The two-ship formation soon broke orbit over Scintilla's outer starports. The naval cruiser christened the Mission had not even had ti to be repainted in the distinctive cobalt blue of the Ultramarines; instead, it bore only a massive Chapter icon crudely applied over its gray hull.
As a mber of Guilliman's personal guard, Calanthus possessed the specific protocols required to locate his Gene-father. When the two vessels translated back into realspace from the warp, the sight that greeted them was staggering.
A colossal gathering of ships, dozens of battleships leading hundreds of cruisers and thousands of destroyers and frigates, lay anchored in the void. Occasionally, cruisers escorted by Battle Barges would vanish into nearby warp-conduits, surging toward neighboring systems.
Calanthus recognized it instantly: the long-absent Fleet Second.
He had served beside the Primarch when the Great Crusade first launched and had seen this fleet then. In those days, the crusade fleets had practically choked the space around Terra. Once the crusade began, Fleet Second had spearheaded the plunge into this Imperial enclave, isolated by the Great Rift.
Nearly a century had passed, and this vanguard fleet was still fighting. Its mortal complents had been replenished again and again; on many ships, the captaincy had turned over twice.
One ship in the fleet stood out, unique and magnificent: the Retribution-class battleship, Dawn of Fire.
Since the crusade's inception, the Primarch had used this battleship as his mobile command center across the galaxy. Now, it sat here, in a region where the Emperor's Light could not reach. The Great Rift had shuttered the radiance of Holy Terra.
Yet, as the Son of the Emperor, Guilliman was once again sowing the light of the Divine Father of Mankind.
The two ships were granted clearance after a swift identity verification. As they joined the formation, several Thunderhawks and an Arvus Lighter detached from the Mission and the Black Ship, descending into the cavernous hangars of the Dawn of Fire.
Calanthus had been reluctant to let Axion bring the Aegis Protector onto the Primarch's flagship. However, considering that Axion's inherent destructive potential far exceeded that of a machine roughly his own height, Calanthus ceased his protest. It was better to trust that the Great Primarch had already anticipated this and prepared accordingly.
Nevertheless, as Axion's towering tallic form stepped out of the Thunderhawk's hold, he drew the gaze of everyone in the hangar. Though the Imperial Aquila and the sigil of the Adeptus chanicus were prominently displayed on his shoulder, his sleek, streamlined silhouette and fluid, humanoid proportions were utterly alien to any known Imperial STC.
This "theatrical" attempt at disguise might have fooled a commoner, but the crew of the Dawn of Fire were anything but ordinary. The Tech-Priests, in particular, knew imdiately.
Imperial design did not look like this. Not even the most radical Magos would craft an automaton with such aesthetics. As for the Dark chanicum, their creations were invariably more jagged, twisted, and horrific.
An Ultramarines sergeant wearing a red helm strode forward. He greeted Calanthus with practiced familiarity before casting a curious glance at Axion and then shifting his focus to the Arvus Lighter bearing Inquisitorial markings.
The red-held sergeant lowered his voice. "Brother, I was told you were on a classified mission. Why has the Inquisition followed you back?"
Calanthus shook his head with a trace of weariness. "It involves complex matters and... unique individuals. The Ordos were concerned and insisted on oversight."
The warning in his tone made the battle-brother nod silently. "Co. Lord Guilliman has been waiting in the High Strategium since he received word of your approach."
Calanthus reached up and removed his helm, clapping the sergeant on the shoulder. "Thank you, brother."
anwhile, Axion was becoming increasingly irritated by a group of Tech-Priests who were staring at him like a specin in a cage. "Can we move?" he asked Calanthus.
He found the unabashed scrutiny of these Magi intolerable. Though their robes were finer and their augtics more intricate than those he had seen before, their behavior was far more aggressive. The Magi he'd t previously had been timid; these red-robed figures were bold to the point of insanity.
Several chadendrites from the Priests' sub-cults had already begun making "negative-distance contact" with the Aegis Protector's chassis, prying at joints and armor gaps with diagnostic probes.
Axion did not realize that these Tech-Priests were from the inner circles of Mars. Many were high-ranking Magi "conscripted" by Guilliman during his visit to the Fabricator-General. Having spent their lives at the heart of the Cult chanicus, their curiosity was as vast as it was dangerous.
The only reason they were still alive was that they were focusing their probes on the Aegis Protector rather than Axion himself. Had they known Axion's true value, they would have already produced a mountain of forbidden tech-shackles to detain him and ship him back to Mars, even under Guilliman's nose. The resulting massacre would have made the Inquisition's losses look trivial.
At the sound of Axion's voice, the chattering hangar fell into a sudden, pregnant silence. Calanthus, noticing the shifting glints in the "cog-heads'" eyes, hurried Axion and his Protector toward the exits.
As they moved, the Aegis Protector roughly snapped off several diagnostic probes that had wedged into its armor. Lacking bio-limbs, the probes remained stuck in the gaps. Axion reached out as they walked, rotating his chanical arm and plucking the probes out without looking, crushing them into tallic dust before scattering them on the deck.
The long trek toward the High Strategium took them through the heart of the battleship. For the first ti, Axion saw the Adeptus Astartes in true force. Though they were all Ultramarines in cobalt plate, their physical stature and the sheer quality of their wargear were a significant tier above those he had encountered previously.
Clearly, these gene-forged warriors were the elite of the elite, the masterwork of the Imperium's martial might.
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