[center][h3][color=f9ad81]RYZA[/color][/h3][/center]

Rows and columns of thousands of ocular lenses gazed upon the strange silvery youth. Servitors typed away at keyboards or even wrote on vellum, every test done upon the creature being a morsel of information each Genetor and other sapient member of the Mechanicum present was eager to digest. 

The thing was truly a marvel, its musculature having broken through dozens of different attempts to restrain it until eventually a system involving the hydraulics of small titan models was made into an impromptu means to hold it down. The creature still thrashed, which admittedly made the study of its biology somewhat difficult. They flooded its system with enough sedatives to kill many larger things yet its reaction was to simply expel all of the chemical through projectile vomit. It was a truly fascinating thing, made all the more interesting when a sample of its blood revealed that it had some sort of relation to humanity. An abhuman of course, nearly as far from homo sapiens as an ape on ancient Terra. But this was no mutant. Whatever this was had to be stable, simply because of the fact it was undeniably an engineered biology. 

Theories spread in the assembled ranks of the Techno-Clergy ranging from suggestions that this was the manifestation of archeotech from the past, to this being the project of some Techpriest present, to being the result of some sort of manipulation of the human biology by a xeno race of some sort. The most concerning however, was that this was some sort of weapon of the Grellans. Their technology had always seemed inferior by and large to that of the Ryzans outside of a few instances such as their cameleoline production methods and their abundance of plasma weaponry, but if they could produce such things then they most certainly eclipsed the Ryzan realm of the Mechanicum’s Empire in the field of biology. To think that with flesh could be crafted something so much more perfect than machine gave odd thoughts to many within the chamber. 

Ultimately, no theory had any real proof to it. The thing was clearly more than just its impressive physiognomy of course. The rigorous tests on its musculature, bones, skin, and so much more certainly proved that - what most conceded seemed to be a pre-pubescent gene-warrior of some sort - could destroy entire formations while in the nude. Yet what of its mind? Opening its skull clearly elicited a pain response, though unsurprisingly it seemed the life-support provided to ensure it wouldn’t perish in the event of an accident was redundant. 

But the most surprising was yet to come. The thing was clearly capable of speech based on the sheer variety of sounds it made from the pain it suffered. But, just before the probes of the Mechanicum could reach the bottom of the thing’s skull it spoke. “Please stop.” was the simple utterance. It started off quiet, before becoming extremely loud, but at least settling on a powerful but nonetheless soft timbre that echoed through the room. The words somehow were commands, but also clearly not threats or demands. They did not intimidate, but nonetheless gave the impression of this individual being one’s master. The servitor received no such input to make it cease as ordered, yet it did. The Genetor in control of it could not muster any will to countermand the seeming malfunction. 

The silence that overcame the onlookers eventually came to pass. At last the Heirophant Technis spoke, the force of mind to not simply be in awe of the speech a clear demonstration of why Patrimonia held the rank. “That can be arranged. Who are you, and why did you crash into my Forge?”

“I do not know.” 

“Explain.”

“I cannot answer the query, I do not know the truth.”

“To the former or to the latter?”

“Both.”

There was a brief pause, before the Heirophant stated bluntly even for a Techpriest: “Lie.” 

Another brief pause, before the celestial arrival replied. “No. I can predict why I am here, there was a failure of some sort. I am out of place, I should not be here. Something very, very important failed for me to be stranded among you. Beyond that I do not know. Who you are, who I am, what this place is. I am unaware.” 

Almost as if on queue to make the truth or lie of the child’s words hold greater stakes, the Archmagos’s HUD showed a message. The Grellans had declared war on Ryza for what they claimed to be a cowardly backstabbing. As the message spread among the most senior of the Genetors present, hundreds of Ocular lenses zoomed further on the creature. 

As the Heirophant was thinking on how to proceed, another message came warning of a warp-storm to the Galactic West of Ryza. There would be no support from Mars, and no sending of the data learned from this creature to the Mechanicum’s homeworld. 

Ryza stood alone.