awakened. Outside the defense lines, the radioactive dust grew thicker; a storm was brewing.