The Fabricator-General drummed the fingers on his seventh mecha-dendrite on the table holographic keyboard before him, a performance The Rites of Anticipatory Tapping. The load time of the cogitator before him was unfathomably slow, thus forgotten parts of his brain brought back emotions he forgot like annoyance and frustration. Again the facility he was in shook, a little rust pouring off of the ceiling onto his robes. 

Such was the state of the conflict between the electro priests that they had both activated more than enough countermeasures against each other from scrap-code infections to jamming to servitor-targeted biological warfare that a significant portion of the infrastructure of both sides - and those caught between them - was rendered useless. Navigation systems, auspex, communications, all were now struck to such a degree that they were forced to rely on mainly analogue measures. Cybernetic pigeons with grav-sails coated in cameleoline were now almost the sole connections between different Forges and other settlements of Mars. Ancient and unfathomably mighty weapon systems were unable to be properly utilized, and thus calculations for missile trajectories and the likes were calculated with means as mundane as servitors holding abacuses, pens, and paper. Artillery was fired with unguided shells, the balance now strictly in favour of quantity over quality as guidance systems in each bomb could not connect to any satellite or other means to aim. 

This by no means meant that the violence ceased, or was reduced in its scope or magnitude. If anything the opposite, the sudden lack of precision ensuring that far more of those that would otherwise be bystanders were struck in a crossfire that got ever wider. 

The thoughts on the war very suddenly stopped as a corpse in the corner twitched, electricity coursing across the electoo runes on its skin. Ocular implants extended out of Salkor’s head like tentacles and turned to face the offending movement, a plethora of volkite culverins shifting to point towards it. Thankfully, this was just a death throe. Every Fulgurite in the facility was dead, some sort of gas attack of the Corpuscarii was employed with careful modifications to pass through typical environmental control systems. Salkor of course took some of the residue found to examine, but his focus was first and foremost upon the data stores at this temple. Apart from a few body guards and tech adepts with infiltration technologies so thorough even he couldn’t detect them, Salkor was alone to investigate. He did not want to be found here by the Corpuscarii, lest they think he was partisan to the conflict and their supporters outright refuse to acknowledge his authority. No, rather it was critical that he find any and all who had contact with this militant sect of the Fulgurites. Trying to resolve the conflict with traditional peace and mediation was something that Salkor desperately wanted to do, but it was also something he had recently acknowledged in private would likely be impossible. Peace by force would instead be the means to save Mars. Every single Magos who was partisan in the conflict would simply have to be threatened to have their support for one or the other side disclosed if they keep on their activities. Presented with a choice of life or death, most would agree to stop arming one or the other side of the conflict and thus without weapons the holy war would at least become a lot less destructive. 

A new thought was now a regular occurrence in the Fabricator General’s mind. With confidence he could end the violence, he was wondering what he could do to prevent its resurgence? Something would have to be done to prevent either side from getting ideas about how they can end their schism once and for all, but it was unfathomable what this could be.

“Fabricator General. I am to remind you that your meeting with the Vossite ambassador is today.”

The tentacle eyes shifted, looking for the one that emitted the binharic utterance.

“Very well. Finish after me.”

With that, the Fabricator flew out.

It was some time and many switches of vehicle before at least he was present at one of the last functioning communications hubs to speak with the Vossite. After hitting the long binharic sequence on the rotary dial, Salkor let a few fingers through loops of the curling wire. 

As he waited for the connection to follow through the Fabricator General wondered what would happen in today’s dialogue. Undoubtedly, the representative of Voss would have already been briefed on arrival in the solar system of what was happening on Mars. He would very certainly see this as an opportunity for Voss to assert more personal authority and autonomy from Mars. With just how conciliatory Salkor had been to the interests of extra-solar Forgeworlds throughout his career, Voss would likely think they wouldn’t even need to haggle. 

But no, today the Fabricator General was going to show a backbone, and upon first implication of Voss’s potential decentralization of authority away from Mars, Salkor would have a simple reply ready.

“Voss also has cults of Fulgurites and Corpuscarii. Do you wish for the conflict to spill out of Mars? Do you wish for this bloodshed to become galactic?” The reply of “No.” was swift. “Then you will assist me, and not ask anything of me.” 

Satisfied, Salkor got onto discussing how all the shipments arrived with the Vossite merchant marine would be transferred directly to the ports the Fabricator General insisted upon rather than to the original designated orders from different Magoses of Mars, and how they would return with all sorts of equipment that Mars would need to both cease and recover from the violence. Ultimately, it was a productive day.