[center][h3][color=9e0b0f]MARS[/color][/h3][/center]
A few hundred sirens blared in the deep pit of the Fabricator General, a similar count of screens suddenly lighting up to provide all sorts of readings. An extraterrestrial threat was approaching, the velocities and relatively small mass failing to vapourize in the atmosphere suggesting this was no ordinary celestial object. Air defence systems activated, the first stages of emergency response protocols were activated and thus hundreds of multi purpose servitors were mobilized for any contingency imaginable to one of a machine mind. 

Yet the crash heard outside of Olympus Mons seemed rather innocent given the great stir it roused. No earthquakes from tectonic munitions were brought forth, nor were any viruses dispersed into the atmosphere. 

What the Serberys cavalry arriving upon the scene relayed was something wholly unexpected. A child, humanoid in the wireframe display but otherwise quite alien. Skin flowing like mercury, and it was as tall as any of the machine cult’s warriors on their steeds. Borrowing the visual feed of one of the cavaliers Salkor witnessed the child reach out towards one of the Mechanicum’s warriors with almost curiosity. Yet the raider mistook it for a threat, and fired its revolver at the pecuiliarity. The bullet seemed to bounce off of the fluid skin like a rock skipping off of water and a soft exhalation came from the Serberyte whose vision Salkor had borrowed. With a panic in the remaining human parts of the Martian brains they reared their steeds to try to flee upon witnessing the child sprint and bisect the offending rider with a downward swing of its arm; the event occurred in a single frame of the visual feed. 

Curiously, the child seemed wholly not intending on further violence, instead crawling back to the crater it had crashed in where it curled against one of the walls in a fetal position.

Somehow, something in the interaction reminded Salkor of his own arrival on Mars more than a thousand years ago. A hiss of hydraulic gasses came as he disconnected thousands of cables and supports from himself, the sequence of separations long mastered to ensure no failures of programming happened nor excess datafeeds would enter him. At last in his nominal for, he hovered off towards the scene of the crash. Above, a whole flock of archaeopters and pteraxii flew both ahead and behind him as vanguard and rearguard respectively. 

Seeing the arrival of the Fabricator general, the silvery child went from a fetal position to a crouch as if to spring upon him or as far away as it could depending on if fight or flight was the selected way forward.

With an emotion as close to greed as the cyborg could manage, Salkor hovered over the rim of the crater and into it. One of his many mechadendrites more resembling a human hand was extended and raised up and down in a motion that he knew was considered placating by the outdated patterns of humanity. At the same time dozens of scanners for every wavelength of light sound and otherwise measurable energy emerged from his body, taking in the full physical measure of what was before him. Almost nonchalantly, another mechadendrite extended a particularly powerful vacuum to suck up the ricocheted bullet to be analyzed. 

Child and Archmagos stared upon one another for an entire minute, the silence eventually broken only when the Archmagos had made a decision. He adjusted his voice synthesize for a kindly accent and voice, and thus spoke.

“What is your name?”