LIGHTNOVELWORLD Chapter 53: STC
The Standard Template Construct, or STC, was humanity's answer. It was a near-mythical machine from the Golden Age, a pinnacle of human ingenuity. The STC was designed to standardize and program the manufacturing methods for virtually everything humanity had created. From simple tools to advanced machinery, the STC stored detailed instructions, enabling anyone to replicate Terra's vast array of products.
In essence, the STC was a foolproof guide. If you could read, you could use it. With enough suitable materials, anyone could create anything—from a bar of soap to a piece of pristine writing paper, from a basic fishing rod to a massive combine harvester. Following its instructions step-by-step, even a single individual could manufacture a tank. Pair the STC with automated machinery, and you had the means to mass-produce anything imaginable.
The breadth of its database was staggering. Humanity's technological capabilities in the Golden Age were so advanced they bordered on magic. For example, the Titan, the strongest war machine in today's arsenal, were but one of countless technological marvels.
Humans of that era were bold, innovative, and resourceful. They thrived in a golden era of prosperity and exploration. If history had continued uninterrupted, the galaxy would have undoubtedly become humanity's domain. But this golden age ended abruptly, catastrophically.
The fall of the Golden Age was as sudden and devastating as the mythical sinking of Atlantis. A massive warp storm swept through the galaxy, severing humanity's connection to the stars. Unlike a natural disaster, this storm didn't directly affect the physical world. Instead, it wreaked havoc in the warp—a parallel dimension crucial for faster-than-light travel. Navigation became impossible, and attempting to traverse the warp was suicidal.
Humanity's lifeline was cut. Without warp travel, the vast distances between stars became insurmountable. Colonies that once thrived as part of a unified human empire were reduced to isolated outposts, each stranded and alone. The STC network, which had enabled their survival, was obliterated. Nearly every STC machine was destroyed, and the knowledge it contained was lost.
The collapse was inevitable. Without the tools to sustain their advanced society, humanity fell into chaos. For centuries, the species teetered on the brink of extinction—until the rise of the Emperor. In the aftermath, the remnants of the STC became priceless relics. Even a fragment of a functional STC could revolutionize an entire civilization's technological capabilities. A fully operational STC? It would be nothing short of a miracle.
The Emperor's unmatched mastery of technology from the Golden Age and the depth of his understanding had a profound effect on the followers of the Cult Mechanicus. To them, it was unthinkable that someone so well-versed in the mysteries of their sacred craft could be anything but a divine figure. Some whispered, with fearful reverence, that the Emperor might be the physical embodiment of the Omnissiah—the Machine God's chosen vessel. How else could anyone explain such incomprehensible brilliance?
This near-worship made Standard Template Constructs (STC) a particularly sensitive matter. STCs were relics of the past, containing schematics that could unlock technologies beyond compare—if their contents were usable. Without the means to interpret or replicate the data, an STC was little more than a lifeless artifact, destined to gather dust in a vault. Its true worth wasn't in its physical form but in the knowledge it preserved—knowledge that could alter the fate of the galaxy.
"So, what can we actually do with this STC?" Kayvaan asked, his brow furrowed. "There's gotta be some incredible stuff in it, right?"
"Like what?" Valyra shot back, raising an eyebrow.
"You know… massive voidships, orbital fortresses, titanic war machines—things that could flatten whole armies. You've gotta admit that's cool." His eyes sparkled with excitement at the thought. "Imagine what we could build!"
Valyra let out a frustrated sigh, clearly unimpressed. "Seriously, Kayvaan? After ten millennia, you're still like a child getting excited over bigger guns and shinier toys. Battleships and fortresses sound impressive, but what's the point? War machines only fuel more war. They don't build the future; they bury it. You just don't understand what an STC really means!"
Kayvaan shrugged, unfazed. "Fine, call me a barbarian. Enlighten me, then. What's so special about it besides turning my stone club into something fancier?"
Valyra crossed her arms, her tone sharpening. "The true treasure isn't the machines or the relics themselves—it's the knowledge. That's where real power lies. It's not about revering the sacred schematics like the Mechanicus does; it's about understanding the science, the logic behind why things work and how they're made. Knowledge is the key to shaping the galaxy itself."
"Oh, that's it?" Kayvaan quipped, smirking. "How exactly does your 'understanding' upgrade our fleet? Does it bless the engines with more thrust or the hulls with better plating?"
"More than that," Valyra countered, her voice firm with conviction. "With that knowledge, we wouldn't just rebuild—we'd advance. Imagine surpassing even the achievements of the Golden Age. A blade, not just sharp steel, but sheathed in molecular disruption fields. Armor that bends light itself. Weapons that shatter mountains with precision. The possibilities are limitless if we can grasp what was lost."
"That's a nice dream," Kayvaan said lightly, "but you do realize you sound like a heretic, right? If the Mechanicus catches wind of this, they'll strap you to a plasma engine and send you to the nearest star."
Valyra laughed, unshaken. "Heretic? Me? That's rich. The Mechanicus are the real heretics. They've turned stagnation into a religion—clinging to superstition and ritual because they fear progress. They destroy what they can't control. Sure, they'd kill me if they knew what I thought, but they won't. That's the difference—they're blind to what they don't see."
Kayvaan chuckled and shook his head. "You're deluded if you think secrets last forever. All secrets feel safe at first, but they always come out—especially with the Mechanicus. Their reach is infinite. Even out here, beyond Segmentum Solar, their influence is everywhere. Forge Worlds, legions of cybernetic thralls, and data-spirits watching for the smallest breach."
In the Imperium, any church that worships gods other than the God-Emperor is forbidden to exist openly. "Freedom of belief" is not a concept that has ever been acknowledged, let alone tolerated. The phrase itself has been erased from High Gothic lexicons. For the citizens of the Imperium, there are only two types of faith: faith in the God-Emperor or faith in heresy. Pagan cults, when discovered, are eradicated with ruthless efficiency by the inquisition, which enforces the Emperor's divine will without hesitation. The Sisters of Battle take particular pride in purging heretics and their false gods, leaving only ashes in their wake.
Yet, under this iron rule, the Adeptus Mechanicus continues to exist, their position unchallenged within the Imperium. It is a testament to their influence. Though the Mechanicus rarely flaunts its strength, their authority is impossible to ignore—most visibly in the Imperial High Council, where the Fabricator-General of Mars holds one of the twelve seats. Even the Ecclesiarchy begrudgingly accepts the Mechanicus as a vital part of the Imperium.