Given Axion's prior feat of purging the vessel's Machine Spirit, he had effectively attained paramount clearance aboard this Ultramarines cruiser, granting him the liberty to interface with and utilize any sub-system of the ship.
Neither Calanthus nor Hadrian had concerned themselves with Axion's specific location. So long as he remained aboard and refrained from causing incidents, his presence was, for the Ultramarines, an acceptable status quo.
Due to the sustained attrition of previous engagents, the ship's complent was severely depleted, leaving many hab-blocks and compartnts suddenly vacant. Consequently, the abrupt staccato of gunfire and shouting did not imdiately provoke a reaction from the assembling Ultramarines. Calanthus himself remained composed within the command chambers, locked in a silent contest of stares with the High Inquisitor.
The Inquisition, after all, possessed a martial strength no less formidable than the Imperial Navy. Their wargear far outstripped that of mortal soldiers, and with the Adepta Sororitas in their vanguard, it was nearly inconceivable that they would face a dire threat aboard an Imperial vessel.
Faral cast a speculative glance at the laurel-crowned Invictarus Suzerain before him, his curiosity finally piqued.
"Is there an undetected daemonic incursion aboard your vessel?" the Inquisitor asked. "Or perhaps so other enemy lurking in the shadows?"
Calanthus exchanged a look with Hadrian; both shook their heads in unison.
"The ship is secure," Calanthus replied. "My brothers have maintained constant patrols of both the upper and lower decks."
Faral's gaze remained fixed on the Space Marine, as if attempting to bore through the Astartes' resolve with sheer scrutiny.
"My Lord!" An Ultramarine who had not participated in the initial planetary drop rushed into the chamber, his voice urgent. "Inquisition Storm Troopers and Battle Sisters have engaged an ancient construct."
Upon hearing his battle-brother's report, Calanthus snapped his head toward Faral.
"What have you done?!"
Faral looked utterly nonplussed.
An ancient construct? What was this? Their objectives were supposed to be a few servitors and a chanicus automaton. Recalling the briefing provided by Carson, Faral found himself at a complete loss.
Before Faral could even formulate a response, Calanthus sprinted into the corridor. Bewildered, the Inquisitor followed, rushing toward the sector where the soldiers and Sisters were massing.
…
Inside the compartnt, Axion stood tall, watching the soldiers in their strange carapaces with a detached curiosity. He made no move to restrain the Aegis Protector's slaughter. It was they who had initiated hostilities, and since they showed no inclination toward a ceasefire, the logical conclusion was the systematic elimination of all aggressors.
The Aegis Protector stood at the threshold, its bulk sealing the hatchway. It showed no desire to pursue the enemy into the halls, preferring to maintain its defensive posture over Axion.
Those who ca close were t with the monomolecular blade; those at a distance were systematically scythed down by neutron-flux fire. The corridor outside the hatch was already carpeted with the perforated corpses of Storm Troopers. The blood slicking the deck plates belonged to the Battle Sisters who had attempted to close the distance with chainswords and power swords.
Neutron-flux wounds were cauterized instantly by extre thermal energy; save for the gaping holes in their torsos, these victims did not bleed. All the scattered limbs and gore on the floor were the remnants of those "brave" enough to attempt lee.
The density of the monomolecular blade was imnse. The disruption fields of standard power swords lacked the wattage to destabilize its molecular structure. With a single sweep of the sharpened edge, the Protector cleaved through both weapons and warriors, bifurcating Sisters and Storm Troopers alike as they tried to parry.
Agonized wails echoed through the narrow passage. A few zealots, maid but still clinging to life, crawled back to pray to the Emperor, begging for a manifestation of His divine might or the steeling of their courage.
Yet, this ti, no matter how fervently the faithful petitioned, there was no answer. Only a few, deep in their trances of agony, thought they heard a faint, weary sigh of resignation drifting from the celestial heights of the Immaterium.
Just as so began to fear they had been forsaken by the Master of Mankind, a towering figure in deep cobalt armor appeared at the end of the corridor.
An Ultramarines Astartes.
The combat prowess of an Astartes was incomparable to that of a Storm Trooper or even a Sister of Battle, especially one bearing such opulent panoply and the iconic laurel-wreathed helm. Having served alongside the Inquisition across the galaxy, these troops possessed a deep reverence for the sons of Guilliman.
In an instant, the survivors believed the Emperor had heard their pleas and dispatched a mighty Angel to resolve the crisis. Compared to a standard Astartes, an Invictarus Suzerain was a being of legendary potency, the kind of "high-grade wetware" destined for a Contemptor Dreadnought, or at the very least, an Ironclad chassis.
Surveying the corridor-turned-shambles, Calanthus buried his face in his gauntlet. The fury in the Sisters' eyes and the lingering dread in the Storm Troopers' gazes told him this situation had spiraled beyond easy reconciliation.
High Inquisitor Faral arrived a second later, visibly shaken by the carnage. The Inquisition was no stranger to resistance, but the sheer volu of dead in such a short span was unprecedented.
"How many enemies are in that chamber?" Faral demanded, his voice tight with confusion. "Is it a Warp-tainted monstrosity? A daemon-host?"
A Storm Trooper sergeant stepped forward, saluting with a trembling hand.
"My Lord, there are two chanical constructs within. One was our target. But the other... the one guarding it... we have no data on such a machine. It has decimated three and a half squads. Nine Sisters are dead; three more are critically wounded and have been taken for ergency chirurgery."
Hearing the staggering toll, Faral slamd a fist against the bulkhead.
"Why were heavy weapons not deployed?!"
"They were, My Lord. But this is an Ultramarines vessel; we could not risk compromising the structural integrity of the ship. lta and plasma fire proved ineffective. Though the target is relatively small, it possesses incredibly dense shielding. Long-range fire is insufficient."
"Furthermore," the sergeant continued, "the enemy's counter-fire is devastating. A single hit from its weapon is fatal, even for a Sister of Battle. When ranged options failed, the Sisters attempted to neutralize it in close quarters. A squad coordinated an assault, but they were... dismantled."
Calanthus, overhearing the report, felt a chill of genuine shock.
"High Inquisitor," Calanthus said, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. "Order your n to stand down. That 'ancient construct' is the personal concern of Lord Guilliman. It must be delivered to the Lord Regent intact."
Faral narrowed his eyes, turning to face the Ultramarine.
An ancient construct tied to the Lord Regent?
This was intelligence he had not been privy to. Even within the Inquisition, the Ordo Malleus and Ordo Hereticus did not share all their secrets. Their presence here had been a target of opportunity, triggered by the signal sent by the Grey Knight Carson.
Faral did not believe Carson would mislead him, but it was clear the secrecy surrounding this mission was far higher than he had anticipated. However, the loss of life was already too severe. To abandon the mission now would be a catastrophic blow to the Inquisition's authority.
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