Warhammer 40k: The Men of Iron Return to the Galaxy Chapter 137 137: Half a Legion

As the Ultramarines observed the Eight-Legs, floating with eerie, subservient grace within the bay, their eyes were clouded with suspicion.

Axion offered no explanation. Instead, a torrential stream of data pulsed between the Iron Man and the three automated constructs.

Creak.

A silent Eight-Legs suddenly pivoted toward the bulkhead behind it, its massive chanical pincer snapping upward.

The squad of Ultramarines raised their bolters in a collective reflex.

However, as the claw slamd into the hull and peeled back the thick plating with the ease of parchnt, the Ultramarines' tactical response split into two doctrines. One group lowered their bolters and drew power swords with grim intent; the other silently reached for lta bombs. It was clear that against these ancient tallic abominations, the standard bolt shell was no longer a trusted currency.

Axion's ocular sensors flared with intensity as he beheld the orderly rows of massive cargo containers revealed behind the torn bulkhead.

The stacked tal crates towered nearly thirty ters high, a vista of industrial geotry that filled the hold in two perfect columns. Through the data-link established by the Eight-Legs, Axion had already cataloged the contents.

In truth, only a third of the original cargo remained in this bay. The other two-thirds had vanished into the void; the three Eight-Legs had fallen from the space once occupied by the missing crates.

Though Axion could find no record of what had originally triggered their activation, the mission logs indicated these constructs had stood sentry here for over two centuries. Being specialized engineering machinery, they lacked the protocols to wake other sapient units and possessed no autonomous directives. Thus, they had simply remained in a state of stasis-like observation.

That was, until a "fumble-fingered" mortal had pointed a primitive weapon at them, triggering their self-defense subroutines.

Furthermore, the pre-set protocols for the Eight-Legs included post-landing deploynt: the assembly of Apocalypse Titans and Executor Heavy Tanks.

Axion was now certain: this transport vessel carried at least one Apocalypse Titan and a full contingent of Executor tanks.

In the era of the Iron n, Executor tanks were deployed in armored spearheads. A standard shipnt typically contained a full cadre, at least twelve of these terrestrial behemoths.

The standard cargo containers of the Iron n were forty ters long, fifteen ters high, and ten ters wide. Each was designed to house either two Executor tanks or no fewer than four thousand Automated Sentry-Troopers. Even when carrying Erratana-class Armored Wardens, the count would exceed sixty units.

Axion bypassed the intact containers, maneuvering toward the rear of the hold. The damaged sections were his primary concern.

A standard cargo bay should have held sixteen containers; specialized components might reduce that to six or four. Axion needed to confirm the exact tally.

The findings, however, brought a digital approximation of sorrow to the Iron Man.

Only six containers remained fully intact at the fore. Of the second stack, only the skeletal, mangled fras of two containers remained; their contents were gone. Beyond that point, the crates, and the very hull of the ship, were missing. The rear of the vessel was no longer composed of the transport's original alloy, but was instead a chaotic, fused mass of xenos and Imperial wreckage, welded together in a nonsensical tal heap.

No matter how many tis he witnessed it, Axion could not comprehend how such disparate materials could "grow" together into this tallic refuse. If it were the result of gravitational shearing, the preserved integrity of the forward hull remained an impossibility.

"Activate combat deploynt protocols. Wake all viable units."

His voice, carrying a faint emotional resonance, echoed through the chamber.

A low, thrumming hum filled the air.

The upper casing of the foremost container was suddenly transfixed by multiple particle-oscillator blades. More blades slid through the tal, slicing the heavy lid into fragnts.

The internal bracing was revealed: thousands of Automated Sentry-Troopers hung in dense, interlocking racks.

Row upon row of Sentry-Troopers detached, leaping from their racks to land on the deck with a sequence of heavy, tallic thuds.

Axion scanned the command-link: twelve thousand units. Average power reserves: 32%.

Millennia of stasis had clearly bled their internal cells.

"Execute standard sweep-and-clear. Neutralize all non-neutral signatures within this coordinate space."

To Axion's surprise, nearly three thousand Sentry-Troopers rejected the directive. Almost imdiately, they attempted to initiate indiscriminate attacks on their neighboring units.

Axion struck back instantly with a data-override.

The state of these three thousand troopers mirrored that of the security droids encountered earlier—internal logic corrupted, flooded with erratic, murderous sub-routines.

To ensure the integrity of his force, Axion perford a scorched-earth data purge. He wiped their sapient cores entirely and re-initiated the Sentry-Troopers from a blank state.

This ti, the entire legion linked to his network without resistance.

Watching the dense, tallic throng fill the bay, the Ultramarines behind Axion silently swallowed their apprehension. Only when the tal automata marched past them in perfect, rhythmic formation, flooding into the ship's corridors, did the Astartes find the space to breathe.

The three Eight-Legs drifted into the cargo hold, their own combat protocols engaged.

The chanical pincers tore open the four remaining oversized crates like ritual offerings, revealing eight massive armored hulls.

An Executor tank asured nearly twenty ters in length and over twelve ters in height. It featured four independent tread-drive units and a central chassis comprised of reinforced plating and core modules, topped by a massive, four-ter-high turret.

For transport, the turrets and chassis were detached. Being autonomous machines, these tanks lacked crew compartnts or life-support systems. Every cubic centiter was dedicated to powerful drive units, energy reactors, thick armor, and control arrays.

The Eight-Legs extracted the central hulls. Two of the constructs lifted the massive chassis while the third fused the tread-drives into place. Under the searing red glow of cutting lasers, the pre-set forge-points were welded, completing the lower assembly.

Once the massive turrets were hoisted and locked into the central rings, the Executor tanks were whole.

These giants were ard with multi-barrel naval-grade turrets, vertical missile launch systems, heavy plasma projectors, and point-defense laser arrays. Furthermore, they were equipped with nano-repair systems. These nano-tech would swarm the battlefield, scavenging raw material to provide the tanks with an endless supply of physical munitions and conducting battlefield repairs.

Their heavy void shields made these behemoths mobile fortresses.

For Axion, however, the most vital component of these eight Executor tanks was the microscopic nano-swarms they carried. Though their efficiency was inferior to a dedicated STC production line and their intelligence was rudintary, under Axion's direct oversight, they would serve as the perfect architects for the equipnt he required.